by Ian Rankin
‘Look, DCI Sutherland,’ Dean began, colour rising to his already ruddy cheeks, ‘I’m not sure what game you think you’re playing here, but this has stopped being highly irregular and entered the realm of the absurd.’
Sutherland was looking to Rebus for an explanation, but it was Hazard who spoke. ‘Does your guy leave too?’
‘I told him he should, but he’s adamant.’
Dean had turned towards his client. ‘In which case, it would be rash in the extreme for you to sit here without any counsel being present.’
Hazard nodded and leaned back a little in his chair. ‘Off you go, Francis, but not too far – just outside the door will do.’
‘I’ll only need five or ten minutes,’ Rebus said.
‘Glenn, I urge you to reconsider—’
‘Just fuck off, will you, Francis? Don’t worry, the money meter keeps ticking over.’ Hazard lifted his mug and drained it. The lawyer’s face was almost puce as he gathered his papers, grabbed his jacket and shouldered open the door. Once he was gone, Rebus leaned across Sutherland and stopped the recording.
‘Wait a moment,’ Sutherland began to complain.
‘You’re free to leave,’ Rebus said with a new steeliness, knowing the man wouldn’t budge. He met Hazard’s gaze again.
‘You were a dealer back then,’ Rebus began. ‘Small-time. You had to keep dodging and weaving, so as not to appear on the radar of the bigger players – people like Morris Gerald Cafferty.’ He paused. ‘You know the name?’
Hazard nodded.
‘Cafferty even came to the film set,’ Rebus went on. ‘I’m guessing you made yourself scarce that day.’
‘Can I just ask,’ Hazard interrupted, ‘what proof you have of any of this?’
‘Precious little,’ Rebus admitted. ‘But I know you were dealing and I know you sold the dope that put six kids in hospital. I was a cop at the time and I remember it well. Cafferty was the only dealer we knew; even so, we were shocked. His stuff had never been tainted before. Suddenly there are six overdoses in a single night, six admissions to Accident and Emergency. And only five survived – Jamie Spowart didn’t make it. Don’t suppose it meant much to you, but his parents were devastated and probably still are.
‘After that, you had to make yourself scarce. You left Edinburgh, but you kept dealing – on film sets and probably in the towns and villages south of the city. I’m guessing you changed supplier – you didn’t want anyone else snuffing it on your watch. But meantime, we were all over Cafferty like a rash. Which put a dent in his business for a while and also put a black mark beside his name as far as other men of his persuasion were concerned. He’d been wooing an Irish thug called Conor Maloney – name mean anything to you?’ Rebus received a shrug by way of response. ‘I’m pretty sure you knew Stuart Bloom’s name, though. He was a regular at Rogues, maybe even bought a bit from you. Then the kid dies and suddenly you’re off the scene. Few months later, he’s an extra in one of Jackie Ness’s films and spots you, remembers you. So now you have a problem. What happens next, I can only guess. He tried blackmailing you? He was going to go to the police? Maybe you only feared he would do one or the other. So you met up with him, killed him, and dumped the body on your pal’s farm.’ He paused. ‘How does that sound so far, Mr Hazard?’
‘I’m still waiting to hear anything that isn’t a theory.’
‘Theory’s all I have.’
‘And you think I’m suddenly going to throw up my arms and confess?’ Hazard’s eyes had widened.
Rebus was slowly shaking his head. ‘What I think is this: I’m going to leave this room, your lawyer’s going to come back in, DCI Sutherland’s going to fire the apparatus back up, and you’re going to offer him your full and frank admission of guilt.’
‘Is that right?’
‘See, you’re absolutely correct when you say I’ve no proof, and that’s a problem.’
‘You better believe it.’
‘You misunderstand.’ Rebus leaned across the table. ‘It’s not a problem for me, it’s a problem for you.’
Hazard laughed and gestured towards Sutherland. ‘Are you hearing this? You’ve brought a certified nutjob in here.’
Sutherland seemed about to say something, but Rebus waved a hand to stop him. His attention was still on Hazard.
‘In about half an hour from now, we’re letting you go, as is required by law. But I’ll have been on the blower well before then, giving the story to Cafferty. See, Cafferty has a long memory, especially when it comes to vendettas. You cost him a lot of money and a big chunk of his reputation, which it took him years to recover. He’s wanted you since 2006, Glenn. Twelve years he’s festered.’ Rebus paused. ‘But now he’s going to get you. From the moment you walk out of here, you’re a marked man.’
‘Are you hearing this?’ Hazard told Sutherland, a slight but noticeable quaver entering his voice. ‘Your man’s threatening to feed me to the wolves.’
‘Wolves are doubtful,’ Rebus said, ‘though Cafferty does own a pig farm in Fife. We can show you evidence of all the men he’s tortured and murdered down the years. We only put him behind bars once or twice – that’s because he’s good at getting away with it. A lot of those victims vanished into thin air, just like Stuart Bloom. But you’re not quite as capable as Cafferty; Bloom popped up again.’
‘Say I didn’t kill anyone, you’d be sending an innocent man to—’
‘Oh, but we know you did. And that’s what you’ll confess to, so as not to become one of Cafferty’s victims. And in exchange, we can offer you a deal.’
Hazard seemed to calm a little. ‘What sort of deal?’
‘Better than you deserve. After your trial, we’ll ensure you go to HMP Saughton. Why? Because there’s a guy called Darryl Christie in there, a powerful guy who hates Cafferty as much as Cafferty hates the person who sold that overdose. Christie won’t want Cafferty getting to you. In point of fact, he’ll make damned sure he doesn’t. You staying alive will be a thorn in Cafferty’s paw, an irritant that’ll always be there. That’s worth a lot to Darryl Christie, trust me.’
It was Rebus’s turn to lean back in his chair.
‘You’ve got about twenty minutes to decide,’ Sutherland said with renewed vigour.
‘No he hasn’t,’ Rebus corrected him. ‘Because when I leave this room, if we’ve not got a deal, I’m straight on to Cafferty.’ He buttoned his suit jacket and rose to his feet. ‘Oh, and DCI Sutherland? Bring in Clarke rather than Reid when I’ve gone – she’s every bit as good as you think she is.’
‘Wait a sec,’ Hazard said. He was rubbing at his forehead, as if that would help him come to a decision.
‘Time for games is over,’ Rebus told him, making for the door. He paused to remove his phone from a pocket, then placed his hand around the door handle.
‘Please,’ Hazard said, half out of his chair. ‘I need one fucking minute.’
Which was exactly how long Rebus gave him, his eyes on his wristwatch.
‘Okay,’ Hazard said as Rebus pushed the door open. Rebus pulled it closed again and turned to face the room.
‘Okay?’ he echoed, receiving a nod in reply. ‘In which case, I only have one more question for you.’ He approached the table and folded his arms. ‘Who gave you the handcuffs? Was it Brian Steele? Word was, he used to do a bit of coke back then.’
‘I knew him,’ Hazard conceded.
‘You also knew Ness needed handcuffs for his film and you wanted to keep in his good books, so you went to Steele …’
But Hazard was shaking his head. ‘Not Steele,’ he said.
Rebus tried not to let his dismay show. ‘Who then?’
‘His partner.’
Rebus’s eyes narrowed. ‘Grant Edwards?’ He watched Hazard start to nod. ‘Another of your clients?’ Hazard kept nodding. Sutherland was looking at Reb
us, but Rebus could only shrug. He pushed open the door again. Francis Dean was waiting across the corridor.
‘He’s all yours,’ Rebus said.
Clarke and Fox were standing in the MIT doorway. Rebus kept his face impassive as he headed for the stairs. As he descended, he heard Sutherland’s voice summoning Clarke to the interview room.
Laura Smith was waiting in the Saab, catching up on emails on her phone.
‘You don’t even have a USB port,’ she complained.
‘Told you vintage cars lack a few amenities.’
‘It’s not vintage, it’s just old. How did it go in there?’
‘Let’s give it half an hour.’
‘They’ll have had to release him by then.’
‘Wait and see,’ Rebus said, turning on the Brian Eno CD. ‘No more talking for a while,’ he told Smith. ‘I need to do a bit of thinking.’
‘Time’s up,’ Smith commented, checking her phone.
‘So it is,’ Rebus agreed.
‘And he’s still in there – meaning he’s talking?’
‘Looks like.’ Rebus allowed himself a small smile.
‘So when do I get the story.’
‘After I get the call. Speaking of which …’ Rebus picked up his vibrating phone and answered it.
‘There were things I heard in there,’ Graham Sutherland said in an undertone, ‘that I probably shouldn’t have.’
‘Which is why I didn’t want you in the room.’
‘Yes, I can see that now.’
‘He’s talking?’
‘Fairly freely, despite the best efforts of his increasingly flustered solicitor.’
‘Has he said why he did it?’
‘We’ve not quite got to that yet, though if I were to guess, I’d say you weren’t far off the mark. I’ve taken a break so Siobhan and Callum can have a go at him. Dean’s furious that you were allowed in; says it taints whatever story his client spins us.’
‘I doubt that’ll sway a jury.’
‘The fiscal, meantime, is highly delighted. I might owe you a drink, John.’
‘Not while I’m on duty, sir.’ A weak enough joke, but Sutherland laughed anyway.
‘I sort of wish you were still on the force.’
‘Aye, me too,’ Rebus confessed.
‘Do you really have any sway with this Christie character?’
Rebus pondered for a moment. ‘Maybe,’ he eventually concluded. ‘Though I’m hardly likely to waste it on a turd like Glenn Hazard.’
‘So he’s on his own then?’ Sutherland paused. ‘And Cafferty?’
‘Will know about it sooner or later.’
‘I really wish I hadn’t stayed in that bloody room …’
‘You going to report me?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Tell Siobhan to call me at end of play.’
‘I will. And thanks again.’
The line went dead. Smith had leaned across so far in her seat that her head was practically in Rebus’s lap.
‘Catch any of that?’ Rebus asked.
‘No.’
‘Just as well.’
‘But he’s confessing to the murder?’
‘Seems like.’
‘Bloody hell, John – what did you say to him?’
‘Whatever was said stays in the confessional.’
‘You’re hardly anyone’s idea of a priest.’
‘I used to drink with one, though, a long time back – maybe he taught me a few tricks.’
58
Mid evening at the Oxford Bar. Rebus, Clarke and Fox had requisitioned the back room. The three of them sat around the table nearest the fire as Clarke filled in the blanks.
‘Hazard’s story is he didn’t know Bloom was dead. He hit him with the corner of his mobile phone. Just wanted him unconscious. The plan was to take him to the farm, tie him up in the byre and persuade him not to go ahead with his plan.’
‘His plan being?’ Fox asked.
‘Bloom had spotted Hazard on the film set. Knew who he was and why he’d suddenly stopped being a presence on the clubbing scene.’
‘The ODs?’
Clarke nodded. ‘Hazard thought he was selling ketamine sourced from China, but the batch was a mix of ketamine and MDMA – in too strong a dose.’ She took a sip from her glass. ‘If Hazard didn’t do what Bloom wanted, he was going to start talking – either to us or to Cafferty.’
Rebus watched her from above the rim of his own glass. ‘And what did Bloom want?’
‘He’d already broken into Brand’s office. He reckoned that if you could take something, it would be just as easy to leave something.’
‘He was going to plant drugs there?’
‘Either in the office or more likely the house. Then he’d tip off the police or the press and Brand would no longer be a threat to Jackie Ness’s ambitions.’
‘Why the handcuffs?’
‘As I say, Hazard swears he thought Bloom was knocked out. They were to stop him trying to run off when he woke up – much more effective than round the wrists.’
‘And they stayed on because …?’
Clarke gave a faint smile. ‘Guess.’
‘He’d lost the key?’
‘He’d lost the key,’ she confirmed. ‘When he gets to the farm, he opens the boot and starts to get a bad feeling.’
‘Where’s Andrew Carlton in all of this?’
‘I think Hazard thought he might help put the frighteners on Bloom, but once he saw Bloom was dead, Hazard panicked. Went and got Carlton and told him he just had a car that needed stashing somewhere.’
‘You buy that?’
Clarke considered for a moment, then shrugged. ‘I’m not sure it greatly matters. Carlton’s an accomplice at best. Hazard isn’t saying he was there when he met with Bloom and smacked him.’
‘Where was this meeting anyway?’
‘On the edge of Poretoun Woods – Bloom’s idea, apparently.’
They sat quietly for almost a minute, digesting the story. Rebus was trying to make his IPA last, gripping the glass without drinking from it.
‘Anybody want anything?’
They looked up and saw that Grant Edwards had arrived, his bulk filling the doorway.
‘We’re fine, I think,’ Clarke told him. He disappeared to the bar, coming back with a well-watered whisky. He drew out the chair next to Clarke and sat, taking a sip without bothering to offer a toast.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Rebus said.
‘Was I ever going to do anything else?’
Rebus realised the man wasn’t smiling. He wore a heavy woollen coat and showed no sign that he’d be taking it off.
‘On a scale of one to ten,’ Edwards enquired, ‘how fucked am I?’
‘Eleven,’ Rebus said.
‘Depends on what you’ve got to say,’ Clarke qualified.
‘You know we had a word with Dallas Meikle?’
‘That’s pretty old news,’ Clarke told him.
‘And dealt with,’ Rebus added. ‘Dallas Meikle is our guy now.’
‘This won’t be any use to you then.’ Edwards had dug his phone out of his pocket. He gave it a few taps and held it up so they could hear the recording. It was rough, but audible. They recognised Steele’s voice.
‘Phone her often enough and I promise you it’ll get to her. But if it doesn’t, or you think she deserves worse, you’ve always got her address.’
‘Let’s see what happens,’ Dallas Meikle said.
‘Keep me posted – once she’s riled, I want to know.’
Edwards switched the recording off and slid the phone back into his pocket.
‘Steele always said you were smarter than anyone gave you credit for,’ Rebus commented.
‘Bit of insurance never goes amiss,’ Edwards agreed.
‘You’ve known for a while it might all go belly up?’ Clarke asked.
‘Insurance, like I say.’
‘What did you think,’ Rebus broke in, ‘when Bloom turned up handcuffed?’
‘At first, not much. Then when they turned out to be police issue …’
‘You recalled the pair you’d given to your dealer?’
‘He was Brian’s dealer too – we couldn’t risk buying from Cafferty’s lot. It would have given the big man something he could have used as insurance.’
‘You knew, though, right? When those kids overdosed, you knew who was responsible?’
‘Brian warned Gram to get out of town for a while.’
‘But not too far, eh? So you’d still be assured of a supply?’ Rebus paused. ‘When did it dawn on you the cuffs might have been yours?’
‘Didn’t really make any odds – Gram had dropped off our radar years back.’
‘And when he did a runner, just at the time Stuart Bloom vanished off the face of the earth, you didn’t connect the two?’
‘I can’t speak for Brian.’ Edwards swirled his drink, not raising his eyes from it. ‘So what does it all add up to, everything you’ve got so far?’
‘Enough,’ Clarke stated. ‘I doubt Hazard is going to stop talking.’ She glanced in Rebus’s direction. ‘He’s got too much to lose.’
‘What have you offered him?’
‘Never you mind,’ Rebus said stonily. ‘All that should be concerning you is how much of your own sorry career you can hang on to.’
‘I’ve worked hard for my pension. I’ve got it earmarked for a motorbike dealership.’
‘That’s nice,’ Rebus said, his tone suggesting the exact opposite.
Edwards looked at each of the three of them in turn. ‘What do I have to do to save it?’
It was Fox who answered. ‘Sit in a room with Professional Standards and PIRC and anyone else who needs to hear your story. Don’t hold anything back. Everything needs to come out.’
‘Including Cafferty?’
Rebus leaned forward into the ensuing silence. ‘Talk to me,’ he said.