Free Mortal Causes by Ian Rankin Page A

had broken long enough to let denim jacket through.
    The youth pointed a finger. ‘I thought I said you didn’t want to know my name?’
    ‘I can’t help it if people tell me things, Davey.’
    ‘Davey Soutar,’ Burns added. He was standing in the doorway, arms folded, looking like he was enjoying himself. He wasn’t of course, it was just a necessary pose.
    ‘Davey Soutar,’ Rebus echoed.
    Soutar had clenched his fists. Peter Cave attempted to intercede. ‘Now, please. Is there a problem here, Inspector?’
    ‘You tell me, Mr Cave.’ He looked around him. ‘Frankly, we’re a little bit concerned about this gang hut.’
    Colour flooded Cave’s cheeks. ‘It’s a youth centre.’
    Rebus was now studying the ceiling. Nobody was playing basketball any more. The music had been turned right down. ‘If you say so, sir.’
    ‘Look, you come barging in here –’
    ‘I don’t recall barging, Mr Cave. More of a saunter. I didn’t ask for trouble. If Davey here can be persuaded to unclench his fists, maybe you and me can have a quiet chat outside.’ He looked at the circle around them. ‘I’m not one for playing to the cheap seats.’
    Cave stared at Rebus, then at Soutar. He nodded slowly, his face drained of anger, and eventually Soutar let his hands relax. You could tell it was an effort. Burns hadn’t put in an appearance for nothing.
    ‘There now,’ said Rebus. ‘Come on, Mr Cave, let’s you and me go for a walk.’
    They walked across the playing fields. Burns had returned to the patrol car and moved it to a spot where he could watch them. Some teenagers watched from the back of the community centre and from its roof, but they didn’t venture any closer than that.
    ‘I really don’t see, Inspector –’
    ‘You think you’re doing a good job here, sir?’
    Cave thought about it before answering. ‘Yes, I do.’
    ‘You think the experiment is a success?’
    ‘A limited success so far, but yes, once again.’ He had his hands behind his back, head bowed a little. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.
    ‘No regrets?’
    ‘None.’
    ‘Funny then …’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Your church doesn’t seem so sure.’
    Cave stopped in his tracks. ‘Is that what this is about? You’re in Conor’s congregation, is that it? He’s sent you here to … what’s the phrase? Come down heavy on me?’
    ‘Nothing like that.’
    ‘He’s paranoid. He was the one who wanted me here. Now suddenly he’s decided I should leave, ipso facto I must leave. He’s used to getting his way after all. Well, I don’t choose to leave. I like it fine here. Is that what he’s afraid of? Well there’s not much he can do about it, is there? And as far as I can see, Inspector, there’s nothing you can do about it either, unless someone from the club is found breaking the law.’ Cave’s face had reddened, his hands coming from behind his back so he could gesture with them.
    ‘That lot break the law every day.’
    ‘Now just a –’
    ‘No, listen for a minute. Okay, you got the Jaffas and the Tims together, but ask yourself why they were amenable. If they’re not divided, they’re united, and they’re united for a reason . They’re the same as before, only stronger. You must see that.’
    ‘I see nothing of the sort. People can change, Inspector.’
    Rebus had been hearing the line all his professional life. He sighed and toed the ground.
    ‘You don’t believe that?’
    ‘Frankly, sir, not in this particular case, and the crime stats back me up. What you’ve got just now is a truce of sorts, and it suits them because while there’s a truce they can get busy carving up territory between them. Anyone threatens them, they can retaliate in spades … or even with spades. But it won’t last, and when they split back into their separate gangs, there’s going to be blood spilled, no way round it. Because now there’ll be more at stake. Tell me, in your club tonight, how many Catholics were