#Rankin. Saints of the shadow Bible/ Epilogue. Языковая поддержка.

At four next afternoon, like clockwork, Peter Meikle emerged from the bookmaker's on Clerk Street  with a disappointment look on his face, a look which only intensified when he clocked (to see or notice) Rebus

  

'Again?'

     'Again,' Rebus agreed.

     'What if I say no?'

     'This is the last time, Peter. Just take this ride with me and that's us.'

     'Promise?'

     'Promise.'

     Meikle got into the passenger seat of Rebus's Saab and fastened his belt. Holyrood Park (is a royal park in central Edinburgh about a mile from Edinburgh Castle)?' he guessed

 'Holyrood Park,' Rebus confirmed. Then, signaling to move into the stream of traffic: 'It was long time ago, wasn't it?' Has there ever been a day it didn't prey on your mind?'

     'I didn't kill Dorothy.'

     'Ach, Peter, of course you did. And in the old days, there would have been ways of dealing with that - for the police I mean. But things have changed.'

     'You still seem to enjoy a bit of information.'

     'Is that what this is?' Rebus glanced (to give a quick or short look) at Meikle. 'But I'm not smacking (to hit something hard against something else) your head against a wall, am I? And I'm not framing you - planting evidence (planted evidence is evidence that has been changed, or established at a scene, to make it appear as related to the accused party), altering paperwork. This is just the two of us, out for a drive, having a little heart-to-heart (a serious conversation between two people, usually close friends, in which they talk honestly about their feelings).'

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They were heading to the Commonwealth Pool (The Royal Commonwealth Pool is a category- A- listed building in Edinburgh that houses one of Scotland's main swimming pools).

Left at the lights and they would enter Holyrood Park.

     'Some stuff's happen lately,' Rebus went on, 'and it's got me thinking. The good guys are never all good and the bad ones never all bad,' He offered a shrug. 'I know that's not exactly news. But there's a place where the two meet, and that's when it can get interesting. It's like we're all standing on the same carpet, without bothering to look down at the pattern.' He glanced towards his passenger again.' 'Does that make sense?'

     'Maybe to you - but then you've been drinking.'

     'Just the one whisky, Peter. Call it Dutch courage (the confidence that some people need alcohol before they do something that needs courage).'

     Meikle was staring (to look for a long time with the eyes wide open, especially when surprised, frightened or thinking) at him. 'What are you going to do?'

     Rebus offered a cold smile. 'We're just driving,' he repeated.

     And so they were - snaking around the foot of Salisbury Crags (a cliff, situated in Holyrood Park and looks down on Edinburgh like a grand fortress),

  

with the Dumbiedykes estate (is a residential area in the centre of Edinburgh adjacent to Holyrood park) on their left, then passing Holyrood and taking a right at St. Margaret's Loch (is a shallow man-made loch, lake or inlet of the sea) ,

beginning the ascent around Arthur's Seat (main peak of the group of mountains in Edinburgh, which form most of Holyrood Park).

Meikle knew where they would stop - opposite the gateway that led to Willowbrae (is a suburb of Edinburgh south-west of Portobello), just like before. There was another car parked up, and Rebus drew to halt behind it.

     'We've not got long, Peter,' he said, checking his watch as he turned off the ignition. 'You carried her body up here, yes?' Buried her somewhere in the vicinity (the area around the place where the speaker is).' He paused. 'Did you find your phone, by the way?'

     'Took me almost half an hour, scouring (to search a place in order to try to find something) those bushes.'

Rebus nodded his satisfaction. 'You'd had a bit of marital strife (unhappiness and problems when you get married). Neighbours knew it, Dorothy's sister knew it. Dorothy had gone to her saying she was terrified of what you'd do to her if she tried walking out. Maybe she was packing a case when you came home. Maybe you thumped (hit someone or something with your fist, to hit and cause a noise) her and she decided enough was enough. Lots of ways it could have played out, Peter. The only way it didn't play is her jumping on a bus or train and leaving town for pastures (a new place or activity that offers new opportunities), new.

     'You're barking up the wrong tree.'

'Am I? All right then, fair enough.' He tapped his hands against the steering wheel.

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     'Eh?'

     'I've done what I can.' Rebus sounded the horn and the doors of the car in front opened. Two men emerged. One was Darryl Christie, the other a huge, shaven-headed creature who had presumably taken over Dean Grant's (rugby player) role.

     'What's this?' Peter Meikle asked, his left hand gripping the Saab's door handle, as if to stop it being opened from outside.

     'This is where we say goodbye.'

     'That's Darryl Christie,' Meikle spluttered (to speak in a quick and confused way, producing short, unclear noises because of surprise, anger etc.).

     'Darryl owes me a favor, Peter, and I've decided you're it. Now out you get.'

     'What?'

     'You're going with them.' Rebus nodded towards the Evoque.

'I'm too old and too tired. All the stuff I used to be able to do to you, they still can. And afterwards, there'll be a nice quiet spot for your bones.'

     'You can't do this!'

     'Why not?'

     'You're the police!

     Rebus leaned towards him, face tightening. 'I'm from the eighties, Peter - I'm not the newfangled (recently made for the first time, but not always implemented on what existed before) touchy-feely model. Now get out my fucking car!'

     When Meikle, wide-eyed, looked through the passenger window, he saw Christie and the man-monster standing right there. Then his door was being wrenched open, despite his best efforts, and Rebus was helpfully unclipped his seat belt.

     'No!' he pleaded as he was hauled out of the car. One of his cheap slip-on shoes came off and lay there on the floor. He was dragged to the Evoque and shoved (to push with force) onto its backseat, the bodyguard climbing in next to him. Rebus wound down his window and got a cigarette going. Then he watched as Christie pulled shut the driver's- side door and the car moved off. As it disappeared around a bend, his phone rang.

     'Hiya, Siobhan,' he said. 'We still on for tonight?'

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     'Can we not find anywhere more salubrious (a salubrious place is pleasant, clean and healthy to live) than the back room of the Ox (Oxford bar)?'

'That's a deal-breaker (a factor that stops someone from doing something) for me.'

     'Fine, then.' She sighed. 'Eight thirty?'

     'I might be first to arrive.'

     'You're on your way there now?'

     'Not quite. Can Malcolm definitely come?'

     'Says he's looking forward to it.'

     'The management might feel differently if he sticks to drinking Coke.'

     'I dare say you and me can make up for him.'

     'I dare say.' Rebus allowed himself a smile, flicking ash from the window.

     'You somewhere with a breeze?'

     'Taking the air.'

     'Next few weeks might be uncomfortable. Lot of questions are going to be asked.'

     'I'll be ready.'

     'Maybe we can compare notes when we meet?'

     'Are you sure that isn't against the rules?'

     'I suppose it might be. Lucky we've got Malcolm to keep us on the straight and narrow (to behave in a way that is honest and moral).'

     'Best place to be, Siobhan.'

    'I've called Laura Smith and given her a heads-up. Reckoned she just about deserves it.'

     'You never know you might need a friendly journalist. I'll see you tonight.'

     'Tapas (small amount of Spanish food that are served especially with alcoholic drinks in Spanish bars and restaurants) afterwards at Café Andaluz?'

'Couple of drinks is all I can manage.'

     'Other plans?' he paused. 'Don't tell me you've got a date?'

     'You better not be about to tell me I'm too old.'

     'Who is it?'

     'Am I not allowed a private life?'

     'You know I'm going to keep digging.'

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     'I'll see you tonight.'

     'Best suit, remember. And don't take her anywhere cheap…'

     Rebus was smiling as he ended the call.

     He kept his eyes on his wing mirror as he finished the cigarette.

Then he got out of the Saab, lifting something from the backseat. The wind whipped around him as he started tearing methodically at the loose-leaf pages of the Shadow Bible (shadow is any obscuration of the light and heat), gusts scooping them up, sending them flying. He had just finished, nothing left but the leather covers, when the Evoque past, settling in the same spot as before. The three men got out, the man-monster holding Peter Meikle upright while Darryl Christie walked towards Rebus.

     'He’ll show you,' he said. 'Right now, if you like.'

     Rebus opened the passenger door of the Saab, threw the remains of the Shadow Bible onto the seat and picked up Peter Meikle's shoe.