THE PERFECT KILL (15 page)

Bitterly, Jibril said, “So that bastard sold me the name of a dead man?”

The Colonel stood up and stretched, walked to the window and looked down at the traffic.

“I think not,” he said. “Two nights ago, Joseph Rawlings was found dead in a Paris hotel. He had a single bullet in the brain. Maybe he was compromised by meeting my man in Paris. Maybe the meetings were observed. Maybe this man Creasy is alive.”

He turned and looked at Jibril and smiled slightly. “If he is, you have a problem, Ahmed…a serious one.”

“A problem from one man?”

The Colonel moved back to his desk and picked up a folder. He handed it to Jibril.

“One man, but a special man. Interpol keeps a register of all known mercenaries. This morning I requested information on this man Creasy. In that file is the information they sent me through our police force. Read it, Ahmed.”

The Colonel moved back to the window and stood there for fifteen minutes, looking down at the traffic.

When he turned, Ahmed Jibril was reading the faxed papers in the file for the second time.

The Colonel moved back to his desk, sat down and said affably, “You have very good security, Ahmed. So do I. But I tell you, I would not like to have that man coming for me. Not with the motive he has. Or with the kind of money behind him that Grainger can supply.”

His words were spoken with the faint pleasure of one man informing another of his possible impending doom.

Jibril clamped down on his irritation and asked, “Is there any information on their location?”

The Colonel shrugged and said, “Grainger is easy. He has homes in Washington DC and Denver, Colorado. He commutes between the two. As for Creasy, the last information anyone has is that he died of gunshot wounds in a Naples hospital five years ago. That’s the last information, Ahmed…it’s on the file. No one knows where he is.” His half smile came back again. “But personally, I suspect that two nights ago he was in Paris.”

Creasy arrived at Luqa Airport in Malta just after noon. He was met by George Zammit who drove him to Cirkewwa to catch the Gozo ferry. On the way Creasy asked, “How’s he doing?”

“He’s more than just a natural,” George answered. “He drives himself. He’s like a sponge, he soaks up everything he’s told.”

“Weapons?” Creasy asked.

“It’s only been three weeks but already he’s achieved a three inch cluster at twenty metres with a Colt 1911. Yesterday he fired four magazines. Not one was outside of a six inch cluster.”

The policeman turned and looked at his passenger, smiled and said, “That’s almost at your level, Creasy, and three weeks ago he’d never held a handgun.”

“And the other weapons?” Creasy asked.

“Again, more than a natural. With the submachine-gun he has a total affinity. It’s as though he carried it out of his mother’s womb.”

“Maybe he did,” Creasy said thoughtfully, as though talking to himself. “What about the sniper rifle?”

“A little too impatient as yet,” George answered. “As you know, a sniper needs infinite patience. The best snipers are older and more mature. Michael is young and reacts instantly. He will be very good but it will take time.”

“Unarmed combat?”

“Wenzu says that he’s going to be more of a street fighter. Sure he’ll learn all the tricks but his nature is to be a street fighter and he’ll be a dangerous one.”

“Good.”

“Incidentally, he’s got a lot of guts. Last week I took the squad to a disused quarry. They practised rappelling down a sheer rock-face. It’s damn frightening the first time. Most of the squad were reluctant to trust themselves to a thin rope against a hundred metre drop. Michael was over the edge without a murmur. How did you find him?”

“I saw him score a goal in a soccer match.”

George Zammit glanced at him and then he concentrated again on the traffic. Quietly he asked, “What are you going to do with him?”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe one day he’ll watch my back…maybe one day I’ll aim him at somebody.”

George drove on in silence to Cirkewwa. Before Creasy got out of the car, the policeman said, “I know what you have in mind, Creasy, and I want a promise from you.”

“What’s that?”

“You know my position here as head of security. Don’t do anything in Malta without letting me know first.”

“It’s a promise,” Creasy replied.

“I want a second promise,” George said.

“It’s all promises today, George. What is it?”

“If the boy survives, he’s to join the police force…join my squad.”

“I promise to influence him in that direction. But the final decision will be his.”

As Creasy got out of the car the policeman called, “Another promise.”

Creasy turned in exasperation.

“What now?”

“Next Wednesday is Stella’s fortieth birthday. I’m throwing a party for her at the house. Be there.”

“OK.”

“Be there with Michael”

“OK.”

“Be there with your wife.”

Creasy muttered something inaudible and strode away.

He carried his bag up to Gleneagles and ordered a lager. He also ordered drinks for Shriek and Baglu, who as usual were propping up the bar. Then he said to Tony, “Have one yourself.”

“Too early for me,” Tony replied.

They all waited patiently, then after a couple of minutes Tony said, “Why not,” and helped himself to a beer.

God was in His Heaven and everything in Gozo was normal. After a couple more drinks, he phoned Leonie and asked her to pick him up. On the short drive home, she said, “I left Gleneagles as a forwarding address for my agent. I got a letter yesterday.”

He glanced at her and said curtly, “Don’t tell me he’s got you a part. Don’t tell me you’re gonna break our contract.”

She shook her head.

“No, I wouldn’t do that. It’s just my friend Geraldine…my best friend…perhaps my only friend; she thinks that I’m working on a TV series in Malta and she’s coming out on Friday and staying at the Suncrest Hotel for a week. Can I see her and if so, what do I tell her?”

“I prefer that you don’t,” Creasy answered. “That was in the contract if you remember. No visitors.”

They drove on in silence. As they got out of the car Creasy noticed the look on her face and said again, “It was in the contract, Leonie.”

“I know,” she answered. “Forget about it.” She started to walk away.

He pulled his bag from the back seat and called after her.

“Wait.”

She turned and watched him.

Finally he said, “OK, maybe you need a break. It’s been tough on you here, with the people and all. The manager of the Suncrest is a friend of mine. He’ll give you a very good rate on a room for a week. I’ve stayed at the hotel myself, it’s a bit touristy but very good. They have an excellent restaurant called Coral Reef. Spend the time with your friend, have a holiday.”

“What do I tell her?” Leonie asked.

He shrugged.

“Tell her that the funding for the series has been held up…it usually is. Tell her that you’re being paid, but you’re sitting around on your butt. Tell her nothing about Gozo, me or Michael. Make a promise on that.”

She smiled. It lit up her face.

“I promise.”

“By the way, next Wednesday, you’re going to have to get away from your friend for the night. Tell her that you have to have dinner with the producer or something.”

“What’s happening?”

“We’re going to a birthday party in Malta. A friend’s wife. I’ll pick you up from the Suncrest at eight.”

“OK. What about food while I’m away? Shall I cook some things and put them in the freezer?”

He shook his head.

“No, while you’re away, Michael and I will be away.”

“Where are you going?”

His voice was curt.

“Somewhere to further his education.”

Joey’s mood was black enough for Creasy to notice. They were working on the farmhouse together. It was a Thursday and Michael was in Malta at Fort St. Elmo. They were building a drystone wall, to terrace a small garden.

“What’s your problem?” Creasy asked curtly.

Joey lifted a stone for the wall and turned to look at him. Both were shirtless in the hot sun, both sweating.

“Why not me?” Joey asked.

“Why not me what?”

The younger man heaved another stone up on the wall and said, “Why not train me for the job?”

“What job?”

“You know fucking well what job. I’m not stupid, Creasy. I know why you remarried so soon. I know how much you loved Nadia…I just hope I can love Maria that way…I’ve known since I was a boy. I know what you did in Italy…how your mind works. There’s no way you’re going to let them get away with killing Nadia and Julia. You’re getting on a bit, so you’re training Michael to help you. He goes to Malta twice a week to Fort St. Elmo.”

“He told you that?”

Joey shook his head.

“He didn’t have to. I have a friend in George Zammit’s unit. He told me. Besides, George Zammit’s my cousin.”

“He told you as well?”

“No. But when I asked him, he didn’t deny it. Just refused to talk about it.”

They both lifted up stones for the wall, and with great bitterness Joey asked, “Why not me? Why Michael? I’m young and fit and I have a better motive. Nadia was my sister and Julia my niece. I loved them as much as you did in a different way…why not me?”

He reached down to pick up another stone at his feet, a very heavy stone. Creasy moved over, picked it up and heaved it up onto the wall. He turned and grinned at the younger man.

“So I’m getting old am I?”

Joey did not smile back. Grim-faced he persisted.

“Why not me?”

Creasy answered.

“It’s true that you’re not stupid, so use your goddamn brains for a change instead of your prick and you’ll know why.”

He used his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead and went back to building the wall.

They both worked in silence for five minutes. Joey’s face was still sullen.

Finally Creasy said quietly, “Your parents had two daughters and a son, and they had a granddaughter. They lost both daughters and their granddaughter. They’ve only got you left. All their love is centred on you and beginning to centre on Maria.”

He heaved another stone up and said sternly, “Now listen to me, you prick, we’re gonna finish this house in about two months. Since I’ve gone against Gozitan tradition and thanks to your mother got away with it, you’re going to get engaged to Maria next week. You’re going to marry her a month later. She’s going to have a baby nine months after that.”

With a grunt he lifted up a heavy stone. “If not,” he said, “I’ll personally pull your prick off.”

They worked on in silence for a few minutes and then Creasy muttered, “You know what I think of your parents. I never had much family and what I had is all gone. Paul and Laura are the only family I’ve got left…and I suppose you.”

Joey smiled slightly and asked, “And what about Michael? He’s your son now.”

Creasy’s answer was abrupt.

“He’s a weapon. Or he will be in about six months.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

The young man turned to look at him and asked, “You have no feelings for him at all?”

“None.”

“And for Leonie?”

“None. She’s just a necessity.”

They carried on working in silence and then Joey mused, “You stitched me up with this house. You knew damn well that having rebuilt it I’d want to live in it. You gave me all that shit about arches and beams and all the arguments about where the kitchen and the main bedroom should go. You made me argue. You made me get involved. You knew fucking well what you were doing.”

Creasy wiped more sweat from his face and grinned.

“Are you unhappy about it?” he asked. “After all, she’s a damn fine girl. Too good for you I’d say. She’d have done better with Mario the policeman. He’s better looking and he’s got a steady job.”

“He’s a prick,” Joey answered and then smiled. “No, I’m not unhappy, and I’ll do what you say. A week next Saturday we’ll get engaged and a month later we’ll get married. Tonight I’ll go and see her parents and make the arrangements.”

“Are you sure she’ll accept you?” Creasy asked seriously.

Joey just grinned and lifted up another stone.

A few minutes later Creasy said, “I won’t be able to help you down here next week. Leonie’s going to Malta to visit a friend and I’m taking Michael to Comino.”

“You’re staying at the hotel?” Joey asked in surprise.

Creasy shook his head.

“No, we’ll be staying on the other side of the island.”

“But there’s nothing there. It’s totally barren.”

“Exactly,” Creasy answered. “I’ll teach him how to live off the land and from the sea. What plants are edible and what plants are poisonous. How to survive in the open with nothing but a couple of fishing lines and a knife.”

“But there are hardly any plants there,” Joey said. “It’s just rocks and limestone…garigue.”

“There are plenty of plants there,” Creasy said. “You just never noticed them, and there’s the sea and there are fish in the sea. A man who knows how could live there to old age. Don’t forget, Joey, that there’s also animal life over there. Rabbits, mice, rats, snakes and even grasshoppers.”

Joey’s face showed astonishment.

“You’d eat rats, mice, snakes and grasshoppers?”

Creasy nodded.

“If necessary. I’ve done it before. In some African countries, a barbecued rat is considered a delicacy and roasted grasshopper is a tasty dish.”

Joey was intrigued.

“You mean you’re going over there with nothing except a couple of fishing lines and a knife?”

“That’s right.”

“Nothing else at all?”

“Nothing. Just the clothes we’re wearing.”

“What about water? The only drinking water on the island comes out of a bottle in the bar at the Comino Hotel.”

“We’ll find water.”

Joey laughed.

“The government has been trying to find water over there for years. The hotel had to build its own desalination plant. You’ll both die of thirst in a few days.”

Very seriously Creasy asked, “You’re a farmer, Joey, where would the plants on Comino get their water?”