‘Thanks for the advice.’
‘You will let him go, won’t you?’
He stood up, leaned across the desk towards her. ‘I know Damon’s family. I’ve seen the way they’ve been suffering. Your precious brother doesn’t know the half of it.’
She glowered at him. ‘And why should he?’
He thought of a thousand answers, knew she’d rebut every one of them. Instead, he told her he’d need a written statement. He’d send someone in to take it. He made for the door.
‘And then you’ll let Nicky out, won’t you, Inspector?’
His one little victory: he left without saying a word.
Epilogue
Later that night, he found himself in Cowgate again, further to the east this time, past the mothballed mortuary, walking towards the building site on Holyrood. Behind it, he could make out a couple of the Greenfield tower-blocks, and behind those Salisbury Crags. The sun had set, but it wasn’t quite dark. The twilight could last an age at this time of year. Demolition work had stopped for the day. He couldn’t be sure where everything would go, but he knew there’d be a newspaper building, a theme park, and the Parliament building. They’d all be ready for the twenty-first century, or so the predictions went. Taking Scotland into the new millennium. Rebus tried to raise within himself a tiny cheer of hope, but found it stifled by his old cynicism.
No longer twilight now. Darkness had fallen. Shadows seemed to rise all around him as a bell tolled in the distance. The blood that had seeped into stone, the bones that lay twisting in their eternity, the stories and horrors of the city’s past and present... he knew they’d all come rising in the digger’s steel jaws, bubbling to the surface as the city began its slow ascent towards being a nation’s capital once again.
Forget it, John, he told himself. It’s the Old Town, that’s all.
Cary Oakes sat in the visitors’ room at Saughton Prison. They hadn’t put any cuffs on him, and there was just the one guard. One guard was almost demeaning. Then the door opened and his solicitor walked in. That’s what they were called here — solicitors. Cary smiled, bowed his head in greeting. The lawyer was young, looked eager but flustered. First time, probably, but that was OK. Youngsters, working hard to make the grade... they’d put in the hours for you, go the extra yard. Cary had nothing against fresh blood.
He waited till the guy was seated and ready, notepad out, pen held in his right hand. Then he began his spiel.
‘I’m innocent, man, so help me. And you’ve got to do that: you’ve got to help me. Between us, we can prove I didn’t do anything.’ He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table. ‘It’ll make your career. You’re my man, I can sense it.’
Gave a big open smile.