Her face darkened. ‘Why me?’ she said.
‘Why not?’
‘How good do you think I’d come out of this? Do you think anyone would forget that I was the one who’d helped you?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Gill.’
Her voice softened. She stared into her drink. ‘Sorry I’m letting you down, John.’
‘They could crucify me if they wanted to.’
She stared at him. ‘They don’t want to. You don’t know, do you? You really don’t know.’
‘Know what?’
‘You’re going to be promoted to chief inspector. There’s an opening in Galashiels. It came down to the chief super from the DCC.’ She smiled. ‘You’re trying to arrange a search warrant for his house, and he’s busy giving you a hike up. How’s that going to look in court?’
‘It’s true,’ Chief Superintendent Watson confirmed.
Rebus was in the Farmer’s office, but not sitting. He couldn’t sit, couldn’t even stand at ease.
‘I don’t want it, I won’t accept it. That’s allowed, isn’t it?’
The Farmer made a pained face. ‘If you refuse, it’s a snub no one will forget. You might never get a second chance.’
‘I don’t mind snubbing Allan Gunner.’
‘John, Gunner didn’t recommend you for promotion, I did.’
‘What?’
‘Several months back.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, it’s a damned coincidence Gunner’s held off making a decision until now. Whose idea was Galashiels?’
‘It happens to be an opening.’
‘It happens to be in the middle of nowhere. I can see they’d need a chief inspector down there, what with the farming vendettas and the Saturday night punch-up.’
‘For once in your life, John, go easy on yourself, do yourself a favour. Stop beating yourself up like you’re the Salvation Army drum. Just …’ The Farmer shrugged.
‘Drums don’t beat themselves,’ Rebus said. He was staring at the Farmer’s computer, not listening any more. And then he started to smile, and looked at the Farmer. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘tell Gunner I’ll take it.’
‘Good.’
But the Farmer wasn’t as pleased as he’d expected he’d be. There was something going on, some motive he couldn’t fathom. It was so bloody typical of Rebus to make him feel like a win was a draw, a draw a defeat.
‘And, John,’ he said, standing up, stretching out his hand, ‘congratulations.’
Rebus stared at the hand but didn’t take it. ‘I didn’t say I was accepting the promotion, sir, I just said to tell Gunner I was.’
And with that he left the Farmer’s office.
Flower was on night-shift again.
Rebus didn’t know why or how Flower got so many night-shifts. Maybe because at night he was more likely to see a spot of trouble. Rebus looked like trouble as he strode towards his adversary’s desk, dragging a chair over and sitting astride it.
‘Done any good fire-raising lately?’
Flower just sneered.
‘Some good it did you,’ Rebus went on.
‘What?’
‘I don’t mean setting the bin on fire. I mean letting the DCC use your man McAnally like that. Whose idea was it to put him in Charters’ cell?’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Humour me.’ Rebus offered Flower a cigarette. Flower took it warily, and even then laid it to one side.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘it was the DCC’s.’
‘That’s what I figured. And you went along with it. I mean, who wouldn’t? It meant the DCC owed you a favour — very handy that. But it didn’t work out.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘I mean, the DCC had a hidden agenda. He wanted to use your man to make sure Charters wasn’t talking, because some people on the outside were getting sweaty. Charters was protecting certain people, people like the head of PanoTech, and the Permanent Secretary at the Scottish Office. But a local councillor had started sniffing. Eventually, he would have talked to Charters — maybe he already had. That worried people, they needed to know how safe they were. As it turned out, Charters knew about the councillor and paid McAnally to give him a fright.’
‘Shite.’
‘Is it? Well, no matter.’ Rebus sucked on his cigarette. He’d got Flower thinking, but that process might take weeks. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘your friend the DCC, he didn’t even get you Lauderdale’s job. Didn’t that make you think?’
‘It was too soon. It would have looked suspicious.’
Rebus laughed, further discomfiting Flower. ‘Is that what he told you?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘Well, bonny lad, I’ve got news for you — the DCC’s just offered me promotion to chief inspector.’
‘Away to hell.’
Rebus just shrugged. Flower picked up the cigarette he’d been given and lit it. Then he called the Farmer at home. They had a bruising conversation during which Flower brought up everything from his years in the force (three more than Rebus) to his charitable works. When he finally put the phone down, he was shaking.
‘Know who you should phone now?’ Rebus suggested. ‘Your pal Allan Gunner. Ask him why me instead of you. Know what he’ll say? Well, he might not say it, but it’s the truth. He’s promoting me because I’m dangerous to him. I’m too dangerous for the usual demotion, so instead he’s offering a bribe. And you’re being left behind because he can afford to ignore you. That’s a simple fact.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Flower hissed.
‘Believe me, it’s not just for the thrill of seeing you squirm.’
‘Why then?’
Rebus leaned forward. ‘How,’ he asked confidentially, ‘would you like my promotion?’ Flower just sneered. It hurt Rebus to say what he was saying, but he tried not to let that show. He would sacrifice this and much more for a single, risky shot at his quarry. Above all, though, he wouldn’t tell Flower about the move to Galashiels that went along with it … ‘I mean it,’ he said.
Flower saw with deep amazement that he did. ‘What do I have to do?’
40
Winter mornings could sap you of good intentions and foolhardy schemes. Rebus and Flower wanted to be in their separate beds, tucked beneath a nice heavy woman, but instead were sitting in Rebus’s car, across the street from Allan Gunner’s house. It was still dark. A milk van passed, and a bread van, and a few bleak souls on their way to catch the first bus of the day.
‘So this is morning,’ Flower said.
‘Not a pretty sight, is it?’
‘You think this will work?’
‘Have faith.’ Rebus looked towards the house. ‘He’s up.’
Flower peered out through the windscreen. A light had come on upstairs in the Gunner household.
‘We’ll give him five minutes,’ said Rebus.
But only two minutes later, the downstairs lights came on.
‘Could be the wife,’ Flower suggested, ‘cooking a hearty breakfast for her deserving husband.’
‘Have you ever heard the phrase “New Man”?’
‘It’s a shop, isn’t it? What do you reckon, a couple more minutes? Let him get his feet under the breakfast table?’
‘My legs are blocks of ice,’ Rebus said, opening the car door. ‘Let’s do it now.’
They rang the doorbell, and heard Gunner’s voice calling, ‘I’ll get it!’ Then the door opened, revealing the deputy chief constable in shirt but not yet necktie or cufflinks, a mug of coffee in his hand. He took a step back into the hall.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Canvassing for the Natural Law Party,’ Rebus said, stepping into the centrally heated house.
Gunner ran upstairs to have a word with his wife, and Rebus and Flower walked uninvited into the kitchen. Smoke was pouring from the electric grill. Flower lifted the grill-pan out and blew on the cremated bread. ‘New Man, eh?’
Rebus switched the kettle back on and lifted two mugs from the draining-board. He was unscrewing the lid from the coffee-jar when Gunner returned. Gunner snatched the jar from him.