Exit Music

'In the North Sea, yes – but you're forgetting the waters to the west. Plenty of oil in the Atlantic, Inspector, and eventually we will master the technology, allowing us to extract it. Then there are the alternative energies – wind and wave.'

'Don't forget all that hot air in the Parliament.' Rebus took a sip of his drink, savouring it. 'Doesn't explain why you're eyeing up derelict land in Edinburgh.'

Tou do keep a watchful eye, don't you?'

'Comes with the territory.'

'Is it because of Mr Cafferty?'

'Could be. How did you two get to know one another?'

'Through business, Inspector. All of it above board, I assure you.'

'That why the authorities back in Moscow are preparing to take you down?'

'Politics,' Andropov explained with a pained expression. 'And a refusal to grease the necessary palms.'

'So you're being made an example of?'

'Events will run their course…' He lifted his glass to his lips.

'A lot of rich men are in jail in Russia. You're not scared of joining them?' Andropov just shrugged. 'Lucky you've made plenty of friends here – not just Labour, but the SNP, too. Must be nice to feel so wanted.' Still the Russian said nothing, so Rebus decided on a change of topic. 'Tell me about Alexander Todorov.'

'What would you like to know?'

“You mentioned that he got kicked out of his teaching post for being too friendly with the students.'

Tea?

'I'm not finding anything about it in the records.'

'It was hushed up, but plenty of people in Moscow knew.'

'Funny, though, that you'd tell me that and forget to mention that the two of you grew up together – same age, same neighbourhood…'

Andropov looked at him. 'Once again, I admit I'm impressed.'

'How well did you know him?'

'Hardly at all. I'm afraid I came to represent everything Alexander detested. He would probably use words like “greed” and “ruthlessness”, while I prefer “self-reliance” and “dynamism”.'

'He was an old-fashioned Communist?'

Tou know the English word “bolshie”? It has its roots in “bolshe' vism”, a Russian word. The Bolsheviks were fairly ruthless them- ¦elves, but these days bolshie just means awkward or stubborn… that's what Alexander was.'

'You knew he was living in Edinburgh?'

'I think I saw it mentioned in a newspaper.'

'Did the two of you meet?'

'No.'

'Funny he started drinking here…'

'Is it?' Andropov shrugged again and took another sip of water.

'So here you both are in Edinburgh, two men who grew up together, famous in your separate ways, and you didn't think to get in touch?'

'We would have had nothing to say to one another,' Andropov declared. Then: 'Would you like another drink, Inspector?'

Rebus noticed that he'd finished the whisky. He shook his head and started to rise from the booth.

'I'll be sure to mention to Mr Bakewell that you dropped by,'

Andropov was saying.

'Mention it to Cafferty, too, if you like,' Rebus retorted. 'He'll tell you, once I get my teeth into something, I don't let go.'

'And yet the pair of you seem very similar… A pleasure talking to you, Inspector.'

Outside, Rebus tried to get a cigarette lit in the swirling breeze.

He had his head tucked into his jacket when the taxi pulled up, which meant he escaped the attention of Megan Macfarlane and Roddy Liddle, the MSP and her assistant marching into the hotel lobby, eyes fixed ahead of them. Rebus, blowing smoke skywards, wondered if Sergei Andropov would hesitate to tell them, too, about his recent visitor…

30

As Siobhan Clarke walked into the narrow CID room at West End police station, there was applause. Only two of the six desks were occupied, but both men wanted to show their appreciation.

'Feel free to keep Ray Reynolds as long as you like,' DI Shug Davidson added with a grin, before introducing her to a detective constable called Adam Bruce. Davidson had his feet up on the desk, chair tilted back.

'Nice to see you hard at it,' Clarke commented. “Where's everyone else?'

'Probably getting some Christmas shopping done. Can I expect a little something from you this year, Shiv?'

'I was thinking of sticking some gift-wrap on Ray and posting him back.'

'Don't you dare. Any joy with Sol Goodyear?'

'I'm not sure “joy” is quite the right word.'

'He's a sod, isn't he? Couldn't be more different from his brother.

You know Todd goes to church on a Sunday?'

'So he said.'

Talk about chalk and cheese…' Davidson was shaking his head slowly.

'Can we talk about Larry Fintry instead?'

'What about him?'

'Is he on remand?'

Davidson gave a snort. 'Cells are bursting at the seams, Shiv – you know that as well as I do.'

'So he's out on bail?'

'Anything short of genocide and cannibalism these days, bail's a npp.'

'So where can I find him?'

'He's in a hostel up in Bruntsfield.'

'What sort of hostel?'

'Addiction problems. Doubt he'd be there this time of day, though.'

Davidson checked his watch. 'Hunter Square or the Meadows, maybe.'

'I was just in a cafe off Hunter Square.'

'See any nutters hanging around?'

'I saw a few street people,' Clarke corrected him. She'd noticed that although Bruce was glued to a computer screen, he was actually playing Minesweeper.

'The benches behind the old hospital,' Davidson was saying, 'he likes to hang out there sometimes. Might be a bit chilly, though.

Drop-in centres on the Grassmarket and Cowgate are another possibility… What is it you want him for?'

'I'm starting to wonder if there might be a price on Sol Goodyear's head.'

Davidson gave a hoot. 'Little turd's not worth it.'

'All the same…'

'And no one in their right mind would give Crazy Larry the job.

All this comes down to, Shiv, is Sol hassling Larry for money owed.

It was probably when Sol said there'd be no more dope coming that Larry blew one of his last remaining fuses.'

'Rewiring, that's what the guy needs,' DC Bruce added, eyes still fixed on the game in front of him.

'If you want to go traipsing after Crazy Larry,' Davidson said, 'that's fine, but don't expect to get anything out of him. And I still don't see Sol Goodyear as the target of a hit.'

'He must have enemies.'

'But he's got friends, too.'

Clarke narrowed her eyes. 'Meaning?'

'Word is, he's back in Big Ger's employ. Well, not “employ”

exactly, but selling with Cafferty's blessing.'

'Any proof of that?'

Davidson shook his head. 'After we spoke on the phone, I made a few calls, and that's what I started to hear. Tell you something else, though…'

'What?'

'Birdies are saying Derek Starr's been brought back from Fettes to head your inquiry.' At the next desk, Bruce started to make a little clucking sound. 'Bit of a kick in the teeth, isn't it?' Davidson added.

'Stands to reason Derek would take over – he's a rank above me.'

'Didn't seem to bother the bosses when it was you and a certain DI called Rebus…'

'I really am going to send Reynolds back here,' Clarke warned him.

'You'll have to ask Derek Starr's permission.'

She stared him out and he burst into a laugh. 'Have your fun while you can,' she told him, heading for the door.

Back in her car, she wondered what else she could do to keep away from Gayfield Square. Answer: not much. Rebus had mentioned CCTV. Maybe she could make a detour by way of the City Chambers and put in that request. Or she could call Megan Macfarlane and arrange another meeting, this time to talk about Charles Riordan and his taping of her committee. Then there was Jim Bakewell – Rebus wanted her to ask about the drink he'd had with Sergei Andropov and Big Ger Cafferty.

Cafferty…

He seemed to loom over the city, and yet very few of Edinburgh's citizens would even know of his existence. Rebus had spent half his career trying to bring the gangster down. With Rebus retired, the problem would become hers, not because she wanted it but because she doubted Rebus would let it go. He'd want her to finish what he couldn't. She thought again of the nights they'd been staying late at the office, Rebus running his most galling unsolveds past her. What was she supposed to do with them, these legacies? They felt to her like unwanted baggage. She had a pair of ugly pewter candlesticks at home, gifted to her in an aunt's will. Couldn't bring herself to throw them out, so they lay tucked away at the back of a drawer – also, she felt, the best place for Rebus's old case-notes.