‘No. Why should there be?’
Banks shrugged. ‘I just got the impression there’s much more to your job than you say, that’s all.’ And your life, he almost added, but managed to restrain himself.
‘There is always more. You must understand that. But there are certain expectations of silence and secrecy, as I know there is in your job, too.’
‘I do understand that. I was talking about the element of risk.’
‘Oh, that.’ She waved a hand dismissively. ‘I told you. Mostly I sit in an office and look at photographs or CCTV footage. It is boring, but necessary. I’m no Modesty Blaise, Alan. I cannot run around tracking down the scum who profit from these crimes. But this I can do. And I know it gets results.’
‘Nobody’s denying that,’ said Banks who had hardly got over his surprise that Zelda had heard of Modesty Blaise. ‘But a man like Keane—’
‘I have met many men like Keane.’
‘You don’t—’
‘You’d be surprised how many men there are like Keane. Men for whom human life or happiness means nothing. Men who will take what you love from you in the blink of an eye just because they can. Men of power and money who will steal your dignity and leave you with nothing.’
Banks gave a slight nod. There was something that struck a chord in what she said, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on. ‘You sound as if you know what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘Did you lose someone, Zelda?’
She glanced away sharply. ‘How could I lose someone? I am an orphan. I had no one to lose. Friends, yes. I lost many friends, and I soon realised it was best not to make friends because they came and went.’
‘Then it was you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, Zelda.’
‘No. I do not want your pity, Alan. But I also do not think I need to tell a man like you all this, tell you what I have suffered, what many others like me have suffered. I think you know a great deal about these things. But even with all you know, you could not even begin to imagine the horror of my life.’
But he could. Imagine it, that is. The beatings, the rapes, the constant fear, the squalor, the sweaty pigs grunting as they came in her, one after the other. But that was all he could do. Imagine it. The only action he could take was to try to stop as many others as he could from doing it. It might be like cleaning the Augean stables, but nobody should have to go through what Zelda had been through. Or Linda. Ever. End of story.
‘In all your work since then,’ Banks asked, ‘have you ever come across the men who hurt you?’
Zelda looked towards the window. ‘Some of them, yes,’ she said. ‘It was long ago. Perhaps many have moved on? Or they are dead. That would be better. Perhaps too much to hope for.’ She turned back to face Banks and smiled. ‘It’s a beautiful day. Cold, but beautiful. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. Do we have to sit in this dreary office to make a plan? Would you like to hear my story, or do you have more important work to do?’
Banks smiled. ‘No, not at the moment.’ He grabbed his overcoat. ‘Come on. Let’s go. You can leave the suitcase here.’
Banks and Zelda went out of the station into the market square. Zelda was a couple of inches taller than Banks, and she certainly drew admiring glances as they walked. She fastened her coat loosely and put on the fur hat. ‘Like a true Russian,’ she said, laughing.
‘You’re not Russian, are you?’
‘My mother’s family came from St Petersburg — or Leningrad as it was then — to Odessa after the war. The world war. That was where my mother was born, in nineteen sixty-five. They had survived the siege. Odessa is also where my father met my mother, and later they moved to Moldova for my father’s work. He was an engineer. That’s where I was born. So yes and no. My father also came from Russia, but he believed his parents migrated from the east. So mine was a very mixed family. It is hard to sort everything out. And I never really got a chance to ask them for their life stories.’
Despite the chill, they bought ice creams at the corner shop and walked along Castle Walk, a tree-lined cinder path that circled Eastvale Castle high above the river valley. Zelda smiled as they passed groups of unruly children in bright orange shell suits and young lovers hand in hand. Banks watched her from the corner of his eye as she occasionally put the cone to her mouth and licked at the scoop of ice cream. It was a gesture both sensual and child-like in its innocence. Which seemed all the more odd coming from a woman who was far from innocent. Or perhaps innocence was more a matter of the heart, or soul, than of things that happened to the body.
The path emerged into the open high above the silver river. It was a good site to choose for a castle, Banks had always thought. High and compact, with a view for miles around. The wooded slope down to the water was steep. It would have been easy to pick off any marauders from the top of the ramparts, pour boiling oil on them or whatever.
They sat on a bench with their backs to the castle walls and enjoyed the view across the river to the opposite bank. The trees were bare, which gave a better view of the fields and rising daleside beyond, but the fields themselves were still bright green with the recent rains and rose in the distance to steep hills with outcrops of grey limestone catching the winter light. Sheep grazed everywhere, and the landscape was crisscrossed with drystone walls. In one of the lower, riverside fields, two sleek and beautiful chestnut mares, backs covered with blankets, nibbled at the grass. Directly below them, the river ran down a series of weirs and rocks, giving the effect of mini rapids, and children stood on the banks and threw stones into the water.
‘I cannot believe how much I love it here,’ said Zelda. ‘It makes me feel like I have come home.’
‘To Moldova?’ Banks asked, quickly trying to prevent a blob of vanilla ice cream from dropping onto his trousers.
Zelda laughed. ‘Moldova? No. I mean home in my heart. But we lived in Dubãsari in Moldova, stuck right between Ukraine and Romania. It is next to Transylvania, where your Dracula comes from.’
‘He’s supposed to have landed in Whitby,’ said Banks.
‘Maybe that is why I feel so much at home here. I love Whitby, too. The Magpie. Fish and chips and vampires and goths. Wonderful.’ She smiled.
Banks laughed. ‘Go on. You were going to tell me your story.’
‘I cannot remember much of my childhood because my parents were killed during an uprising in Bendery in nineteen ninety-two, when I was five, and everything was topsy-turvy for a while. I remember my parents spoke Russian as well as Moldavian. Language was always a very political issue in that part of the world. I also speak Russian, some French and German, too. The war came after the break-up of the Soviet Union. But it was not a big war in Moldova, not famous like Serbia and Bosnia. My parents were not political, just ordinary people caught in the crossfire. What do you call it? Collateral damage?’
‘Some cynics would call it that.’
‘Yes. Collateral damage.’
‘And after that?’
‘An orphanage. That was my life for next twelve years. But it was a good life. You hear so many stories about what terrible places orphanages are, what cruelties are inflicted on the children there, but not this one. People find it difficult to believe, but the nuns were not cruel. They did not beat us with Bibles and thorns. And they were good teachers. Not only arithmetic and history, but art, music, literature. We had food — not always enough, but food — and we stayed warm. It was a simple life, and they were very strict, but it was also a good life. You understand?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Banks.
‘But one day it ended. I had to leave. Everyone has to leave eventually. I had nobody on the outside, and I had hardly got to the end of the street when I was picked up by some men, some very, very bad men. For the next few years things were very difficult for me. How much I cannot say. But I survived. And I escaped in the end. It doesn’t matter how. The story has a happy ending. That is what matters. My life is very different now. But I am still involved with the people who hunt these monsters down, the people who saved my life and gave me a new identity. So that is why it is very important for me to do what I can to fight the evil things these gangs do. I owe it to the thousands of other girls caught in their nets.’