She slid back the bolt, hauled the door open and ran outside. It was hard to see far beyond the cottage, but the rock face of Woadly Edge stood out dramatically, dark against the whiteness of the snow. Winsome could hear Atherton moving inside the abattoir. She headed for the rock face as fast as her legs could carry her. She had been an award-winning sprinter at school, and she hadn’t done badly over distances, either, so she thought she had an advantage. It was a gamble. She couldn’t run for ever, and she didn’t intend to. Much of what happened to her in the next while would depend on whether Atherton knew the caves as well as she did. And on the cavalry coming, of course. Where was the cavalry?
Banks and Annie sat in the former’s office after the Lane interview to draw up a plan of attack. Lane hadn’t been able to tell them anything more about Ken Atherton except that he lived on the remote moorland. First they needed to find out where. They had put Lane back in his cell for the time being, but neither of them thought they could make anything stick against him. Banks also had the feeling that Annie’s heart wasn’t in putting Lane behind bars.
‘Look, he’s been a bloody idiot,’ she said, ‘and I’ve no doubt he was a bit more involved in Spencer’s doings than he led us to believe, but for the most part I’d say his story rings true, and I’ll bet you he’s learned his lesson.’
‘If he hasn’t,’ said Banks, ‘I have no doubt that Alex will make sure it’s drilled into him.’
‘And what would the CPS make of it?’ Annie added. ‘They’d laugh us out of the office.’
‘Ronald Tanner might implicate him, if he talks,’ Banks said. ‘Or Carl Utley, or this Atherton character, when we find him.’
‘But that’s not proof,’ Annie said. ‘Anyone could argue they’d be doing it to save their own skins. When it comes right down to it, do I believe Lane made a bit of extra money from helping Morgan Spencer with his dirty deeds, maybe fingering likely victims, helping with the heavy lifting? Maybe. But do I think he was really involved? No, I don’t. And did he hurt or kill anyone? No.’
‘It’s just possible he was the one who egged Spencer on to steal Beddoes’ tractor in the first place. There was bad blood between them. He knew through Alex that Beddoes was going away, and he did admit he might have mentioned it to Spencer on Friday. That explains why the tractor was stolen so close to the time of Beddoes’ return. It was a brief window of opportunity.’
‘Maybe,’ Annie admitted, ‘but that’s still just speculation. And he wasn’t trying to get Spencer killed. Anything we could charge him with would be vague at this point.’
‘Let him stew for a while,’ said Banks. ‘We’ll see what else we can dig up.’
‘I think Alex really needs him.’
Banks studied her for a moment. ‘Why, Annie,’ he said, ‘I do believe you’re becoming a bit more like your old self.’
‘You mean you thought I was soft?’
‘Compassionate. You’ve been a lot harder lately.’
‘Getting shot will do that to you.’
‘And now?’
Annie smiled. It reminded Banks of her old smile, though it wasn’t quite there yet. ‘Getting there,’ she said. ‘But don’t push it. You’re the hard bastard now, according to Michael Lane.’
‘Someone has to be. Cut him loose. Police bail. But tell him not to go wandering off. And you can bring Gerry back in.’
‘Aren’t Alex and Ian still in danger?’
‘Keep the surveillance going. I don’t think they are, though. I think it’s all unravelling, and it’s every man for himself. Rats deserting a sinking ship. It’s just a matter of who talks first.’
Annie left for the custody suite to set Lane’s release on police bail in motion. Alone in his office, Banks picked up the phone and dialled Burgess’s number. Dirty Dick answered after the fourth ring. ‘What were you doing?’ Banks said. ‘Shagging your secretary?’
‘That only requires three rings,’ Burgess retorted. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I think you should close in on Havers. The whole kit and caboodle’s falling apart.’
‘The centre cannot hold,’ said Burgess, after Banks had told him the story. ‘We’ll move in the heavy artillery. I’ve got something for you, too. You know those blokes you were looking for: Kieran Welles and Carl Utley?’
‘Yes. We haven’t been able to catch up with them yet.’
‘Carl Utley caught a ferry from Dover to Calais last Sunday evening. You can get Interpol on him, but I’d guess you’ll have a hard time finding him now. As for the other one, a mate of mine in intelligence has been keeping tabs on him as best he can. Seems he changed his name to Kenneth Atherton and moved to North Yorkshire. Remote place called High Point Farm.’
Banks had never heard of the place, but that didn’t matter. He would find it. He felt the excitement he always felt when he was closing in. He thanked Burgess and went to the squad room to see if Winsome was back.
The room was empty, the desks littered with pieces of paper, some ringed with coffee cup stains. On Gerry Masterson’s desk he saw a note in what looked like Winsome’s writing. It said. ‘Got a lead to a place called High Point Farm. Owner: Kenneth Atherton. Gone out for a look around. Can you send a squad car for backup, just in case? Thanks, Winsome.’
Being Winsome, she had even noted the time at the top: 11.35 a.m. Banks looked at his watch and saw it was now after three. His heart began to race. She must have left the note after he had sent Gerry to babysit Alex Preston and Doug Wilson was out keeping an eye on the Beddoes’ farm. Christ, she should have been back by now.
Just as he was leaving, the phone on Winsome’s desk rang. Banks picked it up. ‘Winsome?’ the voice said.
‘No, it’s DCI Banks here. Who am I speaking to?’
‘Oh, DCI Banks. It’s me, Terry Gilchrist. Can I talk to Winsome? Unless she’s really busy of course. I’m afraid it’s a personal call.’
‘She’s not here.’
‘It’s just that she said she’d meet me for lunch and… well, Winsome’s a woman of her word. She didn’t turn up. She hasn’t even phoned.’
‘That’s not like her,’ Banks agreed.
‘Do you know where she is?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t, Mr Gilchrist.’ On impulse, Banks asked, ‘By the way. Do you know of a place called High Point Farm?’
‘No,’ said Gilchrist. ‘Never heard of it. Why?’
‘I’m afraid we’re in the midst of a bit of a crisis here right now, so I’m going to have to hang up on you, sir.’
‘Is it Winsome? What’s happened? I—’
Banks had no time to worry about Winsome’s boyfriend now. The first thing to do was get as many squad cars out to High Point Farm as he could, if it was possible in the snowstorm, then head out there himself immediately. He dialled dispatch and gave the orders. Then, just for a moment, he turned and looked out of the window, and his heart sank. The snow was coming down thick and fast, almost obscuring the market square. He could only imagine what it would be like out in that on the high moorland. He dialled Winsome’s mobile number, though he already had a sneaking feeling that she was in a no-reception zone. He was right.
He needed to get out to High Point himself, but he realised he still had no idea where it was, and satnav was never any use out on the moors. It might as well be on Mars. Then he remembered that one of the custody officers was a walking map of the Dales and hoped he was on duty as he took the stairs two at a time. He nearly stumbled when his mobile chimed. When he answered it, Doug Wilson said, ‘They’re doing a bunk, guv. The Beddoes. They’re doing a bunk.’
‘Stop them.’ Banks explained the situation to Wilson as quickly as he could, then said, ‘Call for backup and hold them there. They’re not going anywhere. Then join us at High Point Farm, if you can find it.’