Kennedy’s Ghost. Gordon Stevens
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told you today. I suggest we arrange a meeting for tomorrow. There are other things to discuss, but I think Francesca has enough to handle until then.’
Why not deal with them now? It was in the way Umberto turned.
‘Not today.’ Francesca’s voice was suddenly tired. I’ve had enough for one day, more than I can cope with. Just give me twenty-four hours to take on board what he’s already told me, then I’ll be able to face the rest. She called for the housekeeper to telephone for a cab. ‘What time tomorrow?’
‘Remember what I told you,’ Haslam reminded her. ‘That we should build our meetings into your normal routines. Unless, of course, something happens.’ He knew she was having difficulty accepting what he was telling them. ‘If it’s in the evening it shouldn’t be over dinner. It should be a business meeting like any other.’
‘Six-thirty,’ Francesca suggested.
‘If the kidnappers make contact what time will you tell them to ring the clean phone?’
‘Seven in the evening.’
‘Good. I’ll be at the hotel. If I leave it for any reason I’ll be carrying a pager.’ He gave them the details. ‘One last thing. In case the kidnappers call, are you happy to be here by yourself or do you want someone with you?’
‘The housekeeper will stay when I need her. I’m fine.’
The cab was waiting. He shook each of their hands and left.
The evening was warm and the three cars he had seen when he arrived were still there: the Saab, the BMW and the Mercedes, the driver and minder sitting in it like a calling card. Perhaps he should have said something about it at the meeting, except that then he hadn’t been sure that the Mercedes was the banker’s.
By 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