He phoned the lab and found she was still there.
‘Jazz, if you compare two DNA samples, can you tell whether the people were brothers?’
‘Without going into a lot of complicated detail, yes, probably,’ said Jazz. ‘Full siblings share around fifty per cent of their DNA. Why?’
‘Would you do me a favour and compare a sample from the body in the treatment plant, the upstairs one, with a sample I’ll get Detective Superintendent Burgess from the NCA to send you?’
‘I can do that, yes.’
‘Thanks, Jazz.’
‘Is this on the abduction case budget?’
‘Yes.’ Banks didn’t tell her that he was on sick leave and wasn’t supposed to be ordering DNA tests.
Next, he phoned Burgess, who agreed to get a sample sent up for comparison. At least that would tell them whether the bodies were brothers, which meant in all likelihood that they were Goran and Petar Tadić.
Banks let his mind drift back to the treatment plant to see if he could remember how Zelda had seemed. He hadn’t been able to tell if she was hurt because he hadn’t got a good look at her. She had crept up behind Keane from the shadows and stabbed him. After that, with the flames and smoke, it was soon chaos. She had come close enough to him to cut through the ropes that were binding him, close enough for him to smell her breath, and he hadn’t noticed anything to indicate that she had been hurt, then she had shouted for him to run. And she had taken off by herself. But she had found time to phone emergency services about the fire, perhaps because she was worried about him. She could be anywhere now. Mostly, Banks hoped she’d had time to get out of the country. She would have a far better chance of disappearing in mainland Europe.
And what about Ray? Maybe there was a way he could let Ray know she was OK without giving too much away about what happened, but he didn’t know how. However he did it, it would mean lying to his friend. If Ray knew the truth, he would fret that she would never come back to him, or that she would be caught and put in jail if she did. On the other hand, if he told Ray nothing, he would assume all was lost and sink deeper into depression.
But so much depended, Banks realised, on him keeping his cool. He would have to stop putting Newry off, simply tell him he’d got his memory back, submit to an official interview, and give him a version that worked for everyone.
Especially Zelda.
Late that evening, Banks was listening to Jessye Norman singing French songs when he heard a loud knocking at his door. Edgy since the attack, he picked up a knife from the kitchen as he went to answer it, only to find Ray Cabbot standing there, not too steady on his feet. Ray lurched forward and almost fell into Banks’s arms — not to mention the blade of the knife — when the door opened. As he helped Ray in, Banks glanced out front and saw his car parked at an awkward angle. The bloody fool had driven over, despite the state he was in. Or probably because of it, Banks speculated.
Once Ray was inside, he seemed to steady himself and followed Banks down the hall and through the kitchen to the conservatory where Banks had been sitting. He walked with the exaggerated gait of a drunk pretending to be sober.
‘Got a drink?’ he asked.
Banks certainly didn’t think he needed one, but he was the last person to be moralistic or judgemental about drinking. Instead, he poured Ray a decent measure of Highland Park and himself a generous glass of Gigondas, his first of the day.
‘Whass this music?’ Ray asked.
‘Debussy songs. Why, don’t you like it?’
‘’S’all right, I suppose. Bit artsy-fartsy.’
Banks used his phone to change the stream. Instead of Duparc’s “L’invitation au voyage” there came Tim Buckley’s Blue Afternoon. ‘That do you?’ he said.
‘I suppose it’ll have to.’
‘What is it, Ray?’ Banks asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
Ray took a hefty wallop of scotch. ‘You know what it is. It’s Zelda. I miss her.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘Oh, God, Alan, I miss her like I can’t say.’
‘I’m sorry, Ray. I’m sure she’ll be back.’ As he tried to reassure Ray, Banks went over his strategy in his mind. He could tell him only so much of the truth if he hoped to do him any good at all.
‘You know what happened, don’t you?’ Ray said. ‘You didn’t tell me anything on the phone yesterday. You said you felt ill, and I gave you time to recover. But you know now, don’t you? And I’m here, begging you. You remember, don’t you? Tell me. Is she all right? Where is she?’
‘I remember most of it now,’ said Banks, ‘and I’ll tell you what I can.’
Ray handed over his empty glass and Banks went into the kitchen to refill it. His own glass was still over half-full. Back in the conservatory, they sat at right angles to one another by the round glass table. The twilit sky outside was indigo and a dim orange-shade table lamp provided the only other light in the room.
‘Well? Is she all right?’ Ray prompted him.
‘Depends what you mean by “all right,” ’ Banks said. ‘I only saw her very briefly, and things were... a little hectic.’
‘Was she hurt?’
‘Not that I could see.’
‘How did she look?’
‘Fine, Ray. She hadn’t been harmed in any way. Just kept there against her will for a few days. She’d had a terrifying experience. No doubt she’d have liked to be able to brush her teeth, change her clothes, and have a nice long shower, but other than that... whoever it was hadn’t hurt her.’
‘Thank God for that. Did you talk to her? What did she say?’
‘There was hardly time for conversation. The bloody building was on fire. We had to get out of there. But she said to tell you not to worry, that she’d get in touch, and she would be back when she could.’
‘She’s coming back?’
‘I’m sure she’ll come when she can. But don’t tell anyone.’
‘Why can’t she come now?’
‘I don’t know. There are things she has to deal with.’
‘What things?’
‘She didn’t say.’
‘When will she be back? Did she say that?’
‘She didn’t. But her situation here, the people who took her—’
‘Where are they? Are they still after her?’
‘They’re dead,’ said Banks. ‘In the fire.’
‘Thank God for that. So why can’t she come home?’
‘She will. It’s just a matter of time.’ Ray reached for his tobacco, looked at Banks and halted. Banks just nodded. ‘Go on.’ Ray emptied his glass again and Banks went and poured him another refill, a smaller one this time. If he had anything to do with it, Ray wasn’t driving anywhere tonight. Tim Buckley was singing ‘I Must Have Been Blind.’
Ray lit up. ‘I’ll go anywhere she wants. You know that. Just tell her that.’
‘I’m not in communication with her, Ray,’ Banks said. ‘I don’t know where she is.’
‘But she got away? You’re sure of it?’
‘Yes. She got away.’
‘Where might she have gone?’
‘I don’t know. She might have gone overseas. It was getting a bit too hot for her over here.’
‘Those two bastards from the NCA. And she was worried about immigration. But she’s got friends there. All over the place. She’ll be all right there. How long do you think? I’ll go to her wherever she wants. France. Italy. Spain. Greece. Even fucking Moldova, if I have to.’
Banks couldn’t help but smile. ‘I have no idea. As long as it takes. I’m sure she’ll be in touch when she can.’