Annie rubbed her forehead and stood up. ‘What a tangled web we weave,’ she said. Her thoughts returned immediately to Krystyna. She wanted to get back to Harkside as soon as she could, but there was one more stop to make on the way, something Banks had asked her to do.
As Winsome drove, Annie phoned home again but still got no answer. She phoned Stefan and managed to get through to him at the lab, but he had heard nothing from Krystyna. Annie cursed and ended the call.
‘What is it?’ Winsome asked.
‘Krystyna. She’s gone.’
‘I shouldn’t worry too much. She’s probably just gone for a walk or a drink.’
‘She’s been gone for hours. She’s got no money.’
‘We’ll be home soon. Sure you want to make the stop?’
‘We’re almost there now. Might as well.’
Pauline Boyars was already well into a bottle of vodka, and the place was still a tip.
‘It’s just a little thing,’ Annie said, without even bothering to sit down, ‘but we were wondering if you remember a nightclub in Tallinn that didn’t have a name? All it had was a sign with a man in top hat and tails helping a woman into a coach.’
‘I don’t think we ever went to such a place,’ said Pauline, ‘but it does sound awfully familiar. Just give me a minute will you?’
She brought a tin down from one of the bookshelves and scattered its contents on the table. It was full of all kinds of rubbish, a keychain with a plastic Eiffel Tower on one end, an old cigarette lighter, a ticket for an exhibition at the Prada, a postcard from Rhodes. And there, amid the detritus of Pauline’s travels and memories, was a small laminated card which bore an image of a man in top hat and tails helping — or pushing? — a woman into a carriage.
‘I don’t think we ever went there,’ said Pauline. ‘Though I can’t be sure. I think someone was handing these out in one of the other clubs.’
Annie thanked her and they left, grateful as before to get out of the cloying atmosphere.
‘What was all that about?’ Winsome asked.
‘Something Alan asked about. Apparently this club has come up in connection with Rachel’s disappearance, and he wanted to know if any of the others knew about it.’
‘Well, he’s got his answer, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ said Annie. ‘I’ll phone him when I get home.’
When they arrived at Annie’s cottage, Winsome got out of the car and went up to the door with her, and they both went inside. Everything looked normal, but there was no sign of Krystyna. Annie checked upstairs and Winsome checked the kitchen.
‘You’d better see this,’ she said, when Annie came down.
Annie went into the kitchen and saw the cocoa tin where she kept her petty cash. It was open, and there was nothing but a brief note in Polish inside.
‘How much was in there?’ Winsome asked.
‘About thirty quid.’
‘She won’t get far on that.’
There was also a note in Polish stuck to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a buttercup. Winsome put the kettle on and Annie returned to living room, flopped on the sofa and started to cry.
Chapter 11
On Sunday morning around eleven, Banks took the lift down to the Metropol lobby and went out to meet Erik and Joanna for coffee in Viru Keskus. Last night he had spoken for a long time with Annie on the phone. She had been worried and upset by the disappearance of a young Polish girl who had been staying at Garskill Farm with the migrant workers. She had run away on the day Mihkel Lepikson had been killed, and Annie was worried that someone might think she knew too much and try to harm her. He had reassured her as best he could, but he could tell it hadn’t done much good. Annie had also told him about Curly’s lengthy, and quite perceptive, deposition, and that Rachel’s friend, Pauline, remembered the club with no name, that she even had a card bearing its sign. Rachel, too, might have been given such a card, Banks thought, and if the place looked familiar to her, that might well have tempted her to go inside. Perhaps she had thought it was where her friends had gone after St Patrick’s. Bit by bit, he felt, he was getting closer to the truth of what happened.
Annie had also come up with some more names Banks could try on Erik, including the name of the killer Robert Tamm. Surely it could only be a matter of time now? Perhaps most importantly, Joosep Rebane’s name had come up in her inquiries into Corrigan’s business, as well as in Banks’s inquiries about the nightclub. Larisa had named him as Juliya’s boyfriend. Now they had a direct link between Rebane, Corrigan, Flinders and the whole migrant racket. But he still had to find out if, or where, Rachel fitted in.
He made his way inside and up the escalators. The shops were open, and the shopping centre was busy, even though it was Sunday. After a few wrong turns, he finally found the cafe in the large bookshop, where Erik had arranged for them all to meet. Estonians must be great readers, Banks thought, with so many huge bookshops in the capital.
Erik was sitting at a table alone drinking Coke from a bottle and reading a newspaper. Banks went and bought himself a coffee and joined him. People bustled all around them, carrying bags, looking for tables, heading to the shops.
‘Where’s your charming colleague?’ Erik asked.
Banks checked his watch. ‘Shopping,’ he said. ‘She’ll be here soon. I want to thank you once again for that information you got for us the other day.’
‘It helped?’
‘A lot.’
‘I spoke briefly with Merike last night, and she said you seemed happy with your talk with Larisa.’
‘Interesting woman,’ Banks said. ‘And she was able to give us— Ah, the wanderer returns.’
Joanna bent down and set her bags and packages on the ground around the third chair, like presents under the Christmas tree. Banks noticed designer names he didn’t recognise: Marc Aurel, Ivo Nikkolo. There would be no carry-on only going back for Joanna, Banks could see. She might have to buy a new suitcase. Ever the gentleman, Erik offered to go and get her something to drink, but she insisted on going herself. They waited politely until she returned with a bottle of fruit juice.
‘We’ve got a few more names for you to check out, if you will,’ said Banks.
‘It’s getting to be like a hall of mirrors,’ said Joanna. ‘Every time we get one name, it leads to another, and so on.’
‘It’s always like that when you’re getting close,’ said Banks. ‘The storm before the calm.’
‘Don’t you mean—’
‘No. It always gets more and more confusing until it settles down, when you know. The storm before the calm.’
‘A good story can be like that, too,’ Erik said. ‘Mihkel knew that. He always talked of so many balls in the air. Like a juggler. Give me the names. I will try tomorrow. I feel like I am working for the British police.’
Banks laughed. ‘We’d snap you up like a shot. First of all,’ he said, ‘I’m curious about a bloke called Robert Tamm. He lives near Glasgow, but my source thinks he’s Eastern European, perhaps Estonian.’
‘It could be an Estonian name,’ said Erik.
Joanna looked puzzled, and Banks realised that he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since Annie’s phone call. She had been in her room sleeping, he assumed, when Banks took the call, and he hadn’t seen her so far that morning. This time, it was simply circumstances; he wasn’t deliberately keeping her out of the loop. He explained to her briefly what he had learned, including that Joosep Rebane claimed to have a DI Bill Quinn in his pocket.