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“Yeah, and it’s probably for the best. He’ll have Isobel to look after. You’ve got Sophie. How could you two make that work?”
“I guess we’ll never know. What was she like?”
“Isobel? Never met her.”
“How old is she?”
“Five. Just a kid.”
I imagine Sophie growing up in captivity, and the thought chills my blood. “This organization that’s got her?”
“What about them?”
“Nothing. I’m just wondering if this works and I inherit, maybe I could pay to get her back.”
“Then Jack would know I told you. Let this go. It isn’t your fight.”
“You made it my fight when you told me. I can’t believe I’m only finding this out now he’s gone. Can we call him?”
“Offline until the job’s done. He’ll call me when it’s over. You can speak to him then if you want to.”
“You promise?”
“Sure. Get some rest, though. I get the feeling it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
16
“We’ve all got decisions we have to make.” Vincenzo picks up the severed finger and inspects it. “Got to say, when I ordered the hit, I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. Imelda suggested it. Did you know that?”
I do my best to keep the surprise from my face.
“Didn’t she tell you?” He laughs. “Yeah, she thought I might bring her in as consigliere. She’s getting sick of being paid peanuts. I told her I’d think about it. She guaranteed you’d do the hit, but I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know if you’d go through with it or not. Killing an untouchable is a big fucking test, and you passed with flying colors. Mind me asking how you did it?”
“Waited until I’d fucked her a few times and she was asleep. Sneaked back into the safe house, then put a pillow over her face. Once she was out, I got the bolt cutters and the job was done.”
“So you made the right decision. I’m impressed. You’re ticking all the right boxes. Like the son I never had.”
“I guess so.”
“You got the key as well?”
“I have it.”
“Going to hand it over?”
I dig it out of my pocket and slide it over the desk. Out in the bank, someone’s arguing over their mortgage payment. The noise carries, but Vincenzo doesn’t bat an eyelid. I’m guessing he hears that kind of shit every day. He leans back in his chair, key in one hand, finger in the other.
“My money,” I say. “Where is it? Imelda says it’s not in the holding account yet.”
He nods. “That’s true.”
“Want to tell me why when the assignment’s been completed as agreed?”
“Well, you can call me a suspicious man if you like, but I’m not so sure you’re telling me the truth.” He lights a joint, puffing smoke into the air before continuing. “I thought maybe we could take a walk down to the vault together. If the finger works and the key works, then I’ll make the transfer when we get back upstairs.”
“You think I gave you fakes? Why would I do that?”
“Call it the intuition of the old man.”
