Peter Robinson - Bad Boy

“Tracy?” Banks said.

“Yes. Or someone else. I doubt that she was the first. Sometimes he was gone for days without explanation. Not that he owed me one. Oh, don’t think I blame Tracy. I was mad, yes, who wouldn’t be? She kissed him. She stole my boyfriend. It’s not as if she’s such an angel, anyway. It’s not as if she hasn’t been SUI more than once.”

“SUI?”

Erin glanced at him sideways. “Shagged Under the Influence. Does that shock you?”

It didn’t so much shock Banks as hurt him. To think something like that about his own daughter, to imagine the things that had happened to her when she was too far gone to be in control made him feel sorry for her, protective. Erin was basically talking about date rape. His own daughter. It made him angry. Why the hell couldn’t she have come to him with her problems? Was he that distant and uncaring?

“Do you mean drugged and raped?” he asked.

“Not the way you imagine it. I mean, I’m not saying you’re always up for it when you’re so off your face, but it’s no big deal. It’s just a shag. SUI. Anyway,” Erin went on, picking at a hangnail, “like I said, if it hadn’t been Tracy, it would have been someone else. I know that. Jaff was just…”

“But it’s Tracy he’s got with him now,” Banks said. “What do you mean?”

“It hasn’t hit the front pages yet, but he’s on the run. Armed. And Tracy’s with him. We think he shot a policewoman. Annie Cabbot. Maybe you know her?”

“I remember her, yes. You were close at one time, after Mrs. Banks left, weren’t you? But Jaff…? I can’t believe it.”

“We need to find them. Annie could die, and Tracy’s in danger.”

“But Jaff wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Have you ever seen him be violent?”

“Well, no. I mean, yes, but only…you know, someone who tried to rip him off, or put him down because of his color, call him a Paki or something. He really hated that.”

“So he can be violent?”

“He has a quick temper. But he never hurt me. I can’t imagine him harming a woman. Not Tracy.”

“We found a car up on the moors. It belongs to someone called Victor Mallory. Have you ever heard that name?”

“Vic? Yes, of course. He’s Jaff’s best friend. They went to public school together, then Cambridge. Vic’s…”

“What?”

“Well, he’s like a sort of old-fashioned hippie, really, with his long hair and stuff, but he’s weird, too, and a bit scary sometimes. He’s very clever, he studied chemistry, but I think drugs have fried his brain. Like he’s always looking for new chemical compounds, and he’ll try everything himself first. He’s definitely blown a few connections.”

“Did he have a gun?”

“I don’t know if he had one, but he and Jaff used to talk about them sometimes. You know, like computer nerds, or techies. As if they knew what they were talking about.”

“Maybe they did,” said Banks. “Did Jaff ever say anything about that gun you took? If it was ever used. Anything at all.”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t remember anything. I don’t suppose I really know him at all, do I, when it comes down to it?”

“Probably not. How long have you known him?”

“Six months. Look, I know I’ve been a fool, but I’m not stupid. And I’m not a bad person. I want to help. I want to make things right.”

“I know, Erin. Right now, things are difficult, and my priority is finding Tracy and making sure she’s safe. Can you understand that?”

“Of course. But how can I help?”

“I need to get some idea of what Jaff might do in a situation like this, where he might go. How intelligent is he?”

“Oh, he’s very bright. He went to Cambridge.”

“So I understand.” That didn’t mean very much, Banks thought, certainly not when it came to drug dealing and evading the law. On the other hand, some Cambridge graduates had quite a good reputation in both those areas. “Where would he go, do you think? Does he have anyone he might turn to, anyone who might help him?”

“I don’t know,” said Erin. “But he’d probably go to London. I mean, that’s where he comes from, and he’s got friends down there. He’s a city boy.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“I’m trying to remember. He took me with him for a weekend once, but we stayed in a nice hotel in Mayfair, not with any of his friends.”

“He knows he’s in a lot of trouble,” Banks went on. “It’s my guess that he would probably want to leave the country as soon as possible, maybe even try to head back to Mumbai, if he still has contacts there, but if he’s at all bright, as you say he is, he knows we’ll be keeping an eye on the ports, stations and airports.”

“There’s Justin,” Erin said. “Justin?”

“Yes, in London. Another old pal from his uni days. We had dinner with him while we were there. One of those fancy places where you get one little plate after another. Justin was there with his girlfriend. She was Slovakian or something like that. Beautiful. Very exotic. She didn’t speak much English, I remember. Looked like a model or an actress.”

“Do you remember anything about Justin?”

“Just something Jaff said. I think he was showing off, and he said something to me about Justin being the man to know if you needed a new passport. Justin didn’t like it, I remember. He gave Jaff a nasty look. But I thought maybe he was involved in forging stuff and maybe smuggling people into the country.”

“That sounds like the sort of person Jaff might want to contact right now,” Banks said. “Do you know where he lives?”

“No. We didn’t go back to his place. We went on to a couple of clubs in the West End, I don’t remember where. I’m afraid I was a bit drunk by then.”

“Did you get his surname?”

“No. We just used first names.”

“What was his girlfriend called?”

“Martina.”

“Did this Justin have any sort of accent, too? How was his English?”

“His English was excellent, sort of posh, like Jaff’s. He did have a slight accent, though, but you really had to listen.”

“What accent?”

“I don’t know. I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

“Eastern European? Same as his girlfriend?”

“Maybe.” Erin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“And you’ve no idea where they live?”

“I do remember we were talking about property values once, back in the restaurant. Jaff was thinking about buying a flat in London, and he was asking this Justin about it. He said something about Highgate, but that’s all I remember. I got the impression that was where he lived. But it’s big, isn’t it, Highgate?”

“Big enough,” said Banks. But he felt a rush of excitement. There was every chance that if this Justin was involved in people-smuggling and dodgy documents, one or other of the Met’s intelligence units would have a watching brief on him, and even pinpointing him as living in Highgate might help them narrow their search. Banks hardly had any points with the intelligence services, but he knew that Dirty Dick Burgess would help him out at a pinch, especially if Tracy was in danger.

“Did Jaff ever talk much about his family, his background?” Banks asked. “I’m just trying to get a better sense of who I’m dealing with.”

“Not a lot. Jaff’s a mummy’s boy, really, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. He’s not a nancy boy or a sissy or anything. But I think he really loved his mother, and his father was more distant, tougher, less involved with him emotionally when he was growing up. Jaff didn’t talk about his family or his background much when we were together, except sometimes if the mood came on him. You know, the right combination of booze and E or whatever. Then he tended to ramble, and you had to sort of piece it together. I could be wrong. Anyway, he wasn’t too happy about ending up back with his dad after his mother died, and when he went off to boarding school and then university, that was his opportunity to make the break, to grab for his independence. He’s got a photo of his mother in the flat. You should see it. She was beautiful. There are none of his dad.”