Zelda would have to lie low for a while. She would have no opportunity to discover whether Hawkins had been killed, or the fire had been an accident. Even when the department started operating again, she would have to keep her head down. She would have liked to finish what she had started and help Alan find the man who had tried to kill him, but it was getting too dangerous.
Even Vasile Lupescu would have to wait for a while.
Banks and Blackstone settled into their comfortable seats at an exotically decorated Thai restaurant in the city centre. There were painted Buddhas and deep maroon panelled walls, each panel marked out in ornate gold trim. The smells of herbs and spices — coriander, star anise, cumin and lime — were mouth-watering, and the food, when it came, was just as good, from the spring rolls to the pad thai, fried rice and green chicken curry they shared. The only drawback was that the restaurant sold only bottled beer, so they settled for cold Singha.
‘Do you think you can track down someone from the county lines at this end and get them to talk?’ Banks asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Blackstone. ‘We’ve got a couple of drugs squad officers working undercover. They might be able to come up with something useful, but they won’t want to risk blowing their cover. What do you want to know?’
‘Most of all, we’d like to know when Samir started working in Eastvale. We have no sightings of him there before the day he was killed, and then two witnesses saw him arriving from a Leeds bus carrying a backpack.’
‘That would be the drugs,’ said Blackstone. ‘Any sign of it later?’
‘No. It disappeared, along with his jacket. We know that Connor Clive Blaydon’s chauffeur took them from the trap house on Hollyfield Lane the night Samir and Stokes died. Gashi had phoned Blaydon earlier and asked for a favour. I just have a feeling the timing is important, but there are still too many gaps in what we know.’
‘Blaydon? So he’s involved in this?’
‘He’s connected with the Albanians. Gashi in particular. They’ve known each other for years, and they’re involved in a property development Blaydon is managing.’
‘You can bet whatever money they invest will be dirty.’
‘Too true,’ said Banks. He washed down a mouthful of pad thai with his Singha. ‘Any loose gossip your men might pick up would be useful,’ he said. ‘Something like this happens, people talk. They can’t help themselves. Maybe they think they’re being careful, but that’s not always the case.’
‘Right,’ said Blackstone. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Pass the roti.’
Banks passed him the roti basket and Blackstone tore off a strip and spooned up some green chicken curry with it.
Banks worked on his Singha. It would have to do him for the evening, because he planned on driving back to Eastvale. ‘What do you know about the county line operations here?’ he asked.
‘Just what I read in the papers,’ Blackstone joked. ‘No, seriously, it’s becoming a real problem. It’s not only here, but all over the country. Some are big operators, like Gashi with his Albanian Mafia and Colombian connections, but there are plenty of smaller entrepreneurs, too.’
‘What was this Lenny G like?’
‘Medium. He didn’t have anywhere near the clout and product Gashi’s got, more like a small-town operation by comparison. But he managed to supply heroin and crack cocaine to quite a few towns and villages that could have done without it. Now they’ve got the same drug problems as we have here in the city. And Gashi’s adding coke to the mix, too, as well as crack. High quality coke direct from the Colombian cartels.’
‘Yes, we know about that,’ said Banks. ‘What about spice and fentanyl?’
‘On their way, no doubt.’ Blackstone sighed. ‘But it’s the access to high quality coke that’s the real problem at the moment.’
‘What do you think happened with Lenny G?’
‘I think he was unwilling to give up his empire, little as it was. The Albanians are happy to work with people, as long as they have the upper hand and get most of the profits. But if you don’t want to play along...’ He drew his finger across his throat.
‘Do you think Gashi would have gone as far as killing one of his runners?’
‘He might have. Not personally, but he might have had it done if he had good reason. To keep the others in line, say, or as a punishment for some transgression. People like Gashi don’t worry about consequences. It would mean nothing to him. They don’t hesitate. If they want to do something, they do it. What about Blaydon?’
‘Again, he’s a possibility, but not personally. He has minions, too. Have you seen him here?’
‘Not me specifically,’ said Blackstone, ‘but I’ve heard he pays visits. He has an office down by the quays.’
‘And Gashi?’
‘He doesn’t live here, either. Another frequent visitor. He lives in Mayfair, when he’s not back in Albania. Blaydon has a lot of connections, and you wouldn’t take any of them home to meet your mother. He likes to be seen hobnobbing with personalities, too — you know, TV presenters, footballers, the occasional pop star or politician. Word has it he supplies them with coke and imported girls and everyone has a good time.’
‘Except the girls. Yes, I’ve seen the dregs of one of his pool parties.’
Blackstone nodded. ‘Except the girls. But to be honest, he’s never caused us much trouble, not so as we’d be after him, anyway.’
‘He’s slippery,’ said Banks. ‘But he’s got something to do with this county lines business, and he’s got so many empty properties I’m sure he feels it would be almost a crime not to use them as pop-up brothels or trap houses.’
‘I see you’re learning the lingo.’
Banks smiled. ‘Got it from the Sunday Times. I don’t think they really talk like that. Anyway, I hear Blaydon’s business is in trouble.’
‘It’s a bad time for property developers, that’s true. That why he’s edging closer to crime?’
‘I think so,’ said Banks. ‘That and because he likes the idea of being thought a bit of a pirate. There are plenty of people who still think supplying people with what they want — i.e. drugs and sex — is a heroic venture. By the way, have you heard anything about our favourite madam Mia Carney lately?’
Mia was a woman they had encountered the last time Banks had worked with Blackstone in Leeds. She had been running a sort of ‘escort service’ fixing up poor university students with wealthy sugar daddies and had the misfortune of running into some unsavoury characters. Banks had saved her life, and as a consequence felt proprietorial. Besides, he liked her.
‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ said Blackstone. ‘I think you know she got a suspended sentence. It seems she took her brush with death and prison seriously and moved out of the escort business altogether.’
‘So what’s she doing?’
‘Working for the student housing association.’
Banks looked at Blackstone open-mouthed, then they both started laughing.
Chapter 13
The following morning dawned every bit as mild and clear as the previous one, and this time Banks was alone in his cottage. He didn’t bother with breakfast but poured a travel mug of coffee to go and set off for Eastvale. His sleep had been fitful but far more refreshing than the night before. He had spoken briefly with Zelda on the phone the previous evening when he had got back from Leeds. She had telephoned him to thank him for his hospitality and company, and let him know that she had had a good time and not to worry, she would be OK now.
When Banks got to the station, he discovered that Annie and Gerry were down at the park at the bottom of Elmet Hill — or the top of Hollyfield Lane, depending on your perspective. When he phoned Annie’s mobile, she told him the CSIs thought they had found something interesting. Banks set off immediately.