by John Gubert
I discreetly moved back slipping the gun again into my trouser band. Nobody had seen that it had not been my fists. The suit was now speckled with blood. The shirt and the tie were spattered with it. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care,” I said coldly. “But if you ever use that language in front of any lady in my presence, you will find it even more painful.”
Nobody had heard what he had said to Jacqui. I doubted anyone had noticed the envelope. It had fallen to the ground in the altercation and Jacqui had picked it up during the fight. She was holding it now. I called over the manager. “Get rid of this man. I am amazed you allow such people into your hotel. I will not have people asking such questions. Even as a jest, I do not think it amusing for him to act as if he thinks a guest of your hotel is a whore.”
My voice carried. The manager called over the porters and the man was ejected promptly. I knew he came from Di Maglio and wondered what the connection was. Of one thing I was certain. Di Maglio would have sent him to stir up trouble between Jacqui and me. He obviously had some connection with Jacqui’s past.
In our room, she turned to me and said, “Let me explain. He is one of my father’s people. His name is Marco. He runs the brothels. I guess he is the biggest pimp in town. My father saw him as a suitor for me. He has been chasing me for years. We have been together in a few groups but never alone. I despise him, yet he never gives up. This time though he went too far. He offered me a job when we had finished. Oh Charles, they all think we are going to break up. They are pushing for it.”
I sat down on the sofa and pulled her gently down beside me. “Jacqui, there is one big difference between you and me. You never had a family from a very early age. They all let you down. Your mother, your father and your aunt let you down. And I guess a few others we haven’t discussed. You don’t believe that I won’t too. It’s natural. I promise you I’ll stay with you. You’ve got to believe me or they will win.”
She nodded and smiled, this time without that sad look in her eyes. “You’re right. I believe you. But the sooner we get away from them, the better I will feel.”
“Jacqui, tomorrow we can clear up the laundry. Let’s not say anything to the hotel. I’ll book us on the last flight to Paris and London. And then we can get to Rio. We’ll go a round about route to Rio. We can easily lose them on the way. And then we’ll have six months in peace and quiet. Whatever happens we will not return to France for six months now.”
I took her in my arms and gently said, “We’ll be happy.”
She said, “Have you booked the restaurant?”
I shook my head; “We are going to have to work if we are leaving tomorrow. We’ll work off the mobile. I don’t want the calls traced.”
My first call was to Air France and saw us on the late afternoon flight to Paris. My next was to British Airways and saw us on the last flight from Roissy to Heathrow. The third was to the Ritz where I booked a double room for the following night, and arranged for a hotel chauffeur to meet us from our flight.
Those were the simple ones. My next was to M Pierre of Fucquet. It was late, so I called him at home. His wife answered and he came quickly to the phone. “I see a sum of fifty million has been credited to your account. In addition my partners have agreed the trading facility as we discussed. The facility letter can be made available for signature at your convenience.”
I thought quickly. “Could you get it to your London office tomorrow?” Of course, that was possible and I told them to get the manager to the Ritz for seven in the morning so that I could sign the documents. I ran through the clauses that would be included. There was nothing that caused us a problem. Basically we would be able to use our hundred million dollars to finance a one to one and a half to two billion position in the markets. That is called buying on margin. In effect you put up a sum of money to cover the bank’s worst case estimate of what can happen to your investments. And they revise the sum each day according to what happens in the markets. Given our plans for such speculative investments the offer was not bad.
While I was on the phone, Jacqui had checked and double checked the gun permits. They were in order. She handed them to me and I placed them in the briefcase. I also put the notes I had written during my phone calls in with it.
She then handed me a newspaper cutting. It had been with the permits. It was an extract from a Geneva newspaper. The bodies of two men had been found in a hut in the mountains above Geneva. Both had been shot in the head. They had other gunshot wounds. Police believed they had been injured in a gangland shoot-out and then executed. Their identities were unknown, but documents found on them suggested they might be Russian. Police were pursuing their inquiries, but had found no leads so far.
I now knew at least that the police were not genuine. They had been Di Maglio’s people all the time. I felt little sympathy for the gunmen. I realised though the ruthlessness of the family I was now inevitably associated with. Then my heart dropped. A small cutting was attached from a local Geneva paper. A shop assistant had been killed in a hit and run road accident. It had happened the night of the gun attack in Geneva. The shop’s owner had said, “She was a beautiful girl. We are all devastated.” The shop was the one we had used.
Jacqui had turned to the phone meanwhile and ordered room service for an hour’s time. “I know what you think. It’s the way they are. That’s why we need to steer clear of them. It’s horrible, but doesn’t shock me any more. Look, I’ve left an hour till we eat. That will give you time to call your father,” she said. “After that we better pack some of our things and be ready for a quick getaway.”
“I don’t plan to tell the hotel until I am leaving,” I said. “That could stop people following us. We can leave everything ready to be packed. That should not take us long and then we walk straight out of here.”
I turned back to the phone and dialled my parents’ number in Rio. My mother answered and immediately asked how we were.
“Fine,” came back the response. “We’re at the Carlton in Cannes. How are you? Is dad on the line?”
“He’s just picked up the extension. We’re fine. He saw the surgeon today and they will operate tomorrow.”
“Is the line secure?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “I would know if the switchboard were listening in. And I only took the room today. We arrived without a reservation. There was no need to risk one off season.”
“Excellent,” I said. I had known that already as they had given me three possible numbers for hotels. If all three had failed, they would have phoned me with the number earlier. “Let me run you through what has happened.”
With that I updated them on everything since the last call. I heard them gasp as I ran through the incident in the bank. They did not interrupt until I had explained the arrangements with Ali and Fucquet.
“That is excellent,” said my father. “I am watching markets daily. We are in luck if we can act sooner rather than later. I am arranging for a nerve centre to be set up in California in our health club retreat. That’s quite normal there. Lots of rich overweight entrepreneurs go there. You can work out for six hours, sleep for ten and still have around seven or eight for trading. And we will focus on Asia. The Far East and London markets will be more important for us than those in the North American time zone. That makes it easier to organise. You did a good job on the bank. One point five billion is fine for a start. It will allow us to gain a track record and have credibility when we move in more of our seed money.” He meant that, as long as we made a killing first time round, the banks would expect investors to give us more money. And that cover story allowed us to move our stolen funds into our funds under management.
I then ran him through our plans. “I plan to leave here tomorrow night. We will be in London late evening. If I can take a Boston flight, I will put us on it. I haven’t yet booked, as I don’t want to leave a trail here. Just in case British Airways call and leave a message at the hotel. We’ll spend Wednesday and Thursday in
Boston and then fly in the afternoon to La Guardia. We’ll cross over to Kennedy and pick up a flight to Rio. So we will join you on Friday night. I’ll call you at any rate from Boston. We’ll drop the guns off in the Monte flat tomorrow. I daren’t dump them, as the police will have the numbers. That means we have to be careful with Ali but we won’t tell him we are not armed. I don’t think we are at too great a risk there.”
“What about Jacqui’s people?” asked my mother.
“The father wants to annoy us but not kill us. I think he’ll leave us alone now. There’s no need for us to contact him. We think he’s still in Geneva but it’s hard to tell. He has one number no matter where he is. Apparently that number is always manned and always available.”
“Call us all the same from London. I’d like to know that you’re all right. And be careful,” urged my father.
“I’d have called anyway to see how you got on at the doctors,” I said.
“You may have to wait a day as the operation will take place late afternoon. You’re forgetting time zones,” he commented. “If that’s all, put Jacqui on for a moment.”
Jacqui looked pleased that they wanted to talk to her. They chatted for a while and then she passed back the phone. As I discussed some details of the Asian situation again with my father, I noticed that Jacqui was humming happily to herself while sorting through the clothes. She was already getting ready to pack, folding things together on shelves and arranging her dresses and my suits.
After I had put the phone down to my parents, I called Carrie. Her husband answered and immediately put her on. She had been worried about my earlier call, and I apologised. “I had to call you because I knew you would know how to respond. The call had to appear realistic. I couldn’t call the talking clock. In any case in reality the arrangements are as they were before. There is no change although I suspect you guessed that.”
She asked me how I was doing myself, adding, “I doubt you have time for girlfriends. You seem too busy for anything but work.”
I laughed. “I am in love with this fantastic girl. You and she would get on well together. Like a house on fire. She’s with me all the time. So we are living through some strange experiences together.”
I noticed once again that Jacqui had overheard me and once again she seemed to be humming happily to herself. I was still talking to Carrie when dinner was delivered. I therefore told her I’d call her in a few days and hung up to her last quip of “Room service at this time. Is it love or self-preservation that is keeping you indoors? Enjoy yourself Charles. Hey if she’s American, I could call you Chuck.”
I was laughing as I put down the phone and turned my attention to the food.
“Is everything ready?” I asked.
“From my side, yes,” she answered. “The rest of the packing will take about ten minutes. I have stacked everything as it goes into the cases. So there will be no delays. I have a few things to finalise in the morning but that will take practically no time.”
“OK,” I said. “From my side, I think we should leave at eight. We need to drop round the police station and the flat. You haven’t been there but the complex is quite near the harbour. Then we get back here to meet Ali at one o’ clock. If we have time, I would like to stop off at the airport to pick up our tickets. It is hardly a moment from the motorway and gives us a bit of extra time in the afternoon. I don’t know how quickly we will complete the deal with the banks.”
She nodded. “So let’s set the alarm for six thirty and order breakfast for seven. I wish though we could find a gun for tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have to think if I know anywhere where we can get one in the Monte Carlo area. I feel safer armed. In the US there will be no problem getting one, especially with our Swiss permits.”
We got to bed early that evening. We made love. I caressed Jacqui with all the gentleness I could. She held me tightly, both while we made love and afterwards as we fell asleep together. It was as if we were finding a more peaceful existence. I hoped this was the case. The next months could be interesting and profitable. But they also gave us opportunity to be together and away from the risks of the Di Maglio family.
The next morning, we set off early. We called the inspector from the car and agreed on a nine o’ clock meeting. He sounded relaxed about it all. However, I knew better than to take his tone as proof that all would go well.
As we parked near the police station, we both felt nervous about going inside. After all our lifestyle in France over the past week could hardly be described as lawful. I had pointed out to Jacqui that we had committed two possible murders in the house. We had been involved at the minimum in reckless driving between St Tropez and Croix Valmer. We had been tied up in money laundering in Monte Carlo. We had been carrying guns without a licence. I operated under a false passport. And in Switzerland we were perhaps accomplices to two counts of murder.
In short we had clocked up a few years inside between us, should we be caught. And that did not allow for the fact that I was an accomplice in a major international fraud and had murdered a pilot in the Cayman Islands. In theory Jacqui could also be accused of blackmail.
With that sort of background, police stations are places you drive out of your way to avoid. Still we had no choice. We had both decided we should appear conservative. So Jacqui was wearing a plain black dress one of her designer scarves and medium heeled shoes. I was wearing a dark suit and sober tie. I had my briefcase, still slightly scuffed from my accident in Cannes. The good news was that the bruising in my face had almost disappeared. I also had no problems with the other injuries I had picked up that day.
The inspector received us immediately. He gave a cursory glance at the licences and sent them to be copied.
“That seems fine. We also agree with you that it is not in the interests of your safety to be identified. So we will advise that undercover agents of the police apprehended the gunmen. I doubt also that you will have to testify. The four Russians have confessed.”
That was the first time I had heard they were Russians. It tied neatly in with my cover story. But I could not understand how they had got to know about the money.
The inspector then said, “I heard that you had a problem in the Carlton last night. There was an argument with one of Mr. Di Maglio’s associates. He was not happy but refused to place charges. Is there anything you should tell me about your relationship with Mr. Di Maglio?”
Jacqui chipped in, “I am a bit estranged from my father. There’s been a family row. That’s why it’s important to look after ourselves. My family may not help.”
The inspector looked straight at her, “Is this a private family issue or are we talking of another family?”
Jacqui made to look perplexed, “Sorry, I don’t follow you.”
“Are we likely to have a bout of gang warfare?” he queried.
Jacqui looked even more puzzled, “How would I know. I’m not the sort of person who hangs around in gangs.”
He looked at her impatiently, “Well have it your way. But one step out of line and there will be trouble.”
I thought it time to intervene, “Inspector, if we could help we would. But I think you have misunderstood our relationship with Mr. Di Maglio. And I cannot understand the apparent connection you are making between him and crime. As far as I am aware, Mr. Di Maglio is a reputable businessman. Are you saying otherwise?”
The inspector shrugged his shoulders and moved to the door of the interview room. “We have your address here and will contact you if needed. Keep off my patch if possible. I don’t know what you do or are doing. But I’m a cop. And I know trouble when I see it.”
He walked out without another word. The discussion had hardly lasted a half-hour. We were both pleased to leave the station and breathe in the fresh air once again. I fed a few more coins into the meter and we walked to a cab rank a bit further along the street. I instructed the driver to go to the apartment block.
Our flat in Monte Carlo was small. Two bedrooms and a si
tting room. Plus there was a small kitchen and a bathroom. It was no more than a pied à terre. Inside it was simply furnished. It looked as it was. A flat that nobody really lived in and one furnished from whatever could be found at the nearest out of town shopping centre. But there was one special feature. Behind a print of Picasso on the wall, was a hook. If twisted a certain way a power point in the wall below came forward. The wall behind was hollowed out. It was the ideal spot for our guns. The set up was good for even the power point worked. People may look for clues behind a picture but they were unlikely to manipulate the hook that held it up.
We placed the guns in their hiding spot and closed up the hole and the flat. We walked out with the usual bunch of letters and circulars that one finds after a long absence. Anyone seeing us would have thought we had just come for that purpose. This time we walked the mile or so to the car. We tried to se if we were being followed but could not see anyone.
“Mind you that proves nothing,” I said. “They could work in relays in a place like this. I doubt they have much to do off season.”
We got to the car and I tossed the letters into the back. We drove off. “I’ll take the low road,” I said to Jacqui. “You said you could find me a gun. Where’s the best place?”
“Near the airport,” said Jacqui. “I hope the place is still there. The good thing is that it gives cover. Officially it’s a bar. I know it was there for years but haven’t heard of it for some time.”
Once again I was following her instructions as we drove along the Promenade Des Anglais towards the airport.
“How did you know about it?” I asked.
“I ran errands for my father. Collecting guns was one of them. A girl is unlikely to be suspect. And we normally carry handbags. And younger girls carry bigger ones than couturier dressed women like me,” came the response.
“The cafe’s still there,” she said, pointing to a normal looking place on the corner. “Let’s see if it sells the extras.”