“You went to Mohammed’s? You didn’t tell me this before, when you interviewed me.”
“There’s a lot I didn’t tell you. You didn’t need to know.”
“And now?”
“It might help you to understand what’s going on and why.”
Wyman paused to digest this. He sipped some more whiskey. His hand seemed to have stopped shaking. “They knew I’d been to Russia.”
“That wouldn’t be hard to find out. As soon as they knew I was interested in you, they’d check you out, but Tomasina came into the picture later. When were you in Russia?”
“Four years ago. Moscow and Saint Petersburg. I was a bloody tourist, for crying out loud. I saved up for years for that trip. Went by myself. Carol wasn’t interested. She’d rather lie on a beach in Majorca. But I love Russian culture. I love Chekhov, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich—”
“All right,” said Banks. “You can spare me the cultural catalog. I get the picture.”
“They told me they knew about my visit,” Wyman went on. “They wanted a list of people I’d met and talked to while I was there.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth. That I couldn’t remember. I didn’t meet anyone. Well, I did, but no one... you know... I went to museums, galleries, the Bolshoi, the Kremlin, walked the streets.”
“And?”
“They didn’t believe me. They said they’d be back. Warned me about some of the things they could do to me if they thought I was lying. Lose me my job. Turn my family against me. It was awful. When I saw them at the house on Sunday, I just panicked and took off. But I ran out of petrol. I had a drink or two and tried to think what to do. I realized they’d be searching for my car, so I set out on foot. I’ve been living rough, up on the moors, ever since. Then I thought of you. You seemed a decent enough bloke when we talked. I thought if anyone could sort this mess out, you could. I haven’t done anything, Mr. Banks. I’m innocent.”
“I’d hardly call you innocent,” said Banks. “How did you know where I live?”
“The fire a while back. It was in the local paper. I remembered the place from my walks, when the old lady lived here.”
“So what do you think I can do for you?”
“Get it sorted. Tell them the truth, with a solicitor and other people present, in the police station. I don’t trust them. I don’t want to be alone with them again.”
Nor did Banks. And he had told Gervaise that he wanted to set up a meeting. Perhaps it would be best to take Wyman in. It might give MI6 an extra reason to turn up at the table. With any hope, the matter could be settled once and for all. “Why don’t you tell me how it really happened first?” Banks said. “All that about Hardcastle asking you to spy on Silbert, it was crap, wasn’t it?”
Wyman hung his head. “Yes. Mark never asked me to check up on Laurence. He never suspected for a moment that he might be seeing someone else. It was me who suggested that. It was all me.”
“Why did you lie when we interviewed you?”
“It seemed the easiest way to explain it without making myself look too bad. There was no way you could prove I was lying. There was no one to contradict me.”
“But you’re telling me the truth now?”
“Yes. I’ve got nothing left to lose, have I?”
Banks poured Wyman another tumbler of whiskey and himself some more wine. The rain continued to slither down the windows of the conservatory, and a drainpipe gurgled by the door. “Why did you do it, then, if it wasn’t Hardcastle’s idea?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me, especially if it was nothing to do with the Russian Mafia or your brother’s death, either.”
“Rick? I told you before, I don’t know anything about that. I didn’t even know what Laurence did for a living. How could it have been anything to do with Rick?”
“Never mind,” said Banks. “Carry on.”
“I wasn’t interested in Laurence Silbert. I knew nothing about him, really, just that he was some rich bloke who’d taken a shine to Mark. He was just a means to an end. Mark loved him. That was who I wanted to hurt, the smug bastard. Mark.”
“Are you telling me this was all about the bloody theater, after all? Your directing career?”
“You don’t understand. He was going to wipe out my job. With a professional acting troupe there, he was going to end up artistic director of the whole bloody show, and getting well paid for it in the bargain, and I was going to be stuck teaching the likes of Nicky Haskell and his mates for the rest of my bloody days. And he delighted in letting me know. He even used to bloody tease me about it. I put hours of work into those plays. They were my life. Do you think I was just going to stand around and have it all taken away from me by some Johnny-come-lately?”
“I don’t believe this,” said Banks, shaking his head. “For that you destroyed two lives?”
Wyman drank some whiskey. “I never intended for anyone to be destroyed. I just wanted to cause a rift, so maybe Hardcastle would bugger off back to Barnsley or wherever and leave us all alone. It started as a bit of a lark, really, thinking about Othello. Then I wondered if you really could do that, you know, drive someone around the bend through innuendo and images. Mark was a bit jealous about Laurence’s frequent trips to London or Amsterdam, whether they were supposed to be business trips or not. I thought I could use that. Mark told me about the fl at in Bloomsbury, and one time I was in London at the same time Laurence was there on a business trip I went and watched the flat. That was when I saw Laurence come out. I don’t know why, but I followed him, saw him meet a man on a park bench and go to a house in Saint John’s Wood. I didn’t have my camera with me. You know the rest.”
“And you hired Tom Savage because you couldn’t get down there as often as Laurence Silbert did?”
“That’s right. I told her I’d ring her and give her an address when I wanted her to follow someone and take photographs. She did a terrific job. Mark went spare when I showed him them at Zizzi’s. I didn’t expect him to tear them up, but he did. Naturally, the photos weren’t enough in themselves, I had to embellish a bit on the sort of things I thought they were going to do to one another when they got upstairs. But the hand on the back was a lovely touch. If it hadn’t been for that, it might have looked innocent.”
A harmless gesture. Again, Banks wondered about Sophia. Was that all her friend’s gesture had been last night? And was he doing his own embellishment? He put her out of his mind. That was for later.
“I never expected what happened next. You have to believe me. I’ve been a wreck ever since. Ask Carol. Poor Carol. Is she all right?”
“You should ring her,” Banks said. “She’s worried sick about you.”
“I can’t face that just now,” said Wyman. “Give me a bit of time to get myself together.”
Banks finished his wine. “Look,” he said, “as far as I can tell, technically, you’ve created a hell of a mess, caused two deaths and wasted a lot of police time, but you haven’t committed any crime. It’s down to the CPS to make the final decision on that, of course, but I honestly can’t see what the charge would be.”
“You’ve got to take me in,” said Wyman. “We’ve got to get it sorted before I can go home again. I don’t want them coming to my house again. Carol. The kids. I’m willing to accept whatever punishment you think I should have, but I want you to help me get them off my back. Will you do that?”
Banks thought for a moment. “If I can,” he said.
Wyman put his tumbler down and got to his feet. “Now?”