by Terry Morgan
CHAPTER 91
Guido, too, was on a mobile phone. Hot and bothered and arms waving, he was pacing up and down a thickly carpeted room lit by a glittering chandelier. Then he flopped down into a green, velvet arm chair, short legs tightly crossed and sighed.
"Yah, yah, five million Euros using Puff. The fucking Syrians won't miss it. They'll waste it."
There was a pause and he stood up again.
"OK, OK, seven million Euros. Yah, because I didn't know where you were, Herr Eischmann. You, you fucking disappeared.........Mi dispiace. I am very sorry, Dirk, but this business is too complicated now because you........mi dispiace again..... I mean we, of course, we have been too, what shall I say, ambitious. I say many, many times, Herr Dirk, a good business is a simple business. You.......mi dispiace....sorry, we, we recruited too many new people and now that fucking .... that, that asshole, that fucking piece of shit, that faccia di merda, Kerkman has gone. He's talking, I know he is. He was in Zurich. But I'll find him because he doesn't have any money. But you, Herr Dirk, you can live on five million Euros..... Sorry, seven million Euros. It is like a leaving present, the gold watch for good service. Retire, Dirk. Take your wife, Petra..........it is not Petra? OK, it is Paula..... it is the same letter P, Herr Dirk."
There was a pause as Guido stood and the frantic pacing continued.
"OK, I hear you, I hear you. They will hear you in Brussels. OK, OK, Ten million Euros......yah, yah. That way you can pay the others and they will leave you alone. Tomorrow it will be transferred - Ciao, buonanotte, yah, yah............"
Guido screamed. Then he screamed again. "Toni. Where the fuck are you?"