“You must be joking.”

“Good,” said Zelda. “Excellent.” She stood up and Faye did likewise. “I’m sorry to intrude on your day. I don’t think I’ll have to bother you again.”

“It’s no bother, really,” said Faye. “Quite exciting, really, being questioned by the NCA. My affair with a master criminal.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” said Zelda, smiling. “And it might be best if you weren’t to tell anyone about our meeting.”

Faye put her finger to her mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

AT LEAST Banks’s office didn’t resemble a government waiting room or an administrative annex, he thought. It had comfortable chairs around a low glass table and looked out over the market square, catching a little evening sunshine through its large sash windows, one of which was open a few inches. Banks had no idea what the couple’s story was—they had just appeared in reception around six o’clock saying they were the dead boy’s aunt and uncle from Huddersfield—but he had a feeling that the offices of foreign authority figures probably had bad memories for them. Even with Annie present, just back from Le Coq d’Or, the room didn’t seem overcrowded.

They were in their late thirties, Banks guessed, and definitely of Middle Eastern origin. The uncle wore a brown suit, white shirt and loose tie, and his wife a western-style long dress that covered every inch of her except her head, over which she wore a simple green silk headscarf as a hijab, covering her head and framing her face and frightened brown eyes. She sat erect, knees together, clutching a brown faux-crocodile handbag on her lap. The uncle seemed more relaxed, legs crossed, leaning back in his chair a little. But his eyes also showed nervousness and had dark shadows under them. Banks knew it couldn’t have been easy for them to come to the police, and he wondered if that was what had delayed them.

“I am Aimar Hadeed,” said the man, “and this is my wife Ranim. I apologize, but we do not speak very fine English. Our language is Arabic.”

“We can get a translator if you like?” said Banks. “It may take a while to set up, but if it makes you more comfortable . . .”

“I think I can manage,” Aimar said. “It is my wife who does not speak so much.”

Banks smiled at Ranim Hadeed. She gave him a nervous smile in return. “As you can imagine,” Aimar went on, “we are both very upset.”

“Understandably,” Banks said. “Perhaps you can begin by telling me why it took you so long to come here?”