~30~

MAX THE GALLERY ASSISTANT WAS THERE — with a gun. It looked a little too big for him, but he held it with a certain professional nonchalance and style: both hands around the stock, stretched out in front of him about shoulder high, sweeping the barrel swiftly across the room, and then pausing and holding it steady on Lewis. Max was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, just like the first time Jack had seen him, only this one was blue with lots of Hula girls all over it. His bare legs looked like the meat had been boiled off them. In his whiny little voice, he said: ‘Nobody fucking move.’

He might not have looked it but Max sounded pretty serious.

Rhonda de Groot walked in behind him. ‘Well, well, well,’ she said. ‘Everybody in, nice and early.’ She was smiling, but not like she was happy.

Lewis still had the gun in his hand, but had not adapted quickly to the new situation.

‘Drop it, big boy,’ said Max.

‘What?’ Lewis gave a confused look, like he had just seen a magic trick and was trying to work it out. Then he bent his knees a little and dropped the gun to the ground. As reality hit home further, his drink-warmed complexion rapidly paled.

Rhonda de Groot stood as though she was staring down at everybody from a pulpit. Her womanly curves stretched defiantly against the tight fabric of her maroon designer tracksuit. A white Nike headband matched her white Nike sneakers. She looked fit, fifty and fucked off. ‘Where is the Sergius? And where is my husband’s money?’

Jack saw Larissa glance at her handbag on the desk. Lewis crossed his arms. Lifted his chin at Rhonda de Groot. ‘You shot him.’

‘Technically, no.’ Rhonda patted Max’s shoulder, smiling. ‘My little dynamo was there to take care of all that.’

‘You killed your husband for Christ’s sake!’ Lewis was having trouble coming to terms with the news.

‘And?’

‘What?’ Lewis’s mouth moved to expand on his confusion, but nothing came out. His eyes were glazed with drink and shock. He closed them and cleared his throat, loudly, and then looked at Rhonda de Groot again and tried to appear determined and tough. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I don’t care. If you want the truth, I don’t give a shit. I’ve always hated him. But what the fuck do you think you’re going to do now?’

Rhonda let it out as a motherly sigh. ‘My main concern at the moment is you.’ She looked at Larissa over by the desk. ‘And your deceit.’

‘What do you want? An apology?’

‘Oh, if only an apology was all that was necessary, Lew,’ said Rhonda. ‘I just don’t know that I’ll ever be able to trust you again.’

‘Trust me? You’re a lunatic!’ He shook his head, looked at Larissa and then at Jack, as though for support. ‘Christ, I should have picked it the other day. In the middle of the fucking city, shooting a gun off in Susko’s bookshop!’ Lewis warmed up, indignant. He reached for his neck and loosened his already flaccid tie. ‘I kept you out of trouble and now you’ve got this midget pointing a fucking gun at me.’

Max adjusted the aim of his gun. ‘Need those nuts?’

‘I’ve been stressed, Lew,’ said Rhonda. ‘You know that.’

‘Yeah, I know it.’

Larissa said: ‘You killed Richard? Now, after all these years?’

Rhonda put her hands on her hips, stretched out her right leg and tapped her foot on the floor a couple of times as she slightly bent her left knee. She counted, softly: one, two, three … Then she stood and changed legs. ‘That was your fault, my dear. I was so angry when Richard opened the safe and there was nothing there. Plus the fact that I was already upset with Lewis here, going behind my back.’

‘How did you find out?’ snapped Lewis.

Max grinned. ‘Like following an elephant through a meadow.’

‘You little faggot.’

The gun moved up. Max glanced at Rhonda, his face grim, asking for permission. Jack tensed, sure he would get it.

‘That’s offensive, Lew,’ said Rhonda. ‘I’ve told you before.’

‘There’s nothing going on between me and Larissa.’ Lewis swore. ‘It’s just business.’

‘Everybody knows she’s a slut,’ said Rhonda. ‘I’m sure even Richard was —’

‘Christ, just listen! I couldn’t handle your moods anymore, all right? I wanted out, no more fucking de Groots in my life. You get it?’

‘You could have talked to me about it.’ Her sincerity was thin as fairy floss.

‘Oh come off it!’

‘You said you were going to help me. You promised. The Sergius, the money, a new life. What happened, Lew?’

Lewis looked at Rhonda de Groot with disgust, his eyes filled with hate. ‘Games. Just fucking games, that’s all. And that’s all finished now.’

‘You ungrateful fucking shit. I got you out of South Africa, I got Richard to take you on again after you got out of jail, and what do you go and do? Hook up with this little Australian slapper.’

Jack looked at Larissa: to his surprise, she appeared somewhat amused.

‘I’m not your lackey,’ said Lewis, venom hot in his voice. ‘You and your arrogant husband, think you can just tell me what to do?’ He made a sound as though he was about to spit. ‘Well, not anymore. Those days are over. He’s dead and I’m taking the cash and you can go to hell.’

Rhonda grinned, hands back on hips. ‘Unbelievable. Richard always said you were too stupid for anything.’

‘I’ve had about as much shit as I’m going to take from you.’ His voice wavered a little at the edges.

Rhonda ignored him and glanced around the gallery. ‘Where’s the money from Richard’s safe?’ Before anybody could answer, she saw the suitcases in the corner by the desk. ‘Ah, there we are. Good.’ She turned back to Lewis. ‘How much did you find in the end?’

The thick man hesitated. ‘Two hundred thousand.’

‘In the floor safe?’

‘And the one in the bedroom.’

Rhonda grinned. ‘Good old Richard.’

Lewis pointed his chin, raised a little bit of eyebrow. ‘So now what?’

‘Now?’ replied Rhonda, as though she was confused by what he had said. ‘Now nothing, Lew.’

She reached for the gun in Max’s hand, pointed it at Lewis and before he or anybody else knew what the hell was going on, she fired. Once. Twice. Thrice. The rain pummelling the gallery windows drowned out some of the noise, but it was still very loud. Jack’s ears were ringing as the blonde muscle man took the bullets in his chest, where they thudded and buried themselves deep. He fell heavily into the sofa: his head snapped back and then instantly bounced forward off the cushioned velour, and then lifted up again, but not as far, and then fell and wobbled a little and finally rested on his chest. Dead.

‘Max,’ said Rhonda de Groot as she turned to face Larissa, pointing the gun. ‘Could you please get me a glass of water?’