“So you’re Roy’s big brother, the detective.”
“That’s right. I understand the two of you go back a long way?”
“Indeed we do. I met Roy just after he’d graduated from university. We were a bit wet behind the ears back then, 1978. As I remember it, all the kids were wearing torn T-shirts and safety pins in their ears, listening to the Sex Pistols and the Clash, and there we were in our business suits sitting in some square hotel bar planning our next venture. Which was probably marketing torn jeans and safety pins to the kids.” He laughed. “They were good days. I was very sorry to hear about what happened to Roy, by the way.”
“Were you?”
“Of course. Look, I really am a busy man. If you’re just going to sit there and-”
“Because you really don’t seem to be grieving very deeply for someone you’d know for so long.”
“How do you know how much I’m grieving?”
“Fair enough. Did your ventures together involve arms dealing?”
Lambert’s eyes narrowed. “Why bring that up?” he said. “It’s ancient history. Yes, we were involved in what we thought was a perfectly legitimate weapons sale, but we were hoodwinked and the shipment was misdirected. Well, that was enough for me. What do they say? Once bitten, twice shy.”
“So you stuck with less risky ventures after that?”
“I wouldn’t say any of our ventures were without risk, but let’s just say the risk was of a more monetary kind, not the sort of risk where you could end up in jail if you weren’t careful.”
“Or dead.”
“Quite.”
“Insider trading can carry a hefty penalty.”
“Hah! Everybody was doing it. Still are. Have you never had a hot tip from the horse’s mouth and made a few bob on it?”
“No,” said Banks.
“So if I said right now such and such a company is making an important merger next week and their share prices will double, you can honestly say you wouldn’t run right out and buy as many shares as you could get your hands on?”
Banks had to think about that one. It sounded easy, and perhaps just a little bit naughty, put that way. Hardly criminal. But he didn’t understand the stock market, and that was why he didn’t play it. Besides, he never felt that he had the money to spare for such gambles. “I might splurge on a couple,” he said in the end.
Lambert clapped his hands. “There you are!” he said. “I thought so.” It sounded as if he were welcoming Banks to a club he had no desire to join.
“I’ve also heard rumors that you have been involved in smuggling,” Banks said.
“That’s interesting. Where did you hear these?”
“Are they true?”
“Of course not. The word has such negative connotations, don’t you think? Smuggling. It’s so emotive. I regard what I’ve done more as a matter of practical geography. I move things from one place to another. With great efficiency, I might add.”
“I’m glad you’ve got no time for false modesty. What things?”
“Just things.”
“Arms? Drugs? People? I hear you know the Balkan route.”
Lambert raised an eyebrow. “You do have your ears to the ground, don’t you? Roy never told me how sharp you are. The Balkan route? Well, I might have known it once, but these days… those borders change faster than you can draw them. And you’d better stop accusing me of breaking the law right now or I’ll have my solicitor on you, Roy’s brother or no. I’ve never been convicted of anything in my life.”
“So you’ve been lucky. Still, lots of opportunities for entrepreneurs in the Balkans, though. Or the ex-Soviet states.”
“Much too dangerous. I’m afraid I’m too old for all that. I’m semi-retired. I have a wife I happen to love very much and a travel agency to run.”
“When did you last see Roy?”
“Friday night.”
Banks tried not to let his excitement show. “What time?”
“About half past twelve or one o’clock in the morning. Why?”
“Are you sure it was Friday night?”
“Of course I am.”
Lambert was playing with him, Banks sensed. He could see it in the man’s restless, teasing eyes. Lambert knew that the neighbor had seen him getting into his car with Roy, and that Banks had no doubt talked to the neighbor and got his description. But that was at half past nine. What were they doing until half past twelve or one o’clock?
Lambert picked up a box of cigars from the table and offered one to Banks. “Cuban?”
“No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Lambert fiddled with a cutter and matches and finally got the thing lit. He looked at Banks through the smoke. “You seem surprised that I said I saw Roy on Friday evening. Why’s that?”
“I think you know why,” said Banks.
“Indulge me.”
“Because that’s when he went missing. He hasn’t been seen alive since half past nine on Friday.”
“I can most sincerely assure you that he has. By me and countless other members of the Albion Club.”
“The Albion Club?”
“On The Strand. It’s a rather exclusive club. Membership by invitation only.”
Banks remembered that Corinne had told him Roy went to a club on The Strand with Lambert a few weeks ago. “What goes on there?”
Lambert laughed. “Nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re thinking. The club has a gaming license. It also has a top-class restaurant and an exceedingly comfortable bar. Roy and I are both members. Have been for years. Even when I was living abroad I’d drop by if I happened to be in the city.” He puffed on his cigar, eyes narrowed to calculating slits, as if daring Banks to challenge him.
“Let’s backtrack, then,” said Banks
“Of course.”
“What time did you first see Roy on Friday night?”
“About half past nine,” said Lambert. “I dropped by his place and picked him up.”
“Was this a regular arrangement?”
“I wouldn’t say regular, but we’d done it before, yes. Roy prefers to leave the car when he goes out drinking, and I hardly touch the stuff these days, so I don’t mind driving. It’s not far out of my way.”
“And you’d arranged to pick him up and take him to the Albion Club on Friday?”
“Yes.” The cigar had gone out. Lambert lit it again. Banks got the impression that it was more of a prop than anything else.
“What happened when you got there?”
Lambert shrugged. “The usual. We went into the bar and got a couple of stiff brandies and chatted for a while. No, I tell a lie. I had a brandy – my only drink of the night – and Roy had wine. The club does a decent house claret.”
“Who did you talk to?”
“A few of the other members.”
“Names?”
“Look, these are important people. Influential people. They won’t take too kindly to being harassed by the police, nor to knowing it was me who set you on them.”
“Maybe you haven’t quite grasped the seriousness of this,” Banks said. “A man has been murdered. My brother. Your friend. You were one of the last people to see him alive. We need to trace his movements and activities on the evening he disappeared.”
“This puts me in a difficult position.”
“I don’t bloody care what position it puts you in. I want names.” Banks locked eyes with him. Eventually Lambert reeled off a string of names and Banks wrote them down. He didn’t recognize any of them.