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“Twelve inch thick steel,” Vincenzo says, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Bombproof, bulletproof, fireproof. You should have kept your money in here.”
“I’ve still got fifty grand in my safe deposit box right here.”
“I meant all your savings, not pocket money. Shame about the warehouse burning up like that, but that’s what happens when you avoid using the banks.”
“How did you know about that?”
“Word gets around.”
“You started the fire?”
“Now, why would I do a thing like that?”
“That’s not a denial.”
He grins. “You got me. Wanted you onside and thought a little incentive would work. Guess what? It did. You should have kept it all here. It would have been safe for you.”
“Then I wouldn’t have taken this job.”
“Sure you would.” He walks through the door, still talking. We step into the room filled with safe deposit boxes, steel table in the center. “You’re built for this life. Isobel is just an excuse so you can tell yourself you have to do it, but I knew the truth before you did. You are a born killer. Always have been. Just needed a nudge to make you see it.”
I think of Eddie and Ginny. Shot to keep me in line. The blood splattering my face. Isobel screaming. Vincenzo laughing at my impotent fury. The beatings, the lashings. The salt in the wounds to make my screams louder. The constant reminders that I brought it all on myself by trying to run.
A nudge. That’s what he called it.
“It’s all right. You don’t need to pretend anymore. You want to know why I sent you after Clarissa? Why I really sent you?”
“I’m guessing there’s the Will in the vault and it says she inherits everything?”
“That’s a bonus. The real reason is because I knew you slept with her. Wanted to see if you’d be willing to kill her anyway. Made a bet with Imelda after she told me. Ten bucks said you’d do it. I won that one. I knew you’d have no moral qualms about doing it. You only care about the money and the power. Same as me. I know you because you’re like me. You don’t give a shit about a single living soul. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you sold Isobel to Firenze.”
“He’s dead.”
“Oh, yes. On his wedding day, too. Such a tragedy.” He runs his eyes along the boxes, tapping the one he’s been looking for. “Time to find out who you really are,” he continues, lifting the severed finger to the front of the box.
There’s no visible scanner, but I hear a beep and he laughs. “Guess you were telling the truth.” The box slides forward a couple of inches with a soft hiss. He takes hold of the edge and pulls the box out, setting it down on the table.
I watch as he pushes the key into the lock on top. He turns it and as he does so; I hold my breath, starting to count.
He swings open the lid. “What the fuck?” he says before the canister inside cracks open. Gray gas puffs up straight into his face. He gags, clutching at his throat. “You tricked me,” he says, his voice failing. He stumbles, his hand sliding off the edge of the table, his body falling out of sight.
Ten seconds. I keep my mouth tightly closed, turning to the wall and seeking my box. When I press my finger to it, it comes out quickly. I yank it free and set it on the table. The gas is still in the air.
Vincenzo’s got a hand reaching up for my ankle, but it’s weakening already. “But…”
I shove his arm away, unlocking my box and reaching inside, grabbing the gas mask Morgan left in there for me. I shove it over my head and only then do I let a breath into my lungs. I look through the goggles at the stiffening body of Vincenzo. His face is contorted in agony, white foam forming at the corner of his mouth, his fingers curling into a rictus grip like he’s fighting the surrounding air. “Relax,” I say through the mask. “It won’t kill you. Just hurts a little while you go under.”
In my box is a folded canvas bag. I pull it out and shove the remaining contents of both boxes into it. That done, I check the time. A minute’s up. The gas is clearing. I keep the mask on to be sure, walking up the stairs and out into the bank. The tellers are all slumped forward in their seats, heads down. They’ll come to soon enough with headaches, but no idea what happened to them. If I wanted to, I could rob the place blind, replace all the money Vincenzo burned up.
I walk to the asshole’s office, pushing the door open, ready for the worst.
The goon is slumped over the desk, hand on his gun. He was getting ready to fire, but he didn’t make it. Isobel is out cold too, leaning sideways on her chair, about to fall.
I scoop her up into my arms, putting the gasmask over her face. I carry her out front with my breath held, laying her down on the back seat of my car. She’s breathing steadily. She should come to in a couple of minutes. Just long enough to put some distance between me and the bank.
I got what I came for. Isobel’s safe. Vincenzo is down. I just need Morgan to confirm everything else went to plan. Until he does, I need to get out of the country, make sure this doesn’t come back to bite me on the ass.
I take a couple of turns before pulling up down a backstreet. I lean into the back to check on Isobel. She’s still got her eyes shut, but she’s starting to move.
