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Banks finished his orange juice. “Tell me something,” he said. “You always put up a show of resistance, but in the end you usually tell me what I want to know. Why?”
“Entertainment value,” said Burgess. “Besides, I like you. I like to watch you work. It interests me. I see you getting more and more like I used to be. You want something, you go after it, and bugger the consequences. Bugger the law, if necessary.”
“Used to be?”
Burgess sipped some beer. “I’ve mellowed, Banksy. Grown up.”
“Bollocks.”
“It’s true. Anyway, let’s just say that DI Brooke’s interests and mine don’t always coincide. Brooke’s a plodder. I know the type. No imagination. No breadth of vision. He’s only interested in short-term results, another tick on his report card for his next promotion.”
“And you?”
“I’m more interested in the big picture, the long-term view. And I like to know what’s going on. Information’s my stock-in-trade these days, after all. I don’t get out on the street much.”
“Miss it?”
Burgess looked away. “Sometimes.” He laughed and raised his glass. “Now bugger off. And good luck with Lambert.”
It had started raining again and Banks had to fight against the influx of people trying to get back inside. He found a sheltered doorway and dialed A
“A
“Where are you? I’ve been wanting to speak to you ever since I heard. I’m really sorry about what happened to your brother.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m back in London. Where are you?”
“As a matter of fact,” A
“I know, but it’ll have to wait. Couple of quick questions. Have Brooke’s blokes talked to Gareth Lambert yet?”
“I don’t think so,” said A
Then A
“Another thing you might as well know,” A
“Jesus,” said Banks. “That’ll be Cori
“Are there any others?”
“Probably,” said Banks, “but I think she was the most recent model, the one before Je
“Can we meet up? We really should talk about all this.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” said Banks. “Breakfast? I’ve still got a couple of people to talk to tonight. How about I give you a bell when I’m finished?” Banks rang off before she could protest.
The rain was really pelting down now and all Banks had for protection was his light raincoat. He stood in the doorway of the closed shoe shop looking at the people drifting back and forth between the curtains of rain, then stepped out and headed as fast as he could for Tottenham Court Road tube station.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“How did you get my address?” Dr. Alex Lukas asked A
“We have our sources,” said A
“Can I come in?” “What do you want? It’s not a police state yet, is it?”
“Not the last time I checked,” said A
Dr. Lukas took the chain off the door and stepped back. A
What looked to A
Beside the doll stood a black-and-white photograph of a family group in a wooded area: parents and three children. A
“On holiday,” said Dr. Lukas, behind her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy,” said A
“Yes. It was taken two years ago.”
“So you come from Russia?”
“Ukraine. A city called L’viv, in the west, not far from the Polish border. Do you know it?”
“Sorry,” said A
“It doesn’t matter.”
A
Dr. Lukas paused before answering with a tentative “Yes.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Thirteen years. I was twenty-five when the Soviet Union broke up. I was lucky. I got into medical school in Edinburgh. I’d had some training in L’viv, of course, but this country didn’t recognize my qualifications. Do you know how many foreigntrained doctors there are over here driving minicabs and working in restaurants and hotels?”
“No,” said A
“It’s a shame, a terrible waste,” said Dr. Lukas, with a hint of tragic fatalism in her voice.
“You don’t have a very strong accent,” A
“I worked hard to get rid of it. Foreign accents don’t work in your favor here. But all this is beside the point. What have you come to see me about?”
Dr. Lukas was perching uncomfortably at the edge of an armchair, A
“You’re right,” said A
“I’m listening.”
“When that happens, it makes a difficult job even harder. We don’t know what’s important and what isn’t, so how can we know where to focus our line of inquiry?”