Banks laughed and drank some more Laphroaig. He could get used to the peaty taste again very easily, he decided, despite Dr Glendenning’s words of derision. ‘Is there any particular reason you want to move up to Yorkshire?’ he asked.
Ray shuffled in his seat. ‘Something about the light up here,’ he said. ‘Hell, if Hockney could do it, I don’t see why I can’t.’
‘Tired of the light in Cornwall?’
‘It’s not that. I’ve spent most of my life there. I love the place. Always will. But it’s getting to be a young person’s world now, the colony. I feel like an intruder, an old fogey. And it’s what we’ve been talking about. Mortality. Like I said, I feel I’ve neglected Annie. I may have had my reasons, but they don’t count for much now. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since that time we almost lost her. She’s my only child, after all. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever created, or helped to create. All that’s left of Judy and me. Oh, fuck, I’m getting morbid and sentimental now.’
‘Is there something wrong? Are you OK? I know you told Annie you are, but—’
‘Physically? No, there’s nothing wrong. No cancer or anything, just the same ticking clock we all have. I’m fit as a fiddle. Well, as fit as can be expected for a man my age who’s led the sort of life I’ve lived.’ He tapped his temple. ‘It’s in here, Alan. I mean, let’s be honest. I turned seventy a few years ago. How many more good years can I expect? Ten? Five? I may be feeling my age, but I’m going to have a bloody good time for as long as I’ve got left. And I want my daughter to be part of that. There. Is that so strange a reason?’
‘Not at all,’ said Banks, thinking of his own grown-up children, Brian and Tracy, and how far he felt from them at times. They had their own lives to live, he told himself; they didn’t want to be bothered with him and his problems.
‘Let’s have some loud rock ’n’ roll,’ Ray said, walking over to the stereo and changing discs. ‘I picked this one out earlier.’ And he put on Jimi Hendrix’s Rainbow Bridge then went for the bottle. The level was getting dangerously low. He was moving unsteadily. ‘Should we...?’
They were well into their next glass and ‘Hear My Train A Comin’’ when Banks thought he heard his mobile play its blues riff. He left the room, pressed the talk button and put it to his ear. ‘Banks speaking.’
It was Annie. ‘I hate to drag you away from your old fogey’s sleepover with Ray,’ she said. ‘I should imagine you’re having a nice semi-drunken reminisce right now. I hope you can hear me over all that racket. What is it, best shags or best albums? And I hope you haven’t lit up that spliff yet. We’ve got developments. Major developments, we think. A strong lead. In fact, it’s strong enough that we might even have the bastard before the night is over. Interested?’
‘Where are you?’
‘Not far away. Put your glass down. I’ll pick you up in a few minutes.’
Chapter 6
‘It’s just beyond Swainshead village,’ said Annie, leaning forwards and squinting at the road ahead as she drove. The rain had eased up somewhat, and the windshield wipers were keeping up with it, but outside the beams of Annie’s headlights the landscape was pitch black. She had her foot down hard, and Banks noticed that the speedometer was edging up towards fifty. Madness on this road. He hung on to the door handle tightly.
‘His name is Martin Edgeworth,’ Annie was saying. ‘Lives alone. Retired dentist. Used to have his surgery on Market Street about a mile south of the square.’
‘I remember it,’ said Banks. ‘It was that big old house on the corner, just over the zebra crossing, I used to walk past there on my way to work every morning. Wasn’t there someone else in the practice with him?’
‘I almost forgot you used to live near there,’ said Annie. ‘Yes, he had a partner. A bloke called Martell. Jonathan Martell.’
‘That’s right,’ said Banks. ‘I remember the brass plaque beside the door.’
‘Was he your dentist, then?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? He must have been the closest.’
‘I didn’t need a dentist,’ Banks muttered.
‘You were scared, weren’t you?’ Annie said. ‘Scared of the dentist.’
Banks scowled at her. ‘There’s no need to make a big deal out of it. Lots of people are nervous about going to the dentist’s.’
‘Scaredy-cat.’
‘Get on with it.’
Annie grinned. ‘He’s fifty-nine. Fits the description, as far as it goes. Medium height, slim. Been retired three years now. That’s all we know about him so far. Except he has a Firearms Certificate for an AR15, along with one for a Taurus pistol, he drives a black RAV4 and he’s a member of the Upper Swainsdale District Rifle and Pistol Club.’
The right turn came up faster than Banks had expected. Annie turned the wheel sharply, and the car skidded, tyres squealing, as she made the bend on to the minor road that led through the village of Swainshead. Banks hung on for dear life as she regained control and drove on past the triangular village green, squat church and whitewashed pub, blurred images in the dark through the rain-spattered car windows.
The road they were on, which cut north from the main east — west road, narrowed beyond the borders of the village. Though they were invisible in this weather, Banks knew that the valley sides rose steeply on either side of the road. From this point on, there were very few dwellings, all of them off the beaten track, if you could even call the road they were on beaten, or a track.
‘You feeling all right, by the way?’ Annie cast him a sidelong glance. ‘I mean, I’m not going to have to carry you, am I?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Banks.
‘Not had too much to drink? Or smoke?’
‘Hardly got started drinking even.’
‘Good.’
‘There.’ Banks pointed towards the left, where flashing police lights were just visible down a driveway. Annie turned, travelling more slowly this time, and they came to a halt beside the two ARVs that had been first at the scene. The large house at the end of the gravel drive was a dark silhouette against the darker daleside.
Banks and Annie were already kitted out in raincoats and wellies, and they made a dash from the purple Astra to the first Volvo T5 estate car parked ahead of them. Banks recognised both of the officers from St Mary’s leaning against the car.
‘Evening, sir,’ said the driver, a DS in the firearms cadre, whose first name was Keith. ‘No activity so far.’
‘You’ve checked out the premises?’
‘Outside only. As best we can. There’s a black RAV4 in the garage. Thought we’d better wait for you to arrive. All doors and windows appear to be securely locked. No lights on. No answer when we knock or phone. Unless he’s lying extremely low, I’d say the place is empty.’
‘So how do you want to play this?’
‘Safely, sir. By the book. Just in case he is lying low in there, armed to the teeth. We go in first, then we give you the all clear.’
‘Have you got enough men surrounding the house, just in case?’
‘First thing we did. Called for backup. It’s kettled tighter than a...’ He glanced nervously at Annie. ‘The area’s secure, sir. Nobody’s getting away from here. Not even in the dark.’
‘Good to know. After you.’
The two armed officers left the car, one of them carrying a red battering ram, which he used to splinter the door. Heckler & Kochs slung around their shoulders, Glocks in one hand, torches gripped like overhead handrails, the two officers advanced slowly into the dark house to begin their sweep. One by one, the lights came on. Banks could still hear little but the wind whistling and moaning as it encountered the solid stone, and the different sounds of the rain tapping against slate, glass and metal.