The Walking Dead

She had tightened the noose on him…and she helped him to dress again, and still he shivered, trembled, and she hoped she gave him strength — as she had been told to.

The hours of the last night yawned in front of her, and of him.

Bloody awful traffic. Friday-evening traffic, going north, nose to tail, and so damned slow.

The car was from a pool left at the barracks for police use. David Banks drove but did not talk: his Principal would, soon enough. His Principal fidgeted in the seat beside him, seemed to wriggle for courage to spit out something. Banks was not minded to help him.

Banks had the radio on. A news bulletin droned on, then a weather forecast. Good for the morning but not yet, and his wipers sluiced rain off the windscreen and the spray that was thrown up ahead. He had called the chief inspector, told Wally that he'd be off the camp for the next several hours, that Tango One — Julian Wright — had a domestic emergency with his parents and he'd egged it, that he was escorting Tango One from the secure location, that there was plenty of uniform to tuck the others up in their accommodation. He knew he'd told a lie, the domestic emergency with the parents of Tango One, and didn't care.

He came off the dual-carriageway and Luton was signed bearing left, and the turning for the airport was right off the roundabout. The lights of the town, an amber glow nestling against the cloud base, were ahead. He had never been there. Knew it had a reputation for being as crap as the car he drove. Knew it had an airport, knew it had a car factory, knew it had a railway station where the four Seven-Seven bombers had taken the train into London.

'Go into the town. Keep the railway on your right. You'll see the shopping centre on the left. Sign will be for the town hail. We're off to the right, short of that. It's Inkerman Road.'

Banks did not reply, just nodded, as if he was staff and took instructions.

The spit came harder. 'There is — I'm afraid — Mr Banks, a small and inconsequential difficulty'

Banks kept his eyes on the road in front.

'Not much point in putting it off, not sharing it…'

Banks saw the raised lights of the railway station to the right.

'I regret it, but I told you an untruth. Silly of me, but if I hadn't we wouldn't be here.'

The bulk of the shopping centre's outer wall was to his left. Banks followed the main route, and the town hall was arrowed from a sign.

'It's not my parents. They're in the pink — probably fitter, healthier, than I am…Sort of regular, you know, any weekend I can get away, I come up here and my parents are the excuse. It's where my wife thinks I am, and my kid. The sob story was a smokescreen — well, a lie. The answer? Of course, it's a woman…'

Did not answer, and saw a turn-off to the right: Inkerman Road.

'That's where we are. I told an untruth so I could get away for a weekend's shagging. And there's one more untruth, so don't be thinking shagging's due reward for a hero. I'm not. Personally, I would have taken the cash that was dumped on me. Would have done if my wife hadn't found it in the wardrobe. We're broke, in hock. We're in final-demand country, and that cash would have taken off the pressure. My wife found it. She said that if I didn't report the approach, she would — and I would have been up a creek with no paddle. My wife scuppered me, and I'm not a hero with a sense of civic duty…just so you know — but a louse, a cheat, a creep, not a hero. But, and I mean this very seriously, if you turn me round then I'm not in court on Monday. So, what's to do?'

Inkerman Road stretched away up a hill, and he saw the pub's sign, the squat block of flats below the pub and the line of houses past it. He could have told his Principal of a course for detectives that identified the body language of a liar…did not. Could have told his Principal that this Protection Officer was washed up, useless, and was putting in a resignation letter on the next working day…but didn't want to waste his breath. He changed down, eased his foot on to the brake pedal.

'Mr Wright, I really don't give a damn. Please, just tell me where to stop.'

Chapter 17

Friday, Day 16

Banks read a newspaper, learned the ground. Big print screamed at him:

SAVAGES!A Man's Face Has to Be Rebuilt After Horrific Attack by Yob Gang'.

And 'Date Rape Warning on Drinks'.

And 'Drunk Yobs in Street Battle'.

Nothing here that was remarkable, that was not ordinary.

And 'Woman Victim of Daylight Robbery Near Bus Stop'.

And 'Teen Yob Terror Hits Shop and Doc's Surgery'.

The same as anywhere. The streetlight above him blazed into the car.