by Mark Arundel
‘We leave this afternoon,’ I said to Charlotte. Xing seemed pleased.
Charlotte said, ‘I should come too.’
‘What about your grandfather? Tomorrow is Christmas Day.’
Charlotte made an expression like a little girl who can’t have her own way. ‘This is not the Christmas I had envisaged,’ she said. I didn’t venture an opinion. ‘I want to be kept fully informed,’ she said. I nodded. As if to affirm this I said, ‘Is Casanova next door with his family?’
‘Yes, he’s struggling a little,’ she said.
‘It’ll be worse when he returns home,’ I said. ‘The police will question him about the girl’s murder and the press will have a ball. He’s almost certain to lose his job with the bank.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘Yes, I know,’ she said.
I thought about Bradshaw and the ST. I wondered if it would still be on. I wondered about the reason for it in the first place. Was it connected to all this or could it be something different? I would speak to Bradshaw when I got back. Charlotte was right. This Christmas wasn’t the one any of us had envisaged.
Xing and I left Charlotte and her grandfather, and Casanova and his wife and daughters in their ski chalets and walked back into the village. Xing carried my skis and poles and I carried her rucksack with the rifle stored away in its case.
The snow had stopped falling, but the mountain was icy cold and heavy with still lifeless cloud. We followed the main street. It was busy. A bus chugged by avoiding the colourful bustle and badly parked delivery trucks. I wondered how long it would be before the body of Ulrich was discovered. I planned to leave immediately.
‘How did you get here from the airport?’ I asked.
‘A minibus service arranged through the airline.’
‘I’ve got a hire car,’ I said.
Although my hotel was nearest, we went to Xing’s first. Upstairs in her room, she collected her things. I stood and watched. It took her just a few minutes. At the desk, she paid the bill with cash. Outside again, she pointed along the street to where I saw the Swiss sign for a post office.
‘Do you want to post it?’ she asked. I did want to get rid of it and it seemed as good as any other way.
‘Yes, okay,’ I agreed.
Inside the post office, Xing wrapped the case in the brown paper, which she had brought with her. She stuck on a white label that she had already prepared with an address. At the counter, she paid with cash and informed the assistant that the package contained an antique silver cutlery set. I wasn’t surprised to hear her speak French. We left the post office and went to my hotel. Inside, I collected my things from the room and paid at the desk. I left my skis, poles and boots for collection by the hire shop.
Outside, the hire car waited where I’d left it. I loaded our bags and then got in behind the wheel. Xing sat silently in the passenger seat. I drove away slowly. Compacted snow still caked the roads. The village disappeared like a slide show and we began the winding descent. We turned on blind drops and opened out on vast distances of emptiness. The air in the valley brightened. Shafts of yellow sunlight danced like a running kite. Xing stared out, watching the scene unfold like a child.
‘I arrived in the dark,’ she said. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
The hairpins finished and we reached the valley floor and the straight, flat run to the lake. A tunnel led us into darkness and out again.
‘How many have you done?’ I said. I felt her look at me.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Jobs,’ I said.
‘This one was number forty-six.’
‘You count them then?’
‘I count everything,’ she said. ‘People think the job is all about the killing. It’s actually about everything else, the killing itself is nothing.’ She looked at me again. ‘You kill professionally,’ she said. ‘You must know that.’
I didn’t reply.
Close to the airport, I stopped for diesel. We used the facilities and bought cheeseburgers for lunch.
At the airport, I returned the hire car and we walked to the terminal building. We went to the row of BA desks and checked-in. Xing showed a British passport. I didn’t ask if it was genuine or not. Somehow, Hoagy had managed to book her seat in the same name as her passport. Perhaps it was real and he had it from the database. I didn’t look to see what name it was.
We passed through security and went to the far end. A busy coffee shop had a free table. We sipped our drinks and waited.
A muffled rendition of “Rule, Britannia!” sounded from my jacket pocket. It was Charlotte.
‘Ulrich’s been found,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a big story.’
‘...how?’ I asked.
‘A family member arrived.’
‘We’re at the airport. I’ll call you tonight from London.’
‘Was that Charlotte,’ Xing asked. I nodded. ‘They have found him?’ I nodded again. ‘And you have no connection with him, nothing to link your name.’ I shook my head. ‘Then...’ Xing shrugged.
We boarded the plane and took our seats. The crew prepared for take-off. We lifted off on time. During the flight, Xing closed her eyes. I studied her face. It was soft. I couldn’t read it.
At passport control, I allowed Xing to go ahead of me. She passed through without a hitch. I followed and wondered if Meriwether had somehow fixed things.
In arrivals, Hoagy was waiting for us. He stood away from the crowd beside an outlet with an Italian name that claimed to sell authentic Panini and Macchiato.
‘How was your flight?’ he asked.
‘Uneventful,’ I said.
Hoagy smiled and nodded. He looked at Xing. ‘Shall we go?’ he said.
The car was a big saloon. Hoagy drove with great care like a Royal chauffeur. The traffic was thick like treacle poured from a dessertspoon.
My phone rang. ‘Ah good, you’re back safely,’ Meriwether said. ‘I thought we should progress matters without delay. I’ve asked Hoagy to take you home and wait while you change. I thought it best if our guest stays with you. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve arranged an outfit for her, in case she doesn’t have anything suitable, and it’s in the boot of the car. Hoagy will give it to you. I’m looking forward to meeting her. A cosy Christmas Eve supper at the club will be just the right occasion.’
Meriwether hadn’t given me a chance to say anything before he ended the call. I looked at Xing and smiled.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.
‘I’ve bought you a dress,’ I said. Xing began to make a strange noise. I was concerned there might be something wrong. It was the first time I’d heard her laugh.
9
MONDAY, 19:35—20:05
XING
She sat in the luxury saloon and watched the man who was her equal in everything except ruthlessness. It was strange that he should enter her life again. Was there some destiny between her and this man? She considered it and then dismissed it. She didn’t believe in superstition. She remembered being pleased in Tenerife when she could complete the job without having to kill him first. It was a strange feeling, a new feeling.
The car had stopped again. London traffic was so horrible, she thought, like a giant headless millipede. She turned and gazed through the blackness. There was no sky, just the city lights, and they all seemed to shine in her eyes. She had done jobs in London, of course. Many foreigners came to London. It had charm. Many still respected the British. The Empire cast long shadows. She had heard someone say that once. She couldn’t recall whom.
The car was moving again. The rain had started to fall. Heavy drops hit the glass and made the lights outside turn blurry. She tried to work out where in London they were, but she didn’t recognise any landmarks. She saw trees and black open air. Perhaps it was Hyde Park. Didn’t Queen Elizabeth ride her horses in Hyde Park? Somebody had once told her that. It probably wasn’t true.
She turned away from the rain-soaked window and glanced at the man sitting beside her. W
ould he have really killed her? She wondered. She had given him a reason not to, of course, and if she hadn’t? She decided, yes, but it would have been hard for him.
The feelings she had had in Tenerife had come back. She had wondered then whether there was a woman. Charlotte and he were together, she felt the intimacy between them but it was recent. She had watched Charlotte. Her feelings were not deep. Charlotte did not care for him.
She thought about her past. Would her future be any different? Could he make it different? If the chance came, she decided, she would take it.
He looked at her. She held his eye for a moment and then looked away.
10
MONDAY, 20:05—24:00
Hoagy stopped the car on my street in Pimlico. I wasn’t surprised he knew where I lived.
It was still raining.
‘I’ll get your bags,’ Hoagy said. He got out and shut the door.
‘Is this where you live?’ Xing asked.
Hoagy helped us carry the bags. At the door, he said, ‘I’ll wait for you in the car.’
On the way in, I collected my post. Among the letters was a package. It was from Bradshaw. The one he had told me he would send. I unlocked the door to my apartment and we went inside. It was dark and cold. I switched on the lights and moved the thermostat setting for the central heating.
‘Am I staying here?’ she asked.
‘This’ll be your room,’ I said and pushed open the door to the spare bedroom.
She found the light switch. ‘It’s nice,’ she said.
We stood in the main room. Xing stared out across the river to the lights on the opposite bank. ‘I have a view like this from my apartment,’ she said. ‘It’s peaceful, isn’t it? I also like to sleep near the water.’
I passed her the bag from the boot of the car. The one Meriwether had told me was there. I hoped it contained a dress. She took it from me. ‘What’s this?’ She emptied it onto the sofa. The material was like polished steel. She held it up and pressed it against herself. It had straps and was obviously tight fitting. ‘How did you know my size?’ she said. There was also a pair of shiny black, high-heeled shoes. ‘Where are you taking me, somewhere special?’
‘Not exactly,’ I said.
We both changed our clothes. I put on a mid-grey suit with a dark blue shirt. Xing appeared a few minutes after me. The dress fitted and so did the shoes. Someone had guessed well, although, as far as I knew, I was the only person connected with the operation to have met Xing before, so I didn’t know whom that person might be.
Outside, Hoagy was patiently waiting. He drove us across town to St. James’s Square and Meriwether’s club. Festive lights adorned the entrance. They were tasteful and understated. Inside, a tree, decorated purely in silver, beamed at us like a hundred happy fairies.
‘Good evening, sir, may I take your coat?’
I handed mine over. Xing gave up her long cashmere warmer only after a struggle.
‘Go straight up, sir. You are expected.’
We entered the strangers’ lounge together. The thick carpet abruptly silenced the clicking of Xing’s stilettos. Meriwether was standing at the bar. He was wearing a navy blue suit. A man behind the bar was dancing with a silver martini shaker. ‘That’s enough, George,’ Meriwether said. ‘We don’t want to kill it.’ He sensed our approach and turned. ‘Ah dear boy, you’re here,’ he said. His eyes went directly to Xing. ‘Good evening,’ he said, ‘welcome to London. I should apologise for the rain. It ought to be snow, of course, or have you had enough snow? Would you care for a martini? George has just mixed one, although he may have bruised it a little. He’s a trifle heavy handed with the shaker.’
Xing took the offered glass, but she didn’t drink from it. I put mine straight back down on the bar.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Meriwether toasted. He sipped his martini. ‘Perfect,’ he said.
‘Thank-you for my presents,’ Xing said.
Meriwether smiled.
‘You’re welcome, my dear. You look stunning. Charlotte helped us with the sizes.’
Xing gazed at him.
It was Charlotte.
‘I’m hungry,’ I said.
‘Yes, shall we go through?’
Meriwether emptied his glass and led the way. We went to the small study, which he had requested for a private dinner. A square table waited, set with silver and crystal. Candles flickered against the wooden panelling. A log fire hissed like a tethered bobcat.
‘Dinner will be served right away. After that we won’t be disturbed,’ Meriwether said. ‘I hope you like English food, my dear.’ The meal was lobster bisque followed by roast beef.
‘How were the Swiss slopes?’ Meriwether asked me.
‘They were icy and fast.’
‘I hope C didn’t misbehave and ski too recklessly. I’ve had to tell her off about that before.’
The waiter poured cream onto Meriwether’s steaming Christmas pudding that only a moment earlier had been alight. Meriwether took a sip from his brandy balloon.
‘Thank you, Stephen,’ he said, ‘we can manage from here.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ the man replied. He left and we were alone.
Meriwether looked at Xing as though she were the new girlfriend of a beloved son. ‘You guessed right, my dear,’ he said, ‘I do want the money back. Now, tell me, how can it be achieved?’
‘Do I get a deal?’ she asked.
Meriwether took a spoonful of pudding. He chewed it slowly while he studied her face.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘what did you have in mind?’
‘I thought perhaps a finder’s fee,’ she said.
‘You want money? Isn’t your life payment enough?’
‘That card has been played,’ she said. ‘I could walk out of here now and, if I wanted to, leave you both dead behind me.’
If the threat to his life concerned Meriwether, he didn’t show it. He gave me a slightly bemused look. I concentrated on Xing. I wasn’t as confident as Meriwether. I didn’t want to find out whether she could do it or not.
Meriwether smiled at her.
‘Very well,’ he said, ‘a finder’s fee of one per cent.’
I tried not to show my relief.
‘One per cent,’ Xing said. ‘How much money is missing?’
Meriwether allowed the question to hang. He took another mouthful of pudding. He swallowed and then sipped at his brandy. He put the oversized glass down.
‘It’s a little over one billion pounds,’ he said.
The small room was silent, except for the spitting bobcat.
I was trying to work out what one per cent of a billion pounds was. Meriwether had returned to his Christmas pudding. Xing watched him. She said, ‘How much is one per cent?’
Meriwether glanced up from his bowl. ‘Ten Million Pounds,’ he said. Xing remained calm. It was just as impressive as her threat to kill us both.
‘How do I know you will pay me?’ she asked.
Meriwether put down his spoon. ‘You have my word as an English gentleman,’ he said.
Xing studied his face. I think she believed him. ‘We have a deal,’ she said.
Meriwether finished the last spoonful. ‘Good,’ he said. He picked up his brandy glass. ‘Now, tell me, how we are going to retrieve the billion pounds?’
Xing glanced at me before she spoke. Perhaps she was worried I might not be listening. ‘The money is in a south-east Asian bank account. We can find out which one exactly from the bank in Zurich that made the transfer. I believe the man who hired me controls the bank account. His name is Jacomo Xabier Cardozo Almada. He is the young new master of a triad society in Macau. He will give you your money back.’
Meriwether asked the obvious question. ‘Why should he do that?’
‘...because we will ask him to,’ Xing said.
‘I’m not sure that just asking him will work,’ I said.
‘In triad society, every threatening action is made from a position of power. Th
e weaker position gives way. It means the stronger position succeeds without the need for violence.’
‘How do we gain a position of power over this Jacomo…?’
‘…Jacomo Xabier Cardozo Almada. We take something from him that is worth more to him than a billion pounds,’ she said.
‘And what is that?’ I asked.
Xing looked at me for a moment. ‘I don’t know yet,’ she said.
‘And even if we can take something of great value from this man, how do you know he’ll give in and not fight?’ I said.
‘I don’t,’ she said.
Meriwether had been listening and thinking. ‘You’re right, my dear,’ he said. ‘We must persuade this man to give us our money back. I’m sure we can think of something to convince him it’s for the best. First, though, we must confirm he has our money. Casanova can contact Ulrich’s bank in Zurich. They will know. I’ll ask C to speak to him.’
Meriwether was actually going ahead with it. I didn’t know why I was surprised. After all, it was a billion pounds. What was Casanova thinking? Banks, it’s easy when it’s other people’s money. What was the term always used, moral hazard? I had the feeling the hazard was going to be mine, and as for the morality. I’d leave that for others to decide.
Xing was speaking again. ‘Are you British Intelligence or not?’
Again, Meriwether adopted his bemused expression. ‘Why do you ask, my dear?’ he said.
‘Resource,’ she said. ‘Success will depend on support: personnel, equipment, political favours...’
‘You needn’t worry,’ Meriwether interrupted, ‘everything will be taken care of. I want success as much as you do.’
Meriwether pulled the cheese board closer. He refilled his wine glass from the claret jug. He looked at me. ‘Once we have the bank account information from Casanova you can call Little Miss Marple,’ he said. He broke a biscuit and then cut a small piece of brie.
‘What happens if we need him again?’
‘We’ll know where to find him,’ Meriwether said and popped the cheese covered biscuit into his mouth.