why did you even want to meet?’
‘I’m lonely.’
He gestured to Victor’s unseen hand. ‘When you treat people like that, I can’t say I’m too surprised.’
‘Says the man who sent me halfway around the city today.’
Giordano grinned. ‘A little adventure never hurt anyone. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it. Besides, you always told me I needed to be more careful. A multi-faceted defence, and all that silly stuff. This is me being more careful. If people want to see the great Giordano himself they can dance to his tune so he can first see their true rhythm. And it works, too. Can’t have this handsome face marked by some uncouth ruffian now, can we? And don’t try to act offended — you put a friend of mine on a train to Rome. He got caught without a ticket. Do you know how much the fines are in this country? I swear the fascists are still in power.’
‘I don’t like being followed.’
A waitress approached, her elegant uniform stretched tight over her curves. Her eyes lit up when she saw Giordano and she gave him a wide smile. If she noticed Victor, she didn’t show it. Giordano ordered an espresso for himself and another orange juice for Victor.
‘I assume, despite the obvious pleasure of my company, you’ll be requiring the usual product,’ Giordano said.
‘Yes.’
‘What nationality?’
‘I’m thinking Italian this time.’
Giordano smiled. ‘Vernon, please, I’m not sure you’re beautiful enough to be one of us.’
‘I’m beautiful on the inside.’
Giordano laughed and they made small talk until the waitress reappeared and placed their drinks down. She spent a few minutes flirting with Giordano, leaning over the table so the fact the top buttons of her blouse were undone was obvious. The temperature must have spiked in the interval since she took their order, Victor thought. He sipped his orange juice and tried not to get in the way. Eventually, she took Giordano’s number and went back to her work.
‘It can be a curse, being me,’ Giordano said wistfully after she’d gone. ‘When you look like this, every woman wants to talk with you. I can’t not, otherwise they’ll think I’m rude. And before you say anything presumptuous, I even talk with the hideous ones. I just don’t call them.’
Victor didn’t respond. He said, ‘The identity has to be genuine. And completely clean.’
‘For you, Mr Shark, nothing less. You have a photo, I take it?’
Victor took a passport-sized photograph from a pocket and handed it to Giordano. ‘There’s something else I could use your help with.’
‘I can try and teach you how to talk to women if you like,’ Giordano said with a wide grin. ‘But I can’t promise they’ll want to talk to you.’
‘I do get by, Alberto.’
‘Don’t think I don’t know what that means, my friend. My sister, though no beauty, is a pleasant enough woman. I think you’d get on. She’s quiet, like you.’
‘You’d let your sister see someone like me?’
‘What a person does for a living does not define him. We all need money, do we not? How we elect to acquire it is not a reflection of our hearts but our society. Am I a forger or am I Alberto Raphael Giordano, friend, lover, artist, son? Besides, you are a good man, Vernon, even if you don’t want to believe it.’
‘I appreciate the offer, but a date is not exactly what I had in mind.’
Victor withdrew his hand from under the table and placed one of the wireless cameras he’d procured in Minsk on to the tabletop. Giordano stared at the empty hand for a moment, smiled, and shook his head.
‘Now why would you be so mean as to make me believe you were holding a gun? I’m hurt.’
‘I’m sure the waitress will help you feel better.’
Giordano smiled again and picked up the camera. ‘Nice,’ he said, examining it carefully. ‘Better than nice.’
‘What can you tell me about it?’
‘It’s US made. Wireless range of up to fifty metres in an urban environment, up to a hundred outside. Both full colour and infrared, high-resolution images. Lasts a week on a nine-volt battery. This is brand new tech. Government use only. Vernon, I had no idea your tastes were so refined.’
‘How would you go about getting one of these?’
‘With enormous difficulty, and more money than I would spend to win the heart of Venus herself.’
‘But it would be possible if you weren’t an American government agency?’
‘Anything is possible.’
‘Could you get hold of a dozen of these if you needed to?’
Giordano held up his hands. ‘I appreciate the vote of confidence, Vernon, but I wouldn’t even try. I’m sure I could get one, maybe even three, but I have no wish to have CIA beasts kicking down my door to ask me why I have restricted materials.’
Victor nodded, and tried to keep his thoughts from his face. He asked, ‘Could you trace the camera’s serial number to find out who bought it?’
‘For you I will happily try.’
‘See what you can do,’ Victor said. ‘But be discreet. Don’t take even the slightest risk for this. Please. Whatever the outcome, you can keep the camera.’
Giordano glanced in the waitress’s direction. ‘I might test it out later.’
Victor shook his head. ‘How long until I can collect the passport?’
‘A few days,’ Giordano said.
‘Call me the second it’s ready.’
‘I detect an urgency that is most unlike you.’
Victor didn’t respond.
‘In some trouble, Vernon?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Then why not leave that trouble far behind you and retire while you’re still young and relatively good looking? Live, don’t just exist.’
Victor took a sip of orange juice and said, ‘When I was first starting out I used to think about what I’d do when I’d put away enough money to retire. I worked out a figure and promised myself I wouldn’t do this for a day longer than I needed.’
‘Sensible and commendable. How long until you reach this number?’
‘I reached it a long time ago.’
‘Retire then. Enjoy your life.’ He smiled and sat back. ‘Like me.’
Victor shook his head. ‘If only it was that simple, Alberto. I’ve been doing this too long. I’ve made too many enemies. If I retire, I’ll get soft, I’ll get slow. I won’t see them coming when they finally track me down.’ The smile left Giordano’s face. ‘You were right — what you said before. I am a shark. As soon as I stop swimming, I’ll drown.’
CHAPTER 41
Zurich, Switzerland
The man who met Zahm had a low centre of gravity. He was squat and overweight, with a face that was kind, while the soul beneath was anything but. Deep lines bisected his forehead and spread out from the corners of his eyes. He stood with a slight stoop brought on by the early stages of a kyphosis hump. His eyes were red and watery. Liver spots dotted the thin, wrinkled skin of his hands and forearms. He wore a loose linen shirt, slacks and sandals, and held a canvas shopping bag in his left hand. He stood a full foot shorter than the six-four Zahm and greeted him with his head tilted way back so he could look the taller man in the eye. Zahm wore sunglasses. The air was warm and dry. No clouds spoiled the perfect sky.
