Bad Boy

by Peter Robinson

  “We think she dashed over to warn McCready that the police might soon become interested in him.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Better perhaps. Why do you think?”

  “The question assumes that Tracy knew he was dodgy, if she felt she needed to warn him.”

  “Maybe she did.”

  “How?”

  “We’re pretty sure that McCready supplied a good deal of E to the club scene in Leeds. Maybe other things, too.”

  “Are you suggesting that Tracy takes drugs?”

  “Who knows? Maybe she does. Who knows what kids get up to, Alan? But my point is only that maybe she knew somehow that McCready was involved in drugs, and she liked him enough to want to warn him. Young people have different priorities.”

  “Then she took off with him?”

  “It appears that way. I suppose it seemed like a bit of an adventure. Nobody had been killed, or shot, at that point, remember—a least the news of Patrick Doyle’s death hadn’t been announced before the time they would have left McCready’s flat, and his death was a Taser-related accident, anyway.”

  “I suppose if he’d chucked Erin and taken up with Tracy, that might explain some of it,” Banks mused. “Would Tracy have known about the gun? How much had been on the news by then?”

  “We hadn’t given the media any information by then, but the TV cameras on the evening local news showed the AFO walking out with a gun-shaped object wrapped in a tea cloth. It wouldn’t have taken a lot of imagination to figure out what had happened, if they were watching.”

  “So McCready would immediately check on his gun and find it was gone.”

  “Yes. But he might not have told Tracy what the problem was. We just don’t know.”

  “I can tell you one thing for certain,” Banks said. “Tracy might have gone with McCready willingly at the start, but she’s not with him of her own free will now, not after what happened to Annie. Tracy may make mistakes, maybe she even takes drugs and has rotten taste in men, but she’s a decent girl at heart. I ought to know.”

  “I’m not here to argue with you, Alan. As a matter of fact, I agree that she’s in serious trouble, and probably in danger, too. I don’t say that to alarm you, and I wouldn’t mention it if I thought you didn’t know it already. We need to find them and bring this to a peaceful conclusion as soon as possible.”

  “How’s the search going?”

  “We need more men. There’s a lot of countryside out there.”

  “Where?” said Banks.

  “Well, you’d know better than I would, but we doubt they took the road to Eastvale from your cottage because they’d have been seen. The patrol cars sent in response to the call kept their eyes open. That leaves the moorland to the south and the wild areas to the north and west. We’ve had the helicopter out, but they spotted nothing. We’ll be doing more aerial sweeps as the day goes on. We’ve got men on foot, patrol cars, the lot. But as I said, there’s a lot of ground to cover, and they could have gone in almost any direction. Is there anything more you can tell me about Erin Doyle? Had you seen much of her lately?”

  “Not a lot,” said Banks. “You don’t when they grow up, do you? I’m afraid I’ve been a bit neglectful of even my own daughter, too. Obviously. It’s been a hard summer. Personal problems.”

  “So would it surprise you to hear that Erin had a reputation for running a bit wild?”

  “No more so than any other attractive girl her age, I shouldn’t think. But no, I wasn’t aware she had that reputation.”

  “Liked bad boys.”

  “That’s hardly unusual.”

  “It explains McCready.”

  “You’re assuming she knew how bad he was.”

  “If she took the gun and knew he dealt drugs, she had to have some inkling.”

  “Are you suggesting that whatever he was into, Erin was involved?”

  “It’s a possibility we need to consider. She was hardly an innocent bystander.”

  “Tracy, too?”

  “I’m not saying that. If Tracy does have any sort of relationship with McCready, it’s a very recent one. Maybe they just fancied each other, and he was tired of Erin Doyle. But he’s shown his true colors now. She can’t be too happy about it. She must know she’s made a very bad error in judgment.”

  “I’m sure she does,” said Banks. “What’s going to happen to Erin?”

  “No idea. She’s still not talking.”

  “I remember when she was a little kid,” Banks said. “Erin. She used to wear pigtails and she had freckles across her nose and on her arms. Cute. I took her and Tracy to Blackpool Illuminations once. They loved it. Though I think it was more the staying up late after dark than the illuminations themselves. They both fell asleep in the car on the way home. Brian, too.” Banks shook his head to clear the memory. “Sorry,” he went on. “You’re right. It’s a bit close to home.”

  “When Juliet Doyle came to report the gun, she asked for you.”

  “So Chambers said. Made quite a big deal of it, in fact. But it makes sense to me. She knows me. Turning in her own daughter must have been a terrible decision for her.”

  “Do you reckon she thought you’d go easy on Erin?”

  “Probably,” said Banks. “But I’d like to think I could have defused the situation without anyone getting killed.”

  “Maybe you could have, but you weren’t here, and hindsight’s no use to us now.”

  The phone rang. Gervaise answered it, listened for a moment, then thanked the caller and hung up. “That was Winsome,” she said. “We’ve just had a bit of a break. We found the car. Or a car. Up behind your cottage, on the moors road.”

  Banks gripped the arms of his chair. “Abandoned?”

  “Hidden in the woods behind a wall. Local birdwatcher found it, remembered the news about the shooting and reported it. Preliminary examination indicates the gears were stripped.”

  “So they’re out on the moors on foot. They can’t have got far.”

  “Don’t get too excited. We can’t be sure it’s their car yet. Though there is confirmation of sorts.”

  “What?”

  “The last entry in Annie’s notebook. It was the car’s number plate.”

  “She must have made a note of it when she dropped by my cottage.

  Seeing a strange car there would have struck her as odd under any circumstances.”

  “Maybe. But that’s all there was. A car number. No time, place, or date. She could have seen it anytime that day, or even before. This wasn’t her official notebook, you understand.”

  “But still…it’s a bit too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. We’ve got men out on foot and in patrol cars looking, as well as the search and rescue team. Now we can narrow our search, concentrate on the moors. But it’s pretty wild up there, as you know. It looks as if they may have spent the night in a ruined barn about three miles from the cottage.”

  “What do you think?” Banks asked.

  “I think a city boy like McCready will be feeling too exposed up there. Twelve miles of bad roads, or no roads at all for the most part. He’ll want to find the nearest large village or small town and probably steal a car. Head for the city.”

  “Risky.”

  “Everything’s a risk since he shot Annie. And the stakes are high.”

  “I know,” said Banks. “The nearest village is Baldersghyll. It’s not very big, though.”

  “The local station there’s been alerted. There’s more. The car’s registered to a Victor Mallory. Lives in Horsforth, Leeds.”

  “Stolen?”

  Gervaise shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe. But according to Winsome, Victor Mallory comes up on West Yorkshire’s radar as one of McCready’s suspicious cronies.”

  “Any connection with The Farmer, or with Ciaran and Darren?”

  “Not that we know of.”

  “So Jaff borrowed the car from
this Mallory?”

  “Looks that way. It’s the best lead we’ve got so far.”

  “Anyone talked to him yet?”

  “The Leeds police are keeping an eye on his house for us. I thought, perhaps, it would be a good place for you to start. And while you’re down there, you could have a word with The Farmer, too. But tread softly.”

  “I promise,” said Banks. “And thanks. I mean for letting me in on this. I won’t let you down.”

  “Better not,” said Gervaise. “Or you’ll be the one in the kennel licking your balls. They’ll hurt so much.”

  ON HIS way back to the office, Banks bumped into the female AFO officer he had met in the hospital. She looked as if she had been lurking in the corridor.

  “Any news?” she asked as he opened his office door.

  “Come in,” Banks said, and she followed him. “Sit down. PC Newell, isn’t it?”

  Nerys sat. “Powell, sir.”

  “Right,” said Banks. “I remember now. You must excuse me. I’m a bit jet-lagged. Usually I have a much better memory for names and faces.”

  “That’s all right, sir. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. I was just worried about Annie…about DI Cabbot, that’s all. I wanted to ask if you have any news.”

  “No good news, I’m afraid. It’s just a matter of waiting, the doctor said. They’ll know more if she makes it through the first twenty-four hours.”

  “You mean there’s a chance she might not?”

  “There’s always a chance.”

  Nerys bit her lip. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I know that you and her were…you know. I know she means a lot to you.”

  “It was a long time ago,” said Banks.

  “Yes, sir. But I’m sure she still means a lot to you. You couldn’t just forget someone like her, could you?”

  “If I might ask,” Banks went on, “why all the concern on your part? I mean, other than that for a fellow officer wounded in the line of duty?”

  Nerys turned away and began to fidget. “Like I said at the hospital, sir, I feel a bit responsible. We were working together. And we talked. She gave me some advice. That’s all.”

  “Responsible? How could you be?”

  “I don’t mean it’s logical, sir. It’s just…you know…the call…the Taser.”

  “You’re the officer who—”

  “No, sir. It wasn’t me. That was Warby. PC Warburton. But I was with him. I’m his partner. He’s a mate.”

  “Right. I see. And just how does that make you responsible for what happened to Annie?”

  “It doesn’t. Not directly, sir. I just feel partly to blame. If things had gone differently…”

  Banks leaned back in his chair. “Look, PC Powell,” he said. “If we all adopted that attitude we’d never get anywhere. If. If. If. I could just as well blame myself for not being here when Juliet Doyle came to see me. If I had been, things would have been different again, wouldn’t they?” And my daughter probably wouldn’t be God knows where in the grip of some psycho, or Annie lying in a hospital bed close to death’s door, he thought. “You were only doing your job,” he said. “Don’t start assuming the burden of guilt, second guessing. There’s no future in that.”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, I’m not complaining. Everyone’s been very good. There’s lots of support. Lots of choices. It’s nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be.”

  Banks smiled. He knew she meant Chambers, who liked to pride himself on the fact that his name and reputation went before him and sent a chill up everyone’s spine, put the fear of God in them. “Hang in there.”

  “I’d like to help.”

  “Help what?”

  “The investigation. DI Cabbot’s shooting, the—”

  “Hold on a minute,” said Banks. “Aren’t you under suspension?”

  “No, sir. They offered me a spot of gardening leave, but I don’t want it. I don’t think we did anything wrong, and I want to keep working. There’s no requirement says I have to take leave or should be suspended. It’s just that nobody quite knows what to do with me, where to reassign me. And I like to think DI Cabbot is a friend.”

  “I understand your position, believe me,” said Banks, “and I appreciate it. But it’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “For a start, you’re a PC and an AFO. You’re not CID or Major Crimes.”

  “It’s not as if DC would be a promotion.”

  “I know that. But those transfers take time, paperwork, official approval. And we don’t have time.”

  “There must be something. I can do other things than just shoot guns. Temporary assignment? Surely there’s some way I could help?” She seemed so crestfallen and forlorn that Banks felt sorry for her. But there was nothing he could do. He knew he was already in a precarious position himself, and if he encouraged young PC Powell in her ambitions, he could get them both dismissed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s no place for you here right now. Besides, I don’t have any power in the matter. It’s not my case.”

  “But you could put in a good word for me.”

  “It wouldn’t be any use.”

  “I’m a trained firearms officer. I’m good at what I do.”

  “I’m sure you are,” said Banks, suppressing a smile, “but that’s another problem right there.”

  “What is?”

  “That you’re a firearms officer. And that you were one of the firearms officers who entered the Doyle house. Whether you agree with it or not, you and your partner are under investigation. Also, we don’t need an Authorised Firearms Officer on this case.”

  “With all due respect, sir, this man you’re after is armed and dangerous.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “There are rumors…”

  “What rumors?”

  “Just stories going around. That your daughter is somehow involved. That makes you emotionally involved in the case.”

  So the word was out. Banks wasn’t particularly surprised. In many ways, a police station was just like any other workplace. Rumors and gossip abounded. “I wouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he said stiffly.

  “I don’t, sir. But I’ve heard that this Jaff McCready is a nasty piece of work. If it was his gun at the Doyle house, and if he was the one who shot DI—”

  “I’m sorry, PC Powell. Nerys. I’m really sorry, but we’re ending this conversation right now. I can’t give you what you want. I promise I’ll do my best to keep you informed about DI Cabbot’s progress, but that’s all. Do you understand?”

  Nerys got to her feet and dragged them toward the door. “Yes, sir,” she said. “If you change your mind at all…”

  “I won’t,” said Banks, and he stared thoughtfully at the closed door for almost a minute after she had left.

  “YOU’RE USING the throwaway mobile, right?”

  “Course, boss.”

  “Okay. Go on.” The Farmer was walking his favorite path in his garden. It was a warm evening, but still he wore one of the chunky cable-knit jumpers he loved so much. The neatly trimmed hedges of topiary and crinkling sound the cinders made underfoot always calmed him down. Not that he needed it. He was confident that Ciaran and Darren would do their jobs and the Jaff problem would be dealt with quickly.

  The only angle that caused him any worry at all was Banks’s daughter. He remembered Banks’s tenacity and realized he’d had a lucky escape last time they had crossed paths. It wouldn’t be so easy this time, especially if anything happened to the girl. Jaff could be a mad bastard—The Farmer had seen him at work—and if the girl became a liability, her chances weren’t very good. Banks would certainly connect him to Jaff in time, and had probably already connected him with Ciaran and Darren. They never usually left a trail of bodies behind them, which was usually a good thing, but it also meant that the girl they had talked to, Rose, would probably be able to identify them, and that would be enough for Banks. He was a tricky copper, and he wouldn’t giv
e up this time. The Farmer had to weigh what the girl might know against the possible comeback on getting rid of her along with McCready before he came to his decision. If Banks got his daughter back alive, and if he knew that The Farmer had a hand in it, then a senior copper’s gratitude might not be a bad thing to have in the long run.

  “We got a name,” said Darren. “Bloke by the name of Justin. Lives in Highgate.”

  “That’s not much to go on, is it?” said Fanthorpe.

  “He’s bent. Involved in people-smuggling and dodgy passports. An old mate of Jaff’s.”

  “Well, well,” said Fanthorpe. “You need a bit of intelligence for fake documents and people trafficking, don’t you? Knowing Jaff, that probably means he’s a mate from public school or university. Isn’t that where you meet most of your dodgy friends?”

  “Wouldn’t know,” said Darren. “Never went to either. Never went to the comprehensive much, either, come to think of it.”

  “It was a rhetorical question, shit for brains.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’d know if you’d been to school, wouldn’t you?”

  “What do you want us to do now, boss?”

  “Quiet. I’m thinking.” Fanthorpe reached the fountain where the four cinder paths met and stood for a few moments watching the bare-breasted mermaids around the edge spout water from their O-shaped mouths, and the little boy pissing at the center. Zenovia’s idea. “If this Justin’s bent,” he went on, “and if he’s involved in people-trafficking, the odds are that he traffics in other things, too. Stands to reason, doesn’t it? I mean, I do. If you’ve got the routes secured and the right people paid off, you use them. Am I right?”

  “You are, boss.”

  “Either way, Gavin Nebthorpe will know. He knows everyone in the business. Justin in Highgate, you say? Leave it with me, lads. I want you two to head down to London fast as you can. Set off now and you’ll probably be there before dark.”

  “Where in London? It’s a big place.”

  “I know it’s a big place, Darren. That’s why it’s the capital of the United Kingdom. That’s why the Houses of Parliament are there. Big Ben. Buckingham Palace. That’s why the Queen of fucking England lives there. I know it’s a big place.”