“We also know that Leka Gashi is most likely involved, taking over a number of county lines based in Leeds and supplying the outlying rural areas, including Eastvale. Remember him? Last time I talked to you, you said you’d never heard of him. But you’ve been seen with him, and we also happen to have found out that the two of you have known one another for about ten years, through your home on Corfu. He lived just over the bay, in Sarandë.”

“I know a lot of people in that area,” said Blaydon. “Nothing wrong with that. I’ve been a resident there on and off for almost twenty years.”

“But Gashi is Albanian Mafia, and we think you’ve been helping him set up his operations locally.”

“Me? Seriously?”

Banks nodded. “Seriously. A favor here, a favor there.”

“But why would I need to resort to criminal activity when I’m making a bloody fortune legally?”

“I’d say, for a start, you rather fancy yourself in with the big bad boys, but perhaps even more important than that, your business isn’t doing too well these days. You’re not making a fortune. The property development business in general is in a depression. Shopping centers are closing down, and there’s a slump in the housing market. All of which means you have a lot of real estate and a lot of debts, but no obvious way of improving your profits or your cash flow in the immediate future. Things could only get worse, of course, the political situation being what it is.”

“Interesting economic analysis,” said Blaydon. “Completely wrong, but interesting.”

“So your business is doing fine?”

“I’ve diversified enough to compensate for a bumpy ride in the property markets,” he said. “And the Elmet Centre will be built, and it will be a great success. Multiplex cinema, restaurants, high-end stores and boutiques, the lot. It’s what Eastvale has been wanting for a long time. Not only that, it’ll be a destination for people from more depressed areas further north—Darlington, Middlesbrough, Stockton, Chester-le-Street. Because you know as well as I do that no matter how depressed an urban area is, most of the people still have a car and a steady supply of booze, fags and fish and chips. And they like to have fun.”

“That’s a pretty cynical view of the northeast,” said Banks.

“But true, nonetheless.”

“When you were at Le Coq d’Or on the Sunday evening Samir was murdered, you received a call on your mobile at about ten o’clock. Who was it from?”

“I don’t remember any phone call.”

“Think back. You went outside to take it.”

“Oh, yes,” said Blaydon. “Now I remember. That would have been Oliver. My son.”

“What did Oliver have to say?”

“I honestly don’t remember. It wasn’t anything important, anyway. Just some minor business matter. Why?”

“And for that you needed to go outside?”