‘You weren’t curious?’
‘Isn’t that what killed the cat?’
‘Even so...’
Baird just shrugged again, examining the tip of his cigarette. Rebus broke the silence with another question.
‘You knew he was using all those people as illegal workers?’
‘I couldn’t have told you if they were illegal or not...’
‘They were breaking their backs for him.’
‘So why didn’t they leave?’
‘You’ve said yourself — you were scared of him... what makes you think they weren’t?’
‘That’s a point.’
‘We’ve got evidence of intimidation.’
‘Could be he’s a product of his genes.’ Baird flicked ash on to the floor.
‘Like father like son?’ Felix Storey added.
Rebus stood up and walked around Baird’s chair, stopping and leaning down, so his face was next to the other man’s shoulder.
‘You say you didn’t know he was a people-smuggler?’
‘No.’
‘Well, now that we’ve enlightened you, what do you think?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Are you surprised?’
Baird thought for a moment. ‘I suppose I am.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘I don’t know... maybe it’s that Stu never gave any inkling that he could play on that size of stage.’
‘He’s essentially small-time?’ Rebus offered.
Baird thought for another moment, and then nodded. ‘People-smuggling... you’re playing for high stakes, right?’
‘Right,’ Felix Storey agreed. ‘And maybe that’s why Bullen did it — to prove he was a match for his old man.’
This gave Baird pause, and Rebus could see he was thinking of his own son Gareth: fathers and sons with things to prove...
‘Let’s just get this clear,’ Rebus said, moving around the chair again so that he was eye to eye with Baird. ‘You didn’t know anything about the fake IDs, and it surprises you that Bullen was a big enough player to get involved in something like that?’
Baird nodded, keeping eye contact with Rebus.
Now Felix Storey rose to his feet. ‘Well, that’s what he was doing, whether we like it or not...’ He held out a hand, meaning for Baird to shake it, which entailed Baird standing up.
‘You’re letting me go?’ Baird asked.
‘As long as you promise not to do a runner. We’ll call you — might be in a few days. You’ll do another interview, taped this time.’
Baird just nodded, letting go of Storey’s hand. He looked at Rebus, whose hands were staying in his pockets — no handshake on offer there.
‘Can you see yourself out?’ Storey asked.
Baird nodded and turned the door-handle, hardly able to believe his luck. Rebus waited till the door was closed again.
‘What makes you think he won’t run?’ he hissed, not wanting Baird to hear.
‘Gut feeling.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘He’s not given us anything we don’t already have.’
‘He’s a piece of the jigsaw.’
‘Maybe so, John, but if he is, he’s a bit of sky or cloud — I can see the picture clearly enough without him.’
‘The whole picture?’
Storey’s face hardened. ‘You don’t think I’m using up enough Edinburgh police cells as it is?’ He switched on his mobile, started checking for messages.
‘Look,’ Rebus argued, ‘you’ve been working this case for a while, right?’
‘Right.’ Storey was studying his phone’s tiny screen.
‘And how far back can you trace the line? Who else do you know about except Bullen?’
Storey glanced up. ‘We’ve got a few names: an Essex-based haulier, a Turkish gang in Rotterdam...’
‘And they definitely connect to Bullen?’
‘They connect.’
‘And all this is from your anonymous caller? Don’t tell me that doesn’t make you wonder...’
Storey held up a finger, asking for quiet so he could listen to a message. Rebus turned on his heels and walked to the far wall, switched on his own phone. It started ringing almost immediately: not a message but a call.
‘Hello, Caro,’ he said, recognising her number.
‘I just heard on the news.’
‘Heard what?’
‘All those people they’ve arrested in Knoxland... those poor, poor people.’
‘If it’s any consolation, we’ve arrested the bad guys, too — and we’ll be keeping them behind bars long after the others have been sent on their way.’
‘But on their way to where?’
Rebus glanced over at Felix Storey; no easy way to answer her question.
‘John...?’ A split-second before she asked, he knew what her question was going to be. ‘Were you there? When they kicked down the doors and rounded them all up, were you watching?’
He thought of lying, but she deserved better. ‘I was there,’ he said. ‘It’s what I do for a living, Caro.’ He dropped his voice, realising that Storey’s own conversation was ending. ‘Did you hear me telling you we caught the people responsible?’
‘There are other jobs out there, John.’
‘It’s what I am, Caro... take it or leave it.’
‘You sound so angry.’
He glanced towards Storey, who was pocketing his own phone. Realised his issue was with Storey, not Caro. ‘I’ve got to go... can we talk later?’
‘Talk about what?’
‘Whatever you like.’
‘The looks on their faces? The babies crying? Can we talk about that?’
Rebus pressed the red button, folded the phone shut.
‘Everything okay?’ Storey asked solicitously.
‘Hunky-dory, Felix.’
‘Jobs like ours can play havoc... That night I came to your flat, I didn’t sense a Mrs Rebus.’
‘We’ll make a detective of you yet.’
Storey smiled. ‘My own wife... well, we stay together for the kids.’
‘You don’t wear a ring, though.’
Storey held up his left hand. ‘That’s right, I don’t.’
‘Does Phyllida Hawes know you’re married?’
The smile disappeared, eyes narrowed. ‘None of your business, John.’
‘Fair enough... let’s talk about this “Deep Throat” of yours instead.’
‘What about him?’
‘He seems to know a hell of a lot.’
‘So?’
‘You’ve not asked yourself what his motive is?’
‘Not really.’
‘And you’ve not asked him?’
‘You want me to scare him off?’ Storey folded his arms. ‘Now why would you want that?’
‘Stop twisting things round.’
‘Know what, John? After Stuart Bullen mentioned that man Cafferty, I did a bit of background reading. You and Cafferty go back a long way.’
It was Rebus’s turn to scowl. ‘What are you saying?’
Storey held up his hands in apology. ‘That was out of line. Tell you what...’ He checked his watch. ‘I think we deserve some lunch — my treat. Anywhere local you’d recommend?’
Rebus shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes on Storey. ‘We’ll drive into Leith, find something down by the shore.’
‘Shame you’re driving,’ Storey said. ‘Means I’ll have to drink for both of us.’
‘I dare say I could manage a glass,’ Rebus assured him.
Storey held the door open, gesturing for Rebus to walk ahead of him. Rebus did so, eyes unblinking, thoughts churning. Storey had been rattled, using Cafferty to turn the tables on Rebus. What was it he was afraid of?
‘Your anonymous caller,’ Rebus said, almost casually, ‘you ever tape your conversations with him?’
‘No.’
‘Any idea how he came by your number?’
‘No.’