‘Strange,’ he said, a remark Kite interpreted as a question about Bijan’s intentions.
‘I thought maybe it was a test,’ he replied. ‘Either you’d sent him to make sure I wasn’t going to panic and everything was still OK, or maybe Ali or Abbas had paid him to check me out.’
‘None of the above.’ Peele ran a hand through his hair. ‘We’ve heard plenty of conversations between Ali and Abbas. Falcons wired the Audi while you were in the restaurant in Cannes. There hasn’t been a squeak on the lamp or the Gameboy. Eskandarian has been concerned about activity from exiled opposition groups more or less since he arrived. Has told Abbas to keep an eye out.’
Kite craved the transcripts of their conversations, to know what was being said, to understand why Luc had fallen under suspicion. Xavier might even know what Peele now knew; that Luc was involved in a corrupt business relationship with Eskandarian, perhaps by default with the Iranian government itself.
‘Before I forget,’ said Peele. ‘The batteries on the Gameboy have died. Can you get it back and replace them?’
Kite nodded. Retrieving the Gameboy, replacing the batteries and putting it back behind the chest of drawers would be difficult, even hazardous, but he didn’t want to admit this. BOX 88 had hired him because they knew that he wouldn’t shirk a challenge.
‘There’s also your Walkman. Don’t forget that. Why isn’t it in play? You took three days to get the ghetto blaster where we wanted it, we still haven’t had a squeak out of—’
It occurred to Kite that from Peele’s point of view it might have looked as though he wasn’t doing very much to keep up his end of the bargain. Two late nights, a lot of time spent by the pool, expensive meals in restaurants, dancing and drinking in nightclubs. ‘There just hasn’t been the right opportunity. I don’t know which rooms you want covered. I can’t get up to the attic and leave the Walkman there. If Ali finds it, I’m screwed.’
‘You certainly are,’ Peele concurred. He waved a hand in front of his face as if he regretted putting Kite under unnecessary pressure.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘You’re doing marvellously well.’ He flashed him a reassuring smile. ‘Tell me about Eskandarian in general. Your impression of him as a person now that three days have gone past. No right or wrong answer. Just what comes to mind.’
Kite had prepared one or two things to say and began by remarking on how relaxed Eskandarian seemed. The Iranian was far more westernised than he had expected. He repeated what Ali had said to him at the bar of the nightclub: Iran has become a religious society. It does not tolerate western music, however much some of us enjoy it.
Peele picked up on this.
‘Become a religious society? He stressed that? As if it was unexpected or something that he didn’t like?’
‘Definitely the second one.’ Kite craved more coffee. ‘He seemed frustrated that things were as strict as they are out there. When he said that people liked listening to Peter Gabriel, Elton John, whatever, he was including himself in that. Christ, his girlfriend was dancing to Simple Minds and he went out to join her.’
‘In front of the bodyguard?’
‘Yeah.’ Kite registered that Peele had asked about Abbas. ‘Then last night we got back and he was listening to U2, Queen. Loves that stuff. Tucked into the whisky. If I didn’t know him, I’d say he was just a normal guy, a businessman from London or Paris who knows Luc, not some close ally of radical Muslim madmen who want to knife Salman Rushdie.’
‘Well, he was never going to be that,’ Peele replied, with a very slight note of condescension. ‘You should go in a minute.’ Then suddenly: ‘How’s the girl?’
Kite felt his cheeks reddening. He could not look his former schoolmaster in the eye. For an awful, paranoid moment he wondered if BOX 88 knew everything that had gone on beside the pool just a few hours earlier. Christ, maybe Carl or Peele had seen what had happened between Xavier and Hana.
‘She’s great, thanks.’
‘You two involved?’
It was a trick question, a test. Kite felt cornered, reluctant to lie but unwilling to give up a precious part of his privacy.
‘We like each other,’ he said. ‘It won’t interfere with my work.’
‘Never said it would! She’s a lovely girl, Lockie. You’re a lucky man. And Hana?’
Kite had no intention of telling Peele about her involvement with Xavier. It was relevant to the operation, but only in as far as it would put Hana in hot water if she was found out. Instead he said: ‘She’s fun. Very sexy. Doesn’t say much. Gets on well with Jacqui.’
‘How is Eskandarian around her? Treats her like a bit of crumpet or is it more serious?’
Kite had a flash memory of Xavier’s ivory hips thrusting in the moonlight, Hana transporting him to heaven and back on bended knee.
‘Big age gap,’ he replied. ‘I haven’t heard her say anything political, anything about Iran. They’ve been into Mougins together. Abbas looks at her like she’s dipped in shit. Very disapproving.’
‘Really?’ Again Peele seemed interested in the bodyguard’s reaction. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Can’t be easy for him watching his boss sleeping with a Vietnamese supermodel every night, then Martha and Jacqui and Rosamund lying by the pool in their bikinis while he gets sweaty in a suit and has to mind his own business. Martha says she catches him eyeing them up the whole time.’
‘Can’t blame him,’ Peele sighed. Kite resented the remark without saying anything. ‘So listen …’
‘Yes?’
‘I want you to do something for me.’
‘Shoot,’ said Kite.
‘Go to Eskandarian. Find an appropriate moment. Tell him you need to speak to him in private, away from Luc, away from Abbas, away from Hana. He’s bound to agree. He
