Recoil

6

I gave Giuseppe a shake. ‘Get us some details so we can transfer some money to you, OK?’

Stefan’s cushion-covered head lolled against Sam’s arms as Crucial walked backwards with his feet.

‘Make it fast, Nick. We’ve got to get out of here.’

I shook Giuseppe’s leg. ‘Listen, mate, get with it.’

His face crinkled into a papa smile. ‘My sister. I send her money every month.’

‘Come on, then.’ I dragged him up. ‘Let’s send her some more.’

We walked along the marble corridor.

‘I’m going to sort everything out for you, Mr Nick.’ Giuseppe was getting with the programme. ‘I’ll destroy Mr Stefan’s passport, clean everything up, make it look like he’s left on a trip. Then I’ll play stupid. In a week’s time, I’ll leave my resignation note and go.’

We were at the staircase down to the kitchen. ‘Mr Nick, I have a confession to make.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’ve always known about these poor people in Africa, and the way Mr Stefan let them be treated. I used to listen to him talking to the Chinese. They all said it didn’t matter how many people died, so long as the ore was coming out of the ground . . .’

I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it, mate. We’ve all got to make a living.’

We reached the basement and I picked up my holdall.

Giuseppe opened a drawer and pulled out a large brown Jiffy-bag. He grinned from ear to ear. ‘Your mail, Mr Nick. I only opened them in case they were important.’

I took the Jiffy and jammed it under my arm. A little light reading for later, maybe. ‘As soon as we get the money, Giuseppe, so do you. And don’t lose any sleep about the police. It’s a Swiss account. Private and numbered. No way will Massimo or anyone else ever give out details.’

He handed it to me and I turned to leave. There was no point giving it the big goodbye. We were off. We had other things to do.

‘Mr Nick, wait – your gift.’ He hurried back to the huge stainless-steel fridge and returned with a cheese-and-pickle ciabatta in a plastic bag. He handed it over with both hands, like he was presenting a medal. ‘If you ever see Miss Silke, please say hello from me.’