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Fine. Tie your shoelaces.
Allerdyce was like a child. He sat on the bed and worked on
the laces of his five-hundred-dollar shoes.
Okay? Let me look at you. You look fine, let s go.
True to his word, Duhart had come back. The car was parked
outside, blocking the gates. His jaw dropped when he saw the gates
open and Reeve come walking out, dressed like something from a
Rambo film, with Jeffrey Allerdyce following at his heels.
Get in the back, Mr. Allerdyce, Reeve ordered.
Jesus Christ, Reeve! You can t kidnap him! What the fuck
is this?
Reeve got into the passenger seat. I ve not kidnapped him.
Mr. Allerdyce, will you please tell my friend that you ve come
with me of your own volition.
Own volition, Allerdyce mumbled.
Duhart still looked like a man in the middle of a particularly
bad dream. What the fuck is he on, man?
Just drive, said Reeve.
Reeve cleaned up a bit in the car. They went to Duhart s apart-
ment, where he cleaned up some more and put on fresh clothes.
Allerdyce sat on a chair in a living room probably smaller and less
tidy than anywhere he d ever been in his adult life. Duhart wasn t
comfortable with any of this: here was his idol, his god, sitting in
his goddamned apartment and Reeve kept swearing Allerdyce
wouldn t remember any of it.
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Ian Rankin
Just go get the stuff, Reeve said.
Duhart giggled nervously, rubbed his hands over his face.
Just go get the stuff. Reeve was beginning to wish he d
given Duhart a dose of birdy, too.
Okay, Duhart said at last, but he turned at the door and had
another look at the scene within: Reeve in his tourist duds, and
old man Allerdyce just sitting there, hands on knees, like a ven-
triloquist s dummy waiting for the hand up the back.
While Duhart was away, Reeve asked Allerdyce a few more
questions, and tried to work out where they went from here, or
rather, how they went from here. Allerdyce wouldn t remember
anything, but the two guards would. Then there was the corpse
of the dog to explain. Reeve didn t reckon Mr. Blue Öyster Cult
had heard much, if anything, of his short dialogue with Allerdyce.
So all they d know was that there d been an intruder an intruder
who d fucked with Allerdyce s mind. They d be wondering what
else he d fucked with.
Duhart was back within the hour, carrying a shoe box. Reeve
opened it. Smothered in cotton wool, like a schoolboy s collec-
tion of bird eggs, were listening devices of various shapes, sizes,
and ranges.
They all work?
Last time I used them, Duhart said.
Reeve rooted to the base of the shoe box. Have you got the
recorders to go with these?
In the car, Duhart said. So what about Dulwater?
I want you to keep tabs on him.
Duhart shook his head. What am I into here?
Eddie, by the time you ve finished, you ll have so much dirt
on our pal here he ll have to give you a senior partnership. Swear
to God.
God, huh? Duhart said, staring at Allerdyce.
Duhart brought his car to a stop beside the entry / exit ramp of
the Alliance Investigative building. Reeve told Eddie Duhart to
stay in the car, but not to leave the engine idling. They didn t
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Blood Hunt
want him stopped by nosy cops. It was four in the morning: he d
have some explaining to do.
Can t I come with you? Man, I never been in there.
You want to be the star of Candid Camera, Eddie? Reeve
turned in the passenger seat. Allerdyce sat so quietly in the back
it was easy to forget him. Mr. Allerdyce, does your building have
security cameras?
Oh, yes.
Reeve turned back to Duhart. I don t mind them seeing me;
Allerdyce is already going to have a grudge against me. Do you
want him to have a grudge against you, Eddie?
No, Duhart said sullenly.
Well, okay, said Reeve, picking up his large plastic carrier bag
and getting out of the car. He opened the back door for Allerdyce.
Which way would you usually go in?
Through the garage and up the elevator.
Can you open the garage?
Allerdyce reached into his coat and produced a chain of about
a dozen keys.
Let s do it, Reeve said.
He briefed Allerdyce as they walked the few steps to the garage
entrance. I m a friend, in from England, if anybody asks. We ve
been up drinking half the night, tried but couldn t sleep. I asked
you to show me the offices. If anyone asks.
Allerdyce repeated all this.
The only guard is in the lobby, Allerdyce said, and he s
used to me coming in at all hours. I prefer the building when it s
empty; I don t like my staff.
I m sure the feeling s mutual. Shall we?
They stood in front of the garage s roller door. There was a
concrete post to one side with an intercom, a slot for entry cards,
and a keyhole to override everything. Allerdyce turned the key,
and the door clattered open. They walked down the slope into
the Alliance Investigative building.
Allerdyce was right: there was no guard down here, but there
were security cameras. Reeve put an arm around Allerdyce and
laughed at some joke the old man had just told him.
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Ian Rankin
The cameras, he said, are the screens up in the lobby?
Yes, Allerdyce said. Reeve grinned again for the cameras.
And do they just show or do they record as well?
They record.
Reeve didn t like that. When the elevator arrived and they
got in, Allerdyce slotted another key home.
What s that for?
Executive levels. There are two of them offices and pent-
house. You need a key to access them.
Okay, Reeve said as the doors slid closed.
Reeve guessed the security man would be watching the eleva-
tor lights. At the second story from the top, the elevator opened
and they got out. Allerdyce s office door was locked by a keypad.
He pushed in four digits and opened it.
Reeve got to work. There were no security cameras up here
the senior partners obviously didn t like to be spied on. Reeve
placed one bug inside the telephone apparatus and taped another
to the underside of the desk. The phone rang suddenly, causing
him to jump. He answered it. It was the front desk.
Good evening, Reeve said, drawing out each word, like
he d had a few.
Mr. Allerdyce there? the man asked, pleasant but suspi-
cious, too.
Would you like to speak to him? Jeffrey, there s a man here
wants to speak to you.
Allerdyce took the phone. Yes? he said. He listened, Reeve
listening right beside him. No, it s just an old friend. We ve been
drinking, couldn t sleep. I m showing him around. A pause to
listen. Yes, I know you have to check. It s what I pay you for. No
trouble, good night.
Reeve took the receiver and put it back in its cradle.
Nice one, Jeffrey, he said.
These security men, Allerdyce said, yawning. I pay them
too much. They sit on their asses all night and call it working.
We re finished in here, Reeve said. Then he saw the headed
letter paper on the desk. No, wait sit down, Mr. Allerdyce. I
want you to write something. Will you do that? He lifted a
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Blood Hunt
pen and handed it to Allerdyce, then placed a sheet of the elegant
paper in front of him. Just write what I tell you: I invited
Mr. Gordon Reeve to my home and took him on a tour of my
business premises. I did these things of my own free will
and under no restraint or coercion. That s all, just sign it and
date it.
Reeve plucked the paper from him and folded it in four. It
wasn t much he wasn t even sure it qualified as insurance
but if the cops ever did come asking, at least he could make things
a bit sticky for Allerdyce . . .
They took the elevator down a couple of floors to where Alfred
Dulwater shared an office. The door was locked, but Allerdyce
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