you’ve got me interested. What names?’
‘Billy Jones.
‘Living in Florida, as far as I know.’
‘Eck Hendry.’
‘Went to stay with his daughter in Australia. I think he
suffered a stroke a couple of months back.’
‘Darryl Christie.’
Cafferty’s lips formed an O. ‘Ah, young Darryl.’
‘Your protégé back in the day.’
‘Never that. Darryl’s always been his own man. Doing well
too, I hear. Business expanding, never a blemish on his
character.’ His eyes met Rebus’s. ‘Almost as if he had the law
on his side.’
‘Maybe he’s just always been that bit cannier than you.’
‘That must be it,’ Cafferty pretended to agree. ‘But I doubt
he sees me as any sort of threat to his various interests, not
these days.’
‘You don’t sound a hundred per cent sure,’ Fox couldn’t
help interrupting.
‘We live in uncertain times. Not six months ago, we thought
we were soon going to be an independent country.’
‘We still might be.’
‘And wouldn’t that be a grand scheme?’ Cafferty smiled
behind his glass and tipped it to his mouth.
‘Thing you need to know about Big Ger,’ Rebus began for
Fox’s benefit, ‘is that if he seems to be offering you something,
there’s a game being played. He doesn’t rule out Darryl
Christie, maybe in the hope we’ll go looking at Darryl and turn
up something – something advantageous to Big Ger himself.’
Cafferty winked at Fox. ‘It’s like he knows me better than I
know myself – saves me a fortune in therapy.’ Then, turning his
attention back to Rebus: ‘But you’ve got me intrigued – why is
Joe Stark here?’
‘Whatever it is, he’s obviously not sharing it with you.’
‘That son of his will be in charge of things soon. Maybe
Joe’s introducing him to society.’
‘It’s a theory,’ Rebus acknowledged.
‘Everything is, until there’s proof. Will you go ask Darryl?’
Rebus met Cafferty’s stare. ‘You forgetting I’m retired?’
‘What do you think, DI Fox? Does Rebus here act like
someone on the scrapheap? He will talk to Darryl, you know.
Him and Darryl are old pals – didn’t you do one another a
favour not so long back?’
‘Don’t believe all the stories,’ Rebus advised. He got to his
feet, pulling his coat around him.
‘Not finishing your drink?’ Cafferty gestured towards the
half-full pint. ‘I suppose there’s a first time for everything.’
Then, stretching out his hand again, ‘Nice to see you, DI Fox.
Say hello to the fragrant Siobhan for me. And be sure to tell her
you’re hanging on to Rebus’s coat-tails. She might well have
some sage advice on the subject.’ He gave a little chuckle,
which only intensified when Fox snubbed the handshake and
instead began following Rebus towards the exit.
Six
Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose, screwing her eyes shut.
For almost three hours she had been reading about David
Minton – his upbringing, education, career in the law, failed
attempt to become a Conservative MP, and eventual peerage.
As Lord Advocate, he had been able to speak in the Scottish
Parliament, though the current administration had changed the
role so that Lords Advocate no longer attended cabinet
meetings. Minton’s closest colleague had been the Crown
Agent, Kathryn Young. Young was putting pressure on Page
and his team, phoning four times and turning up unannounced
twice. Same went for the Solicitor General, who at least had
one of her flunkeys act as inquisitor – easier to dismiss than the
actual Crown Agent.
Clarke had thought she knew a bit about the legal profession
– in her line of work, she spent a good deal of time with
lawyers from the Procurator Fiscal’s department. But this was
above her pay-scale and she was having trouble clarifying the
role of the Lord Advocate. He was of the government but not in the government. He was in charge of the prosecution service,
but his role as chief legal adviser to