Then, around the same time he came in the previous evening, she saw the familiar figure reflected in the mirror behind the bar and held her breath. He paused in the entrance from the hotel lobby, straightened his tie and surveyed the bar. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought his eyes may have lingered on her a fraction longer than on anyone else. She hoped it wasn’t because he recognised her.
There was no room at the bar, and she could hardly move somewhere else. Besides, it would be too obvious. If he was interested, he would find a way to her. It shouldn’t be too hard to attract him, as she was the only unaccompanied female at the bar. Their eyes locked in the mirror, and Zelda thought she noticed a glimmer of interest.
She noticed him studying her back as he walked towards the bar in a direct line, perhaps making sure she was alone. She made a point of looking at her watch and drumming her fingers on the bar, appearing vaguely annoyed. She held her breath as he stood slightly behind her and the couple beside her, leaning forward between them to catch the bartender’s attention. He caught her eyes in the mirror again and gave a little smile. As he leaned, she felt his arm brush against her bare shoulder, nudging her just enough to jar the drink in her hand.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It is very crowded here tonight, yes?’
Zelda remembered the voice, though the accent had smoothed out, become more Americanised, over the years. She felt her throat constrict. She somehow managed to smile and nod.
‘Please, let me buy you a drink,’ he went on.
‘It’s not necessary.’
‘But I insist.’
‘Well, in that case...’
He was wearing the same white suit as he had last night, though this time with a purple shirt and yellow tie. She guessed he had been in his late twenties when he and his brother abducted her just over thirteen years ago, so he had now probably just turned forty. He seemed to be on familiar terms with the barman, who didn’t even need to ask him what he wanted but served him a large measure of whisky along with another vodka and tonic for her. The whiff of peat from his glass told her it was an Islay single malt.
For a while he stood there beside her drinking and chatting easily with the barman. It didn’t take him long to get through his first whisky. Then the couple to Zelda’s right left. Tadić took the seat next to hers with the slow, easy motion of a confident man and signalled for another drink. He glanced towards her, raised an eyebrow in question and nodded towards her glass. Zelda shook her head. ‘No, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m still working on this one.’
‘Are you waiting for somebody?’
‘Is it so obvious?’
‘You were looking at your watch.’
‘Yep,’ she said. ‘He’s late.’
‘Have another drink with me while you wait. Go on. One more won’t do any harm.’
‘OK,’ she said, pushing her glass forward. ‘Thanks. You’re not from around here, are you?’ She was hoping he wouldn’t catch on to her accent. Most people didn’t.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Zadar. Croatia. Goran is my name.’ He held his hand out to shake.
Zelda shook it. Her little hand was lost in his, and she could feel the strength in his grip. She was five foot six, and he must be at least six inches taller. She began to have grave doubts about the success of her mission. There was no way she could put the pills in his glass here in the crowded bar, she had already realised. They would have to wait until he got her up to his room, which she predicted from the look in his slightly hooded eyes wouldn’t be very long. Not one for extended conversation, Goran Tadić.
‘Cathy,’ she said. ‘Lovely country, Croatia.’
‘You go there?’
‘Once. Just the tourist spots — Split, Dubrovnik. But I remember Zadar. Isn’t that where the sea plays music? I was on a cruise with my husband.’
He seemed thrilled that she knew Zadar. ‘Yes, is sea organ. Beautiful music.’ Then his face took on a disappointed expression. ‘You are married?’
‘Divorced. I should have said ex-husband.’
‘And this man you wait for? Boyfriend?’
‘Nobody important.’
‘You stay here at this hotel?’
‘No.’
‘You live here? London?’
‘Yes.’
‘It is a fine city.’
‘You like it here?’
‘Oh, yes. Many beautiful women.’
She smiled shyly and looked down. ‘You’re a real charmer.’
‘But you are the most beautiful. This man is not coming. He must be very foolish.’
‘Very rude, I’d say.’
He clinked glasses. ‘Bottoms up. Is that what you say here?’
Zelda laughed. ‘Some people do.’
‘It is so difficult here to know what is right. English language so difficult. Very easy to make mistake, say wrong thing.’
‘Your English is very good.’
‘You think so?’
‘Sure.’
His arm brushed lightly against hers, and she had to remind herself not to flinch. Her stomach was in knots already. The drink helped, but she would have to be careful. She didn’t want to end up drunk and being taken advantage of. On closer inspection, he wasn’t bad-looking, in a macho sort of way. The salt-and-pepper hair and five-day stubble suited him and gave him an aura of maturity and authority he hadn’t possessed back then. His clothes sense could perhaps have been a bit more subtle. The suit was Hugo Boss, but the shirt and tie were definitely over the top. Still, he looked as if he had gone up in the world, and he probably didn’t make long drives to abduct young girls from orphanages in Moldova any more. Not that any of this made a scrap of difference to Zelda. His slightly hooded cobalt blue eyes seemed restless, and when they fixed on her, she felt as if she were being undressed, just as Faye Butler had said.
She also noticed a crescent-shaped scar high on his right cheek and wondered if it had been there on the night he and his brother abducted her. She couldn’t remember it, but then she hadn’t had anything on her mind other than fighting him off and escaping. She reached out and touched it gently. ‘Have you always had that?’
He put his hand to his cheek self-consciously. ‘Accident. When I was very young.’ He downed his whisky and ordered another with a snap of his fingers. He glanced at her glass, which was still half-full, and she shook her head. He was on his third large whisky already, certainly giving her a start by drinking so much so fast, she thought. It ought to speed up the action and effects of the flunitrazepam. On the other hand, maybe he was one of those people with a constitution that could stand just about anything. She would soon find out.
‘Is getting more busy here,’ he said as someone leaned over him and shouted out a drinks order.
‘Yes. I must say, I’m dying for a cigarette.’
His expression brightened. ‘You smoke?’
‘Yes. I know, I know, it’s a terrible habit and—’
‘No. No.’ He pointed at his chest. ‘Me. I smoke, too. So difficult these days.’
‘We could go outside,’ Zelda said tentatively.
‘I have room here,’ he said. ‘We can smoke there.’
‘But aren’t all the rooms non-smoking now?’
He just smiled. ‘Bah.’
‘Well... all right,’ she said. ‘Shall we leave our drinks here, for when we come back? I’m sure the barman will—’
‘We take them. Drink and smoke good together. Right? I have more whisky in room.’
Zelda smiled. ‘Right.’ She grabbed her bag and followed him out, drink in her other hand. As far as she could tell, nobody paid attention to them leaving. Both bar and grill were noisy and crowded now, and the lights were dim.
It was mid-evening, and Banks was listening to Nico’s The End and thinking about Samir when he heard his doorbell ring. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so he moved cautiously to the front door and looked through the sitting room window. There was an unfamiliar car out front. He hadn’t heard it pull up because he’d been in the conservatory at the back of the house. It was hard to make out exactly who was standing there, just from his profile in the twilight, but Banks had an inkling that turned out to be right when he opened the door and saw Detective Chief Superintendent Richard ‘Dirty Dick’ Burgess on his doorstep, large as life.