Free The Black Book by Ian Rankin Page A

McPhail?
    They were marching into the building now, leaving him behind with his cold tea and his memories. He could hear Mrs MacKenzie downstairs, washing dishes and probably chipping and breaking as much crockery as she got clean. Not her fault, her eyesight was failing. Everything about the old woman was failing. The house was bound to be worth £40,000, as good as money in the bank. And what did he have? Only memories of the way things had been in Canada and before Canada.
    A plate crashed onto the kitchen floor. It couldn’t go on like this, really it couldn’t. There’d be nothing left. He didn’t like to think about the budgie in the living-room …
    McPhail drained the strong tea. The caffeine made him slightly giddy, sweat breaking out on his forehead. The playground was empty, the school doors closed. He couldn’t see anything through the building’s few visible windows. There might be a late-arriving straggler, but he didn’t have time to waste. He had work to do. It was good to keep busy. Keeping busy kept you sane.
    ‘Big Ger,’ Rebus was saying, ‘real name Morris Gerald Cafferty.’
    Dutifully, and despite her good memory, DC Siobhan Clarke wrote these words on her notepad. Rebus didn’t mind her taking notes. It was good exercise. When she lowered her head to write, Rebus had a view of the crown of her head, light-brown hair falling forward. She was good looking in a homely sort of way. Indeed, she reminded him a bit of Nell Stapleton.
    ‘He’s the prime mover, and if we’re offered him we’ll take him. But Operation Moneybags will actually be focusing on David Charles Dougary, known as Davey.’ Again, the words went onto the paper. ‘Dougary rents office space from a dodgy mini-cab service in Gorgie Road.’
    ‘Not far from the Heartbreak Cafe?’
    The question surprised him. ‘No,’ he said, ‘not too far.’
    ‘And the restaurant owner hinted at a protection payoff?’
    Rebus shook his head. ‘Don’t get carried away, Clarke.’
    ‘And these men are involved in protection money too, aren’t they?’
    ‘There’s not much Big Ger Cafferty isn’t involved in: money laundering, prostitution. He’s a big bad bastard, but that isn’t the point. The point is, this operation will concentrate on loan-sharking, period.’
    ‘All I’m saying is maybe Sergeant Holmes was attacked by mistake instead of the Cafe’s owner.’
    ‘It’s a possibility,’ said Rebus. And if it’s true, he thought, I’m wasting a lot of time and effort on an old case. But as Nell said, Brian was frightened of something in his black book. And all because he’d started trying to track down the mysterious R. Brothers.
    ‘But to get back to business, we’ll be setting up a surveillance across the road from the taxi firm.’
    ‘Round the clock?’
    ‘We’ll start with working hours. Dougary has a fairly fixed routine by all accounts.’
    ‘What’s he supposed to be doing in that office?’
    ‘The way he tells it, everything from basic entrepreneurship to arranging food parcels for the Third World. Don’t get me wrong, Dougary’s clever. He’s lasted longer than most of Big Ger’s “associates”. He’s also a maniac, it’s worth bearing that in mind. We once arrested him after a pub brawl. He’d torn the ear off another man with his teeth. When we got there, Dougary was chomping away. The ear was never recovered.’
    Rebus always expected some reaction from his favourite stories, but all Siobhan Clarke did was smile and say, ‘I love this city.’ Then: ‘Are there files on Mr Cafferty?’
    ‘Oh aye, there are files. By all means, plough through them. They’ll give you some idea what you’re up against.’
    She nodded. ‘I’ll do that. And when do we start the surveillance, sir?’
    ‘First thing Monday morning. Everything will be set up on Sunday. I just hope they give us a decent camera.’ He noticed Clarke was looking relieved. Then the penny dropped. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t