Philip Kerr - False Nine

‘You don’t want to talk? That’s fine by me. I can understand your reluctance to tell me about this. After all, it’s embarrassing to tell someone how you fucked up when you’ve only just met them. But what you’ve just told me so far won’t be good enough for the people at PSG or Barca who sent me here to find you. Not by a long chalk. If either of the two clubs get so much as a whiff of ill-discipline or someone with a bad attitude then they can fuck you up good, my son. You’re an investment and no one likes to see their investment just disappear without so much as an explanation. If Barca decided they didn’t want you after all — which yet they might — PSG could put you up for transfer and sell you to the highest bidder..‘

I sipped my elderflower water and waited for him to say something but all he did was stare at the game on the screen as if he wished he could just carry on playing.

‘Everything will be fine just as soon as I score my first goal for the Blaugrana,’ said Jérôme. ‘You’ll see. They all will.’

‘Sure it will. Just like it was after you’d scored your first goal at PSG. No, wait, you never scored a goal for PSG, did you? Correct me if I’m wrong but I thought that was why the French agreed to loan you to the Catalans. In the hope that you might do better in Barcelona than you’d done in Paris.’

Jérôme sighed loudly and, leaning back in his chair, shook his head.

‘I think you’re going to have to talk to me, son. Tell me, Grace, you’re a lawyer, would an employer be within their rights to dismiss an employee who didn’t turn up to work for the best part of a month, without an explanation? Not only that, but to sue him for breach of contract?’

‘He’s right, Jérôme,’ Grace told him. ‘You’re going to have to tell him something.’

‘It’s complicated,’ he said finally.

‘It always is.’

‘No, man, really fucking complicated.’

‘Look me up on the internet sometime. You’re looking at someone for whom complicated has been a pretty consistent career choice.’

‘Really?’

‘I don’t know a better way to explain how I’ve been to prison for something I didn’t do.’

‘You did?’

‘I served eighteen months for rape before I was acquitted. How’s that for complicated?’

‘I didn’t know. Christ. That’s really fucked up, man.’

‘Look, I can help you, kid. The fact is I’m not just here to fetch you home, I’m here to save you from yourself, if you need it. Which I happen to think you do. You see, I gave my word to Paolo Gentile that I’d do this. He seems to think your arse is worth saving, although frankly I remain to be convinced by that.’

‘Paolo. How is that old crook?’

‘Coin-operated. Same as ever. He has big plans for you. He’s convinced that he can make you the richest young man in football since Cristiano Ronaldo. Provided you’re willing to toe the corporate line, of course.’ I paused. ‘Is that one of the reasons why you funked it?’

‘A little, perhaps. But look, man, this is all very personal. It’s not easy to tell a complete stranger why I didn’t think I could go back.’

‘You know, I did quite a bit of digging around in your life before I flew over here. I’ve sat around in your lovely apartment with Mandel, and with Alice. She’s very loyal. I liked her. I’ve had dinner with Bella Macchina. I like her, too. I’ve been through your closets and your drawers. I’ve even been through your bathroom cabinet. I think I can safely say I know a lot more about you than you probably think I do. At the moment it’s just me who knows this shit. Not PSG and not Barcelona. If they did they’d run a mile, so you can thank me later.’

Jérôme gave a very Gallic shrug. He didn’t look very thankful. ‘What do you think you know?’

‘I know everything, from why Bella gave you the push, to your fondness for sex games with the Twin Towers, to your run-in with the Paris police. I know you’re on meds for depression. I know that you used to have a gambling problem. I know about your friends in Sevran-Beaudottes, that you used to go there to smoke a little weed and buy some blow, and how one of those hoods gave you a gun. You might be surprised to learn that’s the kind of thing that alarms a football club. And which can drive away a potential advertiser. Take it from one who’s already been there.’

‘Yes, but do you know why he gave me a gun?’

‘I think it may have been something to do with the death of Mathieu Soulié.’

Jérôme nodded, unhappily. ‘Those guys. They’re bastards. I used to go to the Alain Savary Sports Centre and give them clothes and money, trying to put something back in, you know? I figure I’ve been lucky and I want to do something for people who’ve not been as fortunate as me.’

‘That’s very laudable of you, Jérôme.’

‘Anyway, one day I gave them some stuff I’d been wearing on a shoot, with Bella. Some clothes from Dries Van Noten. There was this one T-shirt with a satin square and a letter D—’

‘The one they found in Mathieu Soulié’s dead hand.’

‘That’s right. Chouan — he’s the gang leader — he must have been wearing it when they killed him. Either Soulié tore it off or they deliberately put it there in his hand to incriminate me. Anyway, Chouan said that if I didn’t do what he told me he’d make sure the police got the T-shirt and a picture of me wearing it. I had nothing at all to do with his murder. I even had an alibi. But I don’t think the cops would be too interested in that. They’d still have me in for questioning on account of how I’ve pissed them off already with my politics and my big mouth. Just to give me a hard time.’

‘And the gun?’

‘That was what Chouan wanted. He told me to get rid of it. To throw it in the river. Said he thought the cops were watching him. I’m sure it was the gun that killed that guy.’

‘And did you?’

‘No. I kept it in the apartment for a while until I figured out what to do with it. Then I decided to hide it. I figured it was evidence that might actually help to clear me.’

‘Sensible boy. Where did you hide it?’

‘In a left luggage locker at Gare du Nord.’

‘But there’s an X-ray check on left luggage at all French stations.’

‘I put it in a bag full of old cameras I bought from a junk shop. It’s taped to the underside of an ancient Canon with a long lens. On the X-ray machine it just looks like it’s part of the camera. Besides, those guys at the station are more interested in talking to a PSG footballer than in checking through his bag. Especially when there’s an autograph to give.’

‘And the key is where?’

‘In my bag upstairs.’

‘You can give it to me later. We’ll have a lawyer in Paris sort this out when we’re back in Europe. I’m sure if you make a statement under oath this can be made to go away.’

‘You really think that’s possible?’

‘Sure. Leave it to me.’ I nodded. ‘And that’s it? The sole reason why you didn’t want to go back home? What this was all about?’

‘Yes,’ said Jérôme. ‘Maybe I lost my nerve for all that shit with Cesare da Varano, the designer, and then the Zaragoza Bank. It’s not who I want to be, you know? It’s not football, right?’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled. ‘And yes, I agree, it’s not football. But you’re a bloody liar.’

‘Why do you say so?’

‘Oh, I don’t doubt your story about the gun. However, I don’t think it’s why you didn’t go home. Not for a minute. Call me a suspicious bastard but I think it’s got more to do with something that happened here than something which had already happened back in Paris. You see, I think you were about to catch that flight back to London when something happened here to change your mind, or you found out that something happened. Something you read about in a newspaper at the airport, perhaps.’