Free Even dogs in the wild by Ian Rankin Page A

them didn’t happen to mosey over to Cafferty’s
    neck of the woods last night and point a gun at him?’
    ‘We don’t think so.’

    ‘There may have been gaps in the surveillance,’ Fox piped
    up. ‘Just about big enough to make it a possibility.’
    ‘I’m wishing now I’d stuck you in a corner with that fucking
    Angry Birds game,’ Compston snarled, jumping to his feet and
    pacing the room.
    ‘For what it’s worth,’ Rebus said, ‘Malcolm didn’t tell me a
    single thing about the operation here, and nothing he said in
    front of either Cafferty or Christie will have made them any the
    wiser.’
    ‘ You found out, though.’
    Rebus shook his head. ‘He got me curious, that’s all.’ He
    glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Now, how about letting me
    drag you across the road for a drink? It’s not the worst boozer
    in town, and I’m betting no one’s had the decency to wet the
    team’s head, as it were.’
    ‘We’re supposed to be waiting for the lads to report in,’ Bell
    cautioned.
    Compston thought for a moment. ‘Won’t do any harm,
    though, will it? No more than has already been wreaked by DI
    Fox. You can man the post here if you like, Alec.’
    ‘Strength in numbers, Ricky – I better come with you.’
    ‘It’s unanimous, then.’ Rebus eased himself off the desk.
    ‘Lead the way, DI Fox – it’s your round, after all.’

    The pub was half full of workers on their way home and
    students playing games of chess and draughts. There being no
    free tables, the group made for the far end of the bar. Fox
    bought the drinks – three pints and a sparkling water.
    ‘If I’d known you didn’t drink,’ Compston admonished
    him, ‘you’d have been off my team from minute one.’ He took

    the first of the proffered beers and tried a mouthful, smacking
    his lips.
    ‘How have you been, John?’ Bell and Rebus clinked
    glasses.
    ‘Mustn’t grumble, Alec. You still in Glasgow?’
    ‘Attached to Gartcosh these days.’
    ‘Congratulations. Bit of a step up from busting druggies and
    wife-beaters.’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘So someone’s running around your city with a firearm?’
    Compston interrupted. ‘Doesn’t seem to have made the
    news.’
    ‘Cafferty’s saying it was an accident. Tripped and smashed a
    window. Neighbours say otherwise, and there’s a bullet hole in
    his living room wall.’
    ‘The two of you are cosy, then?’
    ‘Insofar as I’ve spent half my life trying to put him away.’
    ‘Any success?’
    ‘He was released from jail on medical grounds, followed by
    a miracle cure.’ Rebus placed his glass on the bar. ‘So, are you
    ready to tell me a story, or do we just keep going around the
    houses like a taxi driver on his first trip to Livingston?’
    Compston looked to Alec Bell.
    ‘John’s one of the good guys, despite all appearances,’ Bell
    confirmed.
    ‘The Starks,’ Compston began, after a further moment’s
    consideration, ‘are looking for a man called Hamish Wright.
    He’s a haulage contractor, used to deliver drugs around the
    country in his containers. We’ve been watching the Starks for a
    while, and when they left Glasgow for Inverness and visited

    Wright’s yard there, we knew something was up. Aberdeen and
    Dundee after that, and now here.’
    ‘Have you tried looking for Wright yourselves?’
    ‘He’s definitely done a flit. Wife is covering his arse, says
    he’s in London on business, but he’s not made any calls on his
    phone and there’s nothing to show he’s there.’
    ‘What about his car?’
    ‘Parked in the garage at his home.’
    ‘Does the wife seem spooked?’
    ‘I’d say so.’
    ‘He’s got something belonging to the Starks?’ Rebus
    speculated.
    ‘Drugs and cash, probably,’ Bell offered.
    Compston’s phone was buzzing – incoming call. ‘It’s Beth,’
    he said, pressing the phone to one ear while covering the other
    with his free hand. But the noise in the bar proved too much, so
    he began making for the