Bad Boy

17

THERE WASN’T ONE SMILING FACE AMONG THE SIX people sitting around the polished oval table in the boardroom, under the equally unsmiling portraits of Yorkshire wool barons in their tight waistcoats, with their roast beef complexions and whiskery jowls. Banks was beyond tiredness now. He didn’t even know what time or day it was, except that it wasn’t dark. But it was getting there. It had been a long, long day since the incident that morning at the motorway services. Tracy was out at Banks’s temporary accommodation, sleeping under a mild sedative administered by the police surgeon-at least he hoped she was-with Winsome watching over her. But there was dirty business to be done behind closed doors at the Western Area Headquarters. At one time, Banks would probably have been worried about the outcome, but now he didn’t care what happened. He just wanted it to be over so he could get on with putting his and Tracy’s lives back together.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, Officer Powell?” asked Mike Trethowan, Firearms Cadre superintendent, and Nerys’s immediate boss.

“Using my initiative, sir,” said Nerys Powell. She had changed from the tracksuit bottoms and hoodie top into jeans and a crisp white blouse and black wind cheater, and she was managing to put a brave face on things so far, Banks thought. She looked scared, but she had been unshakable in her conviction that she had done the right thing. If she had to go down, she might try to take a few of the enemy with her.

Chambers gave a “God save us all from initiative” sigh. “All right,” he said, “why don’t you just start from the beginning?”

Nerys glanced at Banks, who tried to keep a neutral expression on his face. “I overheard DCI Banks taking a call on his mobile, sir,” she said. “When he was out in the corridor. I was in one of the empty offices opposite, just hanging around and waiting.” She gave Chambers a dirty look. “There’s been a lot of pointless hanging around with this investigation going on. You never know when they’re going to call you back in to go over some minor detail again. They never tell you anything. Anyway, I couldn’t hear what the person at the other end was saying, but DCI Banks mentioned his daughter’s name and repeated the name of a school in Harehills, and he seemed nervous and furtive. DCI Banks, I mean, sir. He seemed upset, and at one time he threatened the caller. I knew that his daughter was missing, and that the man suspected of abducting her was armed.”

“Did you know the location of this school? Did it mean anything to you?”

“No. But I grew up in Leeds. I know where Harehills is.”

“Yes, yes, we know where you grew up,” said Chambers. “Go on.”

“DCI Banks left hurriedly, and I suspected he might have made some…er…private arrangements to help his daughter. Not that I’m blaming you, sir,” she said to Banks.

“I’m relieved,” said Banks dryly.

Nerys narrowed her eyes at him, as if she couldn’t make up her mind whether he was acting as a friend or enemy. Banks wasn’t too sure himself. He needed to listen to all this, Nerys’s side especially, before he planted his feet down firmly anywhere. “Anyway,” she went on, “as I said, I knew that Jaffar McCready was armed and DCI Banks wasn’t. I also knew that DCI Banks wouldn’t call in the FSU because of his daughter, that he’d want to try and settle this himself, somehow try to take advantage of the situation, overpower McCready, if possible. I thought it involved an incredible risk, sir, so I…well…”

“You decided to ride shotgun,” said Trethowan.

Nerys glanced from Chambers to her boss. “I suppose so, sir.”

“What do you mean, you suppose so? How else would you describe what you did?”

“Well, sir, I was following my gut instinct, taking an initiative. Here was an unarmed man, a fellow police officer, going up against someone we already knew had no qualms about pulling the trigger on a cop.”

“This wasn’t anything to do with revenge for what happened to DI Cabbot, was it, Officer Powell?” Trethowan asked sternly.

Nerys blushed deep red. “I resent that, sir.”

“Whether you resent it or not isn’t the issue. Was DI Cabbot on your mind at all when you went chasing after DCI Banks?”

“I won’t say I didn’t think of what McCready did to her. But you’ve got no-”

“If your sexual feelings for Annie Cabbot clouded your judgment,” said Chambers, with obvious relish at the image, and a hard glint in his piggy eyes, “then we have every right to question your actions and motives. You had a crush on her, didn’t you?”

“Ladies, gentlemen,” said ACC McLaughlin, holding up his hand, “this line of attacking Officer Powell on the basis of her sexual preference will get us precisely nowhere in our unofficial adjudications, and nor should it. Whether the officer in question had feelings for DI Cabbot or not isn’t the issue here, nor is the nature of those feelings. The issue is what she did and what we’re going to do about it. Carry on, PC Powell.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Nerys. Sufficiently chastised for the moment, Trethowan and Chambers slumped into a sullen silence as she took a sip of water and went on. “I followed DCI Banks to Harehills, and there I observed his daughter Tracy and Jaffar McCready get into the back of his car. It seemed as if McCready was clutching a gun in a hold-all he was carrying.”

“But you couldn’t actually see the firearm?” asked Trethowan.

“Not at that point, no, sir. But I knew he was-”

“Very well. That’s all I need to know.” Trethowan looked to Chambers. “Go on.”

“How did you know who they were?” Chambers demanded.

“Well, I didn’t think he was picking up hitchhikers,” said Nerys.

Chambers reddened.

“That’ll be enough of that,” said Trethowan.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” She glared back at Chambers, who was the first to avert his gaze.

“Did you have any idea at this point what you were going to do?” asked Detective Superintendent Gervaise. “Had a plan of any kind formed in your mind?”

“No, ma’am. All I knew was that McCready was armed, that he’d shot Ann-DI Cabbot-and that he had DCI Banks and his daughter hostage.”

“And wouldn’t it have made perfect sense right then and there to call me?” said Trethowan. “Or someone in authority? There are procedures to be followed, you know. Protocol. Why didn’t you call me, or Superintendent Gervaise, with your suspicions about DCI Banks’s course of action?”

“I know I should have done, sir,” said Nerys, “and I have no excuse. But sometimes you just have to think on your feet, and think fast. In my judgment, there wasn’t time for protocol, for getting the necessary wheels in motion. I didn’t have my mobile, for a start, and I would have lost them if I’d stopped to fill in all the necessary forms. Calling in the cavalry would have alerted McCready that we were on to him. I considered him armed and dangerous, and the last thing he needed was to feel that he was surrounded by armed police. There was always a chance that drugs were involved, too. They tend to make people jittery and unpredictable, as turned out to be the case.”

“He’d been snorting cocaine on the journey,” said Banks.

“So you discharged your weapon in a public parking lot,” said Trethowan, ignoring Banks. “A motorway service station. Risking injury to God knows how many innocent men, women and children.”

“I targeted Jaffar McCready, sir. I’m a good shot. The best in the unit. You know I am. And my weapon is accurate up to nearly a thousand yards. I was only three hundred yards away, at most.”

“And after you hit your target? Did you have any idea where the bullet would end up?” Chambers asked.

“I was at the top of a hill. From the angle of my shot, sir, I judged it would lodge itself in the body of the car behind McCready, which it did. Do you want to charge me with damaging private property, too, now, sir? I’ll see if my insurance will cover it.”

Trethowan thumped the table. “I’ve told you, Officer Powell. That’s enough of your bloody insolence. This is a very serious matter. Your career’s on the line. You’re not doing yourself any favors. Sarcasm won’t get you anywhere. Not with me and not with Superintendents Chambers or Gervaise or ACC McLaughlin. And we’re the ones holding your fate in the balance. Remember that. One more remark like that, and I’ll have you on disciplinary charges no matter what the outcome here this afternoon. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Nerys mumbled, head down.

“What happened when you got to the services car park?” Gervaise asked, pouring oil on troubled waters.

“I parked my car, ma’am. I’d checked out the surrounding area as best I could on my way in, and there was a slope just across the slip road. I could lie down just behind there unseen and get a direct line on DCI Banks’s car, and a good line of shot if it came to that. I wasn’t planning on shooting anyone. I didn’t want to alarm the public.”

“So that’s where you went?” asked Chambers. “The grassy knoll?” He beamed at his little joke, but everyone else ignored it.

Nerys bit her lip. “Yes, sir.”

“With the intent of shooting Jaffar McCready as soon as you thought you had a clear shot?”

“With the intention of protecting the lives of DCI Banks and his daughter, sir, should the DCI make any foolish or desperate moves. I could tell McCready was wired when they first got out of the car.”

Banks raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not saying that making foolish moves isn’t entirely out of character for DCI Banks,” said Chambers with a self-satisfied grin, “but how could you know that he would do such a thing in this instance?”

“I didn’t. Not for certain. But I would have done, if I were him. It was his best chance at McCready. Out in the open. If he was going to try anything, I calculated that would be his opportunity.”

“With other people around?”

“His daughter’s a person, too, sir. So is DCI Banks himself.”

“I’m quite aware of that,” said Chambers.

“Let’s move on,” Gervaise interjected.

Chambers seemed exasperated, but he went on, “Are you saying you knew DCI Banks was doomed to failure if he acted?”

Nerys shrugged. “I knew there was a possibility of failure. And that McCready had a gun he wasn’t afraid to use. I just wanted to be prepared, that’s all, to give the DCI an added advantage.”

“I suppose now you’re going to tell us that it all happened so fast you don’t remember the details, that you’re not responsible for your actions?” said Chambers.

“On the contrary, sir. Time slowed right down. I knew exactly what I was doing. I took my time pulling the trigger, squeezed it slowly, making certain of the accuracy of my shot, and I take full responsibility for my actions. I stand by them.”

That reduced Chambers to a reluctant silence, and Gervaise gently picked up the slack. “Tell us what happened.”

“They were walking back to the car, the three of them. DCI Banks was in front, and I could see him fiddling inside the food bag. I couldn’t know at the time exactly what he was doing, of course, but it seemed suspicious, like he was preparing to do something, and it would certainly look suspicious from behind, to McCready, who was already acting jumpy as hell.”

“So you saw DCI Banks fiddling with the paper bag?” Gervaise went on.

“Yes.”

“And what did you do next?”

“Nothing, ma’am. I watched and waited.”

“Through the sights of your gun?” asked Chambers.

“Through my scope, yes.”

“The sniper’s rifle you just happened to be carrying with you?” He glanced down at his notes. “A Parker-Hale M85, if I’m not mistaken. Not exactly standard issue. Where did you get it?”

“It was my father’s, sir. I keep it locked in a special compartment in the boot of my car. I practice with it sometimes. In my opinion, the Park-”

“Is that where you’re supposed to keep your weapon, Officer Powell?” asked Trethowan. “In the boot of your car, like some American redneck?”

Nerys turned away. “No, sir. The Firearms Cadre has proper storage facilities, as do our transport vehicles, but-”

“Carry on,” said Trethowan. “We’ll deal with that infraction later.”

Nerys swallowed again, as if her mouth was dry. She still had a glass of water in front of her, Banks noticed, but this time she didn’t touch it. She probably didn’t want them to see her hand shaking. “I was watching them walk toward the car. DCI Banks pulled a face and flinched. I thought maybe he’d burned himself or something. That gave me an idea of what he might be about to try.”

“And?” asked Gervaise.

Nerys looked directly at Banks. Her gaze was unnerving. “In my opinion, he wouldn’t have succeeded, ma’am. His awkward movements had already alerted McCready that something was going on. DCI Banks was going to try and throw hot coffee in his face, but he must have burned himself getting the lid off, and he flinched. McCready noticed, knew something was wrong.”

“Is this true, Alan?” asked Gervaise.

Banks nodded.

“What did McCready do then?” Gervaise asked Nerys.

“He took the gun-the Baikal with the silencer-out of his hold-all. He’d had it in his hand all the time they were walking, but now he pulled it out into full view. One or two of the people around them in the car park noticed and screamed. I could see that if it went on like that, there was going to be a panic, and that would only make McCready more volatile. But at that moment, there weren’t many people in that particular area, certainly nobody really close.”

“Where did McCready point the gun?”

“First he pointed it at Tracy Banks. At her head. I surmised that he was threatening her father that he would shoot her if he tried anything.”

“And then?”

“McCready was edgy, ma’am. Erratic in his behavior. He said something to DCI Banks, and then pointed the gun directly at him.”

“By this time DCI Banks had turned around?”

“Yes. He was facing McCready, who was using Tracy as a shield.”

“And how did you respond?” Chambers cut in.

“I shot McCready, sir,” Nerys said dispassionately. “In the head. It was the best shot I could get. Luckily, he was quite a bit taller than DCI Banks’s daughter.”

“You killed him,” Chambers said.

“Yes, sir. A head shot is usually…” She noticed the storm brewing on Trethowan’s face, then turned back to Chambers. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you fled the scene.”

“Then I returned to Western Area Headquarters. I handed over my weapon to Detective Superintendent Gervaise, told her what happened, and you know the rest.”

“Why didn’t you remain at the scene?” Gervaise asked.

“There seemed no point. McCready was dead. DCI Banks and his daughter were safe. The services would be swarming with police in no time at all.”

“And you might have found it rather difficult to explain yourself?” suggested Chambers.

“Yes. I’ll admit that crossed my mind, too. And if other armed officers arrived on the scene, my presence could have caused a serious danger to the public.”

“How public-spirited of you,” said Chambers. “Do you know how long those officers spent questioning people, looking for clues to the identity of the shooter?”

“Do you want to add leaving the scene of the crime to the list of charges against me?” Nerys said.

Trethowan just shook his head. Chambers spluttered and tossed his pencil down. “I told you this would be a waste of time, Catherine,” he said to Gervaise. “She needs to be suspended from duty right now, without pay, and we need to bring in an outside team.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said McLaughlin.

“I don’t think it was a waste of time, Reg,” said Trethowan. “Officer Powell’s cheap repartee aside. Not when one of my officers is involved in a serious incident such as this. And not if we can contain the fallout.”

“Nor do I, for what it’s worth,” said Banks, speaking up with a contemptuous glance toward Chambers. “I don’t think it was a waste of time at all. One thing you all seem to be forgetting in all this mud-slinging is that Officer Powell here saved my life. And my daughter’s.”

“IT’S A long time since I’ve been here,” said Tracy the following lunchtime in the Queen’s Arms.

Banks studied the drab decor. The red plush on the benches was worn, the stuffing coming out here and there, the dimpled copper tables were wobbly, and the wallpaper was peeling in places where it reached the ceiling. The whole place could do with a lick of paint, too. Still, it was familiar, and it was comfortable, and those were qualities, Banks felt, that both he and Tracy needed right now. It was also still hanging on, when so many pubs were closing down for good. And the food wasn’t bad.

Tracy picked at her chicken and chips in a basket, and Banks tucked into his giant Yorkshire pudding stuffed with roast beef and smothered in onion gravy. He had slept on his living room couch at the rented flat the previous night and let Tracy have the bed, but he hadn’t slept well. The jet lag was still with him, and he kept experiencing waves of tiredness and dizziness at the oddest of times. But he could live with that. It wasn’t so much different from when he’d had to work shifts.

“It’s a while since I’ve been here, too,” said Banks between mouthfuls. He sipped his Black Sheep bitter. The Queen’s Arms wasn’t overly busy for the time of day, and their table by the window was a little island unto itself. Sunshine filtered through the red and blue diamonds of stained glass. A couple of young lads were playing the noisy machines in the passage to the gents’, and the usual oldies played on the radio, or whatever it was Cyril had rigged up as his source of music instead of the old jukebox. “Substitute” by The Who, was playing at the moment. “I understand you called yourself Francesca,” Banks said.

Tracy blushed and stared down at her plate. “That was silly. I’m sorry.”

“We never gave you a middle name. I’m sorry for that.” Banks smiled. “We couldn’t afford one for you at the time.”

Tracy laughed, and he saw an image of the daughter he knew and loved behind the attitude and the new look. Not that he cared how she did her hair or dressed, as long as she was happy. But she hadn’t been happy; that was becoming apparent enough. “I don’t have one, either,” he went on. “When I was young I called myself Davy, after Davy Crockett. I must have seen The Alamo a hundred times.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did. You know,” Banks went on, glancing at her sideways as he cut off some more beef and Yorkshire pudding, “it doesn’t really matter about your exams. I mean, I know you’re disappointed, and I can’t do anything about that, but you don’t have to feel you let me or your mother down. You worked so hard. We’re proud of you. I honestly didn’t know you were beating yourself up so much about the results.”

“But you expected so much more,” Tracy said. “Me, too. And I do feel as if I’ve let everybody down. I mean, look at me now, telling people where they can find the latest Katie Price or Dan Brown, while Brian is playing to sell-out crowds in Nagasaki or wherever. He’s the big success in the family.”

“I love both of you. It’s not a competition. I tried not to favor either of you.”

“But you did, didn’t you? I mean, I’m not blaming you. It’s only human nature. Parents can’t help it. People can’t help it.”

“If I did, it was always you I favored.”

“Until Brian made it big.”

“That’s not true,” Banks said. “I spent half my time trying to keep Brian in university. I wanted him to finish his degree, get a real job. If anything, I discouraged him from making music a career. If he succeeded, it’s despite me, not because of me.”

“But you had so much in common. You bought him his first guitar.”

“You can’t blame a man for loving music. With you I…I tried. I just couldn’t communicate so easily with you. I didn’t know how to reach you. How to talk to you about boyfriends and girly stuff. Even the thought of you with a boy made my blood boil. And the music…I mean, you liked Take That and the Spice Girls, while Brian was into Led Zeppelin and Bob Dylan. I’m sorry, but it was no contest musically.”

Tracy stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then she burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dad. You do say the strangest things. Anyway, I like the Unthanks, Smoke Fairies, Regina Spektor and Noah and the Whale these days. And the Kings of Leon.”

“That’s an improvement. Anyway, I felt awkward with you when you were growing up, not Daddy’s little girl anymore. Not having your mother around didn’t help, either.”

“But that was years ago. Maybe you just didn’t try hard enough?”

“Maybe I didn’t.” Banks scratched his scar. “I’d be the first to admit that I put my job first too much of the time. And I suppose I had a few personal problems of my own, too.”

“Have you got a girlfriend at the moment?”

“No,” Banks said. “No one.” He thought about Teresa, but she wasn’t his girlfriend. He probably wouldn’t even see her again. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell his daughter about a one-night stand in San Francisco. He thought of the e-mail with the attached JPEG he had received from Teresa that morning: the two of them standing in Burritt Street looking at the plaque that read, ON APPROXIMATELY THIS SPOT MILES ARCHER, PARTNER OF SAM SPADE, WAS DONE IN BY BRIGID O’SHAUGHNESSY.

“What about Annie?”

“Annie? It’s…complicated.”

“Why? She’s in love with you.”

“Stop it. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not as easy as that.”

“She is. A woman can tell these things.”

“But you’re just a girl.”

“Really? I’m twenty-four. And still waiting for my latest birthday card, by the way. Anyway, let’s just put it all behind us, shall we? Start afresh.”

“That’s okay with me,” said Banks. “But we do need to talk.”

“I know. I know. And I’ve been dreading it. I’ve had enough of that.” She pushed her basket aside.

“You used to like it.”

“When I was ‘just a girl,’” Tracy sipped her white wine. “Around the same time I used to like McDonald’s and Take That.”

It was true, Banks realized. His daughter was a young woman now, and it was about time he accepted that and learned how to deal with it. “Do you want to tell me what happened? From the start.”

Tracy rested her elbows on the table. “I knew this was coming,” she said. “I’ve been dreading it.” She wasn’t wearing any makeup today, and Banks thought she looked quite beautiful. Even the piercings beside her eyebrow and below her lip couldn’t detract from it. Her skin was naturally pale, her pink lips well defined and shapely, and she had her mother’s eyes. The short hairstyle suited her, too. But then he was biased.

“Take a deep breath and plunge right in.”

“Okay,” Tracy said, and inhaled. “But you already know most of it.”

“Humor me. How did you meet Jaff?”

“Through Erin. They met at that restaurant she worked in, down The Calls. I didn’t know him well at all, but he sort of hung out with us sometimes at the clubs and whatever.”

“And you found him attractive?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But at one time I suppose I did.”

“Oh, it’s not so hard to believe. He was handsome, and I’m sure he was charming enough,” said Banks. “And he was a bad boy. It’s quite a heady combination.”

“That’s Erin’s thing, not mine. He was her boyfriend.”

“Did you know he was a criminal, a drug dealer?”

“No way!” said Tracy. “If I’d known any of that I would have stayed well away. Like I said, it was just a superficial relationship at first. We danced sometimes, chatted about music and stuff. It was just fun…you know…a laugh.”

Banks sensed that Tracy might be avoiding the whole issue of drugs, and he didn’t want to push her on it. He didn’t imagine for a moment that she was a total saint. He assumed that, like a lot of kids who go clubbing, she probably took E now and then, the way people smoked pot or dropped acid in his day. Maybe she did that, too. He just hoped she was careful about what she did, and didn’t use anything harder, like coke or heroin. But there was no gain in opening that route right now. “What changed things?” he asked.

“One night he kissed me on the dance floor. I know it sounds like a cue for a tacky old song, ‘And Then He Kissed Me’ or something, but it’s true. And it was a bit romantic.” Tracy blushed. “Pity the romance didn’t last,” she said.

“What happened?”

“Well, him and Erin had a blazing row right there in the club. It was so embarrassing, even if the music was so loud nobody could hear. She called me some names, then stormed off. Fast-forward to me coming home from work a few days later, and Rose telling me the police had searched the house, then all the stuff on the news later, about Mr. Doyle, the gun…police all over our old street…”

“Slow down. Why did you dash over to Jaff McCready’s flat immediately?”

“To tell him what had happened. He was still Erin’s boyfriend. Something had happened to her. Something was dreadfully wrong. I mean, I know there’d been a misunderstanding, a row, but it was just a kiss. Honest. I mean, we didn’t sleep together or anything.” Her lower lip trembled. “Not…not then.”

“One thing at a time,” Banks said, putting his hand on her forearm. “Take it easy.”

Tracy held her glass up and tried to smile. “I could do with another one of these. Dutch courage.”

Banks went to the bar and got them both refills. “Daughter?” said Cyril, the landlord, nodding over in Tracy’s direction.

“Yes.”

“That the same young lass you used to bring in here for a Coke and a burger years back, when you lived just down the road?”

“One and the same.”

“Haven’t seen her for a long time. She’s grown up into a fine-looking young lass.”

Banks looked over at her. “Indeed she has. Thanks, Cyril.” He paid for the drinks and went back to the table. Paul Jones came on singing “I’ve Been a Bad, Bad Boy.” These oldies were making him feel sad. He had almost forgotten that one.

“What happened when you went to Jaff’s flat?” Banks asked when Tracy had sipped some wine.

“He went berserk,” she said. “He scared me. First, he went in his bedroom and came out just raving, calling her a stupid bitch and God knows what. I didn’t know at the time, but he’d been looking for the gun she took.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“I was frightened,” said Tracy. “I mean, I thought he was nice, but suddenly he seemed so angry, so unpredictable. I didn’t know what he was going to do. I was only the messenger.”

“What happened next?”

“He grabbed me and said we had to get out of there.”

“We?”

“Yes.”

“So you were already a hostage, right from the start?”

“I suppose so. I don’t know what he was thinking. All I know is that he needed a place to go and he was taking me with him.”

“How did you end up at my cottage?”

Tracy turned away. “He…he made me take him there. He said he’d got nowhere to go, and he needed to be somewhere nobody could find him for a while, till things got sorted out. He asked me if I knew anywhere. I was really scared. It was all I could think of. I thought he might hurt me if I said I didn’t know anywhere.”

“Did you feel that you were free to leave him at this time?”

“No. I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I mean, I wasn’t tied up or anything, but he had hold of my arm, and he was hurting me. I thought of your cottage. I knew you were on holiday. I’m so sorry. I…Look, I’m confused. You’re interrogating me just like one of your suspects. I don’t know why it all happened the way it did. I look back and it all seems like a blur, a terrible nightmare. All I know is that I’m the victim here.”

“Calm down, Tracy,” Banks said. “I know this is difficult for you.” Tracy wiped her eyes and sipped more wine. One or two people were looking over, but Banks ignored them. The machines were still making enough noise to drown out their conversation, and “Be My Baby” was playing. Banks kept his voice down, all the same. “I’m not interrogating you,” he said, “but I have to ask these questions. Okay?”

Tracy nodded. “Okay.”

“On the way out of Leeds, Jaff stopped at Victor Mallory’s house. Why?”

“To change cars. Jaff was worried that the police might be looking for him in his own car.”

“So you knew about the gun by then, right?”

“No. He didn’t tell me about that until we got to your cottage, otherwise I might have been more concerned about getting away. He just seemed in a desperate hurry to leave Leeds. I thought maybe…you know…he was worried about getting busted for drugs.”

“You said you didn’t know he was a dealer.”

“I knew he had stuff from time to time. Just not a dealer like you mean.”

“Why didn’t he head straight for London?”

“Because he said he needed to make some phone calls, set up some deals. I didn’t know what he meant at the time, what he was talking about, but now I think he meant about selling the coke-there was a lot of it-and getting a phony passport and all that. He said it would take time, and he needed to lie low. He was on his mobile a lot.”

“But you didn’t know why was he running?”

“Not at that time. Not when we stopped at Victor’s, no.”

“Did you go inside Victor Mallory’s house with him?”

“No. Jaff told me to wait in the car.”

“Were you restrained in any way?”

“No.”

“So you could have simply got out and walked away at this point?”

“I suppose so. I wish I had, now. But I was confused. He told me to wait. He needed me to direct him to your cottage. He didn’t know the countryside. He’d never even heard of Gratly. But if I’d known what…I’d have got out and run as fast as I could.”

“It’s okay,” said Banks. “I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I’m just trying to get things clear, that’s all. How long was he in there?”

“I don’t know. Five or ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”

“Do you know Victor?”

Tracy shrugged. “I’d met him a couple of times at the clubs. He seemed okay.”

“What happened next?”

“We switched cars and drove to Gratly. I’m sorry, Dad, sorry for leading him to the cottage. I really didn’t know what he was like, what he would do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your CD collection. You mean you don’t know?”

“I haven’t been allowed home yet. The SOCOs have just about finished, and Superintendent Gervaise says she’ll arrange to send in a clean up team after them, then I can go back. Maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

“He made a bit of a mess, that’s all, chucking CDs around, breaking some of the jewel cases, spilling drinks.”

“Don’t worry. That’s not your fault. How did you find out about the gun Erin took?”

“We saw the news. They didn’t mention it specifically, but someone said they’d seen the police bring out a gun-shaped object wrapped in a tea cloth. He knew that’s what it was, that it had been missing from his bedroom and Erin must have taken it to get at him. That’s when he first told me what was going on.”

“Did he tell you why he was so upset about the police having it?”

“No.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I just asked him why he needed a gun, and why Erin had taken it. He said that now I knew about it, I should see that he couldn’t let me go, that I had to stay with him to the bitter end.”

“He said that?”

“Yes. Please, Dad. You’re interrogating me again. Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course I do,” said Banks, though he was starting to have some misgivings about Tracy’s version of events. “And I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I just want to get it all clear in my mind.”

“It’s not even clear in my mind.”

Banks sipped some Black Sheep. “I understand that. That’s the reason for the questions. They’re supposed to focus you, not make you feel as if you’re being interrogated.”

“I’m sorry.” Tracy twirled her glass. “He opened your wine. Drank some of the really good stuff. And your whiskey.”

“That’s all right,” Banks said, wondering just what sort of a mess McCready had made, and what he would find missing when he got home. “Telstar” started playing. It took Banks right back to when he was about twelve and used to listen to Alan Freeman’s Pick of the Pops every Sunday afternoon on a transistor in the park with his friends, looking at the girls who walked by, so pretty in their Sunday summer dresses, blushing and flirting. Graham Marshall always used to be with them, until he disappeared one Sunday morning during his paper round. Years later, Banks had helped to uncover what had happened to him. Graham’s face flashed before his mind’s eye as the music played. They had all liked that weird organ sound on “Telstar.”

Tracy lowered her voice and leaned forward. “And he had drugs. Some pot. Cocaine. A lot of it, in big plastic bags. Kilos. But he filled a little plastic bag for his own use. He was taking it all the time. He was crazy.”

“Yes. Our men found it in his hold-all along with about fifty thousand pounds. Know where that came from?”

“No. He had it from the start, I think, from his flat. At least he had the hold-all, and it seemed heavy. I didn’t take any of the coke. Honest, I didn’t, Dad.”

“It’s all right. I believe you. So he drank some wine, drank some whiskey, smoked some marijuana, snorted some coke. A right old knees-up, by the sound of it. Where were you while all this was going on?”

“Just sitting there watching. There was nothing I could do to stop him. He was much bigger and stronger than me.”

“I understand that. Did he…?”

“Rape me?” Tracy looked directly into Banks’s eyes and nodded. “Yes. He did. Later. When he found out who I was. He took me upstairs, to your room. I tried to fight, tried to resist him, but it was no good. He was so much stronger. He threw me down on the bed and-”

Banks felt his throat constrict and his heart beat fast. “It’s all right, Tracy. I don’t need to know the details. You say all this happened after he found out who you were, that you were a policeman’s daughter?”

“Yes. He found a letter or something with your name and rank on it. He found out you were a police detective, a DCI.”

“And how did he react?”

“It made him really angry at first, then he said it meant I might come in even more useful than he’d imagined. He was still furious at me for not telling him before. And he didn’t like the police. He became more aggressive. That’s when he raped me. He thought it was really cool, something special to do it to me in your room, on your bed, like he was getting at you personally, or violating you in some way.”

Banks certainly felt violated, and if McCready were still alive at that moment he would cheerfully have strangled him with his bare hands. “What happened when Annie came?” he asked.

“He was hiding behind the entertainment room door. The gun was in his hold-all in the breakfast nook. He told me to get rid of her as quickly as possible or he’d shoot her. I tried, Dad, I really tried. But you know Annie. She just wouldn’t stop, she wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t go…”

“She didn’t know the danger she was in,” Banks said. “She thought she was helping you. And she’s nothing if she’s not persistent.”

“She knew something was wrong, that I was there under duress. I know she was trying to help me, but she just wouldn’t take no for an answer, and then Jaff appeared and…”

“Tracy, you know you probably saved Annie’s life, don’t you? That mobile phone call you made.”

“She was bleeding. I thought she was going to die. What else could I do? He was so angry when he heard me phoning for an ambulance. I thought he was going to kill me, too, then, but I guess I was still too valuable to him. So he crushed my mobile.”

“And after that?”

“The car broke down on the moors. We were on foot, on the run. It was one misfortune after another. I have to say, if he was a master criminal, he wasn’t very good at it.” Tracy managed a grim smile.

“Lucky for us,” Banks said. He glanced at his watch, then over at the door. “Want another?”

“I shouldn’t,” Tracy said. “I’m already feeling a bit tipsy.”

“Coffee, then?”

“That’d be good.” Banks was just about to go and get Tracy a coffee and himself another pint when the door opened and Erin and Juliet Doyle walked in. Tracy gaped at Erin, then at Banks. “Did you arrange this, Dad?” she said.

“I told them we might be here until about half one, that’s all.”

The two girls just stared at each other for what seemed like an age, then Tracy got up from the table, walked over to Erin and threw her arms around her. Erin hugged her back. The tourists gawked. Banks caught Juliet Doyle’s eyes beyond Erin and Tracy. She just gave a curt nod. Banks breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought Tracy was going to thump Erin and that Erin and Juliet would never speak to each other again.