‘And you know the people he works for? What exactly is it you do?’
‘I told you. I look at pictures, give names to faces. My work is much like your work. I know many different kinds of people. I see many pictures when I help. I can ask questions, keep my eyes open.’
‘No,’ said Banks. ‘No, Zelda. I’m sorry. I’m very grateful you told us and everything, but it’s far too dangerous. I don’t know how you got involved in it, but I’ve been on the fringes of that world, the sex-trafficking, and I know how violent it can be. Keane’s just as bad. I’m sure he fits in fine.’
‘Dangerous? How is this dangerous? Mostly I work in an office in London looking at photographs or videos. Surveillance and police mugshots. That is all. I do nothing dangerous. Nobody sees me except the people I work with.’
‘But surely your organisation, whatever it is, has access to facial recognition software?’
‘Of course,’ said Zelda. ‘But for that they need a database. I am there to help them build that database. Some of the faces I know are already in the system, but many are not. Your man Keane was not.’
‘Why you? I mean why are you doing this work?’
‘You think it’s not a job for a woman?’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Banks said. ‘It’s very specialist work.’
‘Zelda is a super-recogniser,’ Ray explained. ‘She never forgets a face. I noticed when we met that the faces of Mary and Gabriel from the Annunciation she was drawing on the pavement were spot on, as far as I could tell, and she didn’t use a crib or any kind of visual reference. It was amazing. She’s been tested and everything, at Cambridge no less, and she’s way up there. It’s quite a rare gift.’
‘Gift?’ said Zelda. ‘Sometimes I wonder.’
‘Can you tell us the name of your supervisor? Put us in contact with him?’
‘I’m sorry, but I cannot do that. He would never forgive me. Much of his work depends on secrecy. Much of the department’s existence depends on secrecy. I have probably said too much already, but I want to help. I can look into it for you myself.’
‘If anything happened to you I’d never forgive myself.’
‘You’re pissing against the wind, mate,’ said Ray. ‘I’ve never met a more stubborn woman than Zelda. Let her help you. She won’t take no for an answer. Believe me.’
Zelda nodded. ‘That is true. I will simply observe while I do what I do anyway. Perhaps ask some questions of the right people. I cannot promise anything, but I might be able to find out if this man is still in the country. Even where he is and what he is doing. If he is still called Keane or if he has a new name.’
Banks leaned back and glanced at Annie. He could see the hungry look in her eyes. Felt it in his own. It was a tempting offer, too tempting to resist. This man had tried to kill him, had burned down his home, and he would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Annie and Winsome. Keane had taken Annie in so thoroughly that she hadn’t been able to trust herself in a relationship with a man ever since. ‘It seems that we can’t stop her, doesn’t it?’ Banks said. Then he turned to Zelda again. ‘But I don’t like it. Don’t take any risks. And be careful.’
Zelda tilted her head sideways, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. ‘Always,’ she said. ‘Oh, have some more wine, Alan. Tell me what music you have been listening to. Raymond is such a philistine.’ She waved her hand at the music in general. ‘This is all right, but where is Bach, Beethoven, Brahms and Mozart?’
She was signalling the end of the conversation, a change in topic. Donovan had finished some time ago. Now Bridget St John was singing ‘Ask Me No Questions’.
Banks smiled. ‘Zelda, you can come and listen to my Bach cantatas anytime you like.’
Zelda laughed.
‘Watch it, mate,’ said Ray, smiling.
Annie rolled her eyes. ‘Give me Barry Manilow any day.’
So they talked about music, about Bruckner and Mahler, Zelda’s favourites, and Verdi and Maria Callas. Then they went on to poetry. Zelda seemed to know a lot about the Russians: Pushkin, Akhmatova, Tsvetaeva, Pasternak. Poets whose work Banks knew very little about. Akhmatova was her favourite, she said. Banks still felt unsettled at the mention of Phil Keane, but there was a spark of excitement that they might finally bring him to justice. He was worried about Zelda, though, mostly because he was ignorant about what she actually did and how good she was at it. Surely it couldn’t be as easy or as straightforward as she made out?
Still, it had started now, and there was nothing he could do except hope to hell that nothing bad happened to her because of it. No matter what she and Ray had said, if anything did happen, he would never forgive himself, and he didn’t think Ray would forgive him, either, for all his talk. He helped himself to a wedge of Stilton and watched Zelda pour more wine and tease Annie for not drinking any. The candles flickered in a draught from the back door. Banks felt himself shiver. Ray went to put on some more music, but even Quicksilver Messenger Service doing ‘Mona’ couldn’t dispel the mood brought on by Zelda’s story, and he found himself wondering about her motives for her work and these faces she never forgot. Where had she seen them in the first place?
‘Are you sure you won’t stay and have a snifter?’ Ray asked as they stood at the door. ‘I’ve got a very nice Armagnac.’
‘No, Ray,’ said Annie. ‘I told you. I’m driving. And we’ve got a busy day at work tomorrow.’
‘Ah, yes. Criminals to catch. The offer of the spare room is still open. Even just for one. Alan?’
‘It’s tempting, Ray,’ said Banks, ‘but I’d be better be off, too. Thanks for... well, for a very interesting evening.’
Zelda gave him a peck on the cheek and Annie hugged Ray.
‘Goodnight, Dad,’ she said firmly, letting go, then grasped Banks’s arm and half-dragged him towards the car as he continued saying his own goodbyes.
‘Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea Ray had,’ he said. ‘About staying.’
‘Oh, just be quiet and put your seat belt on. Honestly,’ Annie said as she set off along the village High Street. ‘Will he never grow up? For crying out loud, she’s young enough to be his granddaughter. And you and Ray behave like a couple of little kids.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said Banks, ‘they seem to make a nice couple. And they seem happy together. What can be so wrong with that?’
Annie shot him a piercing glance as she set off too fast along the High Street. ‘You would say that. That’s a typical male response. I’ll bet she has you all eating out of her hand. It’s practically bloody paedophilia.’
‘Come off it, Annie. Zelda’s thirty. She’s a grown-up. Old enough to make her choices. And at least she has the chance to do that now. And it sounds as if she does important work.’ He paused. ‘Don’t be so hard on her. And slow down. The roads might be icy.’
The glance Annie gave him was icier than any road. ‘A beautiful damsel,’ she went on. ‘And bloody Mata Hari to boot. Who could resist?’
‘That’s a cruel thing to say, Annie. And it’s not fair.’
‘I notice you didn’t waste any time before you started flirting with her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘ “You can come and listen to my Bach cantatas anytime you like, Zelda”,’ Annie mocked.
Banks laughed. ‘What’s wrong with that? I meant it innocently enough.’
‘Men.’ Annie put her foot down as they left the village for the dark unfenced road down the dale side. Banks hung on for dear life.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a long journey. Annie screeched to a halt outside Newhope Cottage, spraying gravel in all directions. The place was in darkness, but when Banks clicked his key ring, a light came on over the porch.
‘Want to come in for a coffee or something?’ he asked.
‘No, thanks.’
‘Come on, Annie. Don’t sulk. We’ve got a lot to talk about.’
‘Have we? I don’t think so.’
‘Phil Keane.’
‘It probably won’t come to anything. Besides, that business is all in the past. It happened, and it’s over and done with.’
‘Maybe for you.’
‘He was my mistake.’
‘He cost us both a lot.’
Annie leaned across him and opened the passenger door. ‘Are you going to get out now or what?’
Banks sighed and got out of the car. As he bent to thank Annie for the lift and say goodnight, she shot off in another spray of gravel and left him standing there alone in the glow of the porch light.