~26~

RICHARD DE GROOT WAS LYING FACE-DOWN on the floor behind his desk. He was wearing a white bathrobe. It looked expensive and very comfortable. Jack guessed that de Groot would never have imagined when he bought it that he might die in it. But there you go. Death took no notice of high-quality, one hundred percent Egyptian cotton bathrobes. All comfort was fleeting. At least until the last lie-down.

Jack stepped closer. The black leather executive chair was pushed aside. De Groot’s head was slumped inside the cavity of an open floor-safe, as though he was down on the ground after a hot trail hike, taking a long drink from a cold mountain stream. He had been shot in the back. Maybe while he was getting out a little money for Jack, to reward him for the Sergius.

Two gunshot wounds, right behind the heart. Bang, bang. Jack knelt down and looked past de Groot’s head. It was not a particularly large safe, maybe thirty centimetres long, twenty wide, and no more than a foot deep. It was empty. But a small fortune would have had no trouble being comfortable in there. Jack moved closer, the light hit a different angle and he saw that it was actually deeper than he had first thought: it also stretched further out left and right under the floor. Jesus. One hundred thousand gone? Two? More?

Jack stood up and something beside the desk caught his eye: it was a wad of money. Hundred-dollar notes. The word fingerprints flashed through his mind but had no visible effect on him. Jack reached over and picked up the money and moved away from Richard de Groot’s body. Crisp bills packed tight, about two centimetres thick. The kind of thing Jack had always dreamed about having under his mattress.

Ten thousand dollars? Thereabouts. Two little centimetres of money. The killer had missed it. Among a lot of identical wads, it was easily missed.

‘Keep it, Mr Susko.’

The blood in Jack’s head drained out in one smooth, quick rush. For a second the picture before his eyes faltered and he felt a cold wave down his back. He turned towards the voice, almost dropping the money in his hands.

Viktor Kablunak stood in the doorway of de Groot’s study. Behind him was Pascal, his arms crossed and chin high.

‘Go on, keep it,’ repeated Kablunak, nonchalant and generous, as though he was in his own home. ‘Money is for the living.’

Jack lowered his arms. His thumb flicked at a corner of the small pad of cash, nervously. ‘You killed him,’ he said.

Kablunak laughed, looked behind him at Pascal, and then turned back to Jack. ‘And why would I do that, Mr Susko?’

‘For the Sergius.’

The Russian shook his head, looking like a teacher disappointed with a promising student. ‘But you are holding the Sergius for me, Mr Susko. No? Why would I kill him for something that he does not have?’

Jack stood up straighter as the blood slowly returned to his head. Now it began to throb.

‘There is nothing that Richard de Groot has that I would want,’ said Kablunak. ‘And would I wait for somebody to arrive?’ He waved his hand, dismissing the whole notion, and stepped into the room. ‘It is obvious somebody else killed him.’

‘So what are you doing here?’

‘Following you, Mr Susko.’ Viktor Kablunak raised his eyebrows and nodded at the cash in Jack’s hand. ‘Making sure you don’t do anything … stupid.’ He smiled. ‘But go on. Keep the money. It is yours. A little bonus.’

Jack looked down at the wad in his hand. He tossed it onto the desk. ‘I’ll be right, thanks.’

‘No, no, no,’ said Kablunak. ‘I insist. You must.’

‘Why don’t you have it?’

The Russian grinned. ‘I have already wiped my arse today.’

‘Remind me to use the bathroom at your place.’

‘That is funny, Jack. Yes.’ Kablunak walked over to the desk and picked up the money. He fanned a corner beneath his thick, manicured thumb. Then he held the cash out to Jack. ‘Nobody has seen this,’ he said. ‘It is free. Easy. Take it.’

‘It’s not mine.’

‘Ah! I do not believe you, Mr Susko. Did Pascal hit you too hard?’ The Russian scoffed. ‘It is only money. It has no soul and cannot assume the soul of he who has it in his wallet. Listen to me. Money cannot be possessed. Money can only be exercised.’ He nodded his head, smiled, and slapped the wad lightly against his leg. ‘I like you. Let me tell you a secret and then maybe you will take this money and go and make your fortune and not ever again kneel before another man.’ He walked past the desk to the window and gazed at the sky view, splintered with still-burning lights and strobed by the odd flash of lightning in the distance. ‘Money is energy, Mr Susko,’ he said. ‘It is electricity. It moves. Its only purpose is to move. And it is attracted to those who help move it.’ Kablunak turned and looked hard at Jack, his dark eyes glinting. ‘Think, Mr Susko. Who wires their house with wood?’ He held out the money again.

There was a murdered man lying on the floor beside Jack. He glanced down at de Groot’s body again. It had been a long day and a long night. Looked like it was going to be a long morning, too.

‘Take it,’ said Kablunak again, his tone harder by a couple more notches. ‘Take it. Or I will make you eat it.’

There was nothing to think about. Jack reached out, took the money from the Russian, and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans.

There it was. Done. Depending on what happened in the end, Jack supposed he could always use it for bail money.

‘Good. Very good.’ Kablunak smiled, broadly. He walked casually around the desk and stood next to Jack and looked down at de Groot’s body. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his grey suit pants. ‘So. Who?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jack could smell Kablunak’s aftershave and the intimacy added to his discomfort.

‘Yes.’ The Russian reached up to his face and felt the smoothness of his chin with his fingertips. ‘Well.’

Jack nodded at de Groot’s body. ‘Your old friend.’

‘Once upon a time.’

‘What happened?’

Viktor Kablunak turned to Jack, stared at him a moment, expressionless, and then resumed looking down at de Groot’s body on the floor. He said: ‘The student surpasses the teacher.’

Jack felt the money in his pocket press against his leg. ‘I didn’t know you were Buddhist.’

Kablunak grinned. ‘No, Mr Susko. My mother would be very upset at the mere mention. But perhaps our friend here will come back as a cockroach? I certainly hope so.’

‘He might live longer that way.’

The Russian’s face was serious, slightly pained. ‘Yes.’ He nudged de Groot’s body with his shoe. ‘Take note, Mr Susko. A man dead. And why? Because his judgement was clouded by his ego. He wanted to send me a message. Prove a point, as they say. Well, here is his reward.’ Kablunak walked back towards the door, stopped and turned back to face Jack. ‘The ego is a whorehouse, Mr Susko. But remember, there you fuck nobody but yourself.’ He pointed a finger. ‘You will come with me, now.’

Kablunak nodded at Pascal, who stepped into the room. He went over and stood by Jack.

‘Let’s go.’

Jack felt his adrenal glands start to pump. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Mr Susko.’ Kablunak was in a crisp gun-metal-grey suit, even at this hour, with a deep-maroon shirt unbuttoned down his chest: but weariness was starting to show in his voice. ‘I do not intend to let you out of my sight until the mail arrives later today. And you should hope that it is today.’

‘What about de Groot? You just going to leave him here?’

‘There is little I can do for him. His comfort is now in, or not in, depending on who you believe, the hands of God.’ Viktor Kablunak made a quick, small sign of the cross. It was not particularly reverent. ‘Such is the cycle and mystery of life.’

Pascal grabbed Jack by the arm.

‘Wait.’

Kablunak looked sternly at Jack. ‘I am not a morning person, Mr Susko.’

‘I can’t give you the Sergius.’

‘Maybe you do not understand me. I am very not pleasant in the early morning.’

‘I think I know who killed de Groot,’ said Jack. ‘Rhonda came to see me yesterday. With a gun. She wants the Sergius, too.’

‘Rhonda?’ Kablunak frowned.

‘And Lewis,’ added Jack, feeling sweat run down his spine. It was hot in the study and the air was heavy with heat and death and he did not want to be there anymore. ‘If I don’t get them the Bible, Lewis is going to pay me a visit. And they’ve got de Groot’s assistant, Larissa Tate, and things aren’t looking too healthy for her, either.’ Jack wanted to take a deep breath but was going to wait until he got outside into the pre-storm air. ‘I don’t want blood on my hands, Viktor. Mine or anybody else’s.’

‘Lewis?’ Pascal bristled like a dog with a rabbit scent in his nostrils. He turned to his boss. ‘That motherfucker’s here?’

‘Apparently,’ murmured Kablunak.

‘So you see the predicament,’ said Jack.

‘Only yours, Mr Susko.’ The Russian stared down at the body of Richard de Groot.

‘How’d that prick Lewis get into the country?’ asked Pascal, still holding on to Jack’s arm.

Viktor Kablunak shrugged.

‘Why would he have trouble getting into the country?’ asked Jack.

‘Because in South Africa he is a very bad man,’ said Kablunak. He rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Maybe you guys should start a club.’

‘Do not think it is funny, Mr Susko. If Lewis has your girlfriend …’ The Russian waved his hand in the air. ‘Well … it is not good for her. A pity you cannot help.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend, Viktor. But it can’t be like that.’

‘You are in no position to say.’

The Russian’s words were like a slap. And the truth of them was bitter and Jack could taste it now, like some foul liqueur burning down his throat. For him, there was going to be no Sergius, no lump sums, no deals no chances no happy endings. No goddamn land of the plenty. It was just going to be this dead man on the floor in front of him and whatever else he was about to step in next.

‘See what it is to be powerless, Mr Susko?’ Viktor

Kablunak eased a smooth smile across his lips.

‘I’m only human, Viktor.’

‘Well, Mr Susko, there is your problem. Attitude. Our limits are merely what we choose to accept.’

‘Really? You saying I could play piano like Red Garland, if I wanted to?’

‘I’m sure you have never even tried.’

‘Why would I?’

‘See what I mean, Mr Susko?’

‘Okay. Right.’ There was only one choice left open to him and Jack knew he was going to have to take it. So he looked the Russian in the eye and took it. ‘You could help me,’ he said.

Kablunak seemed to savour the request for a moment. ‘And why should I do that, Mr Susko?’

‘Crash those limits, Viktor. Try a little tenderness.’

The Russian laughed. ‘You know, Mr Susko, I do like you.’

‘So?’

‘I would not advise that you bet on a shitty pair of sevens.’

Kablunak was right, but Jack had bet on less in the past and lived to tell Lois the tale. ‘What’s the time now?’

The Russian glanced at his watch. ‘It is a quarter past seven.’

‘I can have the Sergius in your hands in one hour and forty-five minutes.’

‘Really?’

‘Guaranteed.’

‘Well. Good.’ Viktor Kablunak nodded, slowly. Smiled a little more. ‘So we are finally getting somewhere.’

‘Where is it?’ asked Pascal, looking confused.

Jack ignored him, stared at Kablunak. ‘Well? Will you help me?’

‘You were at pains yesterday, Mr Susko, to explain to me that the Sergius had not yet arrived.’

Jack shrugged. ‘What can I say? When I go in to bat, it’s usually for me.’

‘Do not lie to me again,’ said Kablunak. ‘I do not own a dog, but I like to exercise my vengeance, Mr Susko. Regularly.’

‘Okay.’

Pascal was up on the balls of his feet. ‘What do you want to do?’

The Russian sighed, shook his head. ‘There will be a storm and it will rain all day today. In truth, I want to go home and put my feet up and watch a good movie. Something like … A Place in the Sun.’

‘I can bring popcorn,’ said Jack.

‘Do you like Elizabeth Taylor, Mr Susko?’

‘Even in Cleopatra.’

‘Yes. Well …’ Kablunak checked his watch again. ‘Let us hope that you do not get the same scathing reviews for your next performance.’ He pulled at the cuffs of his shirt. ‘And so. Where are we to witness the final scenes, Mr Susko?’

‘Lewis wants me to go round to De Groot Galleries as soon as I have the Sergius.’

‘Then that is where we shall go.’

‘Now?’

‘Of course.’

‘How do you know he’s going to be there?’

‘Because I know lots of things, Mr Susko.’

‘Yeah? What number am I thinking of now?’

‘Three-point-four million,’ said Kablunak, face in the ballpark of deadpan to not impressed. ‘Minus expenses. And I would advise you to keep out of that column in my ledger. Mr Susko.’