James Munro: The Money That Money Can't Buy

"You're lying," said Craig. "You took some when I left you in the safe. I heard you."

"A trifle," said Istvan.

"You've still got your tools."

"How can I use them again? I stole a million. There are no more worlds for me to conquer.

Hornsey came back, and the last of the money soared up in golden heat.

"You'll drive me back to Tangier?" Hornsey asked.

"Of course," said Craig. "I'm very grateful to you." Istvan sniffed.

"That night—I should have killed Simmons," Hornsey said.

"He hadn't led you to this," said Craig, and pointed to the heap of glowing ash.

"No. You did that," said Hornsey.

"When I thought you were one of us? After he—" Hornsey nodded. "I had to do it, Craig. That money had to burn."

"That's why you phoned the bank? To make sure we were getting on with it?"

"That's why," Hornsey said. "You did my job for me. We've won, Craig." He paused. "I thought you'd have killed Simmons."

"I thought so too. But he had to live."

"And Brodski?"

"Boris killed him." He hesitated. "I could have liked Brodski."

His hand flashed to his chest, came out with the Smith and Wesson, spun it by the trigger guard,

then replaced it under his coat in a blur of speed.

"Killing's all I know," he said. "It's time I learned something else."

They went back to the car, and Craig backed and turned away from a million pounds of ash.

Istvan said: "This Medani's father we visit. Will he have women with him?"

"I suppose so," said Craig. "Chaps like him used to have two or three hundred in the old days."

"Belly dancers?" asked Istvan.

"I dare say he could find you one. After all, he'll be grateful to you."

"I find such gratitude very consoling," Istvan said. "Only a woman can give me rest now."

Craig thought of Kamar.

"I don't think you'll find Berber women restful," he said. "But by God they make you feel like a man."