“He had a ragged dark beard. His hair was greasy and long, longer than usual back then. It was black. Like Rasputin. And he wore one of those army greatcoats. I remember thinking when I saw him coming that he must be hot in such a heavy overcoat.”
“When was this?”
“Late June. It was a nice day, sort of like today.”
“So what happened?”
“He tried to drag me away, toward the bushes, but I managed to squirm out of his grasp, one arm at any rate, and he swung me around, swore at me and punched me in the face. The momentum broke me loose, so I ran.”
“Where were your friends?”
“Back up by the road by then. A good hundred yards away. Watching.”
“Didn’t they help you?”
“They were scared.”
“They didn’t call the police?”
“It all happened so fast. When I got free, I ran off and joined them and we never looked back. We decided not to say anything to our parents because we weren’t supposed to be playing down by the river in the first place, and we were supposed to be at school. We thought we’d get into trouble.”
“I can imagine you did. What did your parents say about your face?”
“They weren’t too pleased. I told them I’d got into a bit of a scrap at school. All in all, I suppose it was a lucky escape. I tried to put it out of my mind, but…”
“You couldn’t?”
“Off and on. There’s been lengthy periods of my life when I haven’t thought of it at all.”
“Why do you see a connection with what happened to Graham?”
“It seemed too much of a coincidence, that’s all,” said Banks. “First this pervert trying to push me in the river, dragging me into the bushes, then Graham disappearing like that.”
“Well,” said Michelle, finishing her drink and closing her notebook, “I’d better go and see if I can find any trace of your mystery man, hadn’t I?”
Chapter 6
Showered and dressed in crisp, clean clothes, Annie presented herself at Detective Superintendent Gristhorpe’s office that afternoon, as requested. There was something austere and headmasterly about the room that always intimidated her. Partly, it had to do with the tall bookcases, mostly filled with legal and forensics texts, but dotted here and there with classics such as Bleak House and Anna Karenina, books Annie had never read, books that mocked her with their oft-mentioned titles and their thickness. And partly it was Gristhorpe’s appearance: big, bulky, red-faced, unruly-haired, hook-nosed, pockmarked. Today he wore gray flannel trousers and a tweed jacket with elbow patches. He looked as if he ought to be smoking a pipe, but Annie knew he didn’t smoke.
“Right,” said Gristhorpe after he had asked her to sit down. “Now, tell me what the hell’s going on out Mortsett way.”
Annie felt herself flush. “It was a judgment call, sir.”
Gristhorpe waved his large hairy hand. “I’m not questioning your judgment. I want to know what you think is happening.”
Annie relaxed a little and crossed her legs. “I think Luke Armitage has been kidnapped, sir. Someone communicated a ransom demand to the family last night, and Martin Armitage rang me to cancel the search for Luke.”
“But you didn’t?”
“No, sir. Something wasn’t right. In my opinion, Luke Armitage wasn’t to be considered ‘found’ until I’d seen him with my own eyes and talked to him.”
“Fair enough. What happened next?”
“As you know, sir, I went out to see the family again this morning. I got the distinct impression they didn’t want me there, that something was going on.” Annie explained about following Martin Armitage to the drop and being stuck up the hillside watching the shelter by herself for hours, until she went back down to the village and finally found someone at home with a telephone.
“Do you think he saw you? The kidnapper.”
“It’s possible,” Annie admitted. “If he was hiding somewhere nearby and watching through binoculars. It’s open country up there. But it’s my impression that he’ll either wait until nightfall-”
“And risk leaving the money out there all day?”
“It’s off the beaten track. And most people follow the government regulations.”
“What else?”
“Pardon, sir.”
“You said ‘either.’ To me, that implies an ‘or.’ I interrupted you. Go on. What else do you think might have happened?”
“Maybe something has gone wrong, something we don’t know about.”
“Like?”
Annie swallowed and looked away. “Like Luke’s dead, sir. It happens sometimes with kidnappings. He tried to escape, struggled too hard…”
“But the kidnapper can still collect. Remember, the Armitages can’t possibly know their son’s dead, if he is, and the money’s just sitting there for the taking. If you weren’t seen, then only Martin Armitage and the kidnapper know it’s there.”
“That’s what puzzles me, sir. The money. Obviously a kidnapper who makes a ransom demand is in it for the money, whether the victim lives or dies. Maybe he’s just being unduly cautious, waiting for dark, as I suggested earlier.”
“Possibly.” Gristhorpe looked at his watch. “Who’s up there now?”
“DC Templeton, sir.”
“Organize a surveillance rota. I’ll ask for permission to plant an electronic tracking device in the briefcase. Someone can put it there under cover of darkness, if the damn thing hasn’t been picked up before then.” Gristhorpe grunted. “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. ACC McLaughlin will have my guts for garters.”
“You could always blame me, sir.”
“Aye, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Annie, a chance to get bolshie with the bigwigs?”
“Sir-”
“It’s all right, lass. I’m only teasing you. Haven’t you learned Yorkshire ways yet?”
“Sometimes I despair that I ever will.”
“Give it a few more years. Anyway, that’s my job. I can handle the brass.”
“What about the Armitages, sir?”
“I think you’d better pay them another visit, don’t you?”
“But what if their place is being watched?”
“The kidnapper doesn’t know you.” Gristhorpe smiled. “And it’s not as if you look like a plainclothes copper, Annie.”
“And I thought I’d put on my conservative best.”
“All you have to do is wear those red boots again. Are their telephone calls still being intercepted?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then how the devil…?”
“The same thing puzzled me. Martin Armitage said the call from Luke came through on his mobile, so I’m assuming it was the kidnapper’s call he was talking about.”
“But why wouldn’t he just use the regular land line?”
“Armitage said he and Robin were supposed to go out to dinner that night, so Luke didn’t think they’d be home.”
“He believed they would still go out to dinner, even after he’d disappeared? And he told his kidnapper this?”
“I know it sounds odd, sir. And in my judgment, Martin Armitage is the last person Luke would call.”
“Ah, I see. Signs of family tension?”
“All under the surface, but definitely there, I’d say. Luke’s very much his mother’s son, and his biological father’s, perhaps. He’s creative, artistic, a loner, a dreamer. Martin Armitage is a man of action, a sportsman, bit of a macho tough guy.”
“Go carefully, then, Annie. You don’t want to disturb a nest of vipers.”
“There might be no choice if I want honest answers to my questions.”
“Then tread softly and carry a big stick.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And don’t give up on the kid. It’s early days yet.”
“Yes, sir,” Annie said, though she wasn’t at all certain about that.
The old street looked much the same as it had when Banks lived there with his parents between 1962 and 1969 – from “Love Me Do” to Woodstock – except that everything – the brickwork, the doors, the slate roofs – was just that little bit shabbier, and small satellite dishes had replaced the forest of old television aerials on just about all the houses, including his parents’. That made sense. He couldn’t imagine his father living without Sky Sports.