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A dilemma, then.
Banks also knew that, as far as Riddle was concerned, the case was solved. Most satisfactorily solved.
So it was with carefully measured tones that he answered the question, aware even as he did so that it just wouldn’t wash. “I can’t tell you everything, sir,” he said. “At least, not just yet. It’s very delicate. But I can assure you my trip was directly related to the Jason Fox case.”
Riddle shook his head. “Delicate? Too delicate for the likes of me? No, Banks. That won’t do. I’ve already told you, the Jason Fox case was solved in your absence.”
“I know, sir. I read about it in the morning paper.” Banks had picked up a copy of The Independent at Schiphol Airport and had seen a full report on the arrest and confession of Mark Wood for the murder of Jason Fox. Including a quote from Riddle to the effect that “Fox was killed by a friend of his in a dispute after several drinks. While alcohol was certainly a factor, race was not, I am very pleased to say.” Banks didn’t believe it for a moment. “But I’m not sure that’s how it happened,” he went on.
“Oh,” said Riddle. “You’re not sure that’s how it happened, aren’t you? Maybe if you’d been here doing your job, you’d have a better idea about what’s going on. Well, let me tell you, Banks, that is exactly how it happened. Your fellow officers got a confession out of Mark Wood. While you were off cruising the red-light district, no doubt.”
Banks had to admit that did hit a little too close to home. “In all fairness, sir-”
Riddle stood up and went to lean on the filing cabinet, checking for dust first. “Don’t talk to me about fairness, Banks. I’ve been as fair with you as I can be. I’ve given you more latitude, more freedom to tilt at your own various windmills than I’ve allowed any man under my direct command. And what have you done with that freedom? You’ve abused it, that’s what you’ve done. Day trips to Leeds to buy classical records and meet your bit on the side, and now a weekend in Amsterdam in the middle of a major investigation. What do you have to say?”
“If you’ll allow me to get a word in, sir,” Banks said calmly. “In the first place, my trip was entirely case-related, and in the second case, you haven’t solved the Jason Fox case.”
Riddle’s pate went on red alert. “And I’m telling you the case is solved. Telling you, Banks.”
“But-”
“And who paid for this trip to Amsterdam, might I ask?”
Shit. If Banks told him it was the Met, Riddle either wouldn’t believe him, or he’d be on the phone trying to find out exactly who was behind it, setting off alarms like a mad cow walking through a Cambodian minefield. Besides, Dirty Dick Burgess, the only one who could really vouch for him apart from Craig, was on holiday “somewhere tropical.”
“I can’t say, sir,” he said.
“I trust you didn’t pay for it yourself, then, out of your own pocket?”
“No, sir.”
“I thought not. And your wife? Did she accompany you on this mysterious case-related mission?”
“No, sir.”
“Your mistress, perhaps? Or were you out there shagging the local girls?”
Banks stood up, his irritation growing. “Look, sir, I’m begi
Riddle stepped forward, chin jutting out like the prow of a ship. “You’ll put up with whatever I dish out, laddie, and right now I’m dishing out a suspension.”
“You’re what?”
“You heard me, Banks. I’m suspending you from your duties pending a disciplinary hearing into your activities.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I bloody well can. Read the regulations. I think skiving off for a long weekend during an important investigation is grounds enough for an inquiry. Dereliction of duty. For crying out loud, man, you’re a DCI. You’re supposed to set an example.”
Banks sat down again, a leaden weight in his chest. “I see. This is official, then?”
“Official as it gets.”
Banks could hardly believe what he was hearing. Anger burned inside him. Red behind his eyes. Everything was fucked. His marriage. Now his job. For some reason, this idiot had decided to persecute him. It just didn’t matter to Riddle that there might still be unanswered questions in the Jason Fox case; he’d put his blinkers on and he wouldn’t take them off. No doubt pleasing the Muslim community and the general populace simultaneously.
“So that’s it, then?” he said. “I’m free to go?”
“Yes. In fact, I order you to go.” Riddle gri
“Right. I can tell you’ve been looking forward to saying those words for some time.”
Riddle nodded. “Oh, yes.”
Banks got up, slipped his cigarettes in his top pocket and picked his jacket up from the coatrack. Next he picked up his briefcase but paused in front of Riddle and laid it down on the desk again on his way to the door. “Is that your last word on the subject, sir?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Banks nodded. Then he swung his arm back as far as it would go and hit Riddle hard, right in the mouth. Riddle staggered back against the flimsy desk and slid to the floor. Which was where he lay, shaking his head and wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand as Banks said, “And I’ve been looking forward to that, too, sir. Goodbye.” Then he left the station, his knuckles aching and bleeding.
II
The minute Susan heard raised voices arguing about Amsterdam, she tiptoed into the corridor like a sneaky school-girl to listen. Then she heard a loud crash and saw Banks stalk out of his office and out of the building through the fire exit, without even glancing in her direction.
The chief constable hadn’t left, though. Puzzled, Susan crossed the corridor and pushed Banks’s office door open. Then she just stood there. Chief Constable Riddle was getting up from the floor, brushing dust from his uniform and dabbing his mouth with a blood-soaked handkerchief.
He saw her standing in the doorway, pointed and said, “Get back to your office, DC Gay. Nothing happened, you saw nothing, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir… Er… what about DCI Banks…?”
“DCI Banks is under suspension.”
Susan’s jaw dropped.
“Back to your office,” Riddle said again. She noticed one of his front teeth was chipped. “And remember: If word of this gets out, I’ll know exactly where it came from, and your career won’t be worth two pe
“Yes, sir.”
Back in her office, Susan leaned on her desk, took a deep breath and tried to collect the thoughts that were suddenly spi
But Riddle wanted her to keep it quiet, so there had to be another reason. He could have Banks kicked off the force for assaulting a senior officer, but it would have to be made public then.
She could understand Riddle’s desire for silence easily enough – he would look like a real wimp if he publicly accused one of his DCIs of assault. After all, as Susan well knew, the police force was still very much a man’s world, and physical prowess was important to men. Riddle would feel humiliated by what had just happened; it would be a blow to his macho ego. The last thing he’d want known was that Banks, four or five inches shorter than him and slighter in build, had knocked him down. If that got out, people all over the region would be sniggering at him behind his back even more than they did now.
So he must have suspended Banks for some other reason.
Amsterdam? Was that it?
And then she realized something. At first, it was just a vague sense of apprehension, then the tumblers fell into position, one inexorably after the other. Then came the final click, and the door opened.