‘I guess, any deal you want,’ Grainger answered, ‘With her wealth and her desire for justice, she’ll do anything to find out who killed her daughter.’
As he finished speaking, they heard the chimes of the doorbell. The Doberman growled softly in her throat. Two minutes later, Gloria Manners was being wheeled across the patio by a middle-aged nurse in a starched white uniform. Creasy noted that Mrs Manners’ face was etched with many furrows and lines, distorting what had once been a face of immense beauty. Her grey hair and thin face also depicted her tragedy. Despite the heat of this early summer day, she wore a heavy black crocheted blanket around her now useless legs.
Her eyes settled immediately on Creasy and she studied his face in silence. Creasy gazed back at her, looking directly into her bitter blue eyes. She glanced at Michael and Juliet and finally turned to Grainger and said, ‘At least he looks the part.’ She lifted her head and said to the nurse. ‘Run along, Ruby, and come back in exactly half an hour.’
The nurse turned and went back inside the house.
Grainger leaned forward and asked, ‘Would you like a cool drink, Gloria?’
She shook her head impatiently. ‘Thank you, no.’ She was looking again at Creasy. She said in her Southern drawl. ‘I understand you’re from Alabama?’
‘A long ways back, ma’am.’
‘Can you help me?’ she asked.
‘I can try.’
‘What will it cost?’
Grainger sighed and started to say something. Creasy held up his hand.
‘I have no idea,’ Creasy answered, ‘It will cost you about fifty thousand Swiss francs as expenses for myself and Michael to go down to Zimbabwe and look around. If, after a couple of weeks, I think there’s no chance, I’ll tell you that and we’ll go on home.’
She moved her gaze to Grainger.
‘A few days ago, I talked to a couple of guys that Harry’s brother-in-law sent me. They asked for three hundred thousand dollars as an upfront retainer . . . your guy comes cheap.’
The Senator smiled slightly.
Creasy said, ‘Ma’am, I don’t take money for nothing.’ He tapped the folder in front of him. ‘The Zimbabwe police came up with a dead-end and they had a lot of pressure from the American Ambassador down there. I guess there’s only a slim chance of finding anything out.’
‘And if you do?’ she asked.
‘Then I’ll start charging. I might have to bring some other guys into it. I might have to pay some folding money to get information.’
Now the Senator interjected. ‘I have personal proof of Creasy’s honesty, Gloria.’
Creasy was still looking at the woman. He went on, ‘If I find out who did it, without doubt, I’ll charge you half a million Swiss francs.’
‘Still cheap,’ she said. ‘What if you find out who did it and they have political or other kinds of protection? Understand, Mr Creasy, I want justice.’ She spoke the last words quietly but with great intensity.
He leaned forward and also spoke quietly and again tapped the file. ‘Ma’am, my intuition is that whoever killed your daughter, did so because she happened to be with that guy Cliff Coppen. I guess he was their target and, for them, her death was incidental.’
‘In a way, that makes it worse.’
‘I agree. If I find them and they have such protection that they cannot be brought to trial, I’ll kill them myself. That will cost you a further million francs.’
There was a silence around the pool and around the garden. For the first time, her ravaged face showed slight animation. She glanced down at the gold watch on her bony wrist, and then said to Grainger, ‘Jim, if you’re serving lunch, I’d like to stay.’
They had cold meats and salad, together with an ice-cold bottle of Frascati, served to them at the pool by the Mexican maid. Creasy told Mrs Manners that he would need a full personal history of Carole and plenty of photographs. She assured him that he would have everything he needed later that afternoon, and asked when he would leave for Africa.
‘Tomorrow,’ he answered. ‘Via Brussels, where I have to confer with a friend.’
The old woman nodded her head and said, ‘The sooner the better. I wish I could go with you.’
For the first time, Juliet joined the conversation. ‘Why don’t you?’
The woman looked at her and, with her fist, hammered the arm-rest of her wheelchair. ‘Isn’t that obvious?’
Juliet shook her head.
‘No, it’s not. You got from your house to this house. From what I know and have seen, you’re paralysed only from the waist down.’
‘Only!’ the woman snapped.
‘Sure,’ Juliet answered. ‘You can use your arms and your brain, and the wheelchair looks like the top of the range model to me. It will work as well in Zimbabwe as it does in Colorado.’
Grainger saw the anger building up in the older woman’s eyes and said quietly, ‘Juliet, perhaps you don’t understand . . . Maybe you will when you are a little older.’ Abruptly he saw the anger growing in the girl’s eyes.
‘Mr Grainger, I don’t have to be one day older to know about suffering. You know my history.’
Total silence, and then Juliet turned to the woman again.
‘Mrs Manners, we learned earlier that you have a fortune of over one hundred million dollars. Creasy could have ripped you down for a couple of million at least. You have enough money to take your nurse along and even hire a back-up, and to travel first-class and have your wheelchair shipped along with you. I’m told they have good hotels in Harare.’ She paused, and then said quietly, ‘I don’t know how it feels to rear an only daughter and then have her shot for no apparent reason, but I do know that if it was me and I had a hundred million dollars, I wouldn’t just hire a top pair of mercenaries . . . I would want to be close to the scene.’
The old woman was silent.
Juliet glanced at Creasy and caught the look in his eyes and immediately shut her mouth and kept it shut.
‘It’s not a good idea,’ he said, looking at the woman. ‘Juliet is forgetting some things. Even flying first-class is going to be inconvenient for you. We go from here to Brussels and spend one or two nights there. From Brussels, we’ll probably have to fly to London to connect with a flight to Harare, and that flight will take at least ten hours. After one or two days in Harare, we’ll have to go on to Bulawayo and that flight won’t offer first-class service. In total, we’ll be in the air for about twenty-four hours, plus the usual waiting about in airports. That kind of travelling is very tiring, even for a very fit person. With modern communications, we can stay close in touch with you, right here in Denver.’
Gloria Manners was looking at the table in front of her. She glanced at Creasy and then at Juliet and said, ‘I think you’re right, young lady.’ She turned to look at Creasy and said, ‘I understand your argument, and of course there’s something else behind it as well . . . You don’t savour the prospect of having a bad-tempered old woman tagging along . . . especially one that’s paying the bills.’
Creasy shrugged non-committally and said, ‘It doesn’t matter if you’re paying the bills. I never accept interference on a job. It was your personal comfort I was concerned about.’
‘Then you don’t have to be concerned any more,’ she said, ‘Juliet was right. You could have shaken me down for a couple of million bucks or more. I’ll use that money to charter a private intercontinental-range jet with a full cockpit and cabin crew. I’ll take along Ruby, who knows how to look after me. I suggest we meet at the airport at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’
‘You can make all your arrangements, including the jet, by that time?’ Creasy asked.
It was Senator Grainger, who supplied the answer. ‘Yes, she can . . . money talks in these situations, especially in this country.’
As Ruby wheeled the old woman away, Michael said to Juliet, ‘You did us no favours there.’
She was looking at Creasy. She started to mutter an apology, but he hel
d up his hand.
‘It’s done now. The private jet will save time, and having her along just might have advantages.’
‘What advantages?’ Michael asked.
‘Right now, I can’t think of any.’ And then shrugged. ‘But who knows? Besides, we can’t afford to turn this job down. The coffers need replenishing.’
Chapter 6
His pleasure was mirrored on his face. She saw it as she crossed the room and shook his outstretched hand. She noticed other men in the bar watching her . . . all the other men in the bar. Colin Chapman pulled a seat back for her and she sat down with a gracious nod of her head at this un-modern courtesy. He sat down opposite her, the pleasure still on his face. A waiter appeared and she ordered a banana daiquiri.
‘It is so rare,’ he said, ‘these days, to see a Chinese woman wearing a cheong-sam . . . which is a great pity, because they are one of the most beautiful costumes in the world.’
Again, she inclined her head and said, ‘To tell the truth, Colin, it’s the first time I’ve ever worn one. When I was at school, they were looked on as a bit of a joke, and later on we all wore designer clothes. This morning, when I was packing up my mother’s clothes, I found half a dozen which I’m sure she hadn’t worn for many years. They fitted me perfectly, which for a cheong-sam is very necessary.’
He was admiring the high mandarin collars and the soft blue silk which flowed over her contours. At the same time, he was thinking that Lucy Kwok was a very practical young lady, perhaps even hard-hearted. After all, her mother had been brutally murdered only two weeks ago, and here she was wearing her clothes.
It was as though she read his thoughts.
‘I know it must seem a little strange, but I was close to my mother and she would have approved.’ She smiled at him. ‘In fact, I wore it because of you, in acknowledgement of your understanding of our Chinese languages and culture. It is also why I invited you to eat at the Dynasty restaurant tonight.’
The policeman looked slightly uncomfortable.
‘Of course, I appreciate it. I’ve heard of the exquisite food, but I could never afford it, not even on a senior policeman’s salary.’
Mischievously, she said, ‘So now you’re worried that you’ll be seen there and investigated by the Independent Commission Against Corruption.’
Very seriously, he said, ‘Lucy, you must understand that in my particular position I have to be very careful. As soon as I received your invitation this morning, I sent a fax to the head of the ICAC, informing him where I would be dining tonight and why . . . and who’d be paying the bill.’
The surprise showed on her face.
‘Are you joking?’
‘Definitely not. I even insisted on an acknowledgement of my fax, which came back ten minutes later.’
Her drink arrived and, as soon as the waiter left, he continued, ‘Understand that the Triads know me as their enemy. Last year, they managed to obtain my account number at Lloyd’s bank in London and paid three million Hong Kong dollars into it, without my knowledge. Fortunately, as soon as I started working in the Anti-Triad section, I took precautions. For the last three years, copies of my bank statements, both in London and here, have been sent automatically to the ICAC.’
‘I’m impressed,’ she said. ‘And the only bribe I will ever offer you is that of friendship, I’m sure the ICAC cannot object to that. Anyway, I don’t have a lot of money. It seems that my father spent most of his wealth on his research . . . but tonight I will be extravagant . . . Shall we go for dinner?
Chapter 7
The first confrontation took place at thirty-five thousand feet, above the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The private jet was a state-of-the-art Gulfstream IV. Its configuration was a crew-quarters, just behind the cockpit, then a galley and service area and, behind that, a dining area and then a lounge. At the back was a comfortable, en suite state cabin, together with two smaller cabins containing three bunks each.
The two-man cabin-crew had produced a gourmet lunch, and then Michael and Ruby retired to the lounge area and played cards. Creasy and Gloria Manners stayed at the dining-table. ‘What’s the programme in Brussels?’ Gloria asked, ‘It’s a question of consultation,’ Creasy answered, I have a friend there, called Maxie MacDonald. Rhodesian born and bred. During the War of Independence there, he fought in an elite unit called the Selous Scouts. They infiltrated what we used to call the Terrorist Organisation and what they used to call the Freedom Fighters. It happens that he operated in the area where your daughter was killed, and knows it intimately. I know how to take care of myself in the African bush, but compared to Maxie, I’m a novice. For a few months, I was attached to the Selous Scouts, but operated mainly on the other side of the country adjoining Mozambique. Maxie and I are good friends. We’ve worked together over many years, I have good contacts in Zimbabwe, but his are even better. He still has family there. I want to talk to him before we head south. I also want to see a couple of other friends in Brussels and check out the scene. For some reason, Brussels is a kind of information centre for mercenaries. We may need some back-up and we’ll certainly need some weapons. I’ll arrange all that over the next forty-eight hours.’
Gloria asked, ‘What arrangements have you made for me and my nurse?’
‘I’ve booked you a suite in the Amigo Hotel, plus an adjoining room for your nurse. It’s more than five star and damned expensive.’
‘So you’ll meet your friend Maxie at the hotel?’
Creasy shook his head.
‘Maxie is retired now. Together with his wife and her young sister, they run a small bistro. Michael and I will have dinner there tonight. I’ll brief him on the situation and then listen to his suggestions.’
He could almost feel the hostility coming across the narrow table.
‘And what do I do?’ Gloria asked. ‘Sit in that hotel and twiddle my thumbs?’
‘It’s operational,’ Creasy answered, it’s a significant part of my preparation. Maxie’s knowledge and contacts are important.’
The reaction was immediate. Gloria Manners rose slightly in her wheelchair and said, ‘I don’t want to be a simple onlooker. I have an alternative suggestion. You invite this Maxie MacDonald and, if necessary, his wife and even her sister, to dinner at my hotel and then I can listen in on what’s going on.’
Creasy shook his head.
‘I can’t do that. Maxie and his family run a business with a local clientele. They just can’t close down for a night. Michael and I will go in and have a late supper, when Maxie’s got time to talk to me.’
Gloria Manners reached forward and pressed a button on the bulkhead. Ten seconds later, the steward appeared. Gloria Manners looked at Creasy and said, ‘I’m going to have a cognac. Do you want something?’
‘I’ll join you with a cognac.’
They remained silent until the steward brought the drinks, and then Gloria leaned forward and said, ‘We had better examine the parameters of this relationship.’
‘I guess so.’
‘You work for me.’
‘So?’
‘When someone works for me, they do what I tell ’em.’
Creasy smiled. It was the first time she had seen him smile, but she didn’t get the reaction from a normal smile.
He said, ‘Mrs Manners, I work for you because I choose to. As a matter of fact, I need the money that you’re offering . . . but I don’t need it so bad that I have to take bullshit from anybody. We do this my way, or when we land in Brussels we say goodbye and you fly, in your plane, back to Denver and hire a bunch of ex-Green Berets, who would be about as comfortable in the Zimbabwe bush as I would be in a society cocktail party in Hollywood.’
She took a sip of her cognac, watching him all the time over the rim of her glass. She said, ‘Jim Grainger told you about me?’
‘Told me what?’
‘That I’m a difficult bitch.’
‘No one needed to tell me that.’
‘He never liked
me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Maybe there’s a reason. But it’s none of your business.’
‘It’s immaterial,’ Creasy answered. ‘Whether you’re difficult or not only affects me as to this operation. You’re paying me a modest sum to find out whether there might be any reason to continue looking for your daughter’s killers. If we continue, you have to fall in line. You don’t tell me how to handle my contacts and my friends. You don’t tell me how to handle the operation. Make your mind up now.’
As they looked at each other across the table, Creasy realised that it was a make or break situation.
The old woman said, ‘I didn’t come along to stay in a suite in a luxury hotel . . . I need to be part of it.’
‘You will be. But on my terms.’
‘What are your terms?’
‘I’ll give you an example, if you want to be in on the conversation with Maxie MacDonald, then I’ll arrange a special car to bring you from the hotel to his bistro and you join us for dinner. Of course, you have Ruby with you.’
Another silence, while they eyeballed each other across the table. Then her head dipped in the merest nod of acknowledgement.
She said, ‘You booked me into the Amigo Hotel with my nurse. Are you and Michael staying there too?’
Creasy shook his head.
‘No. Michael and I are staying in a whorehouse.’ He stood up, glanced down at her shocked face and said, ‘I’ll tell you about it when we get to Brussels.”
He walked down the plane to the lounge area. From behind him, Mrs Manners voice called out imperiously, ‘Ruby! I need you.’
The nurse sighed, tossed her cards into the middle of the table and stood up.
Creasy sat down in her chair and watched as Michael stacked the cards.
In a low voice, the young man asked, ‘Why do we have to work for a bitch like that? Why do we even have to spend more than thirty seconds in her presence? I don’t give a shit who killed her daughter. In fact, if we find out who did it, maybe we’ll point them at the old bitch herself.’
Black Horn (A Creasy novel Book 4) Page 3
