Assassin

27

'Ten million dollars,' said Visar when Tyzack had finished his explanation. 'That is a very generous figure and it is not open to negotiation. I will pay you half in cash. The other half I will give you in kind: women, territories, rights to certain operations. Over time, these properties will prove far more valuable than a straight payment. Before we conclude our agreement, however, I need to be sure that the technical side of the plan is feasible. Can you be certain of that?'

'Don't see why not,' Tyzack replied. 'I've got a chap who can work out the basic design. But he may not be able to do the actual construction, so I'll need help with that. And someone will have to get hold of the basic components, either buy them or steal them. I have some business of my own to conduct over the next few days. But so long as your men keep to the schedule and do what I ask, we'll be fine.'

Visar nodded. 'Good. But understand this, Mr Tyzack. You cannot afford to be distracted by this business you have to do. You must be in Bristol, and you must do your job. I cannot tolerate failure.'

'But you'll give me the help I need?'

'Of course, anything.'

'Then we're on.' At Malaga airport, walking between the chopper and the private jet, Tyzack made a phone call. He gave a set of specific instructions, then listened impatiently, his face clouding over with anger, to what the other speaker had to say.

'Are you quite finished?' he said at last. 'Right, then, let me make myself clear. I don't give a damn if you're busy, or you have other things to think about. This is what you're thinking about now. I need that design, so remember those pictures I sent you? Think about them. Think about the people you love. Now go away and do what you're told.'

Tyzack was still fuming as he ran up the steps, barged past the pretty, smiling flight attendant standing at the aeroplane door and slumped down sullenly in the nearest seat.

The attendant turned to look at the co-pilot, who had been watching through the open cockpit door. She raised her eyebrows, widened her eyes in mock-horror, gave an exaggerated sigh and mouthed the words, 'What's got into him?' At his villa, Visar put in a call to the Albanian embassy in Washington. 'Get a message to Kula,' he said. 'I need him to create an application for an iPhone, a guidance system. The precise specifications will be sent to him soon. Tell him this is a job that will gain him great favour.'

'Consider it done,' said the diplomat on the other end of the line.