“The Farmer had his dirty little fingers in all kinds of pies,” Banks went on. “I should know. I was the one who put him away. I was just wondering where your interests coincided.”

“I’ve had about enough of this,” said Blaydon, pushing his chair back from the desk.

Banks sipped some coffee. It was rich and strong. “Just a few more questions, sir, then we’ll get out of your hair.”

Blaydon stayed put. “Well, hurry up about it, then.” He glanced at his watch. A Rolex, Banks noticed. “Five more minutes and I’m calling my solicitor.”

“Of course. What do you know about pop-up brothels?”

Blaydon laughed. “About what?”

“Pop-up brothels. I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“I’m sorry,” said Blaydon. “I just had this image of opening a book and having a cartoon tenement building pop up with ladies of the night in garter belts and frilly underwear waving from the windows.”

“Own many tenements, do you?” Annie asked.

“Oh, come on. It was a joke. Anyway, what’s a pop-up brothel?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” said Banks. “It’s a brothel that pops up in a vacant house or building for a limited period of time. The people who operate them use online escort agencies and social media to get the word out to those in the know. They can be quite sophisticated.”

“Well, I never. It takes all sorts.”

“I think you’ll agree,” Annie said, “that a man in your business is in a pretty good position to profit from something like that. All those empty properties just sitting there.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting that I—”

“Stop playing games,” said Banks. “Ever heard of a man called Leka Gashi?”

“I can’t say as I have.”

“He’s a nasty piece of work. An Albanian gangster known to be involved in the drug trade.”

“What makes you think I would know someone like that?”

“It’s our business to know these things,” said Banks.

“Have you been watching me?”

“What about that apartment building in Scarborough?”

“What building?”

“Seaview Court, or whatever it was called.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that Seaview Court is a pop-up brothel?”

“Was,” said Banks.

“Do you have any proof of that?”

“You know quite well that we don’t. Someone must have tipped you off.”

Blaydon spread his hands. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t micromanage every property on my books. There are far too many for that. Are we finished here?”

Banks glanced at Annie and they both stood up. Before they left, Banks leaned forward and rested his palms on Blaydon’s desk. “One thing you might bear in mind,” he said, “is that pop-up brothels quite often involve girls trafficked from Eastern Europe and elsewhere, mostly against their will. They also bring you into contact with people like Gashi, who can be very dangerous and unpredictable when the chips are down. Their warnings if you step out of line tend to be very swift and very final.”