Recoil (43 page)

‘What for?’

He stepped over Standish to lean against the sofa with me. Crucial was pulling the covers off a couple of red and gold cushions.

‘I could ask you the same. Remember what Standish said? Man is the problem. No man, no problem . . .’

He watched Crucial ease the covers over Stefan’s and Standish’s faces to soak up the blood on the move, then grab Stefan by the arms and drag him towards the door.

‘Seems we all had the same idea.’

‘Nope – mine was even better.’

Sam threw Crucial the keys.

I held out a hand. ‘Wait.’ I turned to the dividing doors. ‘Giuseppe! Get the fuck in here!’

He stepped into the room, shoulders drooped, head down. He looked up at me like a schoolboy caught smoking behind the bike sheds.

‘Sit down!’

He tiptoed round the bodies. He was scared but in control. His eyes bounced between the two new faces.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Nick . . . The blond man –’ Giuseppe pointed with a shaking hand ‘– he overheard me talking to you. He made me say that no one was here apart from Mr Stefan.’ His head dropped. ‘I didn’t know they wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry.’

It was several moments before he ran his fingers through his hair to compose himself a bit and looked up at me with large wet eyes. Maybe he thought he was next in line for some double-tap therapy.

‘These two run the church I told you about. They look after the kids.’

I crouched down and gazed directly into his eyes. ‘You know you must never tell anybody this, don’t you? I’m going to have to warn you, mate. Don’t make us come back here for you. Those boys won’t fuck about, do you understand?’

He was more concerned about the two bodies on the floor. ‘Mr Nick – remember what I told you? I’ll be leaving soon. I think it will be a good time now, no? Maybe I can help you. I’ll say Mr Stefan left for China and will be away for a long time.’

I stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Tell you what, mate, maybe you can do better than that.’

I walked over to Stefan, pulled his wallet and mobile out of his pocket. ‘You know who he deals with at the bank?’

‘Mr Nick, I know everything. Mr Massimo. He always deals with Mr Massimo Spenza.’

I scrolled through Stefan’s address book and found him. ‘OK, here’s the deal.’ I made sure the other two were listening. ‘Stefan stays here. Crucial, you take shit-head out and get him tucked away into his car. Sam, get your account details for a bank transfer on a bit of paper.’

I turned to Giuseppe and smiled. ‘How about you helping Mr Stefan make a big contribution to those kids over there in Africa, eh? And maybe you can take a few dollars back with you to Lazio . . .’

His face crinkled into the cartoon-papa smile.

Crucial disappeared with Standish over his shoulder and I briefed Giuseppe on what to say to Massimo.

Sam had written the details on a torn-off corner of a DRC map.

I frowned at Giuseppe. ‘One minute. It’s Sunday today, isn’t it?’

Giuseppe was back to his old form. ‘For people like Mr Stefan, the bank is always open. I have listened to him move money from one country to another at midnight from this very sofa. It’s no problem.’

I held Stefan’s limp index finger in one hand and the black card in the other. I looked at Giuseppe. ‘You sure you’re ready, mate?’

His smile faded as he composed himself and hit the dial button.

‘Hello, Massimo – how are you?’ The deep German-cum-slight-Middle-Eastern accent was uncanny. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ll be leaving for China this evening and I want to transfer some cash to South Africa before I leave.’ Giuseppe listened and even winked at me before answering. ‘No, a different account this time. I want you to move exactly five million USD. Do you want the details now or the authentication?’

Giuseppe nodded towards Stefan’s hand. ‘But of course. Are you ready?’

I swiped Stefan’s forefinger down the identifier. The LCD display lit up automatically and the matrix of six numbers began to tumble. One by one they stopped to display a code. Massimo would be doing the same at his end, wherever that might be. As soon as it stopped, I held the display up to his face. Giuseppe read it out: ‘I have seven-three-eight-nine-one-three.’

He leaned over to Sam for the sheet of paper. He read the details, ending with a ‘By tomorrow midday, as usual? Thank you, Massimo.’ There was a pause. ‘No, I think it’ll be a long trip. Possibly a month, six weeks if the deal is successful. Thank you. Goodbye.’

Giuseppe sat back slowly on the sofa and turned off the mobile. He rested it in his hands on his lap, shocked at what he’d got away with. We all were. Sam had even stopped chewing the bank details.

Crucial came back in. ‘Well, what’s happening?’

I took the phone and checked it was off. ‘You’ve just got a big contribution to the church.’

Giuseppe might still be in shock, but we weren’t. I slapped his leg. ‘Well done, mate.’

Sam turned to Crucial. ‘He’s just moved five million US!’

Crucial bent down and gripped Stefan by his legs. ‘It’s no good to us if we don’t clean up our mess, man.’

Sam grabbed the other end and they started to drag Stefan to the car.

6

I gave Giuseppe a shake. ‘Get us some details so we can transfer some money to you, OK?’

Stefan’s cushion-covered head lolled against Sam’s arms as Crucial walked backwards with his feet.

‘Make it fast, Nick. We’ve got to get out of here.’

I shook Giuseppe’s leg. ‘Listen, mate, get with it.’

His face crinkled into a papa smile. ‘My sister. I send her money every month.’

‘Come on, then.’ I dragged him up. ‘Let’s send her some more.’

We walked along the marble corridor.

‘I’m going to sort everything out for you, Mr Nick.’ Giuseppe was getting with the programme. ‘I’ll destroy Mr Stefan’s passport, clean everything up, make it look like he’s left on a trip. Then I’ll play stupid. In a week’s time, I’ll leave my resignation note and go.’

We were at the staircase down to the kitchen. ‘Mr Nick, I have a confession to make.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’ve always known about these poor people in Africa, and the way Mr Stefan let them be treated. I used to listen to him talking to the Chinese. They all said it didn’t matter how many people died, so long as the ore was coming out of the ground . . .’

I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it, mate. We’ve all got to make a living.’

We reached the basement and I picked up my holdall.

Giuseppe opened a drawer and pulled out a large brown Jiffy-bag. He grinned from ear to ear. ‘Your mail, Mr Nick. I only opened them in case they were important.’

I took the Jiffy and jammed it under my arm. A little light reading for later, maybe. ‘As soon as we get the money, Giuseppe, so do you. And don’t lose any sleep about the police. It’s a Swiss account. Private and numbered. No way will Massimo or anyone else ever give out details.’

He handed it to me and I turned to leave. There was no point giving it the big goodbye. We were off. We had other things to do.

‘Mr Nick, wait – your gift.’ He hurried back to the huge stainless-steel fridge and returned with a cheese-and-pickle ciabatta in a plastic bag. He handed it over with both hands, like he was presenting a medal. ‘If you ever see Miss Silke, please say hello from me.’

7

We drove towards the town in Standish’s blue saloon. Crucial was at the wheel, Sam beside him.

We passed a parked-up red Punto. Crucial pointed. ‘Our hire car. We’ll need to pick it up as soon as we sort this shit out. I don’t want a ticket.’ He thought that was very funny.

Sam turned and leaned back to face me. ‘Everything squared away with Giuseppe?’

‘Yep.’ I ripped open the Jiffy-bag.

‘What’s the score now? It’s your neighbourhood.’

‘We’ll wait until it’s dark enough to dump the shit-heads in the lake. I’m sure they’ll find a few Mafia boys at the bottom to make friends with. We burn the car out – no DNA – then take yours back to Zürich and I say goodbye.’

‘You sure you don’t want to come with us?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then have some of this cash. You’ll need something to set you up.’

I sat back and laughed as I ripped open the Jiffy-bag. ‘What the fuck do you think I was doing this for? Just to fund you two dickheads?’

Crucial laughed away and I could see
The Little and Large Show
twinkling in the rear-view mirror.

‘I reckon five hundred apiece for me and Giuseppe, and two mill each for you and Mercy Flight. How’s that sound?’

We drove along the palm-shaded Riva Albertolli. Everything felt all right. It felt complete, sorted out.

But there was still a question Sam wanted an answer to as much as I did. ‘Come on, then, what’s in that envelope?’

I pulled out several sheets of paper. I had a quick leaf through and almost fell into the footwell.

The first three were speeding tickets from the London cameras.

The fourth was a fine for not paying the congestion charge.

And the rest were parking tickets I’d been getting every day for the fucking moped at Lugano station.

I threw them on to the seat next to the cheese and Branston and started to laugh.