Philip Kerr - False Nine

‘If you say so. But we’re all a mass of contradictions. This is the human condition. A hero on one day can be a villain the next. No human being can ever really hope to understand another, and no one can fathom another’s unhappiness. Heroes are no longer the simple men of old — the Bert Trautmanns and the Bobby Moores. Perhaps they never were. The world is not black and white, Scott. It’s always been black and grey. You sound surprised about that. And that surprises me.’

‘Clue me in here, Paolo. The kid’s disappeared. The cops on Antigua have looked all over the island. But there’s no trace of him. And no trace of him having left the island. Apparently he checked out of the hotel — a little earlier than scheduled — paid the bill by credit card, and left. Hasn’t been seen since. So where do you think he‘s gone?’

‘I really have no idea. But I assume that’s where you’re going next. To Antigua. I mean, that’s the logical place to begin your search in earnest.’

‘I leave tomorrow. I’m following the same route he took. Flying to London Gatwick and from there to Antigua. While I’m on my way down there maybe you can persuade FCB and PSG to change their minds about offering a reward for information as to Jérôme’s disappearance.’

‘There’s not a chance of that happening, Scott. This is commercially sensitive on all sorts of levels. I thought they made that clear already. I know I just did. Besides, the cops down there didn’t want us to offer a reward. They thought it would be counterproductive.’

I shrugged. ‘Can’t blame me for asking. It would certainly make things a lot easier.’

‘In which case they’d hardly be paying your ass a hundred grand a week to find him.’ He looked around. ‘You’re staying at the Jumby Bay, too? Like he did.’

‘Yes.’

‘There’s a great restaurant there. You should try it.’

‘I expect I will.’

‘And I should check out Guadeloupe while you’re down there. That’s where Jérôme was from, you know — before he went to live in Marseille with his mother — and it’s only a short plane ride south from Antigua. Or is it north? I can never remember.’

‘Antigua is north of Guadeloupe.’

‘It should be nice down there at this time of year. I would say have a nice time but I assume you’re going to be busy.’

‘It’s a real hardship, isn’t it? Going to the Caribbean in February. But someone’s got to do it.’

‘If anyone can solve this mystery, I’m sure it’s you.’ Paolo was silent for a moment and then frowned. ‘Maybe you can already tell me why he bought a gun. And from whom?’

‘He bought it from some punks who hang around the Alain Savary Sports Centre in Sevran. It’s one of these charming suburbs in northeast Paris. I was there this morning.’

‘Not dressed like that, I hope. Or wearing that gold watch.’

‘No. I went back to my hotel and changed before coming here.’

That was almost true.

‘The Alain Savary Centre is the one Jérôme was supposed to be putting money in. He was giving the local youth money, all right. But it wasn’t for footballs and sports kit. It was mainly for weed and blow. And the gun, of course. I don’t know why he wanted that, no. Not yet. I’m going to ask the lovely Bella when next I see her. Maybe she can tell me. That won’t exactly be a hardship, either. She’s very easy on the eye.’

Paolo Gentile’s brown eyes narrowed over the top of his wine glass; he took a sip, and then wagged a perfectly manicured finger at me. I’ll say one thing for Paolo, he’s probably the best-dressed man in football. GQ , look out.

‘What?’

‘Just make sure you keep your hands off her.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning that life is just like football; just different sets of tactics.’

‘And that means what, exactly?’

‘It means, my deliberately obtuse friend, don’t try and fuck her. She’s just a kid.’

‘Nonsense. This is a grown-up woman we’re talking about, Paolo. You make her sound like Lolita with a lollipop and a pout.’

‘Just stay out of her pretty little pants, sport.’

‘Why would you think that there was even half a chance of me getting in them?’

‘Because no one ever fucks these models. Everyone thinks they’re untouchable. Which means they’re anything but, of course. And don’t act so innocent about this. You’re a dog, Scott. That’s right. You’ve got a bit of form here, Scotty my friend.’

‘What are you talking about, form?’

‘For fucking other men’s wives. That’s what got you into trouble before, wasn’t it? When you were still at Arsenal? I mean, if you hadn’t been with that guy’s wife, you’d never have gone to prison, would you? So, learn your lesson well, my friend, and just make sure you just leave Bella Macchina alone.’

‘As far as I’m aware, Bella and Jérôme Dumas weren’t married. In fact, they broke up just before Christmas.’

‘Perhaps they did. But that’s irrelevant from where I’m sitting.’

‘Take my word for it, there’s a velvet rope around a girl like that.’

‘Is there? From what I heard she likes black guys. I’m telling you to make sure you’re not one of them.’

‘You know I hadn’t thought of trying to fuck her, Paolo. But now you’ve mentioned it...’ I grinned. ‘You’ve given me an idea here. Maybe no one is fucking her. Be a shame to let a nice white booty like that go to waste. Isn’t that what this is about? Maybe you just don’t like the idea of white women going with black men. Because believe me, the ship has already sailed on that particular vexed issue. Even in Italy.’

‘It’s got nothing to do with race. And everything to do with that boy’s commercial future. With her commercial future, too. She may not realise it yet but there’s a shelf-life for models, too. They’re both of them financially much stronger together than they are apart. I figure Jérôme will stand a much better chance of getting back with the lovely Bella if no one else is seeing her. And no one would certainly include you.’

‘Bollocks.’ I shook my head. ‘Look, I’m flattered that you even think I stand a chance with a girl like her, but you needn’t worry. I’m already in a relationship. Okay?’

‘I’m serious, Scott. Most men have a weakness. Mine is money. And white Ferraris. I have four now. Frankly, I don’t need any of them. Most of the time I have someone to drive me. But I have a weakness for these cars. Your weakness is women. Always has been. In spite of what you say — your modest denials — women are what will always get you into trouble. So, take my advice and keep your filthy paws off that girl. She’s forbidden fruit to a man like you.’

‘Have you any idea why Jérôme should have felt the need to get himself a gun?’

‘My God, I’d forgotten about that.’

‘You saw it?’

‘He showed it to me.’

‘When was this?’

‘October? Maybe November. I’m not sure.’

Bella leaned out of bed, grabbed her cigarettes and lit one. She was still wearing a black corselette, black stockings and suspenders, but her tiny floss panties were long gone. Looking at her golden bare butt now and remembering with lips that were still glowing just how much time I’d spent with my head between her legs, I wasn’t so sure I hadn’t eaten them. That’s the thing about forbidden fruit. Like the saying goes, it often tastes the sweetest. Paolo Gentile was right about that much anyway. Women had always been my weakness. I might have said they were my Achilles heel except that my feet had nothing to do with what I wanted to do with Bella. I might have felt a little more guilty about betraying Louise but I’d already managed to persuade myself that I had an out with my girlfriend on account of the fact that Bella was a Marilyn supermodel, and of course it’s not every day that a supermodel with legs up to an arse you could eat your sushi off makes it clear that she wants you to fuck her brains out. That’s not much of a defence. And I wouldn’t like to see anyone try that in court — even a good barrister. Rumpole of the Bailey couldn’t have put that one over. An all-male jury might just have bought it. Gentlemen of the jury, just look at this woman, for God’s sake. Wouldn’t you have fucked her, too? If you’d had the chance? Sure you would. But how many juries did you get these days that didn’t have at least one disapproving battleaxe on board for the trial? The days of 12 Angry Men were long gone.