Russell not only led a wild life, but was also a tad absent-minded. That was why, after losing several bunches, he always left his keys with the doorman. Usually whichever of them was on duty would hand them over as soon as he arrived, without even needing to be asked. The fact that this didn’t happen now told him that something unusual was going on. His suspicions aroused, Russell turned to his friend.
‘Hi, Zef. Have you lost the keys this time?’
‘I’m afraid there’s a problem, Mr Wade.’
The man’s words, not to mention his expression, made him even more suspicious. The thought that now crossed his mind wasn’t so much a conjecture as a certainty, but he asked the question anyway. ‘What problem?’
The man’s embarrassment was obvious on his face, in spite of which he had the decency to look him in the eyes. ‘A representative of Philmore Inc. came here today. With him was a lawyer bearing a letter from the executive director addressed to me. And one for you.’
‘And what was in them?’
‘The one addressed to you I didn’t open, obviously. I put it with the rest of your mail.’
‘And the other?’
‘The one addressed to me says that the company apartment in this building is no longer at your disposal. With immediate effect. So I can’t give you the keys.’
‘What about my things?’
Zef shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that meant: Don’t shoot me, I’m only the piano player. Russell felt like laughing.
‘The person in question went up to the apartment and put all your personal effects into suitcases. They’re over there, in the storage closet.’
He seemed really upset by what had happened, and, given their relations in the past, Russell had no reason to doubt that he was genuine. In the meantime, the doorman had fetched the mail and placed it on the marble desktop. Russell recognized the logo of Philmore Inc. on an unstamped yellow envelope. He took it and opened it. When he unfolded the sheet of paper, he immediately recognized his father’s handwriting.
As Russell put it, when he finished reading, ‘So my bastard of a father has kicked me out.’
Zef assumed a fitting expression, which even included an embarrassed half-smile. ‘Well, I would have phrased it differently, but that’s more or less the idea.’
For a moment, Russell was lost in thought. In spite of everything, he didn’t feel like blaming his father for his decision. On the contrary, he was surprised it had been so long in coming. He wouldn’t have given himself all that time.
‘It’s all right, Zef, it doesn’t matter.’
He took the envelopes from the desk and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket.
‘Can I leave the bags here for now?’
‘As you wish, Mr Wade.’
‘Good. I’ll pick them up later. And I’ll swing by every now and again to see if there’s any mail.’
‘You know I’m always pleased to see you.’
‘OK, then. Goodbye my friend.’
Russell turned and headed for the door.
Zef’s voice held him back. ‘One last thing, Mr Wade.’
Russell turned and saw Zef leave his post and cross the lobby. He placed himself between Russell and the doorman and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, ‘I assume your situation is a little precarious right now.’
Russell had always been amused by the man’s decorous language. This time was no exception.
‘I think that pretty much sums it up.’
‘Well, Mr Wade, if you’ll allow me…’
Zef held out his hand as if in farewell, and when Russell shook it he felt the thickness of a few banknotes in the palm of his hand.
‘Zef, look, I can’t-’
‘It’s only five hundred dollars, Mr Wade,’ Zef interrupted him, with a knowing look. ‘It’ll help you to keep going. Don’t repay me until you’re back on your feet.’
Russell withdrew his hand and put the money in his jacket pocket. He accepted it for what it meant. To him and to the person who had offered it to him so generously and so discreetly. At this major turning point in his life, the only tangible help he had received came from a near-stranger. He put a hand on Zef’s shoulder.
‘You’re a good man, my friend. I promise you’ll get it back. With interest.’
‘I’m sure I will, Mr Wade.’
Russell looked Zef in the eyes, seeing in them a sincerity and trust that he, for one, was very far from possessing. He turned his back on Zef and walked out onto the street. Here, he stopped for a moment to think again about what had just happened. He put his hand in his pocket to make sure it was all true, that people like that still existed.
At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement behind him. A hand reached out of the semi-darkness and grabbed his arm. He turned his head to the right and found himself confronted with a tall, solidly built black man, dressed all in black. On the other side of the street, a large dark car switched on its lights and pulled away from the kerb. It stopped in front of them and, at the same time, as if the two things had been synchronized, the back door opened. Instinctively Russell looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. His guardian angel thought he was looking to escape, and saw fit to underline the reality of the situation.
‘Get in the car. Don’t do anything stupid. It’ll be better for you, believe me.’
Through the open door, Russell saw the thick legs of a man sitting in the back seat. With a sigh he got in the car and sat down, while the big guy who had so politely invited him to get in took his place in the front.
Russell greeted the man who was sitting next to him in the tone of an Egyptian greeting a plague. ‘Hello, LaMarr.’
The usual sardonic smile played over the fat man’s lips. His well-cut suit couldn’t compensate for his graceless figure, nor did his dark glasses provide any kind of protection against his coarse- grained features.
‘Hello, photographer. You don’t seem yourself. Anything bothering you?’
As the car pulled away from the kerb, Russell turned to look through the rear window. If
