I know about you and Maggie. And it’s going to stop right now. Do we understand one another?

Rebus nodding mutely. And then the growling voice again.

One more thing—this is the price you pay for me not thumping you. Whatever happens among the Saints, we never talk, we never grass—okay?

Another nod. Rebus with his mouth open, but unable to find the words. The glasses of whisky lifted from him—the usual generous measures—and transported to the corner table, where Gilmour, Paterson and Frazer Spence waited with smiles and a sheen of sweat.

Here’s to us…

One for all…

Come on, Johnny Boy, drink up—what’s the matter with you? You’ve a face like a burst coupon…

“I remember,” Rebus said, in the sitting room of Dod Blantyre’s overheated bungalow, his eyes fixed on a man in constant discomfort, a man with not much longer to live.

“A promise is a promise, John.” Blantyre noticed Rebus’s eyes flitting towards the door. “Don’t worry,” he said. “She doesn’t know. This is just you and me here.”

“You’re telling me it’s okay to cover up a murder?”

“Nobody’s mentioned murder—you said so yourself: Kennedy could have taken a tumble. All we need from you is your silence.”

Rebus got up and placed the mug back on its tray, still half full. Then he turned to face Dod Blantyre. The man was mustering as much of his old grit as he could, hands gripping the sides of his chair, as if he might try to rise from it at any moment.

“I’ll see myself out,” Rebus said.

“We deserve better from you, John—all of us.”

But Rebus was shaking his head slowly as he left the room. He had already pulled his coat on when Maggie emerged from the kitchen.

“Cigarette in the back garden?” she asked.

“I have to go.”

“What’s wrong? What’s he been saying?”

“Nothing, Maggie—I just need to be elsewhere.”

She reached out to him, but he turned away and opened the front door, glad of the cold air and the squall.

“John?” she was calling as he headed down the path towards the gate. “John?”

He lifted a hand, waving without looking.

We never talk, we never grass…

Come on, Johnny Boy…

It’s going to stop right now…

“Too true,” Rebus muttered to himself, unlocking his car and getting in. When his phone buzzed, he knew it would be Maggie. He didn’t take it out of his pocket to check. Just turned the key in the ignition and got going.

Day Eleven

Day Eleven

20

20

If I didn’t know better,” Malcolm Fox said, “I’d think you were relishing the chance to get your hands on the Summerhall files now they’re not under lock and key.” He was removing his coat and scarf and shaking rainwater from both.