by PAUL BENNETT
At the first hotel I came to I walked up to reception and gave my spiel – I had seen a man driving a red Lamborghini and had noticed him drop the wallet. Show bulging wallet for verification. Did they have anyone here who would fit the bill? If not I gave them my mobile number and asked them to phone me if someone in a red Lamborghini turned up. I would then come and hand over the wallet in person as a pleasant surprise for the owner. I emphasized that there was a lot of money and there might be a reward which I was willing to split with the receptionist. That did the trick. It was then a simple case of moving to the next high-class hotel and repeating the story.
The call came through around six o’clock. It was Bull. The wallet story had borne fruit at a classy hotel in Maastricht. I told him I’d meet him there in around an hour and that he should stop Carlo from leaving until I got there. Let down his tyres, take Natasha as a hostage, anything so that he wouldn’t slip through our net. You’re six foot six with muscles like Samson, he’s not going to argue and, sure as hell, he’s not going to phone the police. I called the others and told them to meet me there as soon as they could. Then I set off, feeling elated – no, make that smug.
When I got there Bull opened the door to the room. It was a good size for a modern bedroom. In addition to the bed there were two armchairs and a table and two chairs for dining. All the fabrics were in a pastel pink to complement the darker pink walls. The bed was huge – queen size, or whatever the brochures like to call them. It looked like the interior designer had been asked to recreate a brothel and hadn’t quite got it right. Carlo and Natasha were sitting on the bed looking frightened. There were suitcases opened and clothes scattered around. Carlo stared at me and his face brightened. He came across to me and pumped my hand. ‘Gianni,’ he said. ‘I knew you’d come. I prayed you’d come.’
‘Receptionist couldn’t keep her mouth shut,’ Bull said. ‘I just got here in time. They were packing to leave.’
‘We thought they’d found us,’ Carlo said.
‘It wasn’t difficult,’ I said. ‘You really do need to learn to be anonymous, part of the crowd, if you’re hoping to disappear. Why didn’t you ditch the Lamborghini?’
‘It’s a great car,’ he said. ‘Once driven, it spoils you for anything else.’
I sighed. He’d never learn to be practical or not to follow his impulses.
There was a knock on the door. I opened it and Pieter stood there.
‘This room’s not going to be big enough,’ I said to him. ‘Can you see if they’ve got a conference room free – sufficiently large for eight people? And book us all some rooms for the night, please.’
Pieter nodded and left.
I took my first real look at the two of them. Natasha was wearing a simple shift dress in dark blue which did nothing to flatter her, but she didn’t need that. She had, I presumed because of the preponderance of blondes at El Dorado, dyed her hair chestnut in some attempt to confound their searchers. She was undeniably pretty – good bone structure, pert nose, clear blue eyes – with a slender figure and long legs. I could see the attraction.
Carlo was wearing a pair of designer blue jeans with a shiny rivet decoration on the pockets and a white T-shirt that had Armani emblazoned on it in large letters, just in case someone might miss it. He had put on weight, his slim frame now run to a layer of fat that bulged around the middle and gave him a double chin. His hair was thinner too. Time had not been kind to him, or maybe he just hadn’t been kind to himself. He still had that Italian charm though – black hair, dark complexion, mischievous and flirtatious glint in his eyes.
The phone rang. Bull answered it, listened for a moment and turned to me. ‘Room C, ground floor.’
We trooped down: I stuck close to Carlo, Bull to Natasha.
The room was more sympathetically decorated than the bedroom upstairs. It was functional, bordering on the utilitarian – a rectangular table laid for twelve people with pads and pens. A long sideboard currently being set up as a bar while Pieter looked on impatiently. It might not have been a good move to have him make the arrangements. But it had been a long couple of days and we deserved some reward for our effort.
Carlo made to speak, but I silenced him.
‘Don’t say anything until the others arrive.’
‘Others?’
‘We come cheaper by the bunch,’ I said. ‘In the meantime help yourselves to a drink.’
Red arrived next. He asked no questions, just walked over to the drinks. He saw that Scout wasn’t drinking. ‘What will you have?’ he said to her.
‘Mineral water, still, please.’
He picked up a bottle, poured a glass, added some ice and took it over to her. She took a sip.
‘This is sparkling,’ she said.
‘Sorry,’ Red said. ‘I’ll get you another.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Scout said. ‘I’m only drinking so I won’t be the odd one out. Maybe later I’ll have something stronger.’
Stan was the last to arrive. He looked as meticulous as ever – Stan was our detail man. He had on sand-coloured trousers with a sharp crease, khaki shirt and dark-blue tie and a sports jacket in a colour that matched the tie. He was clean shaven as ever – even in the field he seemed to be able to find time for a shave and shower.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said in that humourless tone common to Eastern Europeans. ‘I left the car the other side of the border and had to get a taxi here.’
‘What sort of car did you get?’ Red asked.
‘Some sort of people carrier.’
‘A people carrier?’ Red wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘Why the hell did you get a people carrier?’
Stan shrugged. ‘I assumed you’d be driving, so I went for the one with the most airbags.’
Red chuckled. ‘You make fun of Comanche brave?’ he said, lowering his voice an octave. ‘Heap big politically incorrect. We Comanches more used to riding bareback than driving car.’
‘Probably safer,’ Stan said.
I made the introductions while everybody poured drinks and then settled in their seats. Carlo and Natasha sat at one end, I was at the other and the rest spread themselves around.
‘OK, Carlo,’ I said, ‘start at the beginning and tell us what this is all about.’
He thought for a while, swirled the ice round in his glass, sipped his drink, thought a bit more, took a deep breath while fingers were tapping impatiently on the table and eventually said, ‘It started around five years ago. You know that Dad was the subject of a Russian mafia hit?’ I nodded. ‘Well, they didn’t give up. Laid low for a while and then tried again. They came to the apartment – boss man called Garanov and two heavies. They had guns – big ones like you see in the movies. They sat me down with a heavy on each side and put forward their proposition. Either I helped them launder money or they killed me there and then. What could I do, Gianni?’
‘String them along and go to the police?’
‘They said that they had the police in their pocket. It would only make matters worse for me. Although what could be worse than getting killed I don’t know.’
‘A flat iron on your back,’ said Pieter.
‘Being hamstrung first,’ said Bull.
‘Being beaten on the balls with a big stick,’ said Red. ‘Pardon my French, ma’am,’ he said for Scout’s benefit – offending Natasha’s sensibilities didn’t seem to bother him. Must have reckoned she’d be used to it. ‘We’ve been there, Carlo, but they still didn’t get what they wanted.’
‘Maybe I’m not as courageous as you. Never had the experience.’
‘So you agreed to their terms?’ I said, to move the conversation back on track.
‘I did better than that,’ Carlo said. ‘If the bank was going to be involved in money laundering, I thought it should get some benefit from it. So, I said I’d help if Silvers took a share in their holding company and, therefore, a share in their profits.’ Carlo looked at me and read the message in my eyes. ‘Hell,’ he said,
‘if I didn’t do it, someone else would.’
I put my head in my hands and looked across at him disbelievingly. ‘Can’t you see what you’ve done? You made yourself fully complicit to their illegal acts. If caught, you would have had the defence of being pressurized into laundering their money, but now you’re as guilty as they are.’
‘But I’m not involved in how they make their money; all I do is wash it through the system.’
‘How they make their money is the problem. It comes from drugs, prostitution, people-trafficking, God knows what else. You’re tacitly going along with what they do and all the suffering it causes. How could you be so stupid?’
‘It’s not stupid. Silvers get their share of the profits. I bet Alfredo or Roberto would see the sense in it. You’ve been out of the business for too long. You need to adjust your values to the real world.’
‘Shall I slap him till he sees sense?’ said Bull.
‘No. It would take too long.’ I paused to try to cool down a bit. ‘So we’re talking Almas here, I take it?’
‘Wow, you’ve really been doing your homework. You figured out the Almas thing?’
‘Let’s just say we had a run in with them.’
‘They – well it’s all down to Garanov really – started off small with some diamond trading, then acquired the casino, then the hospital – what a brainwave that was, big profit earner – until it had a whole raft of companies.’
‘I take it the diamond trading was legal – all declared for the tax authorities and the police?’
‘Yes,’ Carlo said. ‘Well, some of it, I imagine.’
‘So we have the position that Silvers is now up to its neck in drugs, prostitution, diamond smuggling, people-trafficking too and whatever else we haven’t uncovered as yet.’
‘You could put it that way, yes.’
I wondered what other way there was to put it.
‘OK. So Almas is flourishing and you are making huge profits for the bank – that is why you have been so successful over the past few years?’ I didn’t wait for the inevitable confirmation. ‘What changed?’
‘I met Natasha,’ he said. ‘Fell in love.’ He took hold of Natasha’s hand and squeezed it. ‘We wanted to get married. But Garanov wouldn’t allow it. Said he had big plans for her.’
Natasha spoke for the first time. Her English and her accent were not as good as Anna’s. Probably added to the exotic charm as far as Carlo was concerned. ‘I should allow to leave the casino soon. I do my time. Other girls go, but not me. I no understand why.’
‘I offered to pay for Natasha’s release—’
‘Pay with what? You were broke. Spent it all on gambling and golden chips.’
‘I thought I could take a sort of unofficial advance on my bonus.’
‘Take being the operative word. And a bonus built almost entirely on criminal acts.’
‘Anyway,’ he said, ignoring the implications of his actions, ‘Garanov wouldn’t have it. Said it wouldn’t do Silvers – and therefore Alma’s – reputation any good if people heard about me marrying a prostitute. He told me to drop the idea. Enjoy her while I could, that there were plenty of others like Natasha. Why get married when you could have your pick?’
‘So you decided to jump ship?’
‘Not at that stage, no. I still thought I might be able to win Garanov over. Maybe if I offered that Silvers would take a bigger stake in Almas – provide money for more takeovers. But Garanov was unmovable. Then came the final straw.’
Natasha chipped in again at this stage. ‘I send money home each month from my earnings. To help the family. I had letter two weeks ago to say that my little sister Irina was going to follow me. She had already spoken to the men who arrange for the people to come here. I could not let that happen.’
‘Irina is only sixteen,’ Carlo said. ‘Show them the photo,’ he said to Natasha. She dug around in her handbag and passed a picture to me. It showed a younger version of Natasha with all her attributes, but with a fresh-faced youthful appearance. I put the picture in my pocket for later reference.
‘You can see,’ Carlo said, ‘that’s she’s too young for that sort of life. We couldn’t let it happen. We thought we’d go to the holding camp and buy Irina from the men.’
‘And all live happily ever after,’ I said.
‘It was a good plan,’ he said defensively. ‘We just had a few problems to sort out, that’s all.’
‘Like getting hold of the money and a passport. How the hell did you expect to get a false passport? You don’t have any contacts, I presume?’
‘I reckoned that if I stole enough money I could let it be known that I was in the market for a false passport and would pay over the odds for one.’
‘More likely to get mugged,’ said Red.
‘I see what you mean about knocking sense into him,’ Stan said. ‘This man does not know the Russians. You do what they want or else. To double-cross them is to sign your own death warrant.’
‘Is it the same Russians?’ Pieter asked.
‘Sounds like it,’ I said. ‘Bull couldn’t be totally sure when we met him, but I reckon the diamond trading seals it. You know what I reckon? This Garanov is the same man as Angola and he started his business off with the diamonds he accused us of stealing. He must have been some sort of underling at that stage – didn’t have the funds to be running his own show. Told his boss that we were to blame, got himself off the hook and made a pile in the process.’
‘We have a score to settle,’ said Bull.
Pieter, Red and Stan all nodded.
‘OK, Carlo. We’re up to the stage where you steal the bearer bonds. What then?’
‘We took off for the border and prepared to wait until someone took the bait on the false passport. And then this PI turns up. Your father,’ he said, turning to Scout. ‘He’d traced us the same way as you – through the Lamborghini.’
I shook my head in disbelief again. Found once, but he didn’t change his plan. Just hire a car, that was all he had to do!
‘I bought him off with one of the bearer bonds – would set him up for life, he’d said.’
‘Must have thought stealing from a thief was fair game,’ Scout said. ‘Don’t blame him. Wouldn’t have troubled my conscience much, either.’
There was a general nod of agreement from around the table. It didn’t surprise me – Carlo’s stupidity made it difficult to side with him.
‘Where do we go from here?’ Scout said.
They all looked at me. I got up from the table to give myself time to think. Walked over to the bar. Filled my glass with ice and splashed in some vodka. Took a large pull.
‘Well,’ I said, still playing for time, ‘we could take Carlo back to Amsterdam and get him to hand over what’s left of the bearer bonds. But then he’s back in the arms of Almas. That doesn’t seem to get us anywhere. On the other hand if we help Carlo pull off his plan, we start to sever the link with Almas.’
‘I don’t know about anybody else,’ said Bull, ‘but I don’t like the idea of a sixteen-year-old kid being sold as a sex slave.’
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Then the only thing to do is to go to this holding camp and get her out.’
‘We’ve got the machinery,’ Stan said.
‘The least we could do,’ said Red, ‘is make a reconnaissance of the place and come up with a plan from there.’
‘If we do this,’ I said to Carlo, ‘will you hand back the bulk of the money and disappear for good?’
‘Of course,’ said Carlo. ‘As long as you leave us with enough to start a new life.’
‘It depends what you mean by enough.’
‘Say two million,’ he said.
‘Say half a million,’ I countered. ‘Economize for a change. It’ll do you good to come somewhere close to reality.’ I downed the rest of the vodka in my glass. ‘We start tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Pieter, get rid of the damn car. Red, take one of the hire cars and go with him. Then it’s two-hour shifts ou
tside Carlo’s room tonight. Bull, can you organize that?’
‘Consider it done. I’ll take first shift.’
‘There’s no need,’ Carlo said.
‘There’s every need,’ I said. ‘I’m not having you run for cover with the rest of the money. From now on you do what I say. Understand?’
‘Sure, Gianni,’ he said. ‘You can trust me.’
But only as long as it suited him, I thought.
‘Whereabouts is this holding camp?’ I asked.
‘In the Black Forest,’ Natasha said. ‘Near to a place called Freiberg. You can’t miss it – it’s surrounded by high fences.’
‘Scout,’ I said, ‘I’m going to need you to take Natasha back to Amsterdam. She doesn’t have a passport so she can’t come with us. It will be safer too.’ It also guaranteed that Carlo couldn’t make a run for it without abandoning his loved one. ‘Stay at the hotel and keep a low profile. It will give you the chance to keep a watch on your father.’ I glanced round the table. ‘OK, everyone. Till tomorrow then.’
We started to get up from our chairs and go to our rooms. Pieter held back.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘it feels kind of good to be back in action again. It’s like I’ve just been marking time for the last few years. When we stand together, who can stand against us?’
Almas for one. And a pretty formidable enemy we would be taking on. Hell, if life was easy we wouldn’t value it so much.
21
It would be a long drive. We would need to follow the whole of the western border of Germany to the extreme south-west where the Black Forest dwelt under the mountains. Our journey would be speeded by the autobahns and would take us past Cologne and Bonn from where we would follow the Rhine to Heidelberg and then due south to Freiberg. I reckoned the 250-mile trip would take around four hours with stops, or three hours if Red was driving. Strangely, no one volunteered to travel with him.