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He shakes his head. “For laundered cash that can’t be traced back to its origins? No, I haven’t got insurance for that.”
“So I’m left with nothing? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I’m sorry, Jack. I really am.”
I lean back in my chair and fold my arms across my chest. “Repatriation to the States by jet with medical team onboard. Two years learning to walk again, Trevor. The bills add up. I made promises to pay mob doctors that I now can’t keep. What do you expect me to do about that? Say, sorry? It was a fire?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just a banker.”
“You’re a fucking incompetent asshole, is what you are. You’re going to find me my money even if it comes out of your fucking blood. You got that? I earned that money. I killed for that money. It cannot simply be gone.”
He walks over to the cabinet, picking up the bottle again. “Someone turned off the fire safety system,” he says. “Someone knew the alarm codes. Disabled the lot. The place was targeted, Jack. Maybe you could find out who did it, make them pay you back.”
“Do your job for you, you mean?”
“I can give you names. Everyone who knew about the place. There’s only a couple of people it could be. You’d get more answers from them than I ever could.” He taps the side of his head. “All in here. I’ll give them all to you, but you gotta swear you’ll let me live. Protect me from them. I’ve got Betty’s christening coming up. How do you think she’ll feel if her father isn’t there?”
I look at him and I’m about to answer when every bone in my body turns to ice. The familiar feeling. Danger. Immediate danger.
I know what’s going to happen an instant before it does. I open my mouth to warn him to get down, but I’m too late.
A shot fires through his open window and catches him in the throat, spraying blood across the room. He crumples like a tower block demolition, straight to the floor, more blood soaking into the carpet as his hand moves to his throat. It doesn’t make it.
I’m already behind his desk, feeling more than hearing the second shot when it slams into his body. More bullets spit into the wall behind me.
I grab his chair and kick it the other way. A shot hits the cushion while I’m running in the opposite direction, straight for the door. By the time the sniper’s worked out I fooled them, I’m out and down the stairs, walking through the curtains into the clothes store on the first floor, joining the shoppers like I’m one of them.
I pause, looking at a shirt as if I might buy it. Out of the corner of my eye I check the street, working out my odds. Do I chance it or will they will take me out the instant I’m out the door?
My car’s gone.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and the shop assistant is holding out the phone next to the register. “For you,” he says.
I take the phone from him. Imelda’s voice comes on the line at once. “Jack,” she says. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles.”
“You took my car?”
“It was repossessed, I’m afraid. Same with your apartment. Your civilian account was emptied at the same time as the fire. Same M.O.”
“What the fuck is going on, Imelda?”
“I want to help, Jack. I really do, but my hands are tied.”
“So untie them.”
“I’ve heard a rumor you just killed Trevor. Tell me that’s not true.”
“Sniper,” I reply. “Who told you I did him?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. You got any proof you didn’t do it?”
“You need proof? Thought you trusted me.”
“Oh dear, Jack. Sounds like you’re in a bit of a pickle, doesn’t it?”
“You set me up, didn’t you? Tell me why, at least.”
“Nothing of the sort. In fact, I’m doing my best to help you. Look outside.”
