Now here she was, shackled in her prison. What was their plan? What were they going to do to her? If they wanted her dead — an eye for an eye — then surely they would have killed her by now. Or did they intend to kill her slowly? Starvation, perhaps? Just leave her here, chained to the radiator, until she died.
She hadn’t eaten since her lunch with Banks, and she was starving already. How long ago that seemed. How petty her irritation with him. She wished he would walk through the door right now. She could do with a Willie Garvin to rescue her. What would Modesty Blaise do? Try to escape, obviously. But how? She looked around her in the darkness, but it was hopeless.
Zelda tugged at the chain again; it was still securely fastened to the radiator. And the iron chain was padlocked tightly around her foot. A heavy, strong lock, by the feel of it. She pulled at it, but it did no good. Though her hands were cuffed in front of her, rather than behind, they still weren’t much use. The cuffs were tight and hurt whenever she tried to reach out. She wasn’t going to escape trussed up like this. Somehow, she had to get free of her chains. But how?
As she was thinking of possibilities, she heard footsteps coming closer down the hall outside her door.
10
Banks was in his office early the following morning, having made his way past the crews of two TV vans parked in the market square and a knot of reporters on the front steps of Eastvale Regional HQ.
While Stephen Hough played some late Brahms piano music in the background, Banks pored over Ordnance Survey maps, but he was distracted by mulling over whether he should cancel his outing to see the Blue Lamps’ farewell concert at the Sage that evening. Mark and Tracy could easily get there by themselves. Though he had arranged to have a meal with them beforehand over the river in Newcastle, they would surely understand that he had a crisis on his hands. He also had tickets for Ray and Zelda, but they would have to go unused unless he could find someone in the station who wanted them.
But if he stayed at the office or at home, what would he do but worry? He could take his mobile to the concert with him, set on vibrate, even in the hall; he wouldn’t be far away, and he could respond immediately to any breaks in the case. It wasn’t as if he was expected to be out crawling over the moors with a magnifying glass and a deerstalker looking for clues himself. But could he even pay attention to his family and the music if he went? That wasn’t the issue, he realised. He mustn’t let his son down just because leaving the investigation for an evening made him feel as if he were playing truant. This wasn’t about him; it was about Brian. Wherever Banks’s mind was, at least his physical presence should be there in the Sage concert hall while his son played one of his last gigs with the band he’d been with for years.
Eno’s Reflection had done the trick the previous night, and Banks had slept well. First, he called Ray to find out how he was doing. Ray was hungover and depressed and told him the ‘bloody forensics blokes’ had just turned up again to make his day even worse. Banks told him that the media would probably arrive in Lyndgarth soon, and he could go and hide out at Newhope Cottage if he wanted. But Ray said he was going to lock himself in his studio and try to immerse himself in work and music. It was the only way he thought he had any chance of surviving this whole business. He had just taken delivery of a rare vinyl copy of Jan Dukes de Grey’s 1969 debut album Sorcerers and that should get him through the morning. Even Banks didn’t have that one, only Mice and Rats in the Loft and Strange Terrain.
Next, Banks phoned Adrian Moss and asked him to organise a press conference for later that morning. Zelda had been missing for a day and two nights now, and they were no closer to finding her, so the more publicity the better. Surely someone had seen something?
His last call was to the Croatian authorities asking them for help in locating Tadić. It appeared they knew all about Petar and Goran and said they would be only too willing to help if either was foolish enough to return to Croatia any time soon. But they had no idea where the brothers were.
AC Gervaise had talked to Assistant Chief Constable Ron McLaughlin and the chief constable himself, and Zelda’s disappearance was now an official Category-A investigation, with a budget to match. They would need it, too, with the extra men drafted in, then the Swaledale Mountain Rescue Team, based at Catterick Garrison. Banks had heard that it cost around a couple of thousand just to get the SAR helicopter up in the air. Still, with its heat-seeking capabilities, it could help isolate a living human figure in a vast landscape.
Despite their name, the search team didn’t restrict themselves to Swaledale, but also carried out operations in Wensleydale and Swainsdale. They had worked on the Claudia Lawrence search back in March 2009, when Claudia, a chef at the University of York, had disappeared. Sadly, Claudia still hadn’t been found, though various theories of her murder had been brought forward, including the possibility that she was a victim of the serial killer Christopher Halliwell. The search team had also helped out in recent flood relief efforts, including the collapse of Tadcaster Bridge.
Frustration began to set in quickly, as it so often did with missing persons cases. Things just weren’t happening fast enough. Every moment Zelda was missing Banks felt the tension in him rack up a notch. It was partly the impotence, of course, and the not knowing, but also the fear of what might be happening to her and, as time went on, the fear that she might already be dead.
Banks shuffled the papers on his desk. There was a lab report informing him that the cigarette ends found in the hollow near the cottage were Ronhill, a popular Croatian brand, and that they would yield DNA if required. Again, it was all pretty brazen, or careless, on Tadić’s part. DNA tests were expensive, but flushed with his newly approved budget, Banks ordered one.
Radio 3 was playing Weinberg’s ‘Kaddish’ Symphony, No. 21. It was close to the end when a melancholy keening female voice entered. The strange melody was so moving that Banks stopped what he was doing for a few moments and just listened. He didn’t know the composer’s work well but had read about him recently in Gramophone and liked what he was hearing. Amazing to know there were at least twenty more symphonies out there waiting to be heard. Weinberg had also written quite a lot of music for viola, one of Banks’s favourite instruments, up there with the oboe. He had known a very beautiful violist years ago, and had almost had an affair with her. Almost.
When the symphony finished, the announcer mentioned that the wordless singing was performed by the conductor of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra herself: Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla. Even more impressive. Banks only wished he could learn to pronounce her name.
As his thoughts began to drift, he was struck with an idea he thought might produce some positive results. Zelda, Banks was almost a hundred per cent certain, was being kept somewhere in the area. But where? It seemed unlikely they would keep her in a village or small town, as newcomers would draw too much attention in such places — especially newcomers like Tadić and Zelda — where everyone knew everyone else’s business. But given that Blaydon owned dozens of vacant properties all over Yorkshire, and that Tadić had been connected with Blaydon, wouldn’t these be logical places to search, along with recent holiday cottage lets, Airbnbs, converted barns, and so forth?
The problem with this line of thinking was that Blaydon was dead. But that didn’t have to be a game-stopper. Tadić had used Blaydon’s properties before as pop-up brothels, so he probably had a good idea of what was available out there. In the same way, Leka Gashi had used them for his county lines operations. The connection might seem obvious, and something to be avoided by a cautious criminal, but as Banks had already seen, Tadić was far from cautious: he was brazen and arrogant. Perhaps he might also be careless or stupid enough to use one of Blaydon’s empty properties to keep Zelda.