course.’ Rhino smiled back at him. ‘You
are
Somali though, aren’t you?’
‘As are several million other people, most of whom are neither engaged in acts of piracy nor working for or with the pirates. I am, as I said, just a solicitor.’ He indicated the
envelope. ‘Are you satisfied?’
‘Very little about this business satisfies me, but that’s a cross I have to bear. You seem to have fulfilled your side of the agreement.’
‘Then I believe you have an envelope for me.’
‘For
you
?’
‘To transfer to my clients,’ he continued smoothly. ‘Unopened.’
Rhino removed a smaller white envelope from his own pocket. He slid it across the table. ‘This is a banker’s draft for half a million pounds. Being a banker’s draft, it cannot
be rescinded or cancelled. It is as good as cash.’
‘With the advantage,’ Tzuke said, taking the envelope, ‘of being a lot easier to carry. I would not want to be carrying around a briefcase with half a million pounds in it. Not
in this heat.’
Rhino indicated the envelope. ‘Don’t lose it. Mr and Mrs Wilkerson are depending on that money to free them. It would be tragic if it was carried away by a freak gust of
wind.’
‘Worry not. I will take all possible precautions with this envelope before passing it to my clients.’
Tzuke held the envelope up and stared at it for a moment. He ran his fingers along it, looking for the telltale bulge of an electronic tracking device, Rhino presumed. Finding nothing, he slid
the envelope into an inside jacket pocket.
‘As I said,’ Rhino murmured, ‘you
have
done this before.’
Tzuke ignored the taunt. ‘Was it their family or their employers who provided the money?’ he asked.
‘Does it matter?’
The solicitor shrugged. ‘I suppose not. I am merely interested in the generosity of people in the Western world towards relatives, friends and work colleagues.’
‘I take it your . . . clients . . . wouldn’t do the same for you?’
Tzuke glanced sharply at Rhino. ‘You and I both know what the penalty for failure, carelessness and bad luck is in our respective professions,’ he said quietly.
Rhino smiled. ‘You’re just a solicitor,’ he said, ‘and I’m just a postman.’ He paused. ‘What are the arrangements for the handover?’
‘I understand from my clients that the . . . goods . . . will be released in the port of Mogadishu, close to the British embassy. Then they will be on their own.’
‘And you know, of course, that if you
don’t
release them then nobody will ever pay a ransom again?’
Tzuke nodded.
‘Then I think our business is complete.’
Tzuke picked up his lemonade and drained it in one go. He reached into a jacket and pulled out a plastic bottle with a spray top. He sprayed the empty glass with some colourless fluid, and then,
using one napkin to pick up the glass, he used a second napkin to wipe the glass dry, then very carefully wiped down any part of the table that he might have touched, including the underneath.
‘More DNA and fingerprint paranoia?’ Rhino inquired.
Tzuke shook his head. ‘Call it a pathological desire to leave everything neat and tidy.’ Placing the glass down on the table, he stood up and retrieved his jacket from the back of
the chair. ‘I have taken the liberty of paying for another coffee for you. I suggest you stay here for at least twenty minutes before you leave. Do not try to follow me. Mr and Mrs Wilkerson
would not be happy if you did that.’
Rhino watched the man leave. As he sat there, draining the last bitter dregs of his espresso, he turned his mobile phone back on. Immediately it told him that he had a text message. He checked
it curiously, and was surprised to find that it was from Eduardo Ortiz – or Gecko, as Rhino had learned to call him. The message was terse, but informative.
Strange animal seen in Hong
Kong. Need your help to travel out and find it. Are you interested and free?
A strange animal? Presumably
are
Somali though, aren’t you?’
‘As are several million other people, most of whom are neither engaged in acts of piracy nor working for or with the pirates. I am, as I said, just a solicitor.’ He indicated the
envelope. ‘Are you satisfied?’
‘Very little about this business satisfies me, but that’s a cross I have to bear. You seem to have fulfilled your side of the agreement.’
‘Then I believe you have an envelope for me.’
‘For
you
?’
‘To transfer to my clients,’ he continued smoothly. ‘Unopened.’
Rhino removed a smaller white envelope from his own pocket. He slid it across the table. ‘This is a banker’s draft for half a million pounds. Being a banker’s draft, it cannot
be rescinded or cancelled. It is as good as cash.’
‘With the advantage,’ Tzuke said, taking the envelope, ‘of being a lot easier to carry. I would not want to be carrying around a briefcase with half a million pounds in it. Not
in this heat.’
Rhino indicated the envelope. ‘Don’t lose it. Mr and Mrs Wilkerson are depending on that money to free them. It would be tragic if it was carried away by a freak gust of
wind.’
‘Worry not. I will take all possible precautions with this envelope before passing it to my clients.’
Tzuke held the envelope up and stared at it for a moment. He ran his fingers along it, looking for the telltale bulge of an electronic tracking device, Rhino presumed. Finding nothing, he slid
the envelope into an inside jacket pocket.
‘As I said,’ Rhino murmured, ‘you
have
done this before.’
Tzuke ignored the taunt. ‘Was it their family or their employers who provided the money?’ he asked.
‘Does it matter?’
The solicitor shrugged. ‘I suppose not. I am merely interested in the generosity of people in the Western world towards relatives, friends and work colleagues.’
‘I take it your . . . clients . . . wouldn’t do the same for you?’
Tzuke glanced sharply at Rhino. ‘You and I both know what the penalty for failure, carelessness and bad luck is in our respective professions,’ he said quietly.
Rhino smiled. ‘You’re just a solicitor,’ he said, ‘and I’m just a postman.’ He paused. ‘What are the arrangements for the handover?’
‘I understand from my clients that the . . . goods . . . will be released in the port of Mogadishu, close to the British embassy. Then they will be on their own.’
‘And you know, of course, that if you
don’t
release them then nobody will ever pay a ransom again?’
Tzuke nodded.
‘Then I think our business is complete.’
Tzuke picked up his lemonade and drained it in one go. He reached into a jacket and pulled out a plastic bottle with a spray top. He sprayed the empty glass with some colourless fluid, and then,
using one napkin to pick up the glass, he used a second napkin to wipe the glass dry, then very carefully wiped down any part of the table that he might have touched, including the underneath.
‘More DNA and fingerprint paranoia?’ Rhino inquired.
Tzuke shook his head. ‘Call it a pathological desire to leave everything neat and tidy.’ Placing the glass down on the table, he stood up and retrieved his jacket from the back of
the chair. ‘I have taken the liberty of paying for another coffee for you. I suggest you stay here for at least twenty minutes before you leave. Do not try to follow me. Mr and Mrs Wilkerson
would not be happy if you did that.’
Rhino watched the man leave. As he sat there, draining the last bitter dregs of his espresso, he turned his mobile phone back on. Immediately it told him that he had a text message. He checked
it curiously, and was surprised to find that it was from Eduardo Ortiz – or Gecko, as Rhino had learned to call him. The message was terse, but informative.
Strange animal seen in Hong
Kong. Need your help to travel out and find it. Are you interested and free?
A strange animal? Presumably
Similar Books
