And that was that—goodbyes and talk of the trip to Australia Darryl would someday make. Afterward he swung his feet onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He had been lying to his father: he did have a phone paid for by Frank Hammell, but this wasn’t it. This belonged to Darryl, which was why he used it to send a text message to Cafferty. He reckoned the old boy would be sound asleep. Maybe it would wake him and maybe it wouldn’t. He punched it in anyway and hit “send.”

Your pal Rebus has taken a shine to Hammell. He was at Jo-Jo’s tonight.

Proper spelling and punctuation—only the best for Mr. Cafferty. Darryl switched to his other phone to send one final text. Afterward he might manage a few hours’ sleep. A few hours seemed to be all he ever needed. By six or six thirty he’d be on his laptop, at the start of a new working day. He checked the wording of the message and made sure it was going to the right number, then pressed “send” and lay back on his bed again, eyes open. He reached for the remote and used it to close the blinds around and above him. The system had cost a fortune—more than three times what he’d told his mother—even after Frank Hammell had negotiated a hefty discount. Darryl started to unbutton his shirt. Judging by the illuminated screen, a message had arrived already on one of his phones…

Part Three

Part Three

And looking from a low ridge
To loch waters in the west
Where darkened hills are dreaming…

29

29

It was, as Rebus had explained to James Page, a no-brainer.

“You’ve got the engine here, running beautifully. Me, I’m by way of a spare lightbulb in the glove box. I’m the part you can afford to be without.”