There was a short silence after Tracy’s outburst. Banks held his breath, admiring his daughter for her guts, but uncertain about which direction it would tip Jaff’s erratic brain.
“Fine,” Jaff said eventually. He tapped Banks on the shoulder. “I could do with a cup of coffee, myself. You heard the lady, James. Next services-.”
Banks thought furiously. Could this be his best opportunity? How could he do it? Throw a cup of hot coffee in Jaff’s face, snatch the hold-all, toss it to Tracy, take on Jaff hand-to-hand? It was a possibility, maybe the only one.
Jaff stared out of the window, tapping his fingers on his thighs. He was working it out, Banks knew, figuring out every angle, every moment, every move that could possibly go wrong for him, like so many had before. He would be at his edgiest, his most unpredictable and dangerous from the moment they left the car. As Banks turned onto the slip road, he looked for the silver Honda hatchback in his rearview mirror, but he couldn’t see it. Maybe he’d been imagining things.
THE CAR park was only about half full. As soon as Banks had pulled into the spot Jaff had chosen for him and turned off the engine, he opened the door and felt the wind on his face. It had just started to drizzle.
“Not so fast,” said Jaff. “We need to set a few ground rules before we go anywhere.”
Banks closed the door again.
“Hurry up,” said Tracy. “It hurts.”
“We stick together, right?” Jaff said. “Francesca by my side, you in front. And I’ll have my hand on the gun the whole time, so don’t even think of making a break for it. And both of you remember this: If one of you’s out of my sight, the other isn’t.”
Banks wanted to question Jaff on whether he would really start shooting in a public car park, but he didn’t bother. First of all, Tracy was desperate, and Banks wanted them all out of the car as quickly as possible to increase his chances of taking control of the situation. Secondly, he suspected that at this point Jaff was so wired that he probably would start shooting. Banks had noticed him snorting more lines of coke in the back of the car, seen how twitchy he was becoming.
“It’s your call,” said Banks, pulling the door handle again.
They all got out and started moving across the car park and the open space to the toilets and restaurant. There were a few amusement machines near the entrance, and a convenience store opposite. Next to the store were the ladies’ and gents’ toilets.
“So how are we all going to stick together now?” Banks asked, looking at the flow of people coming in and out of the toilets.
“Don’t be a clever bastard. Obviously we can’t. Francesca goes in. We stay here.”
“But I need to go, too,” said Banks. “And her name is Tracy.”
“I know that. I prefer Francesca. You can wait your turn. Go on, Francesca. And no tricks. Don’t try borrowing anyone’s mobile or trying to pass any messages. Remember what I told you. Your dad’s out here with me.”
Tracy dashed inside the ladies’. Jaff stood close to Banks, with his hand inside his hold-all, eyes on stalks, twitching in all directions.
“You’re not going to get away with this, you know,” Banks said casually, trying to discover just how far he could push Jaff.
“What do you know?”
“You could stop it now. It would count for you in court.”
“Rubbish. I shot a copper.”
“But you didn’t kill her.”
“I can’t do time in prison. I’d never survive.”
“There’s no way around that.”
“So we just do as I say.” He glanced at his watch. “She’s taking a long time.”
“She’s a woman,” said Banks.
Jaff actually laughed. It was a slightly mad laugh, and one or two passersby glanced curiously at him. Luckily, Tracy came out immediately after the comment, and Jaff gave her instructions to wait exactly where she was while he and Banks went. When they came out, she was still there, rooted to the spot.
“So far, so good,” said Jaff. “Let’s get something to eat.”
They went upstairs to the takeaway section and bought coffee and sandwiches, which Jaff directed Banks to carry, no doubt so he could keep a firm grip on his gun. The food was in a bag, which would make it more difficult for Banks to remove the top from the coffee unseen and toss it in Jaff’s face. But it was a long walk back to the car. Banks had had no time to talk to Tracy alone, to make her aware of what he might try. He had to depend on her survival instinct and her quick grasp of the changing situation. She would have to follow his lead.
Slowly they walked back, Banks slightly ahead, as he had been told, Jaff with his hand in his hold-all, Tracy beside him. Banks didn’t like walking blind to his adversary’s exact position and movements, but he thought he could shield the bag slightly with his body as he reached inside with his free hand and felt for the top of the coffee container. He knew that some of it might splatter on Tracy if Jaff was sticking close to her, but that couldn’t be helped. He would try to be as accurate as possible given the circumstances.
They made their way through the parked cars, sometimes having to walk in single file through a narrow space, getting closer and closer. Banks got the top off, and the hot black coffee scalded his fingers. He grimaced in pain but managed to avoid shouting out. He must have stumbled a little, though, because Jaff told him to turn around. There weren’t any people nearby, though Banks could hear the cars whizzing by on the M1 and wondered if that was the last sound he would hear.
He turned, the coffee cup in his hand, spillage burning the stretched webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Jaff had the gun out of his hold-all now, and he was pointing it at Tracy’s head. As Banks let go of the coffee and let the whole bag of food fall to the ground, a woman shepherding her two kids back to a car about four rows away screamed. Jaff turned to face the direction of the sound, but she had already dragged her children down behind their parked car.
Jaff turned back to Banks and pointed the gun toward him, his arm around Tracy’s neck. There were more screams, the sound of people running, car doors slamming, engines starting. Jaff’s face contorted in anger and confusion. He was losing it, Banks thought; he was going to shoot.
As Banks steeled himself to take the bullet, the upper right quadrant of Jaff’s head disappeared in a reddish-gray mist. The gun clattered to the tarmac. Jaff shuddered like a marionette out of control, spread his arms wide and lost his grip. Tracy threw herself forward into Banks’s arms. Banks dropped to his knees and held her close to his chest, shielding her from the sight behind her. He felt her arms around him, clinging on tightly for dear life, her face buried in his shoulder, her little voice crying daddy, daddy, daddy how sorry she was through her tears.
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.