Packed off to the remote Scottish Police College for a lesson in teamwork - after hurling a mug at his supervisor's face - Inspector John Rebus finds himself in a snake pit. His classmates, an unruly band of rebel cops known as Resurrection Men, are suspected of orchestrating an elaborate drug heist, and Rebus is recruited by headquarters to get to the bottom of matters. It's no easy task: the investigation threatens to uncover a secret Rebus has spent years trying to conceal, and before long Rebus finds himself in the thick of a scandal with conspirators seemingly everywhere - men who have no problem spilling blood to get what they want.
Rankin's moody Inspector John Rebus, unorthodox pride of the Edinburgh police, begins this latest installment in hot water. He's been sent back to the police college for "retraining," with a group of other "resurrection men," for throwing a cup of coffee at a superior in a moment of frustration. It soon becomes clear, however, that the police brass have their own agenda for Rebus. Some of his fellow officers are suspected of being on the take, and it's his mission-should he accept it-to try to infiltrate their schemes, perhaps even encourage them. Meanwhile, a murder he and the edgy Det. Sergeant Siobhan Clarke have been investigating has turned up some curious links with an apparently Teflon crime boss Rebus has been after for years. The two cases gradually come together in Rankin's skillfully woven plotting, full of his trademark tough, oblique dialogue and sudden moments of touching warmth. The book's only drawbacks are that it seems a little overextended, and that the final bloody climax lacks something in conviction, if not in tension. This isn't one of Rankin's top efforts, but even coasting, he leaves most police procedurals at the gate. (Feb. 3) Forecast: This is the first book in a new contract with a new publisher, and Little, Brown can be expected to give it an extra push, starting with a six-city author tour. Rankin has never been the top seller here that he is at home (and in Canada), but wider attention should bring sales dividends. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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1 . a new view of Rebus
Posted May 09, 2009 by Nancy S. , HopatcongI love Ian Rankin and this is one in the Inspector Rebus series. Be sure to get the chronological order of the series, then start reading. This book shows Rebus with his old classmates and it's interesting considering he usually keeps to himself. I don't like to try to give a plot summary, just suffice to say you should get this.
Little, Brown and Company
December 31, 2003
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Excerpt from Resurrection Men by Ian Rankin
"Then why are you here?"
"Depends what you mean," Rebus said.
"Mean?" The woman frowned behind her glasses.
"Mean by 'here,' " he explained. "Here in this room? Here in this career? Here on the planet?"
She smiled. Her name was Andrea Thomson. She wasn't a doctor -- she'd made that clear at their first meeting. Nor was she a "shrink" or a "therapist." "Career Analysis" was what it had said on Rebus's daily sheet.
2:30?3:15: Career Analysis, Rm 3.16.
With Ms. Thomson. Which had become Andrea at the moment of introduction. Which was yesterday, Tuesday. A "get to know" session, she'd called it.
She was in her late thirties, short and large-hipped. Her hair was a thick mop of blond with some darker streaks showing through. Her teeth were slightly oversized. She was self-employed, didn't work for the police full-time.
"Do any of us?" Rebus had asked yesterday. She'd looked a bit puzzled. "I mean, do any of us work full-time . . . that's why we're here, isn't it?" He'd waved a hand in the direction of the closed door. "We're not pulling our weight. We need a smack on the wrists."
"Is that what you think you need, Detective Inspector?"
He'd wagged a finger. "Keep calling me that and I'll keep calling you 'Doc.' "
"I'm not a doctor," she'd said. "Nor am I a shrink, a therapist, or any other word you've probably been thinking in connection with me."
"Then what are you?"
"I deal with Career Analysis."
Rebus had snorted. "Then you should be wearing a seat belt."
She'd stared at him. "Am I in for a bumpy ride?"
"You could say that, seeing how my career, as you call it, has just careered out of control."
So much for yesterday.
Now she wanted to know about his feelings. How did he feel about being a detective?
"I like it."
"All of me." Fixing her with a smile.
She smiled back. "I meant --"
"I know what you meant." He looked around the room. It was small, utilitarian. Two chrome-framed chairs either side of a teak-veneered desk. The chairs were covered in some lime-colored material. Nothing on the desk itself but her legal-sized lined pad and her pen. There was a heavy-looking satchel in the corner; Rebus wondered if his file was in there. A clock on the wall, calendar below it. The calendar had come from the local firehouse. A length of net curtaining across the window.