“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.”
Fanthorpe’s face had flushed as he talked, with anger and with drink. Banks wanted to hit him. Plant a hard, heavy fist smack in the middle of his face and watch the claret flow. “And assuming I went along with this plan of yours?” he said. “Just what would I have to do?” Banks could sense Winsome looking agape at him, but he ignored her. She would find out where he was going soon enough.
“Why, nothing! That’s the beauty of it.” Fanthorpe’s gray eyes glittered. “A mere slap on the wrist, as I said. You simply have to leave it to me.”
“To Ciaran and Darren, you mean?”
“They’ve got a head start. And I’ll bet you anything my contacts are better than yours, that I can find out where Jaff and your daughter are going sooner than you can.”
“That may be true,” Banks agreed. “So why don’t you just share that information with me, and we can do this all legal and aboveboard. That should make everyone happy. It’ll keep Ciaran and Darren from facing a murder charge and life imprisonment, too. And you, if you’re implicated.”
Fanthorpe shook his head. “You just don’t get it, do you? You just don’t get it. And have what’s mine disappear from the evidence room, or get tied up in judicial red tape for the next twenty years? No way.”
“That must be some dodgy fortune you’re after getting back. Or maybe it’s a nice kilo or two of coke? If that’s the case, we’ll definitely be hanging on to it.”
“That’s none of your business. What is your business is that Ciaran and Darren don’t know to leave Tracy alone. Focus on that.”
Banks felt a chill run through him, immediately followed by the raging impulse to hurt Fanthorpe. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, though he knew full well the meaning of Fanthorpe’s threat. He could sense Winsome’s empathy, and her determination to hold him back if he suddenly snapped. She was poised, ready. But he wasn’t going to snap.
If there was one part of the job Banks hated more than any other, it was that feeling of impotence and ineffectiveness he so often felt by having dedicated himself to upholding the law, following the rules. He cut corners from time to time, like everyone, had occasionally acted rashly and even, perhaps, illegally, but on the whole he was on the side of virtuous and good. There was no way he would go along with what Fanthorpe was suggesting. He was going to get Tracy back, and he was going to take Jaff down, Fanthorpe, Ciaran and Darren along with him. He was as certain of that as he had been certain of the true way things stood in his life that night out in the Nevada desert. He just didn’t know how he was going to achieve it all yet.
“I should have thought my meaning was obvious,” said Fanthorpe. “As far as Ciaran and Darren are concerned, Jaff and your daughter are one and the same. My enemies. Tarred with the same brush. However you care to put it. They’re in it together. If I let my men know otherwise, then all will unfold as I promised. Your daughter will be rescued unharmed, and Jaff will take his punishment like a man.”
“And if I don’t?”
“That’s asking for trouble. Events would take their course. Why would an otherwise intelligent man like yourself want to take the moral high ground here?”
“Because I’m a policeman, Mr. Fanthorpe And as a policeman I could hardly turn a blind eye to murder, could I? Because, however you whitewash it, that’s what it would be. What you’re basically telling me is that you’ll make sure your men hurt my daughter if I don’t let you have your drugs or your drug money back and leave you free to do what you want with Jaffar McCready, including kill him? Well, he might be a criminal, it’s true, but if I do as you say, I become like you. Nothing more than some twopenny-ha’penny gob of slime who’s managed to raise his greedy
