The Nothing Job (15 page)

Georgia put her foot down. Henry braced himself for a rough ride.

T
he ride was bouncy and spine-jarring as the little vehicle, nothing more than an engine on a frame, crashed over the pitted track. Even though he was tightly held in and there was a roll-cage for protection, Henry had little doubt that at the speed they were travelling, they would flip over sooner rather than later.

Georgia seemed intent on going as quickly as possible, picking out all the ruts and boulders and glancing sideways at Henry to witness his discomfort, laughing each time the buggy smashed down and made him gasp for the air that was forced out of his lungs. It was like being taken on a wild safari.

Despite all this, Henry could see that the Akamas was a harsh, beautiful place, with large tracts of impenetrable-looking bushes, some pine trees and lots and lots of dust, most of which billowed out behind them. It would have been hard being a close-following car.

‘I take it you're a bit of an expert at this,' he shouted hopefully.

‘When I was younger I hired buggies regularly to come out here with friends, down to the beaches to swim.' She jerked the steering wheel sharply down, avoiding a particularly large and jagged outcrop of rock in the trail, sending stones and gravel skittering out behind them in a shower. ‘I love it,' she shouted.

Suddenly the road veered down to the right and they passed a restaurant at the foot of a steep valley. Henry noticed two large fat pigs sleeping in the shade of a tree. Then they climbed up the other side of the valley and emerged on the flat, Henry mesmerized by the crystal-clear sea out to his left. Next the trail dipped sharply down and Georgia slowed the buggy to a crawl as the size of the boulders grew and the buggy had to pick its way, lurching, over a dried-up river bed. Then she gunned the willing engine and accelerated away with a whoop.

‘Well, they weren't at that restaurant,' she said after she'd calmed down. ‘They might be at the next one, but if they're not there, they could be making over to Polis … if so, better hold on tight.'

‘How far is the next restaurant?'

‘Not far now.'

After another quarter-mile, Georgia skewed the buggy to a stop at a T-junction, allowing all the brown dust behind them to catch up and envelop them in a choking cloud.

Henry wafted it away disgustedly after breathing in a lungful and coughing and spluttering like a smoker.

As it cleared it revealed a rustic signpost in front of them which simply pointed to The Last Castle.

‘Whatever happens,' Georgia said, ‘if we get a chance, we'll come up here for a meal before you leave. It's fantastic.' She pointed ahead, up a rugged hill. ‘The food's simple, but good, and the position and atmosphere – stunning.'

Henry peered up, seeing the track rise to what looked like the old stone wall of a castle.

‘Was it once a castle?' he asked stupidly.

‘Yep – that's why it's called the Last Castle.'

‘I'll have that,' Henry said, then groaned as the buggy bounced and landed hard.

‘Unfortunately the car park is at the back of the restaurant, so we'll only know for sure if he's here when we arrive.'

Henry had to admit it was a great spot, perched on the top of a steep hill with tremendous views across to the sea. They were driving along the foot of a steep gorge and the road split, the left fork taking them up to the restaurant, the right one disappearing into the wilderness, he guessed.

Henry's mobile phone rang. It was Jerry Tope, who had been waiting impatiently for Henry to call him via landline.

‘Something came up,' Henry snapped. ‘Speak soon.' He closed the phone. ‘Don't let me forget to call him.'

‘Call who?'

‘My colleague.'

The road curved under the wall of the restaurant. Peering up, Henry could see diners sitting under a vine-covered trellis. Georgia drove up and around the back of the restaurant on to the car park on which sat the Range Rover and the Nissan Patrol, amongst a half-dozen other cars belonging to customers.

Problem was that two salty-looking men were lounging in the shade by the Nissan, smoking. They were young, mid-twenties, dark-skinned, wearing jeans and T-shirts. Henry clocked them straight away and sussed them as hired help. This observation was confirmed when they came erect and watchful as the buggy came on to the car park and pulled in a few cars away. Georgia had parked right on the edge, overlooking the gorge behind the restaurant. It was a beautiful view.

The men watched them, feigning indifference, but Henry felt their eyes burning into him. He smacked his seat-belt release and turned to Georgia so his face was only inches from hers.

‘They're watching us.'

She looked into his eyes. ‘I know.' Her eyes were clear and gorgeous. Henry knew his were old and bloodshot.

‘What do you want to do? It's your play,' he said.

She released her seat belt and contorted towards him. Her right hand snaked around his neck. The touch made him quiver.

‘Better make it look convincing.' Her fingers opened on the back of his head and she tilted him down gently, angling his face slightly so they could kiss. It was as though a charge of static had seared through Henry's whole being, finishing up with a lightning strike somewhere around his balls. The first kiss more like a peck, just sizing up each other's lips. The second one, however, was very different.

Henry drew away, breathless, from one of the most wonderful kisses he'd ever experienced, even though there was the faint taste of tobacco in there somewhere. That addition made it even more delicious, although he could not recall Georgia actually smoking.

She looked at him, lips parted.

‘For an Englishman you're a good kisser,' she acknowledged.

‘That's very kind of you. Normally we're such a cold-hearted race … that doesn't completely answer our current predicament, though.'

‘Fuck that.' She grabbed him again. This time it was a long, slow, exploratory kiss and Henry, two thousand miles from home in a hot country and on expenses, just went along with it.

‘We need a plan,' he said when she eventually drew off him, a little groan of ecstasy escaping from her throat.

‘Those guys have relaxed,' she said, sneaking a glance over Henry's shoulder. ‘And I've very nearly climaxed, yeah? I think we should go eat, get the reinforcements in place and then pounce. How does that sound for a plan?'

Henry pretended to consider it. ‘As a plan it's as good as they come,' he conceded.

They disentangled themselves from each other, dismounted from the buggy and, holding hands – just for effect – they strolled past the two henchmen, who eyed them under dark, suspicious brows.

‘What if Scartarelli knows you?' Henry asked.

‘No reason he should.'

‘But Haram was murdered straight after a meeting with you. And you've been shot at.'

They stopped and turned to face each other before they walked down the side of the restaurant to the vine-clad terrace at the front. She had put on big sunglasses and she shook her hair loose, like a black-maned lion. ‘I'll take a chance. The worst he can do is run and we chase him and if he doesn't recognize me, we sit, eat and wait for the cavalry. And I've got my gun in my bag, just in case it turns nasty – and I'm not afraid to use it.'

‘OK.'

She grabbed the front of his T-shirt and yanked him towards her, rising up on her toes, kissing him again.

Then they walked to the front of the restaurant and Henry was stunned by the setting, the panorama, the cool-ish breeze wafting through the vines and the simplicity of it all. There was just a series of rustic benches and tables cut from rough-hewn wood. The place was busy but not packed and the meat was being cooked on a barbecue, emitting a wonderful aroma.

They were shown to a table and Henry slid in opposite Georgia, who kept her back to Scartarelli. He was sitting at a bench at the far end of the terrace in deep conversation with another man.

‘I don't recognize the other guy,' Georgia said. A waiter appeared and took their drinks order. There was no choice with the main menu – you simply got what was on the grill, chicken and pork, together with a baked potato and salad. Georgia called Tekke on her phone. ‘He's at the Last Castle,' she told him. ‘Can you arrange for the ERU to be ready on my command? Have them on standby on the Akamas. Yeah, that's it.'

‘What's the ERU?' Henry asked.

‘Emergency Response Unit.'

He nodded, then said, ‘Tactics? I assume they'll be arriving in liveried vehicles, which will give matey the chance to do a runner as soon as he spots them.' He looked down the gorge to the sea, noting that the drive up to the restaurant was clearly visible most of the way from the coastal track.

She matched his gaze. ‘I see your point.' She stared thoughtfully at the view.

Henry estimated even at speed over that terrain, it would take at least five minutes to get from the mouth of the gorge up to the restaurant. Time enough for Scartarelli to flee in the oppos-ite direction.

‘Perhaps we should wait for him to finish and leave?' Henry advised. ‘Get him on the way out?'

‘He could be here for hours.'

‘Then so could we. I assume the ERU has the capacity to bide its time?'

‘Good idea.' She laid a cool hand on the back of his. Henry saw that Scartarelli and his companion were being served their food. ‘We'll just sit back.' She phoned Tekke again, told him the plan, hung up. ‘Not a happy man,' she muttered.

‘He's got Bill for company. What's not to be happy about? They can chat about bullets and stuff.'

As promised, the meal was substantial, simple and superb. The conversation between Henry and Georgia flowed well and once again he found himself thinking what it would be like if things between them progressed further. His imagination ran riot, but he curbed it by being one hundred per cent certain he would not act on his impulses, even if the situation arose – so to speak. He'd learned too many hard lessons and would content himself with flirtation and laughter. No longer would he put himself in a position where he hurt Kate and the girls. And there was always the slightly menacing figure of Tekke on the sidelines, a guy he wouldn't trust as far as he could chuck him, which was an amendment of his initial assessment of him.

Georgia's phone rang continually, Tekke insisting on regular updates and informing them the ERU was ready and waiting at the mouth of the gorge.

Henry kept a beady eye on Scartarelli, who dawdled over his food.

Henry flinched when the man's companion stood up, but relaxed when he walked to the toilet block.

‘They could be getting ready to move,' he warned Georgia.

‘I could stay here all afternoon,' she replied dreamily.

‘I could, but business first.'

He leaned in close so their foreheads were nearly touching and looked into her eyes. Her pupils dilated.

‘I'm only doing this because Scartarelli's friend has reappeared from the toilets and he's on his mobile.'

‘I understand,' she breathed, her eyes playing over his face. ‘You're very handsome.'

Henry guffawed. ‘I've got bags under my eyes, skin tags popping up all over the place, a neck like a scrawny chicken, bloodshot eyes, hair growing in places it shouldn't …'

‘Distinguished, then?'

‘I prefer handsome,' he said. For a moment his eyes were directly looking into hers – at the exact moment they shouldn't have, because Scartarelli's friend suddenly veered by and sat down next to Georgia in a flash, catching them both by surprise. In his hand was a gun, hidden from other diners, which he jabbed hard into Georgia's belly, angled up under the ribcage.

He shot a warning look at Henry. ‘One move and I'll kill her here and now.' He pushed his face right up to the side of hers and spoke into her ear. Henry watched, terrified. ‘All you have to do is sit here with me and don't move.'

Scartarelli stood up slowly from his table, tossing a wad of euros on to his plate. He sauntered unhurriedly across to the trio, then leaned with both hands on the end of their table, his eyes taking in both detectives, a smile playing across his features.

‘I don't kill cops unless I need to,' he growled at Georgia, then looked at Henry, then back at Georgia. ‘This is your first and final warning. Do not ever come for me – understand?'

His greaseball mate twisted the gun harshly under her ribs, making her squirm. ‘Do you understand what he said?'

She nodded, but there was no fear in her eyes, just defiance.

‘Otherwise I will kill you,' Scartarelli said viciously. He moved away from the table, eyes on them like a panther.

His friend moved the gun from underneath Georgia's ribcage and both men sauntered towards the car park, leaving the duo shocked and speechless, but only for a moment.

Henry felt something primitive build inside him. A rage, an anger. His eyes burned and his nostrils flared and his teeth grated while he gripped the edge of the table, knuckles pure white.

‘Are you going to let him get away with that?'

‘No way.'

She picked up the phone, dialled Tekke.

As she spoke, Henry leaned over the wall and watched the two vehicles that had brought Scartarelli's party heading back down the dusty track, the Nissan leading, the Range Rover driven by Scartarelli following. He pulled Georgia to her feet while she spoke and they ran back to the buggy, jumping in and strapping up.

‘He's going to get a good reception,' Georgia said triumphantly, snapping her phone shut.

‘Let's make sure we're there to witness it.'

She slammed the buggy into reverse and skidded backwards, a massive cloud of gritty dust enfolding them in the moments before she selected first and raced off the car park. The trail snaked back down in front of the restaurant wall and she hit it fast, the suspension throwing the two occupants around like crash-test dummies. Henry held on for dear life, his whole being jarring, his internal organs feeling as though they were loose inside him, up in his throat, then in his lower belly. He clung to the roll cage.