first night, which wouldn’t have given us enough time to do the recces and would have exposed us on the island for a whole fortnight. We’d spent a lot of time establishing his routine: the route from his house to the restaurant, what time he started work, what time he finished, whether there was anyone else living in his house. We knew where he kept his vehicle, and we knew the best time to go and tamper with the brake light. We knew almost everything about him, except his name – but then again, it wasn’t as if I’d wanted to have coffee with him.
By the time I reached the mansion block there was still about half a paper cup of
I glanced at the security guy’s name badge. ‘Hi, Calvin. My name’s Stone – I’m going to the third floor, Hot Black Inc.’
‘Can you sign the book, sir, please?’
I signed in while he checked the visitors’ list and gave me the once-over. DC was still quite a formal town when it came to dress codes and I was in my jeans, Caterpillar boots and brown leather bomber jacket. I placed the pen back on the desk and gave Calvin a smile. ‘It’s dress-down Friday.’
Calvin didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Thank you, Mr Stone. The elevator is just round the corner there to the right, and you have a good day, sir.’
As I walked away I gave him the standard, ‘And you.’ I had a smile on my face: the name Hot Black Inc still made me laugh. I’d always thought it was only in
I’d been on Hot Black’s payroll for just under a year now. It was a marketing company that didn’t really have anything to market, which was just as well because I didn’t know the first thing about that. Life was good. I got paid a salary of $82,000 a year, my apartment was taken care of, and on top of that I got cash in hand after every job. It was a much better deal than working as a K for the Firm on ?290 a day, all in. As a Hot Black employee I’d been given a US social-security number, and I even had to file tax returns. It gave me the chance to have a kind of real life. After George’s daughter, Carrie, had binned me, I’d even managed to have a new girlfriend for about six weeks. She was the area manager for Victoria’s Secret for DC and Virginia, and we lived in the same apartment block. It worked out quite well until her husband decided he wanted to try to make a go of their marriage. I guessed he’d been missing the free samples she brought home.
I even had a pension plan. It was one of the ways George could slip me extra cash without it being noticed in the real world: walking into a bank with $20,000 in cash, these days, would do more than just raise eyebrows. For the first time in my life I was starting to feel a bit secure.
The elevator arrived, pinged open, and I stepped in and pressed the button for the third floor.
5
I still wasn’t too sure what military or government department George worked for and therefore who paid my salary, but I wasn’t complaining. Things had been really busy for me since I’d thrown in my lot with him: in the last few months I’d been in Bombay and Greece on ‘rendering’ operations; the targets were three suspected al-Qaeda operators who, I presumed, were now shuffling around Guantanamo Bay sporting shaved heads and orange coveralls.
I finished my coffee as the elevator doors closed behind me, and turned left down the corridor towards Hot Black’s offices. It was a world of shiny black marble walls, alabaster statues in alcoves, and bright fluorescent lights set into suspended ceilings. The corridor had just been refurbished and the smell of thick new carpet was in the air. Hot Black Inc was no two-bob company.
I went through the smoked-glass double doors into the deserted reception area. A large veneered antique table served as a front desk, but it was unmanned. To the left of it, two long red velvet sofas faced each other with a low glass coffee-table between them. There wasn’t as much as a daily newspaper or a copy of
I carried on to the main office doors, tall, black, very shiny and substantial. When I was just a couple of paces away they were pulled open. George spun on his heel without a word of greeting and strode back towards his desk, framed by the window a good ten metres away. The cleats in his heels clunked on the maple floor. ‘You’re late. I said seven a.m.’
I’d known he’d say that. He’d probably been up since five, gone for a run, said a prayer over his healthy bowl of granola, and left his house at precisely the time he’d planned. Not five or ten past the hour, that wasn’t precise enough, and would have meant time wasted. It was probably eleven minutes past or something like that, to get him to the office at exactly six fifty-six.
I closed the doors behind me. ‘Yes, I know, I’m sorry. There were a few delays on the metro.’
He didn’t reply. The Washington metro was never late. What had made me late was the line at Starbucks, and the not-too-bright people behind the counter.
He rounded the desk. ‘What’s that one called?’
‘A
The windows were triple-glazed so I could see traffic moving beyond the blinds but not hear it. The only sound, apart from our voices, was air droning through the air-conditioning ducts.
‘Doesn’t anybody just buy a cup of plain Joe any more? You’re paying over two bucks a hit just because it’s got a fancy name.’
The room was well furnished. One wall was panelled with oak and had what looked like an eighteenth- century portrait of a guy wearing a tricorne hat and a mason’s apron, with a bunch of American Indians in the background killing someone.
As George finally turned to face me I realized it really must be dress-down day in Spookville. He wasn’t wearing his normal button-down shirt and tie under his cord sports jacket but a white polo shirt. Maybe next week he’d go completely overboard and undo the top button, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
George sat down on a dark wooden chair, which squeaked with newness as it took his weight. There was nothing on his desk, except a phone and a dark brown briefcase. He motioned for me to take a chair, then wasted no more time. ‘So, what happened to the weapon?’
I still had the empty coffee-cup in my hand: there was nowhere to put it. ‘Suzy went jet-skiing and dumped it about three hundred metres out to sea. The cases were still in the chamber. I didn’t go with her, but she’ll have done it OK.’
George raised an eyebrow.
‘I couldn’t – I didn’t want the gravel burn on display.’
‘How is it now?’
‘Fine. I just can’t resist picking at the scabs at night.’ I raised a little smile but it had no effect on George. He was looking up at the fluorescent lighting set into the false ceiling. ‘I’m going to get some dimmers put in here. These things are a health hazard, not good for the eyes.’
I nodded, because if George said so it must be true.
He got back into the real world. ‘You and the woman . . .’
‘Suzy.’
‘Yes, you both did very well, son.’ He pulled the briefcase towards him and played with the combination locks.
I put my cup on the highly polished floorboards. ‘I was wondering, George, what was in the bottles?’
He didn’t even bother to look up. ‘That, son, you don’t need to know. Your part is done.’
The case opened and he looked up, forcing a smile. ‘Remember what I told you? Our job is to make sure these scum get to see their God earlier than expected. Period.’
