In the Evil Day

view, she came up the stairs, she was all in black.

‘The guy on the bike,’ said Niemand. His mouth was dry. The words sounded funny, not like his voice. ‘What happened to him?’

‘I’m the guy on the bike,’ she said. ‘I have to give you an injection.

Your friend left it. You have really useful friends.’

‘Are you Greek?’ She looked Greek, she looked like one of his cousins.

‘Greek? No, Welsh. I’m Welsh.’

Niemand knew a Welshman, David Jago. He was dead.

‘Thanks very much,’ he said. ‘Picking me up, everything. Tandy. I’m feeling a bit strange.’ He was feeling sleepy again.

‘He told me to say the bullet seems to have chipped your collarbone and gone out your back. You’ve missed paraplegia by a centimetre. He’s says he’s given you a battlefield clean-up, he takes no responsibility, don’t mention his name to anyone and don’t call him again. Ever.’

She came closer. ‘I’ve got to inject you,’ she said.

Niemand focused on her. Welsh. She had a Greek look. The mouth. The nose.

‘What’s the chance of a fuck?’ he said. ‘In case I’m dying.’

She shook her head and smiled. It was a Greek smile. ‘Jesus, men,’ she said. She held up the syringe. ‘Listen, I’m the one with the prick. Do you need to pee?’

28

…HAMBURG…

Voices in the background, scuffling noises, other sounds. Tilders was watching a display on the small silver titanium-shelled machine.

‘Alsterarkaden,’ he said. ‘Having coffee. The first bit’s just small talk, ordering.’

Anselm was looking at the photographs of Serrano and a dark-haired man. They were sitting at a table in one of the colonnade’s arches on the bank of the Binnenalster. In one picture, the man had a hand raised.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Registered in the name Spence,’ said Tilders.

‘Looks like joints missing on his right hand,’ said Anselm, showing the picture.

Tilders nodded. He was moving the tape back and forth.

Serrano’s voice, speaking English:.. anxious, you can imagine.

Spence: It’s very unfortunate.

Serrano: You would be able to get some help locally.

Spence: Things aren’t what they used to be, you understand.

Serrano: Surely you’ve still got… Spence: We don’t enjoy the same relationship, there’s a lot of animosity.

Serrano: So?

Spence: The other party may have to be told.

Serrano: You understand, it was a long time ago, we feel exposed, we’re just the sub- contractors.

Spence: You were his agents, not so?

Serrano: Agents? Absolutely not. Just in-betweens, you should know that.

Spence: I only know what filters down. I’m a bottom-feeder.

Serrano: His agents never. A dangerous man. Unstable.

Spence: You’re worried?

Serrano: You’re not? You should be worried. The Belgian’s one of yours.

Spence: I don’t know about that. I don’t work in the worry department.That’s a separate department. So I don’t have that burden.

Serrano: This isn’t helping, I hoped… Spence: You lost him. If you’d come to us this needn’t have happened.

Serrano: Well, it’s happened, there’s no point… Spence: His assets, you know about them.

Serrano: We gave some financial advice but beyond… Spence: Beyond bullshit, that’s where we should be going. I’ll say one word.Falcontor. Don’t say anything. It’s better we clean this up without the principal party being involved. They make more mess than they take away.

Serrano: So?

Spence: The person can be found. Marginalised. But we need all the financial details. The Belgian’s too. We would want control of everything now.

Serrano: I’m sorry, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. We don’t disclose things like that.

Spence: You came to us. I’m saying it’s the only way to guarantee your safety.

Serrano: Well, perhaps we’ll let this take its course, see what happens. See whose safety we’re talking about.

Spence: That’s an option for you. A very dangerous option, but, you want to be brave boys… Serrano: A threat? Are you… Spence: Don’t worry about money, worry about life. Know that saying? We need to know your position quickly.

Tilders pressed a button, opened his hands. ‘That’s it. Spence goes, doesn’t wait for the coffee.’

‘The service is bad everywhere,’ said Anselm.

‘Same place in two days.’

‘Kael’s all paranoia,’ said Anselm, ‘but Serrano doesn’t seem to give a shit.’

Tilders nodded, flicked back a piece of pale hair that fell down his forehead, separated into clean strands. ‘It appears like that.’

Anselm took the photograph of the man with the missing finger joints down the corridor, knocked. Baader swivelled from his monitor.

Anselm held out the photograph. ‘Calls himself Spence.’

Baader glanced. ‘Jesus, now you’re playing with the katsas?’

‘Katsas?’

‘His name’s Avi Richler. He’s a Mossad case officer.’

‘Thank you.’

Anselm went back to his office. Tilders put another tape in the machine, watched the digital display, pressed a button.

Serrano: Richler wants the details. He knows about Falcontor. Bruynzeel too Kael: The cunts, the fucking cunts.

Serrano: I said that to him. He says it’s about our personal safety.

Kael: They must have holes in their fucking heads if…Jesus.

Serrano: Well, who brought in the Jews? This boat is making me sick.

Kael: Don’t be such a child. What could be in the papers?

Serrano: Lourens said to me at the Baur au Lac in ’92 when we were meeting the fucking Croatians, he was snorting coke, he said people who betrayed him would have a bomb go off in their faces. He was paranoid you understand… Kael: In the papers? What?

Serrano: I don’t know. I told Shawn to take anything he could find. There could be instructions. Notes maybe, things he wrote down. There’s nothing on paper from us. Not directly.

Kael: What do you mean not directly?

Serrano: Well, obviously he would have had proof of some deposits I made.

Kael: Your name would be on them?