Tooth & Nail by Ian Rankin

Author:Ian Rankin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Orion Press
Published: 2011-10-18T13:59:14+00:00

Churchill

Rebus woke to his radio-alarm at seven, sat up in bed and rang Lisa. No reply. Maybe something was wrong.

Over breakfast, he skimmed the newspapers. Two of the quality titles- carried bold front, page stories recounting the capture of the Wolfman, but they were couched in speculative prose: Police are believed ... it is thought that Police may have already captured the, evil cutthroat killer. Only the tabloids carried pictures of Rebus at his little press conference. Even they, despite the shouting headlines, were being cagey; probably they didn't believe it themselves. That didn't matter. What mattered was that somewhere the Wolfman might be reading about his capture.

His. There was that word again. Rebus couldn't help, but think of the Wolfman as a man, yet part of him was wary of narrowing the possible identity in this way. There was still nothing to indicate that it could not be a woman. He needed to keep an open mind. And did the sex of the beast really matter? Actually yes, probably it did. What was the use of women waiting hours just so that they could travel home from a pub or party in a mini-cab driven by another woman, if the killer they were so afraid of turned out to be a woman? All over London people were taking protective measures. Housing estates were patrolled by neighbourhood vigilantes. One group had already beaten up a completely innocent stranger who'd wandered onto the estate because he was lost -and needed directions. His crime? The estate was white, and the stranger was coloured. Flight had told Rebus how prevalent racism was in London, 'especially the south-east corner. Go into some of those estates with a tan and you'll end up being nutted.' Rebus had encountered it already, thanks to Lamb's own particular brand of xenophobia.

Of course, there wasn't nearly so much racism in Scotland. There was no need: the Scots had bigotry instead.

He finished the papers and went to HQ It was early yet, a little after half past eight. A few of the murder team were busy at their desks, but the smaller offices were empty. The office Rebus had taken over was stuffy, and he opened the windows. The day was mild, a slight, breeze wafting in. He could hear the distant sound of a computer printer, of telephones starting to ring. Outside, the traffic flowed in slow motion, a dull rumbling, nothing more. Without realising he was doing it, Rebus rested his head on his arms. This close to the desk, he could smell wood and varnish, mixed with pencil-lead. It reminded him of primary school. A knock, echoing somewhere, jarred his sleep. Then a cough, not a necessary cough, a diplomatic cough.

'Excuse me, sir.'

Rebus lifted his head sharply from the desk. A. WPC was standing, her head around the, door, looking at him. He had been sleeping with his mouth open. There was a trail of saliva on the side of his mouth, and a tiny pool of the stuff on the surface of the desk.

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