‘You’re a bastard,’ she said. ‘And you’re hurting my arm.’
He released his grip and stood back, saying, ‘Make up your mind, either go along with it or leave now.’
‘I won’t leave,’ she answered fiercely, ‘but I will move into the spare bedroom. I can hardly stand to be in the same room as you, let alone the same bed, even though you never touch me.’
She turned and strode out of the kitchen.
After she had moved her clothes into the spare bedroom she came out onto the patio. Michael was sitting in the pool with the water up to his neck. Creasy was sitting close to him, at the edge, with his legs in the water. They were talking quietly.
She walked over and said curtly, ‘I’m going out. I’ll be back in time to make lunch.’
Michael looked up and smiled at her and said, ‘Don’t worry, I did four lengths and I feel fine.’
Creasy said nothing, he just looked down at the water.
Laura was mopping the tiled floor of the lounge when Leonie came in, brushing aside the fly net.
Laura saw the look on her face and immediately asked, ‘What happened?’
‘I hate the bastard,’ Leonie said. ‘I’m sorry, Laura, but you’re the only person on this bloody island I can talk to.’ Then she burst into tears.
Five minutes later they were sitting on the patio. Laura was pouring coffee and Leonie pouring out her heart.
The Gozitan woman listened in silence. She heard how it had all come about. The Theatrical Agency, the marriage contract, which stipulated just six months and the registry wedding. Also the total lack of any physical contact between Creasy and Leonie.
‘He’ll end up killing the boy,’ she finished bitterly. That bastard has no heart . . . none at all.’
‘He does have a heart,’ Laura answered gently. ‘It’s just that most times he locks it away in cold storage.’
Leonie snorted and said, ‘Well as far as I’m concerned, the keys have been thrown away. I’d leave today, if it wasn’t for Michael. Even if it did mean losing my flat in London. What on earth has he got planned for that boy?’
‘I don’t know,’ Laura answered, ‘but in some ways, Michael’s very much like Creasy.’ She shrugged and said, ‘Before the accident I didn’t see you show any emotion towards Michael. Obviously that’s changed or you wouldn’t be here now. You’d better ask yourself what your feelings really are for him.’
That produced a silence. Leonie looked out over Comino, then gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Maternal,’ she muttered. I don’t believe it but my thoughts are bloody maternal.’
Laura smiled and poured more coffee. ‘That’s natural,’ she said. ‘You sat up for two nights and watched a boy who you thought was going to die. Did you cry when you knew he was going to live?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you sit by his bed, hour after hour, holding his hand, after he became conscious?’
‘Yes.’
‘So it’s natural. You look on him as a boy, perhaps a replacement for your own son, and Creasy looks on him as a man. That’s why you hate him.’
‘What am I going to do?’ Leonie asked mournfully.
Laura’s voice became brisk. ‘You’re going to see out your six month contract. You’re not going to interfere with Creasy’s physical treatment of Michael. Believe me, on that score he does know best. Twice in his life I’ve nursed him back from the edge of death. In this very house. Perhaps nursed is too strong a word, but I cooked him good and healthy food and watched him put himself back together again. He knows what the human body can and cannot take.’
‘It’s going to be hell living in that house,’ Leonie said.
Laura shook her head. ‘Only if you make it so. I know Creasy. He will act as though the argument never happened. Life will continue in the same way as before the accident but only if you make it so.’
‘If only I knew something about the man,’ Leonie said resentfully, ‘it might make it easier, but he never talks about himself and neither does anybody else. He’s just a bloody robot.’
Laura patted Leonie on the shoulder and said reassuringly, ‘It’s not a long time. Do not tell Creasy that you talked to me about the marriage arrangement’ she smiled. ‘But if he asks, tell him that you told me he’s a bastard. He’ll understand that.’
Leonie’s returned smile was wan. ‘Your daughter must have loved him very much,’ she said. ‘Or else she had more patience than anyone else I’ve ever met.’
‘Oh, she did love him, very much,’ Laura answered. ‘And believe me, she had no more patience than I do.’ She smiled, ‘And as everyone knows, I have very little. The fact is that he loved her in the same way and whatever Creasy does, it’s always one hundred per cent.’
She stood up and said, ‘I have to get back to the bloody housework now, on this island it’s still a man’s world.’
Leonie rose, kissed her on the cheek and said warmly, 'Thanks, Laura, I’ll try to follow your advice.’
Laura walked her through the house to the front door.
‘See you Saturday night’
‘Saturday night?’
Laura smiled. ‘Yes, it’s Joey’s engagement party up at Maria’s parents’ house in Nadur. It will be a good party.’
Chapter 3 0
THERE WERE VERY few things that had caused Creasy trepidation in all his years. Laura Schembri in a temper could be included among them. It was three days after Michael had returned from hospital. After lunch, Creasy had left him and Leonie sunning themselves by the pool, and gone to help Joey work on the farmhouse.
After two hours, while they sweated in the hot sun, Laura had walked down the path, carrying a bucket containing ice and four bottles of beer. Creasy had been working on a wall, and watched her approach. His mind went back five years. Instead of Laura, he saw Nadia. It was only a few days after he first met her. He had been rebuilding a limestone wall with Paul, and Nadia had walked down the same path carrying the same bucket, with cold beers in it. It had been the start of everything.
But his memories were washed away as soon as Laura reached them. She put down the bucket and said to Joey curtly, ‘Go and take a swim, Joey . . . make it a long one.’
The young man looked at his mother’s face and turned away without a word. Creasy jumped down from the wall and said bluntly, ‘Laura, don’t start on at me about Michael. I’ve had enough of that shit already from Leonie. I know what I’m doing. You should realise that.’
She gave him a look that would have turned a pot of boiling water into instant ice.
The tirade started with the words, ‘You’re not just an unfeeling, stupid, mindless, thick-skinned, thick-headed bastard, but also you happen to be my son-in-law. Now just keep your mouth shut and listen.’
He listened for the next ten minutes, leaning back against the wall, his eyes looking at her feet.
She ended by saying, ‘Don’t you have any feelings at all?’
Slowly, he lifted his head, looked at her eyes and said, ‘No. My feelings were shattered together with Nadia and Julia on Pan Am 103. The only thing left is hatred,’
‘You hate everybody?’
‘No. Just the ones who did it.’
‘So, you have no feelings of affection for anybody?’ she persisted.
‘I don’t understand what you mean,’ he answered flatly. The word doesn’t come into my vocabulary.’
Her expression turned from anger to great sadness. She asked, ‘What about me, and Paul and Joey?’
‘You’re my family,’ he said simply.
‘What does that mean?’
His eyes were looking down at her feet again. Very softly, he said, ‘It means I love you . . . listen, you know I’m not good with words.’
He was almost quivering with embarrassment. She moved forward and put her arms around him. She was almost as tall as he was. She put her cheek against his, and said very quietly, ‘Creasy, we love you too. I know what you’re doing and from my heart I hope you suc
ceed, because I know that if you don’t those evil men will never be brought to justice. Now listen to me, and I don’t want you to get upset. I said some terrible things just now. I was angry, but in a way I meant them. Now I’m going to tell you one more terrible thing . . . and I mean it. If Nadia were alive and saw the cold-blooded way you treat that woman, she would feel ashamed. Not for herself but for you.’
They both remained still, like a frozen tableau against the wall, and slowly she pulled her head back and looked into his eyes. She saw the pain. Fathomless pain. Again she laid her cheek against his. After a while his arms enclosed her and she felt tears on her cheek. They were not her tears.
Chapter 31
THE CHANGE WAS subtle, and at first Leonie did not notice. It only became apparent at Joey’s engagement party.
She had not wanted to go, feeling that she would be an outsider at a family gathering. She told Creasy, ‘Why don’t you and Michael go on your own?’
He had shaken his head. ‘No. Joey will be upset if you don’t come.’
‘Upset?’ she had said in surprise.
‘Yes, and so will Laura. It will be a good party.’ He smiled slightly and said, ‘There’s another reason. It’s obligatory that I get drunk tonight, Joey will make sure of that and Pepe, Maria’s father. The party may go on late and Michael may get tired. My plan is that we take both cars. If necessary you can bring him home early. Would you mind?’
So they went and it was a good party; ages ranged from babies to grandmothers.
Engagement parties, in Gozo, are more like weddings anywhere else in the world. Rings are exchanged and the priest gives the couple his blessing. Presents covered several tables. It was a large house, with a large garden.
After admiring the presents everyone spilled out into the garden. A bar had been set up on one side and a couple of Joey’s friends manned it.
Laura was busy with Maria’s family and Michael was chatting with the younger men.
Leonie stood off to one side and had just begun to feel out of it all, when Creasy loomed up beside her, took her by the arm and said, ‘Come, I want you to meet somebody.’ Holding her gently, he guided her through the crowd to a priest. This is Father Louis,’ he said. ‘We first met twenty years ago in what was then Rhodesia.’
He grinned at the priest and said, ‘Father Louis was a missionary. He used to convert the natives to alcohol.’
The priest grinned back and answered, ‘And this godless creature was my right hand man.’
He turned to Leonie and said, ‘I could tell you a few stories about that time.’
Then came the surprise. Cheerfully, Creasy said to the priest, ‘Why don’t you do that. I’ve got to go and find Paulu Zarb. The bastard promised to fix the radio on my jeep two weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since.’
He moved through the crowd and Leonie was left with the priest.
She decided to ask a question.
‘How did you happen to run into Creasy?’ she asked.
Then came the second surprise. The priest answered her question.
‘I was running a small Mission up in the Eastern Highlands near Mozambique. At that time, the war of independence was nearing its climax. The Mission was in a dangerous and remote area. We had a unit of the Selous Scouts camped close by. They had two functions. One to guard the Mission and the other to raid rebel camps across the border. Creasy commanded that unit.’
‘Selous Scouts?’
‘Yes, they were a crack unit in the Rhodesian army.’
She looked puzzled. ‘But Creasy is American.’
The priest nodded. ‘Yes, but at that time, the Rhodesian army recruited other nationals. They were in a desperate situation.’
She thought about that and then asked, ‘So Creasy was a mercenary?’
‘Yes,’ he answered. There were many mercenaries there at the time. You could say it was the last real war in which mercenaries played a part . . . thank God.’
She thought again, then said, ‘And yet you became a friend of his.’
The priest smiled. ‘Oh, yes. A good friend ‘
She warmed to him.
‘Was it very dangerous?’ she asked.
He nodded soberly and then said simply, ‘Yes. I owe my life to your husband, which is why if he gets drunk tonight, I will drive him home.’ He smiled again. ‘And he will get drunk tonight, it’s rumoured that he engineered Joey into this engagement. Joey will exact his revenge.’ He looked across the garden, where the table had been set up with elaborate flower arrangements, a large pink cake and several bottles of champagne. Joey and Maria were moving towards it,
‘I have to go to work now,’ the priest said, and with a mournful expression shook his head. ‘It’s a hard life. If I don’t drink at least half a bottle of champagne, both families will be mortally offended.’
The two families gathered behind the table with Joey and Maria in the middle, and the priest between them. She noticed Creasy standing with Paul and Laura. She watched as he beckoned to Michael, who was standing with a group of young men in front of the table. He moved around the table and stood beside Creasy. Leonie began to feel out of it again but then she got her third surprise. Creasy bent over and whispered something to Michael, who nodded and smiled. He came round the table, walked across the garden to her, took her hand and led her into the Schembri family circle.
Father Louis blessed the rings and they were put onto Joey and Maria’s fingers. The cake was cut, champagne corks popped and flash bulbs lit up the occasion.
She was standing next to Creasy and in an awed tone she said, ‘So you are a mercenary?’
He shook his head. ‘An ex-mercenary. I quit that business quite a few years ago.’
‘Why?’ she asked, and promptly received her fourth surprise.
‘I don’t like talking about those years,’ he answered, ‘but Laura knows most of it. If you ask her, she’ll tell you.’
‘I don’t think so. I once asked a question about you and she wouldn’t answer it.’
‘Laura will answer your question.’
Then she got her fifth surprise. She heard him use a word she would not have believed possible.
‘I apologise,’ he said. ‘You’ve had a rough time. It wasn’t necessary.’
Before she could even think of a reply, Paul came up and said, ‘I noticed that Michael already had two glasses of champagne. Maybe that’s enough.’
‘It is,’ Creasy said. ‘He’s still on medication.’
His eyes were searching the crowd for Michael. Leonie put a hand on his arm and said, ‘I’ll find him and keep an eye on him. Let me know when you want me to take him home.’
Then she got her sixth surprise.
‘You decide when he’s ready,’ Creasy answered.
Chapter 32
THE SIGNAL REACHED Ahmed Jibril via Colonel Jomah. It had originated from Jomah’s man at the Syrian Embassy in Washington DC. The signal informed him that the attempt to abduct Senator James S. Grainger would take place in about three weeks. It also informed him that because of the importance of the target, the price for the abduction would be five hundred thousand US dollars over and above the seventy-five thousand dollars he had already paid for one month’s recce of the target.
He cursed and then read on. He was to have his interrogator in Denver within five days. A safe house would be arranged. If he wished for the Senator to be eliminated after interrogation, then the price would be increased by a further one hundred thousand dollars. If he wished the Senator to be merely held prisoner, the cost would be fifty thousand dollars a week. An immediate answer was required.
Jibril summoned his chief of staff, Dalkamouni, and they discussed the signal.
They finally agreed that they would wait until after the results of the interrogation before deciding whether to have the Senator eliminated or merely held for a few weeks in the nature of a hostage.
They’re expensive,’ Dalkamouni said. ‘Maybe we should have tried to send
in our own people.’
Jibril shook his head. ‘We only had one good man in America. To send in more would have taken many months. It took us years to establish our cells in Europe.’ He tapped the signal. ‘These people are rated the best in America.’
They’re just criminals,’ Dalkamouni remarked. ‘Their only motive is money.’
‘True,’ Jibril conceded. ‘But they’re very successful criminals, with a good organisation . . . anyway, money is always a good motive, as we both know.’
Two days later, Curtis Bennett was shown into Senator James Grainger’s office. Rene Callard, the Belgian, opened the door for him, then closed it behind him and resumed his seat next to the door.
The Senator was seated at a large walnut desk, studying a brief. He looked up and smiled warmly.
‘Hi, Curtis. Grab a chair, I’ll be with you in a second.’
He finished the page, jotted some notes on a yellow legal pad, and asked, ‘So what’s the panic?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Make it fast, Curtis, I’ve got a committee meeting in ten minutes.’
‘I’ll make it very fast,’ Bennett said tersely. ‘The CIA has managed to partly break the code used in signals between the Syrian Foreign Ministry and their Embassies world-wide. You will know that the Syrians actively support several Palestinian and other terrorist organisations. The main one being PFLP-GC which is based in Damascus. They extend help through their own intelligence organisation. The main one is the Syrian Airforce Intelligence Unit, run by Colonel Jomah, who is very close to President Assad. The CIA has been able to identify those signals sent by Colonel Jomah, and also those received by him. His code name is HAWK. He sends a lot of signals to European Syrian Embassies, particularly Bonn, London, Stockholm and Rome. We know that the PFLP-GC has cells in all those cities.’ He lit a cigarette and continued. ‘Suddenly, last week, a flurry of signals went from the HAWK to the Syrian Embassy here in Washington. That was very unusual. The CIA was working on the signals, we put a watch team on all suspect personnel at the Libyan Embassy here. Four days ago, one of them, coincidentally their airforce attaché, had a meeting with a man in Lafayette Park. Some photos were achieved and computer enhanced. This morning we identified the man as one Joe Moretti, from Chicago. He and two other brothers operate the Moretti family specialists in contract killings and abductions. In the past, they’ve worked mainly for South or Central American dictatorships who want to take out embarrassing defectors in this country.’ He took a drag on his cigarette, gave the Senator a hard look and said, ‘Now, Jim, also this morning, the CIA gave us a prelim report on the batch of signals to and from the HAWK. Analysis indicates that the Morettis have been contracted to kill or abduct an important person in this country.’
The Perfect Kill (A Creasy novel Book 2) Page 16