The Milan Contract

by Stephen Franks

  “So Skyguard was configured to fire when the parameters matched the criteria they’d set. Pretty clever.”

  “I thought so. It almost worked.”

  “But for the quick thinking of a British Army officer. And of course, even when the plan failed, you were above suspicion. What possible motive could you have for sabotaging your own missile system?”

  “Stolz would have taken the blame. He was an ex-East German informer. It was perfect.”

  “And had it worked, Kurti would have been ready to assist in his suicide, no doubt.”

  Schuman’s smile was thin, his laughter forced.

  “But had the missile blown up that aircraft, Skyguard would have been dead in the water. The company bankrupted; its shares worthless. Which is why you’ve been slowly offloading them for the past five years. But there’s more to it than money, I think. Your motives are more visceral than that.”

  “Tell me, I’m genuinely intrigued. There’s very little I value more than money.”

  “It wasn’t really your company was it? It was your father’s. He was the one who had generated the real success. It struck me when I did some digging around. I believe there’s a portrait of your father hanging in reception at your headquarters. That must needle you, seeing the great man’s face every time you go to work. A constant reminder the man you loathed was the real brains behind Schuman Industries.”

  “You know nothing. My father was a tyrant. He hated me and mother.”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  Conza was drawing to a close. He could see the bulge of Kurti’s pistol in his jacket. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled.

  “Which leads us to the murder of Lukas Stolz. In the film, he tells of the argument you two had. His naïve threat to expose you for the shit you are. He even told you he was going to turn you over to MI6. He’d signed his own death warrant from that moment, of course. But I think he knew as much, which is why he made the film.”

  “As I said, he was a foolish genius.”

  “But there’s something you don’t know. It will be of particular interest to the piece of shit behind you.”

  Schuman turned to look at Kurti.

  “Issam Bennani. That name mean anything to you, Kurti?”

  He wasn’t going to react.

  “OK, I’ll remind you. He was the technician who worked for Marco Fanucci. He’s good with cameras. Including the ones you raised your hand to when you first entered the barn a couple of weeks ago. The cameras you said you hated and personally disconnected last week.”

  For the first time, Conza saw Kurti’s jaw tense, his eyes flashing in contempt.

  “So you do remember. It’s just that Issam rigged them in a way that meant they were always on, always recording. The bit when you’re planning to kill Stolz is particularly good quality. There you are with your pal Fanucci, like two old women discussing the weather.”

  Kurti moved forward but Schuman put out a restraining hand.

  “Why are you telling me this? What’s your point?”

  “We’ll discuss that in a minute. But first, you should know that I found other films saved in Bennani’s black boxes.”

  Schuman still had his hand in the air, frozen in trepidation. Kurti was twitching.

  “Fanucci productions, I call them. All the time, Issam Bennani was making copies of your blackmail activities; politicians with their hands in the till, senior police officers with a penchant for kids, a judge with a cocaine habit. Even my boss’s boss got screwed over by you guys. And there’s dozens more. It was a brilliant set-up. Fanucci made money, your victims helped you up the ladders and Kurti could never face trial. Problem was, Bennani recorded everything.”

  “You bastard, Conza, you have no idea who you’re screwing with,” yelled Schuman, breathing heavily.

  “I think I do. And it certainly explains your meteoric rise in the political world. Your path to vice-chancellorship was on the backs of those you blackmailed. Until someone decided to fight back in ’99. That brought an end to your glittering career. Sadly, we don’t have films from then, but we have about twelve years’ worth.”

  Kurti edged forward and Conza heard feet shuffling behind him.

  “And so finally, we come to Ravenna.”

  Schuman’s head snapped back at Conza, his thick neck reddening.

  “I see that’s a name you recognise. Problem is, I’m a nosy sod, so when a friend told me about a little girl being kidnapped and then murdered in Ravenna, I felt compelled to look into it.”

  “That was nothing to do with me,” said Schuman, palms upturned.

  “Oh, but I think it’s everything to do with you. The plan to take her isn’t on film, but plenty of conversations afterwards are. I think you’d gone too far even for Issam Bennani. I think it was at that time, he decided to keep copies of your rackets.”

  “I’m telling you, Conza, that all happened without me knowing.”

  “Shut up, Schuman. You ordered your pack of dogs to snatch her. Just so you could take revenge on her father. Remind me, what was the argument about? Oh yes, a parking space. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

  “The kid wasn’t supposed to get killed. I just wanted her father to suffer for a few days. I don’t kill kids, Conza.”

  “There were thirty-seven children on that flight from Moscow last year. Please forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

  “Tell him, Kurti. Tell him it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  The big man shrugged. “Max did what he had to.”

  From over Conza’s shoulder, a metallic click. Kurti’s arm arced upwards, but age wasn’t on his side and his hand never reached the holster inside his jacket.

  Silence descended over the warehouse.

  “Her name was Violetta. She was eight years old. She was left to die in agony – alone,” the voice hissed from the back of the room.

  Schuman panicked.

  “Come on, Conza. It was never meant to happen. It was Yahontov. I told him it was unnecessary. Tell him, Kurti.”

  But Kurti wasn’t listening. He stepped forward two paces.

  “Who the fuck are you? You ain’t a lawyer, that’s for certain.”

  “My name is Brocelli. Captain Brocelli. I was the arresting officer on the kidnap.”

  Two whistle blasts came from the rear of the building and in the distance they heard the crack of gunfire and the sound of vehicles racing towards them up the lane.

  “What the hell is going on, Conza?” Schuman yelled.

  “It’s a fucking set-up you idiot. I warned you,” Kurti said through clenched teeth.

  Schuman put what little remained of his self-control into one final roll of the dice.

  “You’re dead, Conza. They won’t try me. I know too much. You’ve screwed yourself. I’ll walk and you’ll die a slow and painful death. No matter how long it takes, I will kill you and every person who ever knew your name.”

  Schuman didn’t take his eyes off Brocelli’s pistol.

  “I don’t think so, Schuman. Your days of wielding power are over. It’s why we’re in England. They can try you in secret here, a good friend told me about it. Nothing about Skyguard will ever be aired in public; it’s too important to the Brits. But a jury will hear about everything else you’ve done. Skyguard will be repaired. You’ll go to jail for the rest of your days and everything you own will be taken away from you. Everyone you ever blackmailed will either get moved on or locked up. Either way, in two years’ time, nobody will remember your name and your father's portrait will still preside over Skyguard. The justice system over here doesn’t mess around. Didn’t you know? They’re stubbornly resisting the new European order on this island. ‘Proportionality’ may be on the horizon, but ‘expediency’ isn’t quite dead yet.”

  As the cars skidded to a halt, Kurti’s rage was released.

  “They’ll never put me on the stand, you fuck. I’ve worked for their government. I’ll be back on the streets in a day or two and then I�
��ll find you. Both of you. You’re going to regret…”

  Kurti’s face erupted and the back of his head disintegrated in a shower of blood, brain and bone. Schuman screamed and fell to his knees. Kurti staggered back two paces, mouth frozen in surprise, before his legs buckled, sending his heavy frame to the floor with a thud that made the stone slabs judder.

  “No more doubts,” Brocelli whispered with neither joy nor satisfaction as he dropped the pistol and raised his hands. Three armed officers burst through the door. Charles Babcock followed. He stopped to survey the scene.

  “Special Branch will take it from here, chaps.”

  Schuman was on his face, being cuffed as Brocelli lowered his trembling arms. Babcock passed him a hip flask.

  “It’s what’s left of the Asbach, Captain. You look like you need it. Welcome to England. You OK, Raffy?”

  “We’re fine Charles. We’re all fine.”

  Epilogue

  In accordance with his will, Lukas Stolz was buried in Berlin alongside his mother. His sister lays flowers on their grave every year on the anniversary of her brother’s death.

  At his trial, it took seven minutes to read out the list of charges brought against Josef Schuman. Much of the evidence was heard behind closed doors and has never been made public. He received a whole life sentence for his crimes and now resides in a high-security prison in an undisclosed location.

  Alexander Kurti’s body was buried in an unmarked grave in the grounds of HMP Maidstone. Nobody attended his funeral.

  Giuliani Zeffirelli was jailed for the murders of Marco Fanucci and Stefan Puz. He was also found guilty of the attempted murder of Kadin Bennani. He is still in prison and is not eligible for parole for another twenty-seven years. His request for permanent solitary confinement was denied.

  Both Leo Calpresi and Paolo de Costa are serving concurrent life sentences for the torture and murder of Sami Ricci and, in Leo Calpresi’s case, the attempted murder of Amadi Abebe. Calpresi’s arm never healed properly despite undergoing multiple surgeries to relieve his pain.

  Zeffirelli’s contact, ‘Troy’, was dismissed from the State Police. He narrowly escaped a prison sentence but was permitted to enter the witness protection programme in recognition of his role in the capture and subsequent conviction of Giuliani Zeffirelli. His whereabouts today are unknown.

  Colonel Scutari decided to take early retirement rather than reinstatement. He now acts as a security consultant to ministries and specialist police units throughout western Europe. Charles Babcock is thinking of joining him.

  Captain Angelo Brocelli retired shortly after returning from England. He recently travelled to Ravenna to lay flowers on the grave of a little girl who died aged eight. He owns and runs a small bar in the old fishing village of Camogli, just a few hundred metres from Kurti’s temporary home. Brocelli named the bar ‘Violetta’s’.

  Sergeant Georgio Moretti acts as a special liaison officer to families and young people involved in, or who have been the victims of crime. His wife Sanza gave birth to a baby girl just a month ago. The baby took over the spare room.

  Lanfranco Pisani continues to run Skyguard’s office in Milan and remains adamant that no missile firing ever occurred in Latvia.

  Kadin Bennani was never charged with the murder of Lukas Stolz, the Ministry of Justice concluding such a prosecution would not serve the public interest. He never knew that his release was in large part due to the sworn testimonies of Raphael Conza, Georgio Moretti and Angelo Brocelli.

  Kadin Bennani and Nyala Abebe were reunited in Milan for a short time, but Kadin never recovered from his ordeal and turned to alcohol. One night just a few weeks ago, Jamila Bennani reported her son missing. Georgio Moretti discovered Kadin’s body in an isolated barn in the village of San Carlo; he had hanged himself.

  Amadi Abebe was released from hospital after three months. Following Kadin’s death, he moved Nyala and Mazaa to England. Nyala attends Winchester University and she recently broke the county 5000 metre record for a junior athlete. She hopes to run in the London Marathon next year. When she’s not training, she spends much of her time with her cousins. Her Uncle Ephrem still laughs at everything.

  The Hotel Napoli remains open for business, although it is now under new management, the previous manager having quit work to write crime fiction books.

  Jimmy Appleton was commended for his work in rewriting parts of the Skyguard DLR encryption code. He was nominated for an OBE in this year’s Queen’s birthday honours list. During the celebration party that followed, he lost his dentures for the final time. He is due to have implants fitted next week.

  Lieutenant Raphael Conza’s resignation letter was never opened, and he was promoted to captain. He now has an office in Finanza HQ that he doesn’t have to share. He still enjoys a beer with Georgio Moretti on a Friday night, and has been with the same girlfriend for six weeks. He no longer keeps a diary, and his mother thinks of him every night.

  Harry Chase continues to work out of his chambers in Bournemouth. In the summer, he can often be seen sitting in the lower gardens eating an ice cream. He has plans to visit his friend Raffy, next summer. He decided to take his family with him.

  With the help of his barrister, Jack Stephens secured work at a local builder’s merchant. The Crown Court accepted his barrister’s plea in mitigation; that Stephens was making genuine efforts to turn his life around. He was given a suspended sentence and every day he wears a tie to work.

  The End