From Humble Beginnings (Joe Steel) (23 page)

“Not so beautiful at the moment, unfortunately,” she grumbles but laughs a little. “The second is a contract for the purchase of a shell corporation in the Caribbean.  Again, buried in the lawyer’s database.  She has used this corporation to launder the money she earns, for the bank statement has a steady cash flow working into the millions.”

“So, if she’s hiding in plain sight, it explains why the police didn’t catch her the last time and why the old head of the firm never shopped her, because he probably didn’t realize she was nothing more than his housekeeper.  It’s a sly cover, I’ll give her that.” I shake my head in reluctant admiration for the woman who has caused me and my company so much trouble. 

“It’s a perfect set up.  She only has to purchase the drugs and she uses the factory to courier them around the country as well as Europe.” Monica sits forward to lean closer to us, her face lined with intentness.

“She’s managed to keep all of this hidden for all of these years, why have things changed?” Juliet asks, her brow puckering with confusion. 

“We heard why,” I tell her.  My eyes dart from the road and to her. “Angelo.  That’s why.  He probably isn’t enjoying playing second fiddle to his mama anymore.”

“You might be right there, Joe.  I think that’s the only aspect of the gang that has changed; Angelo has grown older and with it, he wants a bigger slice of the action.”

“We have a tape recording of that argument between Angelo and his mother.  She near as dammit admits that he’s done something to ruin it all and because of some slut.  Want to bet that that someone is Clordina and the something he did was to chop off that policeman’s hand?” With a shake of my head, I turn on the indicator and turn into the street that leads to the police station. “I think Angelo has changed, but I think Clordina is the catalyst.”

“Clordina? She’s the one who met you at the airport with Angelo, correct?” Monica asks, turning in her seat to look at me.

“Yeah,” Juliet answers for me and her voice is wry. “Think sly slut with legs up to her armpits and you’ll recognize her when you see her!”

I can’t help but grin. “Odd relationship, they’ve got going on there.  She was flirting with me and he was flirting with Cass.  What if he sets her on to men, pimps her out to get information?  Pillow talk works wonders for some people.  What if she got close to the cop and Angelo didn’t like it?   Brigida said that he’s ruining it all over a slut; well, there’s no one sluttier than Clordina.”

“All of this is good, but we have no proof.  Even that recording of ours, we’re listening to it and hearing what we want to hear.  It’s useless in a court of law.  Everything’s supposition, until we have hard proof, we’ve got zilch.”

Fortune must be smiling on us, because there’s a space twenty meters or so from the police station.  I pull in and the three of us jump out and rush over to the building.  The spray from the fountain mists past us and cools my heated skin.  As soon as I open the door, I spot Ali and his glare; aimed at me, of course!  He must have been waiting there for Monica to return and the relief on his face is palpable as his eyes trace Monica’s face, his lips tightening as they encounter every bruise and blemish. 

Monica’s reaction surprises me more than Gianni’s.  She’s always played the cool, calm and reserved lawyer with him.  Always held him at arm’s length whenever I’ve seen the pair of them interacting.  Sexual tension simmers between them, but so does the past and whatever happened back then, it’s always got in the way of their attraction to one another.

Not so now.

As soon as Monica saw him, she flung herself into his arms.  In typical Italian fashion, she began to sob.  Noisily.  Although I guess in this case, it’s well-deserved.  Hell, what’s she’s been through...  I wouldn’t put my worst enemy through it.

Again, guilt trickles down my spine, lining my veins with ice.  And there’s ice in Gianni’s eyes as he glares at me.  He’s blaming me too and I guess I deserve it, even if I didn’t ask Monica to go to the lengths that she did. 

“We can go now,” I mutter in an aside to Juliet. “I don’t think we’re needed.”

“You’re probably right.” Juliet steps away from me and towards Monica and Gianni.  Pressing a gentle hand to Monica’s shoulder, I hear her murmur something in Italian that had the embracing pair nodding and then she returns to my side and together, we make our way to the car. 

“Gianni just said that the man who abducted her works at the factory.”

“Christ, so even if what we’ve learnt is only half of the truth, Monica has obviously dug in the right direction.  Brigida is flared and obviously sent him to keep the person digging their nose into her past quiet.  I’m just glad Monica managed to escape.  We already know what the gang’s capable of and even though Brigida obviously didn’t sanction that murder of the policeman, Angelo’s a loose wire.  Who knows what he’d have done?”

“You feel guilty, don’t you?”

I nod.  “Very.  It’s no consolation that I didn’t even ask this of her.  I didn’t ask her to go digging her nose into Brigida’s affairs that deeply. 
I didn’t think she’d travel to Sicily to find out more!   I just wanted to know a bit more about her, because I haven’t trusted her ever since that first morning.  Something about her has always stunk to me and if I tell you that she stinks worse than Marco, you’ll know how on edge she puts me.”

Juliet laughs a little at my joke and shrugs. “She went on her own accord, Joe.  You couldn’t do anything to stop her.  Although, it’s just the man you are.  Why do you think I like you so much?  ”

I know she’s teasing, but before I can make any comment, her mobile phone rings and she digs a hand into her pocket and connects the call. “Mum!  I didn’t expect your call for another hour or two…”

Whatever she was about to say was cut off and the tenor to the silence has my eyes flickering to look at her.  She’s pale and growing paler.  Her flesh has a nasty grey tinge to it and spying it, I pull off the road as soon as I’m safely able to do so and come to a halt. 

“He’s not dead?” Juliet asks, her voice near hysterical.  Her head began to tip from side to side as though she couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing.  And I don’t know how I knew it, but I could tell that she was, at that moment, deaf to whatever Rebecca was saying. 

Grabbing the phone from her, I’m not shocked that Juliet puts up no resistance; her hand falls limply to her lap. “Rebecca, what’s going on?”

The sounds of sobbing fills my ear and Bo’s shaky voice replies, “Dad’s had a heart attack, Joe.”

Not expecting Bo, I’m nevertheless relieved.  Talking to Rebecca is like talking to the wall.  You get more sense out of the wallpaper than you do her.  I know she’s a lovely woman, but she’s
not the best person to get information out of… and I can only guess that it’s Rebecca sobbing so loudly that it’s difficult to even hear Bo! 

“He’s alive though?” I ask, straining to hear past the crying. 

“Yes.  The doctors caught it in time.  He’s in surgery at this minute.  The doctors said he needs a bypass; or…” She swallows. “I don’t even know what I signed for; they came to me and asked me to agree to the surgery.  I just agreed when they told me it would make him better.”

Bo sounds as dazed as a child and I can tell that I’m not going to get much sense out of her soon.

“Bo, just hold the fort for a little while longer.  Juliet and I are on our way to the airport now.  We’ll fly out and be there as soon as we can. What hospital are you in?”

She tells me the name and I recognize it as being in the centre of London. “He’s in the best place, Bo and with the prices private clinics like that one charge, he’s in safe hands.  We’ll be there soon, stay strong.”

I cut the call, not being able to bear hearing Rebecca’s sobs any longer. 

Turning to Juliet, I grab her hands and chafe them a little.  They’re cold and her face is withdrawn, her eyes focused inwards. 

I press a kiss to her forehead, shocked to see her in such a stasis, when ten minutes ago she was filled to bursting with vitality.  “I’ll take care of everything, honey.  I promise.”

Kissing her temple again, I retreat and start the engine.  It’s illegal, but I don’t care.  I grab my mobile and hook it between my shoulder and ear after I dial Cass’ number. 

“Cass,” I bark as soon as she connects. 

“Joe?   What’s wrong?”

“Rebecca just called; Bernard’s had a heart attack.  He’s in hospital, in surgery.”

There was silence.  A long silence.  Impatience dogs my heels as I wait for her to reply.  I’m about to bark at her again, when she says, as cool as a cucumber, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Frowning, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel to seek patience.  “Are you going to come with us or not?   We’re on our way to the airport. ”

“No.  Someone needs to hold the fort here.  Gianni Ali just called the office and told me that
one of our staff has been taken into custody for abducting the company lawyer.  Were you aware of that?”

The business talk comes as a surprise.  Only a few moments ago Juliet and I were discussing the situation, fleshing it out and trying to understand what was going on.  Now, it feels like a million minutes have passed. 

Bernard’s importance isn’t solely with his family.  The man’s been an advisor, mentor and second father to me.  As much as I love my dad, I’ve learnt more from Bernard than I could in a lifetime with anyone else. 

The idea of the strong man I know withering away and dying...  it’s abhorrent to me.  I can’t even think of it.  I have to force the thought away. 

Trying to ignore the sting in my eyes, I tell her, “Yes.  I knew that.  I was going to tell you when you came in from the office.  Look, I don’t have time to talk about this now.  I only have cash on me and not enough to pay for two flights.  I need you to phone the airport and purchase two flights to Heathrow or to Gatwick.  It’ll take an hour and half to get there, so one with a departure time as close to that as possible.”

“I’m not your secretary,” Cass replies coolly.

“No.  You’re my colleague and for the last few months, you’ve done precious little work.  I’ve covered your arse and saved you from any shit from head office all this time.  I think you owe me a favour or two.  Call the airport, book the flights and get over yourself.  And before I go, stop pretending that you don’t give a shit.  Because you do. ”

I cut the call and drop my mobile into my lap.  Reaching next to me, I grab Juliet’s hand and entwine my fingers about hers.  Twenty minutes later, my mobile buzzes.  I relinquish my grip and flicker my eyes between the almost-dead motorway and the text. 

Flight details. 

I can’t deny I’m relieved; I thought she might have ignored my request. 

It’s almost midnight by the time we made it to the hospital.  London, as always cold and grim, and travelling through its dark and murky streets that late at night didn’t make it seem any friendlier. 

Living with the mafia I might be, but life is a damned sight more pleasant in Bergamo. 

By the time we reach the hospital and the corridor where Bernard’s being treated, Juliet has started to tremble.  All throughout the flight, she’s been insensate.  Dead to the world.  I’ve tried to tell her that he’s okay. That he isn’t dead, but she doesn’t seem to have heard of me. 

Only when we reach the waiting room that one of the nurses guides us to and when we see her sister and stepmother does the fragile shell explode.  She bursts into tears; and I get the feeling those tears are filled with guilt.  Guilt at the time she’s wasted on hating her father for what she thought he’d done to her mother and for what she thought he’d been doing to Rebecca.

Leaving the three women to grieve, I retreat from the waiting room and head towards the nurses’ desk that we’ve just left.

Even though this place is costly as hell, there’s still the stench of hospital to it.  Disinfectant, illness, generated and recycled air.  It makes me want to open a window and suck in the polluted air of a cold London night. 

My shoes squeak on the tiled floor as I near the desk and even though the nurse seems very friendly, I lie to her. “I’m Juliet Rustin’s husband.  I was wondering if you could give me an update on my father-in-law’s status?”

It’s surprising how pleasant that lie tastes on the tip of my tongue.

I pass the thought to the side for later analysis and study the nurse, wondering if she believed me or not.

Her sympathetic smile leaves me without a clue and then, she stands and retreats to a cabinet filled with files. 

Pulling one out, she looks through it and says, “The surgeon had one of his aides contact the desk an hour ago.  It’s taking longer than he’d previously calculated.  There’s more damage there than originally believed.  But your father-in-law seems to be holding his own.  He’s in a stable condition.  I’m afraid I don’t have any more information to give you at this time.”

Just hearing the words stable condition has my knees wobbling.  At the same time, more damage has my gut churning.  There’s good and bad news jumbled up in the nurses’ words, but I choose to accept only the positive and retreat to the Rustin womenfolk's sides and impart the information I’ve just received. 

Rebecca immediately bursts into more tears, Bo looks wobbly on her feet and Juliet clings to me like a lost child clings to a recently-rediscovered parent.