James Craig - Then We Die

‘I was just wondering,’ Helen said, ‘will this affect Alice’s chances of winning a scholarship?’

No, no, no! Don ’ t start begging for money. Let ’ s just get going . Struggling to hide his annoyance, Carlyle slowly sank back into his chair.

‘I understand the considerable financial commitment that you have made to send your daughter to our school,’ Myers smiled, ‘but that is true of many parents. As you know, there is a lot of competition for our scholarships. All I can really say is that this incident will not prevent Alice from taking the scholarship exams. However, we do take a wide range of factors into consideration before making any award.’

So Alice being a drugs mule means we’re screwed , Carlyle thought morosely. I am going to be broke for the rest of my life paying your bloody school’s fees . ‘That’s very helpful guidance,’ he said politely, getting to his feet a second time. ‘Thank you for your time today. We will make sure we impress upon Alice the seriousness of the situation.’

‘Good,’ said Myers.

As Helen rose too, Carlyle took her by the arm and gently but firmly steered her towards the door.

‘Inspector?’ Myers had bounced out from behind his desk and made to open the door for them.

‘Yes?’ said Carlyle, wary at this belated use of his title.

‘I was wondering if there was something that you might be able to do for us regarding the drugs issue.’

Bollocks . ‘Of course.’

‘We occasionally organize outside speakers for the older girls — fifth- and sixth-formers mainly. I was wondering if you might give them a talk on drugs?’

‘Well. .’

‘He would be delighted to,’ said Helen cheerily. ‘Just let us know when.’

* * *

‘I think that went okay,’ said Helen as they walked slowly, hand-inhand, across the empty playground.

‘Yes,’ Carlyle sighed, ‘as well as could be expected.’ He glanced at the phone in his free hand: it was his private, pay-as-you-go mobile, the one he usually forgot to answer. Tomorrow, this phone would be history — the handset thrown in the bin and the SIM card tossed down a drain in some distant part of London. Now, however, he desperately needed it to ring.

‘Do you think we can afford to keep paying the school fees?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Are you sure, John?’

‘Look,’ he snapped, ‘if I say we can afford it, we can afford it, all right?’ She gave him a dirty look and dropped his hand. Immediately he regretted being so sharp. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I didn’t mean to shout at you.’

‘There’s no need to be so mean,’ she pouted.

‘I said I’m sorry.’ Trying to avoid compounding his mistake, he took a deep breath. ‘You know how our finances stack up as well as I do. We’ll be fine.’

Before she could answer, the phone started vibrating in Carlyle’s hand. He stepped away from his wife. ‘Hello?’

‘Have you got what we need?’

Carlyle cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I have,’ he said. ‘Let me give you the details. .’

Looking up from his mug of steaming black coffee, Sol Abramyan invited them to sit down.

‘Want some?’

‘Thanks.’ Under the watchful gaze of Sol’s bodyguards, Carlyle stood up from his chair and stepped over to the counter. Reaching for the coffee pot, he lined up a couple of mugs, filling one for himself and one for Dominic Silver. Placing Dom’s mug on the table in front of him, the inspector returned to his seat. He took a sip and savoured the distinct chocolate flavour.

‘Nice coffee.’

‘Elephant Arabica beans from Guatemala,’ Sol explained. ‘I always pick up a couple of kilos when I’m in London.’

‘You should try some Monsoon Malabar,’ said Dom, gripping his mug nervously. ‘It’s very nice. Just a little smoother.’ He tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. Carlyle didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend looking so wired. Maybe more caffeine wasn’t such a good idea.

Sol took another sip. ‘So,’ he eyed the inspector carefully, ‘here you are sitting in my kitchen once again.’

Carlyle nodded.

‘Only this time, as far as I can judge, you have nothing to trade.’ He glanced at the Somalis who stood impassively by the back door, giving no impression of understanding any of what was being said. ‘In fact, it seems like the only thing you’ve managed to do is derail my current business plans, costing me a lot of money in the process.’

Taking another mouthful of coffee, Carlyle shook his head. ‘That was not my fault.’

Sol held up a hand. ‘Look, to be honest, I don’t really care who did what to whom or when or how and least of all, why. Regarding the politics of it all, I couldn’t give a damn. Apart from anything else, my Israeli clients are far more lucrative than my Arab ones. Money is no object to those boys; they can afford any shit they want, and they always want the best.’

‘The best kind of clients,’ Dom quipped. Sol gave him a sharp look and he quickly returned his gaze to his cup.

‘I have no problem with Mossad, or whoever the fuck it was, nailing whoever they like. My only wish is that they wouldn’t liquidate clients before they’ve settled their accounts.’ Sol shrugged. ‘It’s a simple business principle: you gotta get paid.’

Carlyle nodded, happy to let Sol continue spouting off for as long as he liked.

‘I’ve got nothing against the Israelis — apart from the little shit downstairs,’ he nodded to a small door in the far corner of the kitchen, ‘but then he tried to fucking kill me. They are great people to deal with, hard but fair.’ He grinned at Carlyle. ‘If I may be so bold as to give you a word of advice, I think that you have been rather too aggressive in your dealings with them. They will fuck you royally in the end.’

Carlyle gave him a what ’ s-done-is-done type of a shrug.

‘So, what have you got for me?’

‘Well,’ Carlyle smiled, ‘I’m going to let you walk away. . live to fight another day, as it were.’

Sol looked at Silver and frowned. ‘Excuse me?’

Silver just stared into his mug.

‘I need you to hand over the captive downstairs,’ said Carlyle evenly. ‘He needs to be taken into custody and processed.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Sol, a mixture of amusement and annoyance in his voice. ‘He’s going to be processed all right. He’s going to be processed all the way to Hell. And if you don’t start talking some sense, you’ll be going with him.’

Carlyle ignored the threat. ‘I’m sure that if I were to have you arrested,’ he continued, ‘that would prove to be only a temporary inconvenience. Anyway, I assured Dominic here that I would respect you, being his client. Like I said, you can walk away. Sure, the deal fell through, but these things happen. It certainly wasn’t my fault and I am doing you the very great favour of overlooking the fact that what you are doing is completely fucking illegal.’

‘How very kind of you.’

‘That’s a more than fair exchange for a man you don’t really have any use for anyway.’

Sol sat back and crossed his arms. ‘And if I say no?’ Behind him, the two bodyguards, sensing the meeting had taken a downward turn, swayed forwards on the balls of their feet, ready for action. As they did so, there was a gentle tinkle of breaking glass, and the kitchen window disintegrated.

‘What the fuck?’ Before Sol could get out of his chair, the Somalis were both lying face down, blood leaking out of almost identical head wounds, brain matter splattered over the wooden floor and the fridge door. Reaching over to the nearest one, he tried to retrieve the Uzi pistol sticking out of the dead man’s Wrangler jeans.