44

Black gestured Bustan to sit at the kitchen table. Black sat opposite, pistol absently pointed in the vicinity of Bustan’s upper chest.

“What happens when your friends arrive?”

Bustan’s voice rose to a wheedling plea. “They’re not my friends. They forced me to do this. What choice did I have?”

“They forced you? How does that work?”

Bustan’s mouth opened, shut. He blew through his lips, blinked again.

“If you’re going to talk bullshit,” said Black, “you have to be a little quicker on your feet. I’ll repeat the question. If you don’t answer, I’ll shoot you in the throat.”

Bustan stared, attention fully focused.

“What happens when your friends arrive?”

“An SUV parks outside. I get a text. One of my men goes out to meet it, to check everything’s clear, then they get taken downstairs and go into the car.”

“Nice and simple. How long have you been doing this for, Bustan? You don’t need to be exact. I’m happy with a guesstimate.”

“Not long, I swear!”

Black pursed his lips, furrowed his eyebrows, as if perplexed. “You and your skinny buddy, Aksoy, keep telling me ‘you swear’. What do you swear on – the Bible? The Quran? I don’t understand. You’re a lying piece of shit, so I don’t get this ‘swear’ thing. The way I see it, you’ve been selling families to this ‘hospital’ for some time. Months, I reckon. You have a system. You’re well organised. This isn’t a new bag for you. What do you get – a cash payment per human? A cut of the profits? Trifle with me, Bustan. I’m in a talkative mood.”

Bustan licked his lips, formulating his response. The bulge of his Adam’s apple shifted up, down as he swallowed. His eyes glistened, Black noted. With tears. Unlike his dead friends in the corridor, Bustan was a man who was very definitely scared of dying.

Black continued. “I think you’re a ‘cash on delivery’ man. You couldn’t risk a slice of the profits, because you probably don’t know what the profits are. Too easy to be swindled. And you look like a man who would rather swindle, than be swindled. So I’ll go for a lump sum of crisp bank notes per head. Would I be right?”

Bustan’s chin wobbled. He was on the verge of crying.

“How much do you get?”

Suddenly, Bustan’s face changed, from terror to possible salvation. He glimpsed hope, thought Black, where none existed.

“Is it about the money? You want a piece? Of course. I can do this. How much? I can give you £50,000. Just for this one night. We can come to an arrangement. £50,000 each time.” He gave a trembling laugh. “You’ll become a rich man, yes?”

“Each time?”

“Sure. Every month. No problem. Cash.”

“One family every month?”

Bustan talked freely. The terror had diminished. He clearly thought he was onto something.

“Guaranteed. Easy money. It runs like clockwork.”

“Except I’m here.”

Bustan raised his shoulders as if, what will be, will be. “But I see you’re a man who knows a good thing when he sees it.”

“And the parents? Why kill them? It seems a waste.”

Bustan leaned forward a fraction, as if he were conspiring. “They don’t want adults anymore. So I was told. More chance of the goods being spoilt. Everything has to be fresh.” He smiled, revealing a row of nicotine-stained teeth. “You wouldn’t buy rotten fruit from the supermarket.”

Black smiled back, like a wolf. “No one likes rotten fruit, Bustan. And Deborah Gallagher?”

Bustan frowned. “I don’t know. They told me to arrange her… demise. I follow their orders. Did you kill Ringo? I have no trouble with that. He was always no good. You made him talk, yes? And you came here. You can smell the money, my friend.”

Black gave Bustan a level stare. “I’m not your friend. You promise innocent vulnerable people hope. Safety. But all you give them is death. For money. It has to end, Bustan. And it will end. Now. I’ve made it a mission over the last while to rid the world of evil men. And I’m finding that I rather enjoy it. You’re no exception.”

Bustan raised a hand, eyes blinking, face a mixture of terror and bewilderment. He can’t comprehend the situation he finds himself in, thought Black. “Death is easy in the abstract,” he said softly. “Not so easy to deal with when faced with the real thing.”

Black shot him the face once, twice for good measure.

The impact sent Bustan back, off the chair, onto the floor. Black stood, regarded the lifeless – and featureless – body. A productive night so far.

And the night wasn’t over.