Peter Robinson: Strange Affair

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s where I’ve just been. Quainton.”

Lambert said nothing. He seemed to shrink into himself.

“Roy went to see your wife to ask her about the adoption,” Banks went on. “They’d never met before. If it was true, he would probably have agreed to keep quiet about it all and keep Jennifer quiet, too. But Roy found out what I found out. That you and your wife have a baby girl called Nina and she needs a new heart. And the only heart that can help a baby in need of a transplant is the heart of another baby. You know what the chances are of getting your hands on one by normal routes, so when you found out one of Mazuryk’s girls was pregnant – not just any girl, mind you, but Carmen, intelligent, healthy and clean – you struck a deal. You’d pay Mazuryk for the privilege of adopting Carmen’s baby. That way he wouldn’t be out of pocket when she couldn’t work during her pregnancy. But you weren’t adopting the baby, were you? You were buying the baby’s heart. I don’t know if Mazuryk was in on it with you, but one way or another, as soon as that baby was born, it was going to be on its way to Switzerland. Were you going to kill it yourself, or have you paid a crooked doctor to do that for you?”

“Don’t be absurd. This is pure fantasy.”

“Is it? My guess is that you had someone lined up, a crooked doctor from your Balkan days, probably. You wouldn’t have the stomach to do it yourself. And then there’s the Swiss clinic, all ready to go at a moment’s notice, no questions asked. Got it all organized, haven’t you?”

Lambert squirmed like a toad on his bed of broken wood and twisted metal. At some point, he had cut his lip and the blood welled up as he spoke. “Look, you’re obviously off your rocker, Banks. Let me go and we’ll say no more about this.”

He made to get up again but Banks kicked him down and swung the bar dangerously close to his head.

“Stay where you are. Don’t you realize it’s over? Do you think that even your wife will want to know you after what you had planned?”

“She doesn’t know,” said Lambert. “If you’ve-”

“I haven’t. Not yet. Tell me the truth, Gareth. How could you be sure you had a match? Who did the tests?”

“What tests?” Lambert paused and rubbed his shoulder.

“Come on, Gareth. Humor me. Tell me all about it.”

Lambert was quiet for several moments, then he spoke. “The blood groups matched,” he said. “That’s the best you can hope for with babies, and even the blood group doesn’t matter if they’re newborn. Do you think I haven’t researched it? The heart only survives six hours outside the body, so you do the transplant first and ask questions later. A chance. It was all I asked for.”

Though Banks had pieced it all together after seeing Mercedes and Nina, he could still hardly believe it now that he was actually hearing it, that this man had cold-bloodedly bought a baby and planned to use its heart to save his daughter’s life. “Do you have even the slightest idea what you’re saying?” he said.

“Look,” said Lambert. “What chance did it have with a mother like that? Huh? Tell me. Look at her. A common prostitute. A slut. This way at least the baby could serve some purpose in being born. These people give birth in fields and think nothing of it. You haven’t seen them, Banks. You haven’t been there. I have. I know them. I’ve lived with them. They’re animals. Their filthy children wander the streets and beg and steal and grow up to be criminals and prostitutes, just like their parents. The orphanages are full of abandoned children and none of them has a chance. My child will have a chance. She can make a difference in life. Achieve something. Contribute something.”

Banks shook his head in disgust. “I wondered where Roy drew the line,” he said, “and now I know. He’d turn a blind eye to most things for the sake of money and an old friendship. To the girls. To the illegal adoption. But not to this, not to the murder of an innocent baby for its heart. What did you do on Friday at the Albion Club? Offer him money to keep quiet or try to convince him you were morally right?”

“We’d been talking all week about the girls, the adoption. Seeing Mercedes and finding out… well, that was the last straw for him.”

“Why not tell the police straightaway? Why did he bother to meet with you?”

“He wasn’t going to tell the police. He was going to tell you.”

“What? But I am the police,” said Banks.

Lambert shook his head. “You don’t understand. You’re his big brother. He expected you to handle it.”

Banks felt stunned. He hadn’t realized Roy had been calling on him as much, if not more, as a brother than as a policeman: the brother who defended him from bullies. It made a difference. Roy always shied away from the police and he would expect Banks to sort the situation without letting it become official. Banks didn’t know if he could have done that even if they hadn’t killed Roy and Jennifer, even if he’d wanted to. Things had probably gone too far already.

“So what happened at the club?” Banks asked.

“He said he’d give me an hour to think about it, for friendship’s sake. He’d be in the casino if I wanted to talk. He also told me that he already had someone on her way to see you, but he could ring her mobile and bring her back if I agreed to drop my plans.”

“What did you say after the hour was up?”

“Nothing.”

“You could have lied, told him you’d drop the plans.”

“He would still have known. Do you think he’d have let it go, not kept checking?”

“I suppose not,” said Banks. “So you sent him to his death?”

“I had to. What else could I do? I couldn’t abandon Nina and Mercedes. He was going to ruin everything. Mazuryk’s business, my Nina’s life. Mercedes’ life. Everything. Don’t you understand? I couldn’t give in to him. Without a new heart my daughter will die.”

Blood dribbled over Lambert’s lower lip and bubbled as he spoke. Banks felt like hitting him again, but he knew if he started he might never stop.

“So you had Roy killed.”

“Not me. Mazuryk.”

“Did Mazuryk know what you planned to do with Carmen’s baby?”

“Are you crazy? Nobody knew except me and the doctor I was paying. And the doctor owed me. I helped him out of a jam once. You can’t prove anything, you know. I’ll deny it all. I’ll tell them you beat me up and made me admit to things I haven’t done. Look at me, I’m all bruised and bleeding.”

“Not nearly enough,” said Banks. “You made a call to Mazuryk from the Albion Club about Roy being a loose cannon, and Mazuryk came himself, or sent Broda to pick up Roy outside and bring him here.”

“I told him Roy was threatening to tell everything. All Mazuryk cared about was the girls, the profits they made for him.”

“So Mazuryk protected his interests, and you protected yours?”

“What else could I do? What would you do if it was your daughter?”

Banks didn’t want to think about that one. “Why did they go back and take Roy’s computer? Who did that? There couldn’t be anything on it about the baby because he’d only just got back from seeing Mercedes when you arrived.”

“Mazuryk’s men. Not Artyom and Boris. Others. Not very bright. We thought he might have information on it. About me. About Mazuryk’s operation, the girls. We had talked a lot that week. I really thought he was interested at one time. I told him things. Roy used his computer a lot.”

And they hadn’t taken the mobile because they hadn’t been in the kitchen, hadn’t even known it was there, Banks guessed. Not that it mattered. Roy and Lambert had been careful not to use mobiles in their communications. They knew how wide open and incriminating such phone use could be. That was why most criminals used stolen ones. And Banks doubted that Roy had ever been in direct telephone contact with Mazuryk or Broda. Later, of course, Broda had used the mobile to send his calling card, his sick joke. “What changed things in the first place?”