Peter Robinson - Bad Boy

One of the youths turned and called out something after them. Tracy couldn’t make out the words. She could see that Jaff had one hand in his bag, though, and a grim smile on his face. A “just let them try something” smile. Tracy felt her pulse quicken with her footsteps. But nobody followed them. Nobody threw anything. When they got to the well-lit arterial road with its people, pubs, hairdressers, Asian shops and curry houses, Jaff relaxed his grip and removed his hand from the bag. They caught the first bus into the city center and sat upstairs at the front. There were hardly any other passengers at that godforsaken time of the evening, well after office hours and before closing time.

“Isn’t it dangerous, going to a hotel?” Tracy said. “I told you they’ll be looking for the two of us together.”

Jaff gave her a sideways glance. “I’m not letting you go, so don’t start that again. We’ll be fine. I suppose you just want to go home to Daddy?”

Tracy said nothing. She did.

“Well, that’s not going to happen, so you’d better make the best of things. Don’t forget what I said back there in the van. I mean it.” He looked her up and down. “At least you’re reasonably presentable now. You’ll just about pass muster. Just. How about me?”

Jaff looked fine. Immaculate as usual. “You’ll do,” she said.

“It’s a nice hotel I’ve got in mind,” Jaff said. “Not some fleabag place. We’ll be able to have a shower, get room service, minibar, the lot.”

The bus lumbered on, around corners, across intersections, and finally made its way into the city center.

“What about the CCTV cameras?” Tracy asked, as she saw the familiar landmarks of the Corn Exchange and Kirkgate Market ahead.

“They’re only useful if someone’s watching them and knows what to look for,” said Jaff. “If you think how many of them there must be, you’ve got to realize that there can’t possibly be enough people to watch them all, or we’d be all watching each other all the time. Real Big Brother. It’s a risk, but a minor one. Especially here. Like I said, no one’s going to expect us to come back here. And by the time anyone gets to checking all the CCTV footage, we’ll be sunning it up on the Costa del Sol. At least, I will.” He grabbed the chrome rail.

“Come on. Our stop.”

“HELP ONE another? Where do you get that from?” said Banks.

Fanthorpe sat down and cradled his fresh drink, a superior grin on his face. “I would have thought it was obvious,” he said. Winsome cast Banks a puzzled glance.

“Go on,” Banks said. “Enlighten me.”

Fanthorpe sprawled in his chair. “We both know that Jaff McCready’s on the run with your daughter Tracy. I haven’t the least interest in her, but I do have a very strong interest in young Jaff. Like I said, he’s got something of mine, and I want it back.”

“So it’s I scratch your back and you scratch mine, is that it?”

“Something like that. I can guarantee your daughter’s safety, Banks-that is, if she’s still in one piece when Ciaran and Darren find her. Can you do that, with all your protocols and procedures and red tape? Can you?”

“Go on.”

Fanthorpe leaned forward. “I thought you’d be interested. My proposal is a simple one. Leave me to find Jaff and Tracy. When I do, she’s yours. Unharmed. As I said, I have daughters, too. Believe me, I understand how you must be feeling.”

“You understand nothing. Don’t try to tell me you give a damn about saving my daughter’s life. All you want to do is carry on making your illegal fortunes.”

“I can’t help it if I make a good living.”

“Off other people’s misery.”

“Giving people what they want.”

“Selling them drugs?”

“However you look at it, you can hardly say that you’ve made a hell of a lot of people happy in your life so far, can you? I mean, how many of the petty villains you banged up got rogered so often in prison that their arseholes turned black and blue? How many scared young kids got stabbed by makeshift shivs in the showers? You hardly go around spreading joy and sunshine, mate, so don’t give me that holier-than-thou shit. I’m giving you a chance here. A chance to save your daughter’s life. Don’t you throw it back in my face. I never make an offer more than once.”

Banks felt sick. The Farmer’s offer was tempting, way too tempting, and he could do as he said; he could deliver with a lot more chance of success than any police intervention could offer. You only had to look at the Patrick Doyle case to know that. Then Banks would have Tracy back and Jaff…well, Jaff was a waste of space, anyway. Who cared?

But it would mean ending up in Fanthorpe’s pocket. It wouldn’t stop there, either, with Tracy’s safe return. There would be more demands; a little insider information, a tip here, a tip-off there, polite requests to turn a blind eye, payments made. Before long, Banks wouldn’t be able to bear looking at his reflection in the mirror. And Winsome was here, too, his moral compass: a witness to it all. She would never agree, and she wouldn’t lie for him, no matter how rude The Farmer had been to her earlier.

“And Jaff?” Banks said. “What happens to Jaff?”

Fanthorpe looked away. “What do you care? I can’t imagine why that would matter to you. I have no real interest in harming him. I just want my money back. Of course, it’s always possible that Darren and Ciaran might see fit to teach him a lesson. What he did reflects on all of us, you see. I won’t lie to you. What Jaff has done can’t go unpunished, and Ciaran doesn’t always know where to draw the line.”

“I do see,” said Banks. “They’re going to kill him. Or they’re going to take him somewhere where you can kill him.” Fanthorpe laughed. “Now, don’t be silly. I wouldn’t harm a fly. Besides, it’s nothing as extreme as that.” He sipped some whiskey. “A short period of hospitalization, perhaps, a while before he can get back in the saddle, so to speak. A mere slap on the wrist. Surely even you can see the poetic justice in something like that. I mean, look what he did, shooting that policewoman. Bit of a goat, too, is Jaff. Your daughter-”

Before Winsome could step in again, Banks held his hand up, palm out. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “For all our sakes, don’t follow that line of thought any further.”

“Fair enough. I can see how you might find it painful. As you say. I simply thought you would approve of my intentions, that’s all. If not, I can’t be in any way responsible for your daughter’s safety.”

It felt like time for the “If you harm a hair on her head I’ll rip out your spine and shove it down your throat” speech, but Banks didn’t see the point. He was sure that he and Fanthorpe understood each other already. Instead, he said, “People like you can’t let others steal from them. You have to show your power. Exercise it. You have to make examples. Jaff will be executed, no doubt in a slow, painful and terrible way, and everyone you deal with will know it. They will know what happened and why and who did it, will know that they stray at their peril. What you do to Jaff will keep your troops in order till the next time some jack-the-lad thinks he can put one over on you. I can’t be a part of that.”

“What does it matter? We’re splitting hairs. What do you care about Jaff McCready, especially after what he’s done to your daughter and your colleague? For Christ’s sake, Banks, you must want him d-”

“I told you not to take that route.”

Fanthorpe stopped in mid sentence and sighed. “Well, come on,” he said. “Isn’t it about time you woke up and saw what was happening? What you’re really dealing with here.”