bit of classical, and there’s a few books on it, too, mostly classics-Jane Austen, Chekhov’s short stories, Trollope, Tolstoy, the Brontes-and some nonfiction, history and biography. It’ll help pass the time.” He glanced around furtively, then stuck his hand inside the hold-all again and brought out a bottle of Australian red wine. “I know you prefer white,” he said, “and the review of the Santa Montefiore book suggested it would go well with chilled Prosecco, but I don’t think they’d exactly put it on ice for you here. I’ve seen you drink red. And the screw top seemed important. It’s no longer a mark of poor quality, you know. This is good stuff.”
“I know,” said Annie. “I’ve had it before. And it’s perfect. Put it down in the cupboard while no one’s around, would you. I can already imagine midnight drinking sessions with one eye on the door.”
“The way I used to read books with a penlight and listen to Radio Luxemburg through an earpiece when I was a kid,” Banks said. “One more thing.” He brought out a small bag of treats from Lewis & Cooper, the Northallerton gourmet food shop. “There’s a few different cheeses, vegetable pate, potted shrimp, just in case you feel like being really naughty, and water crackers, figs, olives. Only the best.”
Annie laughed and put her hand to her face. Banks could see she was crying, too. “Oh, thanks Alan. Come here.”
He bent over her, and she held him with her good arm. He felt the warm damp skin of her cheek against his and thought he should have shaved that morning, then he smelled her hair, smelled her. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Of course I should.” Banks moved away but held on to her hand. “I’m afraid that’s it,” he said. “How is the food here?”
“As you’d expect. Not that bad,” said Annie. “Though being a vegetarian is a definite liability. I must say, Ray’s been wonderful, though.”
“Where is he?”
“He had to go to London. There’s a gallery putting on a show of his work down there. He didn’t want to, said he thought he should stay with me, but I made him go. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Say hi from me,” said Banks. “So how are you feeling?”
“Good days and bad. I’m on the mend.”
“Your breathing sounds a lot better. Have you talked to the doctor?”
Annie turned her head. “Yes. Mr. Sandhar and I had a good long heart-to-heart late last week. He told me about the operation, explained all the details, the ins and outs, the risks.”
“And?”
“I’m scared.”
Banks tightened his grip on her hand. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. You couldn’t be in better hands.”
“I know that. It’s just…you know, it’s always been one of my greatest fears, being unable to walk, unable to move, confined to a wheelchair. Remember Lucy Payne? What a monster she was? I even felt sorry for her. I thought it might have been easier if she’d just died.”
“It’s not going to happen to you. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”
“He certainly didn’t downplay the dangers.”
“He wouldn’t. He’s a realist.”
“Maybe a little kindly lying wouldn’t have gone amiss.” Annie winced.
“What is it?”
She put her hand to her chest. “Sometimes when I breathe in I still get a sharp pain in my chest. The doctor says it’s my lung healing. My bloody shoulder still hurts like the dickens, too. Keeps me awake at nights.”
“It’s a nasty wound.”
Annie paused. “Tell me, Alan, is he really dead? Jaff McCready?”
“Yes.”
“Poor kid. I can’t say I’d have wished that on him.”
“After what he did to you?”
“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve punishment. Severe punishment. But…”
“It was quick,” said Banks. “He didn’t even see it coming.”
“I suppose not.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for him, Annie. McCready was no innocent.”
“I know. You were there, weren’t you?”
“Yes. I didn’t see it coming, either.” Banks had brought a Starbucks grande latte with him, and he took a sip, then set it down on top of Annie’s side cupboard. As he did so, he realized that he had forgotten the flowers. He mentally kicked himself. Idiot. Next time. No, he’d have some delivered, with a note, as soon as he left. “We recovered his gun, by the way. McCready’s. A Baikal, as we thought. It had a silencer, and I think that’s what saved your life. Apparently, with a silencer, it loses a third of its power and is far less accurate.”
“Well, I never,” said Annie. “What’s happening over the McCready shooting business?”
“About what you’d expect. They’re all back-pedaling like crazy. In the end it all comes down to spin, of course. The media don’t have many facts, but there’s been plenty of speculation about my presence there, and Tracy’s, not to mention a ‘rogue’ AFO. Mostly the brass has being trying to quash those rumors, or at least deflect the worst of them. We’ve had a few more meetings, without PC Powell’s presence this time. Even the chief constable himself was at one of them. Everyone has ended up bending over backward so the media reports it as all going according to procedure. An unfortunate necessity, but an officer’s life at risk, a proven police shooter, dangerous criminal on the run, unstable behavior, hostages involved, official operation, judgment call, no choice in the matter. Blah, blah, blah. Take your pick.”
“You disagree?”
“Not at all. It’s just-barely-possible to argue it that way. We even had civilian witnesses to bear out the evidence that my life and Tracy’s were at immediate risk, and that the police sharpshooter acted appropriately, with all reasonable regard for any members of the public in the vicinity. All of which is true. The fact that she was there unofficially, under her own steam, and with an unofficial weapon…well, we just tried to sweep all that under the carpet. There are still bits sticking out, of course, but…ACC McLaughlin told the press that we hadn’t been able to authorize any sort of large or visible Firearms Support Unit operation because of time constraints, the delicacy of the situation and the danger involved to the hostages, not to mention the public at large. He wasn’t lying. We’ll take a lot of flack, and Chambers is still on the warpath, but what’s new? Cooler heads might prevail this time.”
“And Nerys?”
Banks sipped a little more of his latte and said, “I’d say her career’s effectively over, wouldn’t you? I mean, not because of the Taser business with Warburton. That’s dead in the water. Even Chambers realizes that. Ironically enough, it was partly your shooting that knocked it off the front page. Cop shootings do get us a lot of public sympathy.”
“Glad to be of help.”
Banks smiled. “There may be a few slapped wrists for a less than full assessment of the situation at the Doyle house. Chambers and his lads from Greater Manchester will continue to conduct their inquiry, and they’ll want their pound of flesh, or at least a couple of ounces in compensation, but I’d guess the result’s a foregone conclusion.”
“Cover-ups all round, then?”
“Not really. Certainly not the Taser incident. The whole thing was an unfortunate accident, and luckily the media’s quite happy to view it that way-until the next time. But Nerys? The McCready shooting? That’s a little different. Nobody wants wild headlines in the papers about rogue cops shooting people down in motorway service station car parks, so we’ll put a slightly more heroic spin on her actions. Even so, it won’t be easy for her. There’s the rifle, for a start. She shouldn’t have been carrying it around. She’s damn lucky not to be going to prison after what she pulled. They’ll make her see a shrink, too, of course. I must say, you do pick them, Annie.”
“Speak for yourself. Besides, I didn’t pick her. She picked me. And how can you say that? Why are you so ambivalent about her? She saved your life.”
“I know she did. And I’m grateful for that. But she’s still bloody lucky to get off without serious criminal charges, in my opinion. Lucky no one needs a sacrificial lamb right now. And I’m ambivalent because I’m not convinced of her motives.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think she did it as much for herself as for me.”
“Where do you get that from?”
