“They came to the flat once. Jaff told me to stay in the bedroom but the door was open a crack. I saw them and heard them. They were arguing.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Couple of months. Something like that.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“I don’t know. Money. Some delivery or other. I think maybe Jaff did a bit of dealing. Nothing serious, but he knew everyone on the scene.”
“The club scene?”
“Yeah. And the student scene.”
“Is that how you met?”
“No. It was after uni. I was working at one of those posh restaurants in The Calls, and he used to eat there regularly.”
“Alone?”
“Sometimes.”
“Ever with the two in the drawings?”
“No. If he did have company it was usually some expensive suit, not thugs like that.” She smiled. “I’m not sure they’d even get past the door, the place I worked.”
“Business?”
“It seemed that way. And he did come in by himself sometimes. He didn’t like to cook, or even to eat at home by himself. We got to chatting. You know. One thing led to another. He seemed fun. Smart, cocky, ambitious. We’d go to clubs sometimes after the restaurant closed. Like I said, everybody knew him. Mr. Big around there. Mr. Flash. Always carried a thick roll of twenties. It felt good to be seen out with him. Never boring. But it was hard to keep up with him sometimes. He always seemed to have something else going on, you know, somewhere else to be, or someone else to be with.” She shrugged. “Now I know who it was.”
“Tracy?” Banks said.
“Yes. Or someone else. I doubt that she was the first. Sometimes he was gone for days without explanation. Not that he owed me one. Oh, don’t think I blame Tracy. I was mad, yes, who wouldn’t be? She kissed him. She stole my boyfriend. It’s not as if she’s such an angel, anyway. It’s not as if she hasn’t been SUI more than once.”
“SUI?”
Erin glanced at him sideways. “Shagged Under the Influence. Does that shock you?”
It didn’t so much shock Banks as hurt him. To think something like that about his own daughter, to imagine the things that had happened to her when she was too far gone to be in control made him feel sorry for her, protective. Erin was basically talking about date rape. His own daughter. It made him angry. Why the hell couldn’t she have come to him with her problems? Was he that distant and uncaring?
“Do you mean drugged and raped?” he asked.
“Not the way you imagine it. I mean, I’m not saying you’re always up for it when you’re so off your face, but it’s no big deal. It’s just a shag. SUI. Anyway,” Erin went on, picking at a hangnail, “like I said, if it hadn’t been Tracy, it would have been someone else. I know that. Jaff was just…”
“But it’s Tracy he’s got with him now,” Banks said. “What do you mean?”
“It hasn’t hit the front pages yet, but he’s on the run. Armed. And Tracy’s with him. We think he shot a policewoman. Annie Cabbot. Maybe you know her?”
“I remember her, yes. You were close at one time, after Mrs. Banks left, weren’t you? But Jaff…? I can’t believe it.”
“We need to find them. Annie could die, and Tracy’s in danger.”
“But Jaff wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Have you ever seen him be violent?”
“Well, no. I mean, yes, but only…you know, someone who tried to rip him off, or put him down because of his color, call him a Paki or something. He really hated that.”
“So he can be violent?”
“He has a quick temper. But he never hurt me. I can’t imagine him harming a woman. Not Tracy.”
“We found a car up on the moors. It belongs to someone called Victor Mallory. Have you ever heard that name?”
“Vic? Yes, of course. He’s Jaff’s best friend. They went to public school together, then Cambridge. Vic’s…”
“What?”
“Well, he’s like a sort of old-fashioned hippie, really, with his long hair and stuff, but he’s weird, too, and a bit scary sometimes. He’s very clever, he studied chemistry, but I think drugs have fried his brain. Like he’s always looking for new chemical compounds, and he’ll try everything himself first. He’s definitely blown a few connections.”
“Did he have a gun?”
“I don’t know if he had one, but he and Jaff used to talk about them sometimes. You know, like computer nerds, or techies. As if they knew what they were talking about.”
“Maybe they did,” said Banks. “Did Jaff ever say anything about that gun you took? If it was ever used. Anything at all.”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t remember anything. I don’t suppose I really know him at all, do I, when it comes down to it?”
“Probably not. How long have you known him?”
“Six months. Look, I know I’ve been a fool, but I’m not stupid. And I’m not a bad person. I want to help. I want to make things right.”
“I know, Erin. Right now, things are difficult, and my priority is finding Tracy and making sure she’s safe. Can you understand that?”
“Of course. But how can I help?”
“I need to get some idea of what Jaff might do in a situation like this, where he might go. How intelligent is he?”
“Oh, he’s very bright. He went to Cambridge.”
“So I understand.” That didn’t mean very much, Banks thought, certainly not when it came to drug dealing and evading the law. On the other hand, some Cambridge graduates had quite a good reputation in both those areas. “Where would he go, do you think? Does he have anyone he might turn to, anyone who might help him?”
“I don’t know,” said Erin. “But he’d probably go to London. I mean, that’s where he comes from, and he’s got friends down there. He’s a city boy.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“I’m trying to remember. He took me with him for a weekend once, but we stayed in a nice hotel in Mayfair, not with any of his friends.”
“He knows he’s in a lot of trouble,” Banks went on. “It’s my guess that he would probably want to leave the country as soon as possible, maybe even try to head back to Mumbai, if he still has contacts there, but if he’s at all bright, as you say he is, he knows we’ll be keeping an eye on the ports, stations and airports.”
“There’s Justin,” Erin said. “Justin?”
“Yes, in London. Another old pal from his uni days. We had dinner with him while we were there. One of those fancy places where you get one little plate after another. Justin was there with his girlfriend. She was Slovakian or something like that. Beautiful. Very exotic. She didn’t speak much English, I remember. Looked like a model or an actress.”
“Do you remember anything about Justin?”
“Just something Jaff said. I think he was showing off, and he said something to me about Justin being the man to know if you needed a new passport. Justin didn’t like it, I remember. He gave Jaff a nasty look. But I thought maybe he was involved in forging stuff and maybe smuggling people into the country.”
“That sounds like the sort of person Jaff might want to contact right now,” Banks said. “Do you know where he lives?”
“No. We didn’t go back to his place. We went on to a couple of clubs in the West End, I don’t remember where. I’m afraid I was a bit drunk by then.”
“Did you get his surname?”
“No. We just used first names.”
“What was his girlfriend called?”
“Martina.”
“Did this Justin have any sort of accent, too? How was his English?”
“His English was excellent, sort of posh, like Jaff’s. He did have a slight accent, though, but you really had to listen.”
“What accent?”
“I don’t know. I’m not good at that sort of thing.”
“Eastern European? Same as his girlfriend?”
“Maybe.” Erin shrugged. “
I don’t know.”
“And you’ve no idea where they live?”
“I do remember we were talking about property values once, back in the restaurant. Jaff was thinking about buying a flat in London, and he was asking this Justin about it. He said something about Highgate, but that’s all I remember. I got the impression that was where he lived. But it’s big, isn’t it, Highgate?”
“Big enough,” said Banks. But he felt a rush of excitement. There was every chance that if this Justin was involved in people-smuggling and dodgy documents, one or other of the Met’s intelligence units would have a watching brief on him, and even pinpointing him as living in Highgate might help them narrow their search. Banks hardly had any points with the intelligence services, but he knew that Dirty Dick Burgess would help him out at a pinch, especially if Tracy was in danger.
“Did Jaff ever talk much about his family, his background?” Banks asked. “I’m just trying to get a better sense of who I’m dealing with.”
“Not a lot. Jaff’s a mummy’s boy, really, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. He’s not a nancy boy or a sissy or anything. But I think he really loved his mother, and his father was more distant, tougher, less involved with him emotionally when he was growing up. Jaff didn’t talk about his family or his background much when we were together, except sometimes if the mood came on him. You know, the right combination of booze and E or whatever. Then he tended to ramble, and you had to sort of piece it together. I could be wrong. Anyway, he wasn’t too happy about ending up back with his dad after his mother died, and when he went off to boarding school and then university, that was his opportunity to make the break, to grab for his independence. He’s got a photo of his mother in the flat. You should see it. She was beautiful. There are none of his dad.”
“Thank you,” Banks said. “You’ve been a great help.”
Erin shrugged. “What’s going to happen to me now? I don’t mean to be selfish or anything, but I couldn’t stand going to jail.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. Not for a while. When’s your court date?”
“Next month.”
“Get a good solicitor,” Banks said. “It’s true that the law comes down hard on possession of firearms, but you’ve got a better chance than most. You haven’t been in trouble before, you’re from a good family, you have character witnesses. It could be worse.”
“Hard to imagine,” said Erin, “but thanks. That helps.”
“I’ll help you as best I can. If you don’t know a solicitor, I can recommend one. And if this business with Jaff and Tracy comes to a satisfactory conclusion and no one gets hurt, that could go in your favor, too. You’ve helped us a lot.”
Erin nodded. They both stood up. “What are you going to do now?” Banks asked.
“I think I’m going to go to the Swainsdale Centre and buy some new clothes and makeup. I can’t believe you’d allow yourself to be seen with me looking like this.”
Banks laughed.
“It is all right, isn’t it?” she asked. “What?”
“To go to the Swainsdale Centre. You know. I don’t have to go straight back to the B-and-B and report in, do I? You’re not going to put an electronic tag on my ankle, are you?”
“Of course not,” said Banks. “You’re on police bail. You report when you’re told to and you’ll be fine. I wouldn’t advise leaving town, though. Believe me, there will be more questions. A lot more. But you can go anywhere you want in Eastvale.”
“Except home,” said Erin. “Except home.”
13
BANKS LEANED BACK IN HIS SEAT AND CLOSED HIS EYES as the car slowed to a crawl at the roadworks on the A1 just north of Wetherby. Winsome had offered to drive him to Leeds. Normally he would have preferred to go alone and drive himself, but this time he had accepted her offer. He didn’t trust himself behind the wheel; he was too wired and too anxious. They hadn’t spoken much on the way down, but he was glad of her company and that she had tuned the radio to Radio 3. Vaughan Williams’s “Variation on a Theme by Thomas Tallis” was playing at the moment.
Banks had never felt so weary. Lights danced behind his eyelids. He felt as if he could see the electrical pulses jumping around in his brain projected there, flashing, arcing, short-circuiting. There was simply too much to take in, too much to comprehend, and it was getting more and more difficult for him to focus. Every moment spent tracking down nuggets of valuable information meant more time in fear and danger for Tracy.
But it had to be this way. The real problems might only begin once they had located Jaff and Tracy, and he needed to go into that situation with as much information as he could get. It was his only weapon, his only armor. After all, Jaff had a gun and a hostage.
It was the tail end of rush hour, and the traffic on the Leeds Ringroad slowed them down. Luckily they didn’t have far to go. Victor Mallory’s house turned out to be between West Park and Moortown Golf Club. It was seven o’clock when Winsome pulled up outside the rambling detached house with its cream stucco facade, large garden, gables and mullioned bay windows.
“Not bad,” said Winsome. “Not bad at all for a thirty something.”
“Maybe we’re in the wrong business?” Banks suggested.
“Or maybe his business is wrong.”
“More like it,” Banks agreed. “If he’s a mate of McCready’s. There’s a lot you can do with a Cambridge degree in chemistry, and it doesn’t all involve teaching or working for pharmaceutical companies. But that’s for the locals to worry about.” Banks gestured to the silver Skoda parked down the street. “They’ve been keeping a discreet eye on him.”
“Hard to appear inconspicuous in a Skoda in a neighborhood like this,” said Winsome.
They got out and walked over to the parked car. The window was open and Banks caught a whiff of fresh cigarette smoke. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, the way it used to be. “Anything?” he asked, flashing his warrant card as discreetly as possible.
“Nor a sausage,” replied the driver. “Waste of bloody time, if you ask me.”
“Anyone come or go?”
“No.”
“He in there?”
“No idea.”
“Right. You can get off to the pub now.”
“We go when our guv says to go.”
Banks rolled his eyes and looked at Winsome, who shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said.
“Anyone would think they enjoyed sitting there doing nothing,” said Winsome as they walked toward the house.
“Don’t assume everyone shares your work ethic, Winsome. Besides, they’re sitting on their brains, so maybe that cramps their thinking style. I suppose we got what we asked for, though—a watching brief. I mean, we didn’t ask for politeness or intelligence, did we?”
Winsome laughed. “I’ll make a note of it next time. Maybe a better model of car, too.” They walked up Victor Mallory’s flagstone path and rang the doorbell. No sound came from inside. “Curtains are closed. Maybe they’ve been watching an empty house?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Banks. He pressed the doorbell again. Still nothing happened, but he thought he heard a stifled groan or a muffled call from somewhere inside the house. He glanced at Winsome, who frowned and nodded to indicate that she had heard it, too. The door seemed formidable, but when Banks turned the handle and pushed, it opened. He checked the lock, which was a dead bolt, and saw that it hadn’t been secured. There was also a strong chain and an alarm system, too, but the latter wasn’t activated. With the door closed behind them, there was only enough light in the hallway to make out the dim shape of a chair and the outline of a broad staircase leading upstairs.
Banks’s eyes adjusted, and he saw three doors leading off the hall. When he heard the sound again, he realized it was coming from the first door on his left, the front room. The heavy door was already ajar, and when he pushed, it opened slowly. The room was even darker than the hall, so he walked over and opened the thick velour curtains. Early evening light floo
ded in and illuminated the floor-to-ceiling bookcases against one wall, framed contemporary prints and an expensive Bang & Olufsen stereo system on another, and the figure lying on the floor at the center of the room, gagged and bound to a hard-backed chair.
“Victor Mallory, I presume?” said Banks.
All he got by way of a reply was muffled growling and cursing.
“Winsome,” he said, “could you see if you can find some scissors or a sharp kitchen knife?”
Winsome headed back out into the hall. Banks heard doors opening and closing, and moments later she came back with a pair of scissors.
“Excellent,” Banks said. He bent over Mallory. He smelled the sharp animal stink of urine and noticed a wet patch down the front of the man’s trousers. “First of all, Victor,” he said, “it’s important that you know we’re police officers and we’re not going to hurt you, so when I cut you free and take off that gag, you don’t start screaming and try to make a run for it. Got that?”
Mallory nodded and made more grumbling sounds.
“You’d never make it, anyway,” Banks went on. “Winsome here is our star rugby player. Flying tackles and dropkicks are her specialty.” Banks heard Winsome mutter something under her breath. “I didn’t catch that,” he said.
“Nothing,” said Winsome with a sigh.
Banks then showed Mallory his warrant card and began to cut him free. He left the gag until last, loosening one of the edges and then ripping it fast.
Mallory screamed and put his hands to his mouth. If the police outside heard him, they certainly didn’t come rushing in to put an end to the police brutality.
“You’ve ripped my lips off,” Mallory moaned. There was a small amount of blood on the carpet where he had been lying, and a patch of his hair on the left side was matted.
“Don’t be a baby,” said Banks. “You okay otherwise? Do you need an ambulance? A doctor?”
“No. No, I don’t need an ambulance or a doctor. I…I just banged my head when the chair tipped over. I don’t think I have concussion. I didn’t lose consciousness or anything.” Mallory rubbed his wrists and ankles. “I could do with some water, though.”
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