'What do you mean?'
'The men there. They won't hurt you. I promise.'
'You're going to let me go?'
Donovan hesitated, wondering if he were doing the right thing.
'Yes,' he said eventually.
'Oh, thank you, Den. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll never hurt you again, I promise. I'll never let you down again.'
Donovan took a deep breath.
'You're not going to get the chance, Vicky. You're not to come near me again. Not within twenty miles. I'm not going to stop you coming back to England, because that's where your family are, but you don't come near me. Or Robbie.'
'Den .. . please.'
'I mean it, Vicky.'
'But Robbie's my son. You're my family.'
'The time for thinking about that was before you let him catch you in bed with Sharkey. We're not your family any more. Robbie and I are family. You walked out on us.'
'Den, this isn't fair.'
'Don't go there, Vicky. You're well behind in the fairness stakes. But I will let you see Robbie. On his birthday. On your birthday. Christmas. I'll even throw in Mother's Day. When he's twelve he can decide how much time he spends with you. Do you understand?'
'Okay,' she said, and sniffed again.
'Okay. If that's how it has to be.'
'One other thing. You drop the injunction. Talk to your lawyer. I think he's going to be quite happy to lose you as a client after what he's been through. You give up all rights to Robbie. Go back on that and the men there will come looking for you again. They can bury you next to Sharkey. Are we clear on that?'
'Yes. I'll do what you say. And Den .. .'
'Yeah?'
'I really am sorry.'
'Put the Spaniard back on.'
There were more muffled voices and then Rojas was on the line.
'Are you okay, amigo?
'I'm fine, Juan.' He took a deep breath.
'Let her go, yeah? Hold her until you've disposed of Sharkey, then let her go.'
'That's a good decision, amigo.'
'I hope so.'
Donovan cut the connection and put the phone back in his pocket and went back into the house.
Louise and Robbie looked up as he walked back into the flat.
'Is something wrong, Dad?' asked Robbie.
'Nah, everything's fine,' said Donovan, 'but I'm going to have to go out for a while.' He nodded at Louise.
'Can I borrow your car?'
'Sure,' said Louise. She stood up and picked up the keys from the sideboard.
'Can I help?'
'I've just got to do something.'
'Be careful, yeah?'
Donovan laughed.
'Honest, it's nothing. I have to do something online, that's all.'
Louise kissed him on the cheek. Donovan winked at Robbie over her shoulder.
'Look after her, okay?'
'Are you coming home tonight?' asked Robbie.
'I hope so.'
Donovan went downstairs and climbed into Louise's Audi. He used one of the mobiles to call Fullerton.
'Jamie? I need a favour. You've got a computer, yeah?'
'Sure, Den. Come around. We need to talk anyway.'
Fullerton gave Donovan the address of his flat. Donovan drove to Docklands and parked the Audi on a meter.
Fullerton met him at the lift.
'Thought you had a computer at your place,' said Fullerton.
'I'm under surveillance, there's a chance they've tapped the phone line. Plus they've got gear these days that can read what's on a screen from outside the house.'
'Bollocks,' said Fullerton.
'Nah, it's true. My security guy was telling me about it.' Fullerton led Donovan to his computer. It was already switched on and connected to the internet.
'It's based on the technology that the TV detector vans use to see what channel your TV is watching. It's just been developed so that it can read whatever information is on screen. Customs have had it for at least three years.'
Donovan wasn't worried about using Fullerton's computer. Underwood had told him that the art dealer wasn't under surveillance and as always he was going to carry out all transactions via proxy servers that would leave no trail. Donovan tapped away on the keyboard. He logged on to the site of the Swiss bank into which Rojas had put the money he'd taken from Sharkey. Donovan grinned as he saw that there was just under fifty-five million dollars in the account.
'Yes!' he said.
'Good news?' asked Fullerton.
'I'm back in the black,' he said.
'Glad to hear it.'
To the tune of fifty-five million dollars. If you've got any of that shampoo around, now might be a good time to crack open a bottle.'
Fullerton went off to the kitchen.
Donovan transferred ten million dollars to Carlos Rodriguez's account. Legally and morally he figured he didn't owe the Colombian a penny, but after the attempted hit last night, it was clear that legality and morality currently didn't form part of Rodriguez's vocabulary. When he'd finished, he defragmented the disk and then sat down on one of the sofas.
Fullerton came back with an opened bottle of Krug champagne and two glasses. He poured champagne for the two of them and they clinked glasses.
'To crime,' said Fullerton.
Donovan laughed and sipped his champagne.
'How much have you got so far, Jamie?' he asked.
'Five million, definite. Three from dealers, two from guys in the City who'll want the gear selling on.'
'That's not a problem. You've got the cash in your account, yeah?'
Fullerton nodded.
'Offshore. It's well clean.'
Donovan picked up a pen and started writing numbers down on a notepad. Five million pounds from Fullerton. O'Brien in Dublin was in for five hundred kilos at twelve grand a kilo. He'd already sent six million pounds through to Donovan's account. Five million pounds had already come from Macfadyen and Jordan, and PM had sent through the one million seven hundred thousand pounds for his two hundred kilos. That made a total of just under eighteen million pounds. Almost twenty-six million dollars. More than enough.
'We're home and dry, Jamie,' he said.
'We're over budget. Even without what I've got in my account. It's a done deal.'
They clinked glasses again.
