“All the more fun for us, then,” said Darren. “Would you like us to have a word?”
“With Banks? Are you fucking insane? That’d be a red rag to a bull. No, no, we leave him well out of it. The last thing we need is the police knowing any more than they do already. Right now they’ve no reason to come talking to us. I’m just saying be careful. If his daughter’s involved, it could mean more trouble than we expected. He’ll be mental. Things could escalate.”
“What about the girl we talked to? Rose. She’ll remember us. Should we deal with her permanently?”
“I don’t want you dealing with anyone right now. Keep a low profile. Either they’ve already talked to her, or she’s too scared to say anything. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Let’s stay focused here.”
Jelena, the Czech serving girl, brought their meals. It took her two trips, and Fanthorpe flirted with her, as usual, and ogled her arse as she wiggled away. Darren and Ciaran didn’t seem interested. But they never did. Sometimes Fanthorpe wondered about those two. If truth be told, he wouldn’t have minded half an hour in a haystack with the lovely Jelena, even a full hour, but he knew how far to push it. He had plenty of opportunities to play away from home on his “business” trips. No point doing it on his own doorstep. Around these parts he was a well-respected family man, and it was in his best interests to keep it that way. So he stuck to flirting and drew the line at anything further. Though he wondered if she might be interested in a quick trip to London next week, dinner at The Ivy, take in a West End show…
“The problem is,” said Darren, bringing Fanthorpe back to the matter at hand, “that if it is her, this Tracy Banks, then she’s gone over to the dark side, hasn’t she?”
“The dark side? Jaff? Is that meant to be some sort of a fucking joke?”
“No.” Darren seemed genuinely nonplussed. “Because if it is, it’s not very funny.”
“No, boss. What I mean is, Jaff’s hardly the sort of bloke you associate with nice girls, is he?”
“I don’t suppose he is, now you come to mention it,” said Fanthorpe. “He’s a bad ’un through and through. But these young lasses…Some of them like that sort of thing. Got minds of their own these days, they have.”
“Between their legs, more like,” said Darren.
“You watch your tongue. I’ve got daughters of my own.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Just watch your tongue, that’s all.”
“Sorry, boss. Have you seen the news today?”
“Haven’t had time,” said Fanthorpe, who found most news, except the economic kind, boring. All they could talk about was sport, sex and politics, anyway. Or crime.
“There was a copper shot in Swainsdale last night. They’re not saying much, except it was a woman, a DI, no less, and she wasn’t even on active duty at the time. There’s rumors she might not survive.”
“Jaff?”
“Well, he’d have had to get hold of another gun if his girlfriend took the one he had.”
“Easy enough for him,” said Fanthorpe. “He’s got a mate imports them by the crate load from Lithuania. Baikals with silencers. Right pieces of shite, if you ask me. Converted from firing tear-gas pellets. I ask you. But they’re deadly enough in the right hands. No, the shooter’s no problem. Not for Jaff.” Fanthorpe rubbed his stubbly chin. “I always thought there was something not quite kosher about our Jaff, much as I loved him like my own. A bit too independent-minded. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he had a few of his own little enterprises going on the side, a few irons in the fire we don’t know about.”
“Then it’s not our problem, is it?”
“It is now. He’s made it our problem. He’s taken something of mine, and he’s got himself in trouble with the law. I don’t take kindly to any of that. He’s opened us up to the kind of exposure and attention we don’t want. Sooner or later, when the police come knocking, someone talks. Right now I wouldn’t trust Jaff as far as I could throw him. He’s capable of anything. Look how bloody moody and unpredictable he is. And that temper of his. Like a barrel of dodgy dynamite, ready to go off at any moment. No, I don’t want Jaff on the loose. But this Tracy Banks business adds a whole new dimension. You sure the copper getting shot is connected?”
“Has to be, doesn’t it?” Darren said. “I mean, that part of the world, Swainsdale, bit of a backwoods, really, innit? Nothing much happens there. Now all this. It’d be too much of a coincidence if they weren’t connected, wouldn’t it?”
“Jaff?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Darren. “You said it yourself. He’s a loose cannon.”
“And you think the Banks girl is on the run with him?”
“Along for the ride, by the sound of it. I’ll bet he’s giving her plenty, too. Bit of a randy goat, our Jaff. Maybe she just likes a bit of rough?”
“What a fucking idiot.”
“He’s on the run. Like an animal. He’s not thinking clearly. Not acting rational. Desperate.”
“Well, that gives us an edge, doesn’t it?” said Fanthorpe, detaching some flakes of crispy batter from his fish. The soggy white meat tasted oily. There was something not quite right about it, and his stomach was already making grumbling sounds. Maybe he should follow his doctor’s advice and lay off booze and fatty foods. “An edge. Because we’re going to remain cool, calm and collected about this. Aren’t we, gentlemen?”
Both men nodded.
“Right. Where was this policewoman shot?”
“I don’t know, boss. They only said her wounds were life-”
“I don’t mean that, you idiot. Where in Swainsdale? Eastvale? Helmthorpe? Lyndgarth?”
“They didn’t say.”
“Boxing clever, eh?” Fanthorpe sipped some more beer and finished his fish and chips, which tasted better now, then he said, “Right, this is the situation as I see it. The way I put the pieces together, our Jaff was on the run or hiding out somewhere in Swainsdale with Tracy Banks. Running from a gun charge his girlfriend was no doubt helping to bring against him, which, as we know, not only means a five-year stretch, which is bad enough, but the kind of police scrutiny a lad in Jaff’s business couldn’t survive. And he’s running with something of mine, something of great value. Not to mention the fifty grand he was supposed to deliver. As Alan Banks works out of Western Area Headquarters in Eastvale, I think we can safely assume it’s the same Tracy Banks. Somehow or other, one of the local plods caught up with them, and Jaff, silly, lovable, impulsive bugger that he is, pulled a gun and shot her. That means Tracy Banks is either with him all the way, or she’s suddenly become a distinct liability. I’d guess the latter. Either way, she’ll slow him down.”
“Unless he just shoots her and dumps her?”
“Possibly,” said Fanthorpe. “But he’ll know she might be useful to him. Jaff’s not stupid. We need to find them before the police do, or we’ve seen the last of our little commodities.”
“And the money,” Darren added. “Let’s not forget the money. It’ll end up under some copper’s mattress. But where are we supposed to start? Swainsdale’s a bloody big place, and it’s mostly full of nothing.”
“If I know Jaff,” Fanthorpe said, “he’ll be heading for the city. He’s a city boy at heart. He’s got contacts in London, the old boys’ network. You’d be surprised how many of them are crooked. He’s got people who can get him anything he needs, for a price, no questions asked. That’s the class he comes from, remember. He always thought he was a cut above you and me. But he’s got to get there first. I assume he’s got a car. You can’t get around in that part of the world without wheels. But he wouldn’t use his own car. He wouldn’t want every patrol car in the area looking out for his number plate, would he?”
“He might have stolen one,” Darren suggested.