Someone Else's Conflict by Alison Layland Page B

and chewed a mouthful of steak instead of replying. Novak stared at him for a moment. ‘Well? Did she mention any…change in their circumstances?’
    â€˜Why should she? Why would she even know?’
    His uncle nodded slowly. ‘I hope it’s not too late.’
    â€˜Too late?’
    â€˜Vinko, lad, there’s something I haven’t been telling you. My mistake. I thought it best not to affect the way you were with them. But you’re taking so long. What’s the problem? Don’t you want to see your family? Anyway, this changes it.’
    â€˜What does?’
    â€˜Someone I know, someone who knew your family, tells me there’s some money of his that may have come their way. Money they shouldn’t have. I’d like you to help me find out, and if it’s true, help me get it back for my friend. You’d be rewarded.’
    Vinko concentrated on his last few chips, then speared the final piece of meat. As he chewed he tried to settle his thoughts, knowing Novak was watching his every move. The dream was shattering, here, now, before he’d even met them.
    â€˜How?’ he said eventually. ‘What could I do? I haven’t been near them yet.’
    He took an inelegant gulp of red wine and listened as Novak suggested he find a way – how was entirely up to him – to lay his hands on the relevant bank account details, and he and his contacts would do the rest. Vinko would get a generous share. He remained noncommital. Apart from his uncle, whom he didn’t particularly like despite his wining, dining and home entertainment system, they were the only family Vinko had. If he was to meet them, he wanted to get to know them properly, not start by stealing from them.
    â€˜They’re not the dream family you want them to be.’ It was as if Novak could read his mind. ‘And anyway, they need never know your part in it.’
    Vinko stared at his empty plate, fingers drumming on his thigh.
    â€˜Don’t you want a chance to earn some real money? Think of all the stuff you’ve done before. This is easy in comparison. You’re not even stealing – this money isn’t theirs.’
    â€˜Why can’t you do it?’
    â€˜How thick are you?’ His tone was low, in keeping with the surroundings, but menacing enough to make Vinko tense. ‘How many times do I have to say? They won’t let me near.’
    â€˜Sorry. But what if I don’t want to get involved?’
    Novak leaned back, composure restored. ‘Then you take your chance.’
    The nature of the man’s smile told Vinko that ‘chance’ meant more than whether or not he got to know his grandparents, whether or not he eventually saw any share of the money. He wanted to leave.
    Outside, he thanked his uncle for the meal but claimed tiredness after a sleepless night as an excuse for going straight home. They drove back in silence and it seemed an age before they came to Vinko’s street.
    â€˜Go and see your grandparents,’ his uncle said as he pulled over to the kerb, ‘and let me know how you get on.’
    Vinko had his hand on the door catch but Novak stopped him. ‘Check your phone for me, will you?’
    Vinko got it out reluctantly.
    â€˜Any messages?’ His uncle gripped his arm, looked at the empty inbox. ‘I think you’ve made a mistake with your number, my boy.’
    Vinko muttered an excuse as he gave him the correct one. He waited impatiently, fingers tapping restlessly, for the test call to come through.
    â€˜No need to apologise,’ said Novak cheerfully. ‘I like your thinking. You know, Vinko, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. Now I’m looking forward to working with you.’

Chapter 6
    Marilyn insisted they left the washing up until morning and they settled down in front of the living room fire. Jay produced a pipe and a tooled leather pouch.
    â€˜Do you mind?’ he