Kennedy’s Ghost. Gordon Stevens

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СКАЧАТЬ the time he reached the Marino it was dusk.

      His room was large and well-furnished and faced on to the inner courtyard, so that the sound of the Milan traffic was deadened. The bathroom was well-equipped, the wallpaper was flowered but relaxing, and an ornate fan was suspended from the ceiling, circling slowly. The two armchairs were low but comfortable, and the escritoire set against one of the windows was large enough to work at. The television was in a walnut cabinet in one corner, the minibar beside it.

      After the meeting his clothes smelt of cigarette smoke. He stretched the stiffness from his back, unpacked, and took a shower. Then he dressed – casual clothes and shoes – arranged for a dry cleaning service every day, and began the case log. Kidnap and kidnappers; victim and family, in which he included the banker Rossi; security and other problems, plus the bank itself.

KIDNAP	From hotel room. Bodyguards present at all other times.
	Switzerland overnight after return from London.
	Police not informed.
	Genuine?

      Because sometimes people, even bankers, faked their own disappearances. For money or fear or any number of reasons.

KIDNAPPERS	Professionals.
VICTIM	Bodyguard plus back-up.
	Why? Especially when no specific threat.

      Paolo Benini had been carrying three bodyguards and one driver, effectively four minders, but at the time he had been out of Italy. So either he was special, or whatever he was working on was.

FAMILY	Father dominant.
	Wife strong.
	Brother would come through.
	Banker calculating.

      So what about them; what about Francesca and Umberto and Marco? What about the banker Rossi?

      Francesca was quiet and still in shock, but she already showed signs of strength, which was positive. Francesca was fighting back, trying to get into it. Yet there were also signs of friction in her relationship with her father-in-law, which might prove negative. Plus there was something intangible about her and Paolo.

      Which wasn’t quite what he meant.

      What he really meant was that there had been something about Francesca’s description of Paolo that reminded him of himself. We’ve been married sixteen years. He’s away a lot now, so the girls miss him. Which was what his own wife would say of him. He brushed the uneasiness aside and continued with the case log.

      Francesca would be strong, but Francesca had given him nothing about Paolo. So what about Francesca? Did she have a lover or did Paolo have a mistress? Or was Paolo gay? It had happened before on a kidnap.

      Marco would get the courier’s job. Umberto would treat him like shit, but Marco would do what was needed.

      Which left Umberto and Rossi.

      Umberto Benini appeared to be the central figure, yet Umberto wasn’t the power-broker. Umberto would puff and blow, but in the end Umberto would snap his fingers for Francesca to pour them each another cognac and then he would do whatever the bank suggested.

SECURITY	Check cars outside, especially Mercedes.
PROBLEMS	Bank involvement might upset negotiations if kidnappers find out.Family might not accept recommendations.

      The bank might be seen to be involved either by the cars outside, or by the way the management team decided to conduct the negotiations. Which led to the second problem, the feeling he’d had the moment he’d introduced himself and Umberto Benini had intervened, the sense, almost a foreboding, that this one was going to be difficult. Of course they were all difficult, of course the families or companies he advised sometimes found it hard to accept what he was telling them. But all through the meeting that afternoon and evening he’d been increasingly aware of the unease growing in him.

      It was as if the dawn mist was hanging over them, he had thought at one stage; yet it was late morning, the sun was up, and the mist should have vanished with the day.

      It was as if he was dug into an OP, an observation post, he had thought at another point of the meeting; the target in front of him but the eerie feeling that he was facing the wrong way.

      He was tired, he told himself now as he had told himself earlier. Kidnap negotiations took it out of you, drained the life and body and soul from you. Because for one or two months, sometimes three, you ate and slept and breathed it; thought of nothing but the kidnapper and his victim and how you could get that victim back safely.

      So he was drained, he admitted, especially after the last job. He should have taken that break after Lima, should have gone home and spent time with Meg and the boys. But he hadn’t. So he should stop assigning blame, grab a good night’s sleep, and get on with it.

      He moved to the last item of the case log.

BANK	Logical they should be represented.Anything else?

      Why should there be anything else?

      Now that the others had left the apartment seemed empty. Francesca opened the windows to clear the cigarette smoke, then phoned the girls, showered, went to bed, and tried to remember what had been agreed at the meeting with the Englishman and the discussion after he had left.

      Some of the things he had said were reasonable, Umberto had conceded, except that they were logical and precisely what they themselves would have done. Then Umberto had downed the cognac and waved to her to pour him and Rossi another.

      The family and the bank were behind her, though. She knew she had the full backing of the bank, Rossi had told her as they left. And that was what mattered. Even though she didn’t always like the way Umberto tried to dominate his sons, her, her children. Even if she didn’t totally trust Rossi.

      And what about you Paolo? Why hadn’t she told the Englishman the truth? Okay, she hadn’t told the Englishman about the other properties they owned and the investments in Italy and overseas, most of them hidden from the authorities. But that wasn’t what she meant. Why hadn’t she told the Englishman about what her relationship with Paolo was really like? Not in front of the others, perhaps; especially not in front of Umberto.

      So what about the Englishman and the things the Englishman had told her? Her mind was too confused and her body too cold to answer. She pulled the bedclothes tight around her and waited for the phone call in the dark. When she checked the time less than an hour had passed; when she checked again only another thirty minutes. The fear engulfed her, gnawed at her, till she was almost physically sick. When first light came she was unsure whether or not she had slept; when the housekeeper brought her coffee she was still shivering.

      She wouldn’t go to the office today, she decided; today she would sit and wait by the telephone, as she had every day since the first terrible news. She changed her mind. Today she would go to the office, because that was what the man called Haslam had told her to do, and all she wanted, in the grey swirling panic that was her brain, was for someone to tell her what to do and when and where to do it.

      Ninety minutes later she drove to the building in one of the streets off Piazza Cadorna. It was good to be out of the house, she thought as she parked the car; good to be in the sun and see people. It was good to have something other than the kidnap to think about, good to check with the secretary and the other designers and artists and craftsmen she employed, good to hear from a client about how pleased they were, even good to sort out a problem.

      ‘How’s СКАЧАТЬ