about your movements on Saturday.”
“So what’s happened? Why are you picking on me?”
“I understand there was an altercation in The Jubilee?”
“Altercation?”
“Yes. A disagreement.”
“I know what it means. I’m not just some ignorant wog just got off the boat, you know. I’m trying to remember. Do you mean that stupid pillock who bumped into me and called me a Paki bastard?”
“That’s right.”
“So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what’? You’re telling me you just let it go at that? You? With all your martial-arts training?”
George puffed up his chest. “Well, I was all for doing the pair of them over, but Asim and Kobir didn’t want any trouble.”
“So you just let it go by, a racial slur like that?”
“When you look like I do, you get used to it.”
“But you were angry?”
George leaned forward and rested his palms on his knees. “Of course I were bloody angry. Every time you hear something like that said about you, you just get filled with anger and indignation. You feel dehumanized.” He shrugged. “It’s not something you’d understand.”
“Because I’m white?”
George slumped back in his chair. “You said it.”
“But you listened to your friends this time?”
“Yes. Besides, we were in a crowded pub. Just about everyone else in the place was white, apart from a couple of Rastas selling drugs. And the last thing those bastards would do was come to our aid if anything happened. They’d probably join in with the whiteys.”
“What made you think they were selling drugs?”
“That’s what they do, isn’t it?”
Talk about racism, Banks thought. He moved on. “Did you know the lad who insulted you?”
“I’ve seen him around once or twice. Arrogant-looking pillock, always looked down his nose at me. Lives on the Leaview Estate, I think. Why? You going to arrest him for racism?”
“Not exactly,” said Banks. “He’s dead.”
George’s jaw dropped. “He’s wha … ?”
“He’s dead, Mohammed. His name was Jason Fox. Someone unknown, or several someones unknown, kicked seven shades of shit out of him in the Carlaw Place ginnel sometime after eleven o’clock last night.”
“Well it wasn’t me.”
“Are you sure? Are you sure you weren’t so upset by what Jason called you that you and your friends waited in the ginnel? You just admitted you knew Jason lived on the Leaview Estate, so it would be a pretty good guess that he’d take the same short cut home as you, wouldn’t it? You waited there, the three of you, and when Jason came along, you gave him what for. I’m not saying you intended to kill him, just teach him a lesson. But he is dead, George, and there’s no remedy for that.”
George looked so stunned he didn’t even bother correcting Banks over his name. “I’m not saying owt more,” he said. “I want a solicitor. This is a fit-up.”
“Come on, George. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Like hell it doesn’t. If you’re accusing me and my mates of killing someone, then you’d better arrest us. And get us a lawyer. And I told you, my name’s Mohammed, not George.”
“Look, Mohammed, if I do what you’re asking, I’ll have to take you down to the station. And your mates.”
George stood up. “Do it then. I’m not afraid. If you think I’m a killer you’d be taking me anyway, wouldn’t you?”
Oh, bloody hell, Banks thought. He didn’t want to do this, but the silly bugger had left him no choice. He stood up. “Come on, then,” he said. “And we’d better take the shoes and clothes you wore last night along with us too.”
THREE
I
The crosswinds on the A1 just south of Aberford almost blew Banks off the road. He felt relieved at last when he was able to edge out from between the two juggernauts that had him sandwiched and exit onto Wakefield Road.
It was another of those changeable days, with gale-force winds blowing a series of storms from the west. Between the bouts of rain,
“So what’s happened? Why are you picking on me?”
“I understand there was an altercation in The Jubilee?”
“Altercation?”
“Yes. A disagreement.”
“I know what it means. I’m not just some ignorant wog just got off the boat, you know. I’m trying to remember. Do you mean that stupid pillock who bumped into me and called me a Paki bastard?”
“That’s right.”
“So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what’? You’re telling me you just let it go at that? You? With all your martial-arts training?”
George puffed up his chest. “Well, I was all for doing the pair of them over, but Asim and Kobir didn’t want any trouble.”
“So you just let it go by, a racial slur like that?”
“When you look like I do, you get used to it.”
“But you were angry?”
George leaned forward and rested his palms on his knees. “Of course I were bloody angry. Every time you hear something like that said about you, you just get filled with anger and indignation. You feel dehumanized.” He shrugged. “It’s not something you’d understand.”
“Because I’m white?”
George slumped back in his chair. “You said it.”
“But you listened to your friends this time?”
“Yes. Besides, we were in a crowded pub. Just about everyone else in the place was white, apart from a couple of Rastas selling drugs. And the last thing those bastards would do was come to our aid if anything happened. They’d probably join in with the whiteys.”
“What made you think they were selling drugs?”
“That’s what they do, isn’t it?”
Talk about racism, Banks thought. He moved on. “Did you know the lad who insulted you?”
“I’ve seen him around once or twice. Arrogant-looking pillock, always looked down his nose at me. Lives on the Leaview Estate, I think. Why? You going to arrest him for racism?”
“Not exactly,” said Banks. “He’s dead.”
George’s jaw dropped. “He’s wha … ?”
“He’s dead, Mohammed. His name was Jason Fox. Someone unknown, or several someones unknown, kicked seven shades of shit out of him in the Carlaw Place ginnel sometime after eleven o’clock last night.”
“Well it wasn’t me.”
“Are you sure? Are you sure you weren’t so upset by what Jason called you that you and your friends waited in the ginnel? You just admitted you knew Jason lived on the Leaview Estate, so it would be a pretty good guess that he’d take the same short cut home as you, wouldn’t it? You waited there, the three of you, and when Jason came along, you gave him what for. I’m not saying you intended to kill him, just teach him a lesson. But he is dead, George, and there’s no remedy for that.”
George looked so stunned he didn’t even bother correcting Banks over his name. “I’m not saying owt more,” he said. “I want a solicitor. This is a fit-up.”
“Come on, George. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Like hell it doesn’t. If you’re accusing me and my mates of killing someone, then you’d better arrest us. And get us a lawyer. And I told you, my name’s Mohammed, not George.”
“Look, Mohammed, if I do what you’re asking, I’ll have to take you down to the station. And your mates.”
George stood up. “Do it then. I’m not afraid. If you think I’m a killer you’d be taking me anyway, wouldn’t you?”
Oh, bloody hell, Banks thought. He didn’t want to do this, but the silly bugger had left him no choice. He stood up. “Come on, then,” he said. “And we’d better take the shoes and clothes you wore last night along with us too.”
THREE
I
The crosswinds on the A1 just south of Aberford almost blew Banks off the road. He felt relieved at last when he was able to edge out from between the two juggernauts that had him sandwiched and exit onto Wakefield Road.
It was another of those changeable days, with gale-force winds blowing a series of storms from the west. Between the bouts of rain,
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