Open-handed

by Chris Binchy

  ‘Hang on a second,’ Dessie said. ‘I know you’ve a lot going on. But you’ve been saying for years, literally years, that we’ll get this sorted out next week, next month, and nothing ever changes. If I have to wait until the perfect time, it’ll never happen.’

  ‘Believe me, Dessie, this is different. I don’t know how much you know about what’s happening –’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he said, anger rising in him now. ‘Really. I’m the driver. That’s all. I’m coming to you to try and get myself sorted out. And when I look at you I don’t see a man who’s struggling. What I see is you travelling to Prague with a party of six and staying in the Four Seasons. I see you working for the multi-millionaire David O’Donnell. I see you getting punters in and selling ten flats at a time. How can you tell me that things are going badly?’

  ‘But it’s all show. If I brought people over on Ryanair and put them up in some dosshouse, I don’t think I’d sell too much property. I don’t know if this deal is going to happen. Do you understand? And if it doesn’t, even the work you’ve been doing will have to stop. I’m close to the edge here and what I need you to do is to get the fucking copying done and drive me where I need to be and to take your envelope at the end of the week as you’ve always done until I get this sorted out. You talk about uncertainty and formalizing our relationship but I’ve never seen you say no to the cash I’ve given you. I’m on the record. I make my returns. I have to deal with all that paperwork. You take your envelope and good luck to you. For all I know you could be getting three hundred quid a week from Welfare or working forty hours a week for someone else. You could be on full disability. I don’t know. I don’t care. That’s your business. But we came to this arrangement by mutual consent and either of us can end it any time we see fit. It suits me just fine for the moment. I don’t need a uniformed driver or an official chauffeur or anything like that. If you want to change things now, right now, then I’m telling you I can’t do it. If you want to wait until everything settles down and talk to me then, that’s fine. But I can’t promise anything. I can tell you that I have no money to give you. I have no money to lend you or to invest in your business. I might in the future or I might not. I’m all over the place at the moment. If you think that this is what I wanted to hear from you on your first day back then you’re mad.’

  Dessie said nothing. He thought he could stop the car right then and get out of it. Hop over the wall and walk out across the shining sand to the water, past the oystercatchers and the gulls, sand between his bare toes, to the edge, take off his clothes and wade in until he was up to his neck, then dip his head under and drop.

  From the back Sylvester sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m tired and hassled and I don’t know why Marek isn’t answering his fucking phone.’

  Dessie didn’t hear him. He was standing at the water’s edge now, his hands around Sylvester’s neck, holding him down in two feet of water.

  ‘Dessie?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘We’ll talk again.’

  He nodded but didn’t speak. He was thinking now of all the things he’d seen over the past three years. The money that had been spent, the trips they’d gone on and all the deals that had been done. He remembered nights out with O’Donnell, and Sylvester’s endless meetings with clients and potential clients, politicians and planners. He thought of the world Sylvester lived in and of the envelope that was handed to him every Friday with a smile and a nod. Fifteen euro an hour. He realized then that he didn’t believe what Sylvester was telling him, and once he’d come to that realization, it was hard to understand how he ever had.

  52

  Victor was awake in bed when the doorbell rang at eleven. He put on a pair of jeans and went down. It was Agnieszka. She stood there, two supermarket bags in hand, and smiled at him when he opened the door. ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hi.’ He walked into the living room and sat on the couch. She followed him in, took off her jacket and sat beside him. She put an arm around his neck and kissed him beneath the ear. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Yeah.’

  ‘Are you tired?’

  He nodded and looked away from her. ‘What’s the problem?’ she asked. ‘Why are you being so strange? Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, turning back. ‘Have you?’

  She said nothing for a moment. Then, ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘No, I don’t. It would be easier if you just said what your problem is.’

  ‘Where were you last night?’ He thought something was there when he said this to her, some flash of doubt or fear that passed across her face, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to get in there and pick at it. She hadn’t said anything yet. ‘Is it hard for you to remember?’ he asked.

  ‘I was at work,’ she said.

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yes.’ It pained him to hear her say it, not because it meant she was lying but because of what he would have to say next. The sentences that would come out of his mouth that would lead them into unknown territory. If he could have smiled and pretended that there was nothing else – ‘Oh, really? How was it?’ – he would have. But he half knew something and he couldn’t stop there.

  ‘Because I went to your work. I wanted to see how you were doing. I was in town anyway. And the man. I can’t remember his name. He told me that you weren’t there. That you hadn’t been working. That your boss had called to say that you wouldn’t be in.’

  The expression on her face barely changed. There was another long pause before she said anything but when she did he knew they were in a fight. ‘Were you following me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were you checking up to see if I was where I said I was?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Come on. You know that’s not something I would do. I wanted to see you, that was all. And you weren’t there.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t,’ she said. It seemed like it was coming now but she didn’t say anything else.

  ‘So, can you tell me where you were?’

  ‘I was doing something for my boss.’ She stood up and walked across the room to the mantelpiece. There were cigarettes there belonging to one of the others, and she took one out and lit it.

  ‘What was that?’ Victor asked.

  ‘Just a job. I was doing some extra work for him.’

  ‘Okay,’ Victor said. ‘What kind of work? Where?’

  ‘In another club he owns.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘I can’t remember the name of it.’

  ‘Well, where is it?’

  ‘Down near the river.’

  ‘I didn’t know he owned anywhere there.’

  ‘I don’t know where it was,’ she said. ‘God. Enough questions.’ She paused. When she spoke again he could hear that she was close to crying. ‘You can’t expect to know everything I do, okay?’

  ‘What were you doing last night?’ He could feel the panic rising in him, filling him up, about to overflow.

  ‘Just wait,’ she said. ‘I have to tell you this. There are whole parts of my life that you know nothing about, Victor.’

  He stood up. ‘You’re scaring me now. What is going on?’

  ‘Listen to me.’

  ‘Tell me what it is,’ he said, in a voice that was getting harder. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I’m trying to tell you. Just. Let me.’

  His hands were on his head and he was moving back and forth close to her, agitated. If he had been calmer he would have seen she was scared.

  ‘I did something,’ she said.

  He looked at her now and suddenly it seemed clearer. ‘Did you sleep with your boss?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not him.’

  ‘Not him?’ Victor shouted. ‘Not him? Then who?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  ‘What happened? Who was it?’

  ‘It was a guy. I don’t know who.
’

  ‘You slept with him. You had sex with someone.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Why? Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because I needed money,’ she said. He stopped still and stared as if he didn’t recognize her. Then swung his arm and hit her, easy and open-handed, across the face, and a moment later, because once seemed to lack the conviction that such a serious step implied, he hit her again. He was shocked by how loud the sound was, how it echoed in the room around them. That was his answer. She straightened up and looked at him in absolute shock. He took a step towards her without speaking and she ran out the front door into the street and was gone. He stayed standing in the same position, his hand glowing, for what felt like a long time, and then sat down. Her jacket was on the couch beside him. He picked it up and went outside to see if there was any sign of her.

  53

  After he had left Dessie in town Sylvester began to feel better. He had spoken to Marek and nearly all of the deposits had been lodged to the various accounts. He had spoken to Breen and everything was fine at their end. The contracts had been drawn up and were ready to go. When the clients arrived everything would be ready for them. They would each sit in Marek’s deep leather office chair at his enormous desk and sign the document.

  ‘It’s a done deal,’ Marek said.

  ‘Not until they sign,’ Sylvester said.

  ‘You should relax,’ Marek said. ‘Whatever happens happens. Worrying won’t change anything.’

  ‘If you knew the amount of energy and time and anxiety I have spent on this project you wouldn’t be saying that. My worrying has been responsible for every positive thing that has happened. It’s keeping this show on the road.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s true. Or very healthy.’

  ‘I know it’s not healthy,’ Sylvester said, ‘but it’s how it is.’

  It was after midday when Breen rang him, looking to meet. He had something for him, he said.

  ‘Is it important?’ Sylvester asked, fighting to stay patient. ‘Just because, you know, I’m going off in the morning and there’s an awful lot to be done today.’

  ‘I have to meet you,’ Breen said. ‘Sorry, but that’s all there is to it.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ He heard his own voice, like that of a fifteen-year-old talking to a girl who was out of his league.

  ‘Nothing wrong. I just need to see you before you go.’

  ‘You’re not in town by any chance?’ Sylvester asked.

  ‘No, I’m not. I’ll be at Newlands in an hour. Meet me there, will you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Sylvester rang Dessie but he was way out on the north-side delivering the photocopied papers and there was no chance he could get back in and drop off Sylvester by the time he was supposed to meet Breen. ‘I’ll have to get a taxi,’ Sylvester said.

  ‘Don’t be giving out to me,’ Dessie said. ‘You sent me here.’

  ‘I’m not blaming you. It’s just a complete pain in the arse. When you get finished come and pick me up.’

  The taxi got him out on time. There was a convention on a lunch break in the lobby, hundreds of people eating sandwiches and drinking tea. Sylvester wandered through them, feeling hopeless. He was in the wrong frame of mind to be meeting what was still a prospective client. His phone rang. ‘I’m outside,’ Breen said.

  ‘This place is a madhouse.’

  ‘Yeah. Come out to me. I’m in my car. It’s a silver Lexus. I’m in the far left corner.’

  Sylvester walked out, blinking, into the sunshine and across the car-park until he saw Breen, who smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. He relaxed a little. Breen pushed the door open for him. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Grand, yes,’ Sylvester said. ‘Did you see the state of that place? Who are they all?’

  ‘Pharmaceutical reps,’ Breen said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’ve no idea who they are. Who cares? Fucking people.’ He turned to Sylvester and contemplated him for a moment. ‘You look hassled.’

  Sylvester laughed. ‘Never better.’

  Breen put a hand on his shoulder. A rough, manly gesture that Sylvester could have done without. ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. No problem. A busy day ahead but I can’t complain about that. Looking forward to getting this deal done. It’s very close now.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘So, what can I do for you?’ Sylvester asked, as breezy and upbeat as he could manage.

  Breen reached behind his seat without looking. He pulled out a plastic Marks & Spencer bag and handed it to Sylvester.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘That’s for you. Fran wasn’t able to get the deposit across to Marek in time so he’s asking you to deliver it for him.’ Sylvester opened the bag and looked in. There was a yellow Jiffy-bag inside.

  ‘What is this?’ he said again.

  ‘Look. Fran just had some problems getting the money together in time and he couldn’t get the transfer set up so he needs you – we need you – to give that to Marek. The account is set up over there. There’s no problem at that end.’

  Sylvester felt the weight of the packet on his knees. Not heavy, but there was something in it all right.

  ‘Is this cash?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s cash.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Breen said. He was totally cool.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Sylvester said. ‘Is this the one hundred thousand?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, one hundred and four.’

  Sylvester laughed without meaning to, a hollow, breathless cackle. ‘And what do you expect me to do with it?’

  ‘We expect you to get it to Marek. I spoke to him a little while ago. He knows all about it. Fran wants to be a part of this deal. This is his share.’

  ‘Why can’t he just get a bank draft? Or do an electronic transfer?’

  Breen smiled. ‘No, that doesn’t work. Not for Marek and not for us.’

  Sylvester looked at him, eyes fixed. ‘Come on, Sylvester,’ Breen said. ‘You know what’s going on here. How much did David O’Donnell pay per square metre for the Vienna Park development in Prague?’

  ‘He paid the going rate.’

  ‘Are you sure about that? Because Marek says different.’

  Sylvester looked at him. ‘I don’t know what Marek’s been saying to you.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, will you give it up? We’re all on the same page. How much did you make out of that deal, then? Can you tell me that?’

  There was nothing Sylvester could think of in response. He could not move, as if the bag on his lap had stopped his legs working.

  ‘We know all about you,’ Breen said then. ‘Everything. You take risks. It’s an admirable thing. That hotel stuff. You just do what you want. We don’t look down on you for it. All of us, we understand how these things work. Not everything that we’ve done has been one hundred per cent by the book. That’s the way of it for everybody. Everybody. You don’t need me to tell you this. It’s just pragmatism. A small chance to take for such a nice reward. But if I can be frank with you, you need to get some fucking balls and do your bit. We’re ready to go. All of us.’

  Sylvester hesitated before speaking. ‘I can’t carry a hundred thousand euro across Europe. Do you know what they’d do to me if I got caught?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’d arrest me. They’d want to know where the money came from and what I was doing with it.’

  ‘You’re a businessman. You can explain it.’

  ‘Yes, but this isn’t how business is done. Bags of cash in carry-on luggage? Come on. You’re not that stupid. I can’t do this.’

  ‘No. We’re not stupid,’ Breen said. ‘But you will be able to do this. It’s not going to be a problem.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because it’s highly unlikely that you’ll get stopped. And if you do you’ll come
up with something. Talk to Marek. He’ll help you out. One way or another you need to get that money to him by tomorrow. Because if Fran isn’t involved in this I’m afraid none of us will be. It’s a deal-breaker, really. We all want to be in this together.’

  ‘This is serious stuff. You know that, don’t you? I want to do business with you, Paddy, I want things to work out for all of us, believe me. But not enough to take this kind of a risk.’

  ‘You’ve taken risks before. You’re not a cautious man.’

  ‘No,’ Sylvester said. ‘But I’m not foolhardy either.’

  ‘Then you’ll do the right thing here. Have you ever been stopped on your trips to Prague? Have Customs or the police or anyone else looked twice at you? You get on the plane and three hours later you get off. That’s it. Marek will be at the airport. Hand the money over and you’re finished. We’ll be out in a couple of days and we’ll have a drink together to celebrate. Seriously. You’re doing a favour for a potential client. That’s all. You’ll be able to talk your way out of it, if it comes to it. You’re a clever lad. I’m telling you, this is the only way it can be done. We’ve all talked about it and it’s the simplest, safest way to do it.’

  ‘Why can’t you bring it? Why doesn’t Fran do it himself?’

  ‘Because the money has to be there tomorrow or else it all falls through. And neither myself nor Fran can travel tomorrow. You’re our agent. We’re asking you to do it.’

  Sylvester closed his eyes. He couldn’t feel the packet on his lap any more. He had never been stopped, never even seen a Customs official. Without this there would be nothing left. He opened his eyes and saw that Breen was looking at him, a calm half-smile on his face.