With Eddie out of the picture, and things getting closer to home, Rob thinks it might be time to break the habit of a lifetime and kill Amy Wheeler himself. No one else seems capable.
Mickey Moody comes back with two pints. “You look stressed.”
Maybe Mickey could do it? Or help at least? Keep an eye out for Amy Wheeler arriving in Dubai?
Rob picks up his pint. “Work.”
Mickey laughs. “Why do you all work? I don’t get it.”
“I like it, Mickey,” says Rob.
“You like the stress?”
“I like to be busy,” says Rob. “You fancy a job, by the way?”
“A job?” Mickey Moody laughs. “Listen, you know I never ask what any of you boys do for a living. But I know I don’t want to be a part of it. No offense. I just enjoy the golf.”
“It’d only be sitting at the airport for a day or two,” says Rob. “Keeping an eye out for someone.”
Mickey shakes his head. “Not for all the money in the world.”
“Thirty grand,” says Rob. “A hundred if you’re interested in something more serious?”
Mickey looks at him. “There’s a different way of living, you know?”
Rob smiles into his pint. A different way of living? Too late for all that. “Sorry, Mickey, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“That’s okay, son,” says Mickey. “Nice to know someone doesn’t think I’m useless.”
“You’re a useless putter,” says Rob, and Mickey clinks his glass against Rob’s.
There is something admirable about people like Mickey, Rob supposes. Rob’s got a few old friends who never got tempted. Who kept their souls safe and raised families and lived in small houses in small towns. Then there’re others, like Eddie, who’ve skirted around the business, poking their heads up every time they needed a payday. But Rob is in it for life. Death is his life. Death is what he is good at.
So no panicking. There might be three people on his trail, but he has an advantage.
Ordinarily, tracking someone like Amy Wheeler would be an enormous headache, with favors called in all over the place—police officers bribed, all at some cost. But Amy has chosen to travel with one of the most famous women in the world, and that makes Rob’s job an awful lot easier. He has alerts set up on all the big social media sites. If anyone posts an excited selfie with Rosie D’Antonio anywhere in the world, he will hear about it.
Perhaps it will be Dubai; perhaps it will be somewhere else. It doesn’t really matter, because the moment he sees a selfie Rob will go into action himself. Needs must, and murder’s not so difficult. Wear gloves, and don’t drive the getaway car too fast.
Perhaps he should kill the father-in-law too? Better safe than sorry.
So, no, Rob won’t lose any sleep over Amy Wheeler just yet.
Will he lose sleep over François Loubet? Perhaps a little, but Rob has never needed a lot of sleep. He’s like Maggie Thatcher in that regard.
And, besides, when you’re in the business of death, it comes with the territory.
71
This time Steve doesn’t duck when he gets out of the helicopter. You don’t need to show Steve anything twice.
Had it only been five days since he’d last been at this house? Confronting Gary Gough about his daughter’s behavior. He sees Gary Gough approach the helicopter. Steve extends his hand.
“Sorry, Gary, needed somewhere quiet to land, and didn’t know who else to ask.”
“No problem,” says Gary. “Not everyone with a helipad doesn’t mind breaking the law.”
“Everyone with a helipad is a crook,” says Rosie, also shaking Gary’s hand. “I’m Rosie.”
“Welcome to the New Forest,” says Gary. “I’m a legitimate businessman.”
“Amy,” says Amy, sizing up Gary. “I hear you used to smuggle cocaine on submarines?”
Gary shrugs, and turns to Steve. “What’s this all about? Looks super-dodgy. Any way I can get involved?”
“I am Henk,” says Henk, bringing up the rear. “I am Dutch.”
“I can believe that,” says Gary, shaking Henk’s hand.
“Someone was trying to kill Rosie,” says Steve. “And now someone’s trying to kill Amy.”
Gary gives a “fair enough” expression. “You know, when I see an ex-cop, a celebrity, a bodyguard, and a Dutch guy, I smell money.”
“Well, I smell danger,” says Henk. “So if they find me dead, tell the police that these three did it.”
“I haven’t said anything except ‘No comment’ to a police officer in over thirty years,” says Gary.
“Yes, of course,” says Henk. “In which case, just avenge my death.”
