by PAUL BENNETT
She turned up the sound and we all stared expectantly at the TV. A male newsreader with glasses and a serious look started to speak. It was in Dutch.
‘Hell,’ said Red. ‘What’s he saying?’
‘Shush,’ said Scout. ‘I’ll tell you when he’s finished.’
The camera cut away from the newsreader and he was replaced by an external shot of the zoo that filled the screen. It was more circus than zoo. There were people held back by barriers, trying to get a glimpse of whatever was happening, police massing around and four ambulances that we could see. Stretchers were being wheeled from the gates of the zoo towards the waiting ambulances – most had their faces covered. A different camera took over and there was a red-haired presenter talking to the zoo manager and the keeper. When she had her sound bites from them, the camera zoomed in for a close-up of her. She spoke with a grave expression.
‘Seventeen dead and three critically injured,’ said Scout. ‘Police say that it was likely to be some kind of gang warfare. They found a “considerable quantity of weapons”.’
‘I bet they did,’ said Stan. ‘Shame we had to dump them. It felt good to have a gun in my hand again.’
‘Plus a bagful of diamonds and a kilo of heroin,’ Scout continued, brushing aside the interruption.
‘The gifts to seal the deal,’ I said. ‘Something appropriate. Good for Garanov and Bellini.’
‘They won’t miss them,’ said Bull. ‘Ain’t no pockets in a shroud.’
‘Police are appealing for witnesses,’ Arnie said, looking worried. ‘What if someone saw the cars?’
‘They would hardly have registered,’ I said. ‘We were just guys going about our business. Off for the weekend, maybe, or to a restaurant, perhaps even the casino. No sweat, Arnie. Keep cool. If someone had reported something they would have given out details of make and models of the cars, asked people to keep a look out.’
Scout moved from in front of the TV and went across to where Arnie was sitting. She took his hand and squeezed it. Young love. Lucky people.
‘Seems like the plan worked perfectly,’ Stan said.
‘Except for the Anna bit,’ I said. ‘Thank God that Scout had the presence of mind to grab her and make a run for it. I’m in your debt, Scout.’
‘Seems to me,’ she said, ‘that we’re all in your debt. My dad has the money to start a big business, Arnie and I have enough money to get married….’
‘And Natasha and I,’ said Carlo, ‘can lead the easy life.’
‘Not to mention the rest of us,’ said Bull.
‘Any more news of the transplant?’ asked Pieter.
‘Still waiting for a donor.’
‘It’ll work out,’ Scout said. ‘I’ve got a feeling that God smiles on you guys.’
‘Maybe this should be the last time we push our luck,’ said Pieter.
‘Trouble is,’ said Red, ‘I don’t know how to do anything else. Beats the rodeo any day. Better paid by far. And I don’t know when I last had such fun.’
‘Fun?’ said Scout incredulously.
‘Maybe not fun, I suppose,’ said Red. ‘But there’s a helluva kick from a job well done.’
The door opened and in came Natasha. She was leading Anna by the arm. Anna was as white as a ghost and was visibly shaking. Natasha helped her into a chair where Anna sat staring into space. I went across to her and settled down on my haunches so that I was at her eye level. I took her hand – it was as cold as ice as if all her blood had drained away. Anna pulled it away quickly. Then she turned her head and looked at me as if I were a stranger.
‘You killed a man,’ she said, shaking her head in apparent disbelief. ‘You actually killed a man.’
‘He was a bad man,’ I said. ‘Deserved to die. And anyway, you knew the plan. You knew that people would die. The only difference between the plan and the actuality was that I happened to kill him instead of one of the Bellinis. Garanov was using you as a human shield – that’s how bad he was. He didn’t care if you lived or died. I did, though.’
Natasha placed a glass of vodka in Anna’s hand. Helped her raise it to her lips so that she could drink some without spilling it.
‘More,’ Natasha said. ‘Drink the whole glass. It’ll do you good.’
‘Nothing will do me good ever again,’ Anna said. She paused to take another mouthful of vodka. Then said, ‘There was so much blood. And other stuff; brains, I suppose. I was covered in it. I could taste his blood on my lips. Feel it on my face and in my hair. I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again.’ She downed the vodka this time – she was past sips. ‘I didn’t think it would be like that.’
‘Real life is not like the movies, Anna,’ I said. ‘People get killed, it’s the end. They don’t get up and start shooting another movie. And think of this. How much of other peoples’ blood did Garanov have on his hands?’
‘We were just settling the score,’ Bull said. ‘A lot of folks should be grateful to us.’
‘By the morning it will all look different,’ I said. ‘It will be easier to see everything in perspective.’
‘Do you really think it will be as easy as that?’ Anna said sharply.
‘A good night’s sleep always helps,’ said Scout.
‘Sleep?’ said Anna. ‘Sleep? How do you think I will be able to sleep tonight, or ever again for that matter? It happened before my very eyes. I felt the life force go from him, just as much as I felt his blood and brains covering my face.’
‘If it hadn’t been him,’ I said, ‘it would have been you.’
‘And if you had missed it could have been me, too. Did you think of that before you pulled the trigger?’
‘I thought of nothing else,’ I said. ‘Then I cleared my head of those thoughts, aimed, took a deep breath and fired. Just like I had done in practice.’
‘One of the greatest shots you’ll ever see,’ said Red.
‘Probably aiming for the camel,’ said Bull.
Anna didn’t laugh. Would she ever laugh again? I didn’t fancy the odds on that right now.
‘Tomorrow night we’re all invited to a celebration dinner with Gus,’ I said. ‘It will all look different then.’ I turned to Red. ‘They do a great steak and chips.’
‘I’m gonna eat me a sixteen-ounce one,’ he said.
‘Count me out,’ said Anna, rising from her chair. ‘I’m going to bed.’
I made a move towards her. She backed away and raised her hands as if to ward me off.
‘Alone,’ she said.
‘If that’s what you want,’ I said.
‘I don’t know what I want right now, Johnny. That’s why it has to be alone. I need time to work out how I feel. About me, you and the blood that’s got in between. The blood that’s on your hands.’
She gave a shiver and walked out of the room.
And out of my life?
32
I slept fitfully that night, my mind filled with a dream where I knew that I was going to miss Garanov and trying in vain to catch the fatal bullet in mid-air before it hit Anna. I woke in a sweat and with a hangover when my alarm went off at 5.30 – I felt lousy. This was not, however, one of those days for trying to sleep off the effects of the night before. I had managed to agree an embargo on the Cyclops story until midnight New York time last night and I wanted to be in front of the television when the proverbial hit the fan. I was showered and shaved and in front of CNN by six. The hotel keeper, alerted by the noise of the TV – or perhaps by me groaning – shrugged at me as if after the happenings of the last week nothing would surprise her, but she came into the sitting-room ten minutes later with a jug of coffee and a bacon sandwich. How she had changed since our arrival.
The word Newsflash came up on the screen and there was an immediate cut from the current story to a pretty brunette presenter. Unprepared for the change in running order, but able to read the autocue, she started to give some details. The words sounded like the producer was stalling for time and I guessed the reason – t
hey were trying to line up footage of the zoo.
The woman, immaculately dressed and made-up, especially given the hour, started to read the gist of the story from the Cyclops column – how mafia gangs had infiltrated the Silvers Bank in both New York and Amsterdam. Then she read the pre-prepared statement that my mother and I had agreed upon – how Silvers had initiated a sting operation to flush out the illegal funds as soon as they had been made aware of accounts owned by criminal organizations. Both bank branches had isolated and frozen all suspect assets. Silvers in both countries would be giving full assistance and co-operation to the police investigation. Next came the hastily assembled footage from the zoo – the ambulances, the police, the flashing blue lights, the stretchers and a statement from the head of the Amsterdam Police Force stating that the body count had now reached eighteen, with two seriously wounded. He didn’t look particularly bothered and who could blame him. The only explanation that the police could come up with was a gang war over disputed territory in Amsterdam. The head policeman thanked God that no civilians had been involved in the carnage. So did I.
I wondered what was going through Roberto’s mind and how much warning my mother had given him of the way events would unfold. Had he been warned at all? Had Mother gone straight to someone reliable and trustworthy in New York to parcel up the Bellini accounts and freeze them as Arnie had done so well with the suspense account in Amsterdam? Whatever, he could hardly have thought that he would have a conclusion like this when he stepped off that helicopter back in St Jude. It would cost him his job, no doubt about it. Give it a while for the dust to settle and so that no one would jump to the right conclusion, but Roberto was a dead man walking. Just as Carlo had to go – willingly in his case – so must Roberto. Time to clear Silvers of the rotten apples.
My thoughts turned to Anna. How would she be feeling this morning? Probably not good, if she had slept as badly as I. Might not even have slept at all. Might not have wanted to in case she had nightmares of Garanov’s brains showering her. That vision might not ever leave her. That was a lot of mights, none of them making me feel any better.
Bull came in. He was carrying a fresh pot of coffee and a mug. He poured himself some and topped me up. He looked at the plate where the bacon sandwich had recently been.
‘Blue-eyed boy,’ he said.
‘I shall be sorry to leave this place,’ I said.
‘It ain’t much, but it’s home, eh?’
I nodded.
‘Not your usual self this morning,’ he said. ‘Didn’t say reckon so.’
‘Reckon so,’ I said.
‘It’s too late now.’ He drank some coffee. ‘Anna?’
I nodded.
‘You did it again,’ he said. ‘You’re beating yourself up, aren’t you? About what happened last night? You had no choice, Johnny. Who knows what would have happened to Anna with Garanov using her as a shield. Or if Bellini and Garanov actually got together. Don’t bear thinking about. You had to kill him. Sooner or later she’ll understand that.’
‘It’s the later bit that worries me.’
‘Have patience, my friend. Sometimes you just have to believe it will all come right in the end. Trust me. I should know. Been there. Still there, in fact.’
‘It’s not just Anna,’ I said. ‘There’s something else bothering me.’
‘Which is?’
‘What if Bellini tries to take revenge.’
‘Bellini’s dead, as far as we know. And why should he come for us. Nobody outside our group knows we set Bellini and Garanov up. Gus and your mother won’t tell. Who’s left?’
‘Roberto,’ I said. ‘Roberto who’s had the red carpet dragged from under his feet. Is he smart enough to work it all out? That’s the question.’
‘And the answer?’
‘Hell knows, I sure don’t.’
We were gathered in the sitting-room waiting for a fleet of taxis to take us to Gus’s favourite restaurant in the Leidseplein. No Bull, Natasha or Anna, though.
Everyone had smartened up. We guys were wearing, for some, recently purchased suits and Scout had on a skinny dress in red with high heels to match – Arnie couldn’t keep his eyes off her and I didn’t blame him. It would have been hard to believe that last night five of us had been crawling through a camel enclosure and across roofs with guns in our hands. Butter wouldn’t melt.
Bull came in with a grin as big as Texas. He punched his fist in the air and excitedly shouted, ‘They did it. They’ve found a donor. The operation’s tomorrow.’
I gave him a bear hug and stepped back to take a look at the happiest man alive.
‘Seems like this will be our last supper, pilgrim,’ I said. ‘Let’s make it a good one.’
‘If you can wait another ten minutes, I’ll book a morning flight.’
‘No problem. We’re still waiting on Natasha and Anna.’
‘Just me,’ Natasha said, coming into the room. ‘Anna’s packing her bag. She’s leaving tomorrow.’
The tight-knit group we had been for the last couple of weeks was beginning to break up. This could be the last supper for us. A celebration and a farewell rolled into one. They didn’t fit together in my book.
Bull returned, still grinning from ear to ear.
‘We might as well start to go,’ I said. ‘No point waiting anymore, it seems.’
We drifted down the stairs and on to the pavement. I squeezed into the first taxi with Carlo, Natasha and Red and headed due north to the Leidseplein. The pretty, young waitress – tall, slim, sparkling eyes – recognized me from the previous visit and showed us to ‘Mr Gordini’s table for eleven’. Didn’t seem worth correcting her and removing one of the chairs and place settings from the table. The atmosphere was relaxed with each table secluded from the others. From our table it was hard to see across the room for the shadows cast by the wall lights and the candles on the table. They flickered each time the door opened.
Gus stood to greet us and sat Carlo on one side of him and me on the other – family gathering. There was champagne in two large buckets placed at each end of the table. The waitress popped a cork and we started what I assumed was going to be a heavy night’s drinking – toasting successes and drowning sorrows. The others entered and soon the table was buzzing.
‘I’m off tomorrow,’ said Red. ‘Time for Comanche warrior to move wigwam. Can wear feathers with pride again. Thanks, Johnny.’
‘Give your bank details to Gus and he’ll sort out the split and the transfer. That goes for the rest of you, too.’
‘A toast,’ said Gus. ‘Here’s to the Magnificent Ten.’
We raised our glasses and drank.
‘And to a job well done,’ Gus added.
We drank again. Like the job it was almost perfect.
‘What about you, Pieter. What will you do?’
‘I thought I might hang around a day or so, depending on how I get on with the waitress.’ He grinned at her across the room. She looked down to hide a blush. ‘Then back to South Africa. Set up a safari business, I reckon.’
We ordered. I hoped they had enough steaks.
‘Stan,’ I said. ‘Any plans?’
‘Retire,’ he said. ‘Get a little place by the sea. Maybe open a restaurant, if I can be bothered. Meet a nice girl and have me a family. Something to hold on to and keep me from being tempted to do stupid things like this again.’ He gave me a smile. ‘No matter how much I enjoy them.’
‘And you, Johnny?’ Bull asked. ‘What’s in store for you?’
‘Maybe go back to St Jude. Rebuild the bar and enjoy the sand, sun and sea.’
‘Why the maybe?’ said Bull.
‘Depends on Roberto.’
‘Huh?’ said Bull.
‘The Bellinis might be out for revenge. Roberto has a big mouth and a small conscience. He could rat on me. I might have to move on someplace else.’
‘With Garanov dead I thought we might be able to stop hiding,’ Bull said.
‘Would be g
ood,’ I said.
‘I’ll have a word tomorrow with your mother,’ said Gus. ‘He wouldn’t dare to go against her. It would be his inheritance down the drain. Roberto will see sense.’
The first courses started to arrive and the conversation dipped for a while as ten hungry people concentrated on food. I had a platter of smoked fish with a horseradish sauce that would have blown Garanov’s head off more effectively than my bullet.
‘I think Natasha and I will go to Italy,’ Carlo said, finishing his plate of pâté and laying down his knife. ‘Explore my roots. Then off to see Natasha’s parents and ask her father for her hand in marriage. You’re all invited to the wedding. You must be my best man, Johnny. I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘I’d be honoured,’ I said. ‘But you’re entitled to think about it. No more impulsive decisions, OK?’
‘All in the past,’ he said. ‘And Natasha will keep me on the straight and narrow.’
‘You bet,’ she said. ‘I will be holding – how do you say – the purse strings. Is that right?’
‘Very,’ I said. I had a feeling that Carlo would be looked after without my intervention in the future. He had finally grown up.
Plates of steaks arrived for the men and some fish and chicken for the girls. Gus, against character, joined us in a steak.
‘I’m sure your mother would get you a job in the bank,’ he said to me. ‘What about running the European business? Would be nice to have you based here in Amsterdam. We’ve been out of touch for too long. I don’t want that to happen again.’
‘Neither do I. But let’s see what the situation is when the dust settles. It would be good to have the Bellinis off my back and not to be looking over my shoulder all the time.’
‘You’d be bored,’ he said. ‘Going back to running the beach bar after all this. Admit it. You’ve loved it, haven’t you?’
‘Reckon so,’ I said. ‘How does it feel to be right all the time, Gus?’
‘Not all the time,’ he said. ‘But I have no regrets for how my life has turned out.’
‘Don’t you get lonely, Uncle Gus?’ said Carlo.
