‘We going somewhere?’ Storey snapped.
‘Can’t sit in the car all day,’ Rebus replied. ‘Not without catching our death.’
‘Two deaths,’ Min Tan stressed, misunderstanding Rebus’s words.
‘One of them was the Kurd?’ Rebus asked. ‘Stef Yurgii?’
The Chinaman frowned. ‘Who?’
‘The man who was stabbed. He was one of your lot, wasn’t he?’ Rebus had turned in his seat, but Min Tan was shaking his head.
‘I do not know this person.’
Which served Rebus right for jumping to conclusions. ‘Peter Hill and Stuart Bullen, they didn’t kill Stef Yurgii?’
‘I tell you, I do not know this man!’ Min Tan’s voice had risen.
‘You saw them kill two people,’ Storey interrupted. Another shake of the head. ‘But you just said you did...’
‘Everyone knows about it — we all are told about it.’
‘About what?’ Rebus persisted.
‘The two...’ Words seemed to fail Min Tan. ‘Two bodies... you know, after they die.’ He pinched the skin of the arm which held his beaker. ‘It all goes, none left.’
‘No skin left?’ Rebus guessed. ‘Bodies with no skin. You mean skeletons?’
Min Tan wagged a finger triumphantly.
‘And people talk about them?’ Rebus went on.
‘One time... man not want to work for so low pay. He was loud. He told people not to work, to go free...’
‘And he was killed?’ Storey interrupted.
‘Not killed!’ Min Tan cried in frustration. ‘Just listen, please! He was taken to a place, and they showed him bodies with no skin. Told him this would happen to him — to everybody — unless he obeyed, did good work.’
‘Two skeletons,’ Rebus said quietly, talking to himself. But Min Tan had heard him.
‘Mother and child,’ he said, eyes widening in remembered horror. ‘If they can kill mother and child — not arrested, not found out — they can do anything, kill anyone... anyone who disobeys!’
Rebus nodded his understanding.
Two skeletons.
Mother and child.
‘You’ve seen these skeletons?’
Min Tan shook his head. ‘Others saw. One a baby, wrapped in newspaper. They showed it in Knoxland, showed the head and hands. Then buried mother and baby in...’ He sought the words he needed. ‘Place underground...’
‘A cellar?’ Rebus suggested.
Min Tan nodded eagerly. ‘Buried them there, with one of us watching. He told us the story.’
Rebus stared out through the windscreen. It made sense: using the skeletons to terrify the immigrants, keep them in fear. Stripping away the wires and screws to make them more authentic. And for a final flourish, pouring concrete over them in front of a witness, that man returning to Knoxland, spreading the story.
They can do anything, kill anyone... anyone who disobeys...
It was half an hour till opening when he knocked on the door of the Warlock.
Siobhan was with him. He’d called her from his car, after dropping Storey and Min Tan at Torphichen, the Immigration man armed with a few more questions for Bullen and the Irishman. Siobhan hadn’t quite woken up, Rebus having to go over the story more than once. His central point — how many pairs of skeletons had popped up in recent months?
Her eventual answer: just the one that she could think of.
‘I need to speak to Mangold anyway,’ she said now, as Rebus kicked at the door of the Warlock, his polite knock having been ignored.
‘Any particular reason?’ he asked.
‘You’ll find out when I question him.’
‘Thanks for sharing.’ One final kick and he took a step back. ‘Nobody home.’
She checked her watch. ‘Cutting it fine.’
He nodded. Usually there’d be someone inside this close to opening — if only to prime the pumps and fill the till. Cleaner might have come and gone, but whoever was manning the bar should have been limbering up.
‘What did you get up to last night?’ Siobhan asked, trying for a conversational tone.
‘Not much.’
‘Not like you to refuse the offer of a lift.’
‘I felt like walking.’
‘So you said.’ She folded her arms. ‘Stop off at any watering-holes on route?’
‘Despite what you think, I can go whole hours at a time without a drink.’ He busied himself lighting a cigarette. ‘What about you? Was it another rendezvous with Major Underpants?’ She stared at him, and he smiled. ‘Nicknames have a habit of travelling.’
‘Maybe so, but you’ve got it wrong — it’s Captain, not Major.’
Rebus shook his head. ‘Might’ve been that originally, but I can assure you it’s Major now. Funny things, nicknames...’ He walked to the top of Fleshmarket Close, blew smoke down it, then noticed something. Walked to the cellar door.
The cellar door standing ajar.
Pushed it open with his fist and stepped inside, Siobhan following.
Ray Mangold was staring at one of the interior walls, hands in his pockets, lost in thought. He was on his own, surrounded by the half-finished building work. The concrete floor had been lifted in its entirety. The rubble had gone, but there was still plenty of dust in the air.
‘Mr Mangold?’ Rebus said.
Spell broken, Mangold swivelled his head. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, sounding less than thrilled.
‘Nice bruises,’ Rebus commented.
‘Healing,’ Mangold said, touching his cheek.
‘How did you get them?’
‘Like I told your colleague...’ Mangold nodded towards Siobhan. ‘I had a bust-up with a punter.’
‘Who won?’
‘He won’t be drinking in the Warlock again, that’s for sure.’
‘Sorry if we’re interrupting anything,’ Siobhan said.
Mangold shook his head. ‘Just trying to think what this’ll look like when it’s finished.’
‘Tourists will lap it up,’ Rebus told him.
Mangold smiled. ‘That’s what I’m hoping.’ He removed his hands from his pockets, clapped them together. ‘So what can I do to help you today?’
‘Those skeletons...’ Rebus gestured towards the patch of earth where the find had been made.
‘I can’t believe you’re still wasting your time...’
‘We’re not,’ Rebus broke in. He was standing next to a wheelbarrow, presumably belonging to the builder, Joe Evans. There was a toolbox lying open inside it, a hammer and stone-chisel uppermost. Rebus lifted the stone-chisel, impressed with its weight. ‘Do you know a man called Stuart Bullen?’
Mangold considered his answer. ‘I know of him. Rab Bullen’s son.’
‘That’s right.’
‘I think he owns some sort of strip joint...’
‘The Nook.’
Mangold nodded slowly. ‘That’s it...’
Rebus let the chisel clatter back into the barrow. ‘He also does a nice sideline in slavery, Mr Mangold.’
‘Slavery?’
‘Illegal immigrants. He puts them to work, probably holds back a decent cut for himself. Looks like he might be providing them with new identities, too.’
‘Christ.’ Mangold looked from Rebus to Siobhan and back again. ‘Hang on, though... what’s this got to do with me?’
‘When one of the immigrants started acting up, Bullen decided to scare him off. Showed him a couple of skeletons being buried in a cellar.’
Mangold’s eyes widened. ‘The ones Evans dug up?’
Rebus just shrugged, eyes boring into Mangold’s. ‘Cellar door always kept locked, Mr Mangold?’
‘Look, I told you right at the start, that concrete was laid before I came here.’