‘Thanks,’ Rebus said.
When Oram spoke, his voice was unnaturally calm. ‘I’ll make the call, hand myself in. You best get out of here. You were never part of this.’
‘They’ll want to hear my side,’ Rebus argued.
‘Including lifting all that coke from the lock-up? That busted boot of yours tells me you didn’t get to hang onto it.’
Rebus considered for a moment, a moment during which Oram switched gun for phone and began making the call.
‘Cafferty has the coke,’ he said. ‘Make sure Beth gets to hear. And I’m sorry...’
‘Sorry?’
‘For everything,’ Rebus said as he headed towards the door.
There was an underground car park opposite Cafferty’s building. The lift took Rebus down to the first level, but all the spaces there were for visitors rather than residents. The private parking was a further storey down. The strip lighting overhead flickered into life when the sensors picked up movement. About half the available bays were occupied. A smattering of electric vehicles sat charging. One or two cars looked to have been there for a while, wrapped in dust sheets. The white Audi was squeezed in between two other cars, its bonnet cool to the touch. Rebus knew it would be locked, but he tried the doors anyway. He stared at the boot for fifteen or twenty seconds, gave the rear bumper a kick, then headed for the lift again.
So many lives tainted by association with Cafferty and his ilk, and it never seemed to stop, each new generation suckered in or repeating the mistakes of their elders. Tommy Oram’s father had twice been snatched from him. Beth Mackenzie had learned from her old boyfriend and shared those lessons with her daughter. Rob Driscoll, like so many others, had fallen under Alan Fleck’s spell. There seemed no end to it.
The night was frosty. Rebus could see his breath in front of him as he pressed the buzzer and waited. A few food delivery drivers were still plying their trade, but none stopped at Cafferty’s block. The sound of exuberant singing drifted towards him from the Meadows. Young voices, female and male, a reminder that there was another world out there. He punched in the number for Cafferty’s flat a second time.
‘What?’ Cafferty’s voice eventually barked from the intercom. There was a camera there too, so Rebus knew he was being watched.
‘Need a word,’ he said.
‘This time of night?’
‘Jack Oram has surfaced.’
‘Has he now?’
‘And that means there’s something we have to discuss.’
Rebus waited, folding his arms around himself for warmth. He wondered if he was maybe suffering a delayed reaction from the Moorfoot. Couldn’t seem to stop trembling. When the door gave a click, he shoved it open and took the lift to the penthouse, all the time feeling as if he were descending rather than going up.
The door to Cafferty’s flat was closed but not locked. Rebus went in and found the man in his usual place by the windows and the telescope. There was just the one floor-standing lamp illuminating a corner of the huge room, the rest left in shadow.
‘Do you never go to bed?’ he asked, looking around for something to drink. He found whisky and a glass, poured out a generous measure.
‘Don’t stand on ceremony,’ Cafferty said. ‘My casa is your casa, et cetera.’ Then, taking a good look at Rebus, ‘The absolute fucking state of you.’ He watched as Rebus refilled the glass. ‘Did Andrew do that?’
‘All Andrew did was break into my car and lift the drugs I took from Beth Mackenzie.’
‘Thought he might,’ Cafferty said with a warm smile.
‘Not your idea then?’ Rebus looked around. ‘Where is he anyway? Should I pat myself down for weapons?’
‘He gets nights off — I’m not a slave-driver.’
‘Before I came in, I checked the car park, saw his Audi sitting there. If I’d had any tools on me, I’d have meted out a bit of revenge.’
‘My car actually, he just uses it as and when.’
‘You’ve had him tailing me throughout.’
‘Again, his own initiative.’
‘Who the hell is he?’
‘He used to belong to Darryl Christie until Darry got himself put away. Andrew was always sharper than most. I took him on as a pet project. He has a flat a few blocks away, though right now...’ Cafferty checked the time on his wristwatch. ‘Yes, I suppose he could be out clubbing somewhere. He likes Elemental.’
‘Probably not just for the music.’ Rebus was pouring himself another drink.
‘True enough, it’s the staff he’s interested in — he’s a people person.’
‘Especially if those people can come in handy after you’ve taken down the Mackenzies. Is that the plan — to install your protégé in their place?’
‘You know as well as I do, John, there’s never a vacuum. Now, you were saying something about Jack Oram?’
‘He’s dead, but then you already know that, don’t you?’
‘I still have eyes and ears in this town.’
‘Funny, I remember you telling me the exact opposite. You can go to hell for telling lies, you know.’
‘The owners of his old pool hall were clocked hauling something into a van at dead of night. You could say I had my suspicions.’
‘And you hired me to find you a dead man because...?’
Cafferty’s eyes were glittering. ‘You tell me.’
‘Even if I didn’t find him,’ Rebus obliged, ‘I’d still be making a nuisance of myself, and probably disrupting the Mackenzies in the process. That’s why you spun me the line about him being seen at QC Lettings. Did you know the son worked there?’ He watched Cafferty nod. ‘Not the only line you spun either — the money going to his brother’s family?’
‘I needed something to get you interested,’ Cafferty commented.
‘How about the cash you sent to his wife?’
‘I thought it might flush him into the open.’
‘The way I was supposed to flush out the Mackenzies? And meantime, if I got close to the truth, the men who topped him would want the same fate for me. You’d probably call that a win — win. Nearly was, too. I’d be growing cold on the floor of the Moorfoot right now if Oram’s son hadn’t come looking. Lucky for me, he was tooled up. Oh, and the upshot of that is, Beecham won’t be giving you any more money.’ Rebus paused. ‘How come you took the price off his head anyway?’
‘He got reacquainted with an old psycho pal of his.’
‘Crosbie.’
‘No way I could touch Beecham without Crosbie coming for me. I’d have to deal with both of them.’
‘Messy,’ Rebus agreed.
Cafferty looked at him. ‘Messy isn’t always good for business. Same went for Constitution Street. Losing a wedge hurt me for a few weeks, but I was back in the black soon enough. As for Jack Oram...’
‘Yes?’
‘If he hadn’t got himself killed, I’d almost certainly have done him some damage.’
‘So they did you a favour at the Moorfoot? Despite which, you sent me after them.’