‘What was it like in that tunnel?’ Siobhan asked.
‘Grim.’
‘No sign of any immigrants, though?’
‘No,’ Rebus admitted.
‘See, if I was in charge of a surveillance, it would be them I’d want to watch.’
Rebus tended to agree. ‘But what if Bullen never goes near them? He doesn’t need to, after all — he’s got the Irishman working as go-between.’
‘The same Irishman you saw at Knoxland?’
Rebus nodded. Then he saw what she was getting at. ‘That’s where they are, isn’t it? I mean, that’s the best place to stash them.’
‘I thought the place had been searched high and low?’ Siobhan said, playing devil’s advocate.
‘But we were looking for a killer, looking for witnesses...’ He broke off.
‘What is it?’ Siobhan asked.
‘Mo Dirwan was beaten up when he went snooping... beaten up in Stevenson House.’ He was reaching for his mobile, punched in Caro Quinn’s number. ‘Caro? It’s John, I’ve got a question for you — where were you exactly when you were chased off Knoxland?’ His eyes were on Siobhan as he listened. ‘You’re sure of that? No, no real reason... I’ll talk to you later. Bye.’ He ended the call. ‘She’d just arrived at Stevenson House,’ he told Siobhan.
‘Now there’s a coincidence.’
Rebus was staring at his mobile. ‘I need to tell Storey.’ Instead of which, he turned the mobile over and over in his hand.
‘You’re not calling him,’ she commented.
‘I’m not sure I trust him,’ Rebus admitted. ‘He gets all these useful anonymous tip-offs. That’s how he knew about Bullen, the Nook, the cockle-pickers...’
‘And?’
Rebus shrugged. ‘And he got this sudden inspiration about the BMW... exactly what was needed to connect it to Bullen.’
‘Another tip-off?’ Siobhan guessed.
‘So who’s making the calls?’
‘Has to be someone close to Bullen.’
‘Could just be someone who knows a lot about him. But if Storey is being fed all this gen... surely he must have suspicions of his own?’
‘You mean: “Why am I being fed all this great stuff?” Maybe he just isn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth.’
Rebus pondered this for a moment. ‘Gift horse or Trojan horse?’
‘Is that her?’ Siobhan said abruptly. She was pointing to an approaching cyclist. The bike passed them, heading downhill to the Grassmarket.
‘I didn’t really see,’ Rebus admitted. Siobhan bit her lip.
‘Hang on,’ she said, hitting the brake hard, executing another three-point turn, this time with traffic backing up in both directions. Rebus waved and shrugged by way of apology, then, when one driver started yelling from his window, resorted to less conciliatory gestures. Siobhan was driving them back into Grassmarket, the angry driver on her tail, lights on full beam, horn sounding a tattoo.
Rebus turned in his seat and glared at the man, who kept shouting and waving a fist.
‘He’s got a hard-on for us,’ Siobhan said.
Rebus tutted. ‘Language, please.’ Then, leaning out of the window, he yelled, ‘We’re fucking police officers!’ at the top of his voice, keenly aware that the man couldn’t hear him. Siobhan burst out laughing, then turned the steering wheel sharply.
‘She’s stopped,’ she said. The cyclist was getting off her bike, preparing to chain it to a lamp-post. They were in the heart of the Grassmarket, all smart bistros and tourist pubs. Siobhan pulled up on a double yellow and jogged from the car. From this distance, Rebus recognised Kate. She was dressed in a frayed denim jacket and cut-off jeans, long black boots and a silky pink neck-scarf. She was looking confused as Siobhan introduced herself. Rebus undid his seatbelt and was about to open the door when an arm snaked through the window and caught his head in its vice-like grip.
‘What’s your game then, pal?’ the voice roared. ‘Think you own the bloody highway, do you?’
Rebus’s mouth and nose were muffled by the padded sleeve of the man’s oily jacket. He fumbled for the door handle and pushed with all his might, tumbling from the car on to his knees, sending a fresh jolt of pain through both legs. The man was still on the opposite side of the car door from Rebus and showed no sign of releasing his prey. The door acted as a shield, protecting him from Rebus’s swipes and punches.
‘Think you’re the big guy, eh? Giving me the finger...’
‘He is the big guy,’ Rebus heard Siobhan saying. ‘He’s police, same as me. Now let him go.’
‘He’s what?’
‘I said let him go!’ The pressure eased on Rebus and he pulled his head free, standing up straight and feeling the blood singing in his ears, the world swirling around him. Siobhan had wrenched the man’s free arm halfway up his back and was now forcing him down on to his knees, head stooped. Rebus brought out his warrant card and held it in front of the man’s nose.
‘Try that again and I’ll do you,’ he gasped.
Siobhan released her hold and took a step back. She, too, had her ID out by the time the man straightened up.
‘How was I supposed to know?’ was all he said. But Siobhan had already dismissed him. She was walking back towards Kate, who had watched the performance wide-eyed. Rebus made a show of noting the man’s registration as he retreated to his car. Then he turned and joined Siobhan and Kate.
‘Kate was just stopping off for a drink,’ Siobhan explained. ‘I’ve asked if we might join her.’
Rebus could think of nothing better.
‘I’m meeting someone in half an hour,’ Kate cautioned.
‘Half an hour’s all we need,’ Rebus assured her.
They made for the nearest place, found a table. The jukebox was loud, but Rebus got the barman to turn it down. A pint for himself, soft drinks for the two women.
‘I was just telling Kate,’ Siobhan said, ‘how good a dancer she is.’ Rebus nodded agreement, feeling a jolt of pain in his neck. ‘I thought it the first time I saw you at the Nook,’ Siobhan went on, making the place sound like an upmarket disco. Smart girl, thought Rebus: no moralising, no making the witness nervous or embarrassed... He took a gulp from his glass.
‘That’s all it is, you know... dancing.’ Kate’s eyes flitted between Siobhan and Rebus. ‘All these things they are saying about Stuart — that he is a people-smuggler — I did not know anything about it.’ She paused, as if about to say something more, but instead sipped her drink.
‘You’re putting yourself through uni?’ Rebus guessed. She nodded.
‘I saw an advertisement in the newspaper: “Dancers wanted”.’ She smiled. ‘I’m not stupid, I knew straight away what sort of place the Nook would be, but the girls there are great... and all I ever do is dance.’
‘Albeit with no clothes on.’ The sentence came out almost without thinking. Siobhan glared at Rebus, but too late.
Kate’s face hardened. ‘Are you not listening? I said I do not do any of the other things.’
‘We know that, Kate,’ Siobhan said quietly. ‘We’ve seen the film.’
Kate looked at her. ‘What film?’
‘The one where you’re dancing beside a fireplace.’ Siobhan placed the polaroid on the tabletop. Kate snatched at it, not wanting it seen.
‘That happened the one time,’ she said, refusing to make eye contact. ‘One of the girls told me it was easy money. I told her I wouldn’t do anything...’
‘And you didn’t,’ Siobhan agreed. ‘I’ve seen the film, so we know that’s true. You put on some music and you danced.’
‘Yeah, and then they wouldn’t pay me. Alberta offered me part of her money, but I would not take it from her. She had worked for that money.’ She took another sip of her drink, Siobhan following suit. Both women placed their glasses down at the same time.