Death Run (4 page)

“I am
not
swimming,” Jade said. “Got that?”

“Not a lot of choice,” Rich told her.

“There's always a choice,” Dad shot back. He was in the lead, running full pelt across the jetty – heading straight for the canal. And when he got to the edge, he kept running.

Rich was waiting for the splash, but as they reached the edge of the jetty, he could hear Dad yelling at them to hurry up. Somehow – impossibly – Dad was standing on a narrow strip of pathway further along the canal. He looked completely dry.

Three strides on to the wooden jetty and Rich could see what he'd done. There was a line of five gondolas moored next to the jetty – a bridge across to
where Dad was standing. Except the gondolas were bobbing in the water and there was a gap of a metre or more between each.

The boards were wobbling under their feet, but Rich and Jade ran faster – right to the edge of the jetty. And jumped.

“Oh, my God!” Rich said. His foot jarred painfully as it hit the bottom of the first boat. The gondola heaved beneath him and he almost fell. Water in the bottom of the shallow boat washed over his shoes. Jade clutched at him as she landed too. They both leaped for the next in the line.

Again, it was a jarring moment as they landed. But immediately they were on to the next. Rich could hear the thump of heavy footsteps on the wooden jetty behind them. He did not look back.

On the third gondola, Jade sprawled forwards and Rich grabbed her, dragged her to her feet. He was breathing heavily. “Nearly there.”

“You think?”

Rich turned to see what she meant. There were two more gondolas to go. The next one was decked out with garlands of white flowers. A black coffin lay in the middle of it – right in their path. On the
middle of the coffin, there was a single wet footprint.

“Oh, great,” said Rich. He took Jade's hand and together they jumped again.

The coffin was polished and slippery and Rich felt his foot slide from under him. He pushed off as best he could. But he knew at once that he wasn't going to make it across the next gap. The final gondola was moving. It wasn't moored like the others – there was a man in black trousers and a striped shirt sitting back in the boat close to the single large oar. He was staring in open-mouthed astonishment at Rich and Jade as they flailed in the air.

The gondolier grabbed the oar and heaved hard. The boat swung sideways. Somehow Rich was almost on it. His foot caught on the side and he was flung forward into the boat. His wrist cracked painfully on the side of the boat. Jade landed heavily beside him. A moment later two large, heavy feet landed squarely between them. A familiar voice shouted in Italian at the gondolier.

Dad hauled Rich and Jade to their feet. “Good idea,” he said.

The gondolier was on his feet now and working the oar like his life depended on it. Maybe Dad had told him that it did. The gondola moved surprisingly
fast through the water. The skull-faced man was on the boat next to them and, with a shout of rage, launched himself across the canal straight at Rich.

Again the gondolier heaved sideways on the oar. Skull-face landed on the boat, and the whole gondola tipped under his weight. The gondolier heaved again, and Skull-face, off balance from his landing, staggered backwards. He fell over the side with a stream of angry Italian followed by a loud splash.

“Oh, yuck!” Jade wiped her sleeve across her wet face.

The gondolier laughed and shouted something to Dad, who laughed back. “Grazie, Giuseppe,” he said.

“You know him?” Rich asked in surprise. He rubbed at his wrist, annoyed to see the impact had cracked the glass of his watch.

“I do now.”

Two angry men in suits were standing on the jetty watching them as the gondola moved lazily away. A third was helping Skull-face out of the water into one of the moored gondolas.

“Where are the others?” Jade wondered.

“Well, it was curtains for Ralph,” Rich said. “Don't know about the other guy.”

“I do,” Dad said. He was pointing to a steeply-arched bridge in front of them. On it stood a tall thin man in a dark suit. Next to him was Ralph, slowly clapping his hands.

“I think you can drop us just here, Giuseppe,” Dad said to the gondolier, indicating a point at the side of the canal before the bridge.

But Ralph and the Mafia man with him had realised where they were heading and were already running from the bridge.

Dad thrust a few Euro notes at the gondolier as they all three leaped off.

“Keep the change,” Rich told him.

The point where the Grand Canal doubles back on itself is called the Volta. Cutting between high, impressive buildings they found that they were in the area inside the curve of the canal.

“This way,” Dad yelled, leading them between yet more buildings.

They passed a line of dustbins and Jade paused to pull several over. Dead flowers and old chicken bones strewed across the passageway, but the bins themselves would slow down their pursuers.

Rich could hear Ralph shouting somewhere behind them. “We need to lose ourselves in the crowds!” he said. The heat was getting to him and sweat was running down his face.

“Yeah – what crowds?” Jade was right – the narrow side streets were almost deserted.

“We'll find some,” Dad promised. “San Marco is this way. Loads of people.”

They emerged into yet another small square. There was a church on one side, a small shop on the other. Its window was full of colourful Murano glass – vases and bottles, ornaments and figures.

“If we get that far,” Jade said.

There were two other streets leading off the square. Two of the men in suits were coming down one of the streets. The skull-faced man, soaking wet, and another of his Mafia colleagues were coming down the other.

“Back the way we came?” Rich suggested.

But as they turned, Ralph and the man who had been with him on the bridge appeared round the corner behind them. Rich wondered if they could get to the church and find another way out. But Skull-face was already too close – they'd never make it.

“Let's go shopping,” Dad said quietly. Then louder: “Now!”

They sprinted to the shop doorway and dashed inside. The shop was full of expensive glassware, all arranged on shelves and plinths. There were statues and vases, ornaments and sculptures. Dad was reeling off rapid Italian to a little old lady standing behind a low counter that boasted a cash till and a roll of floral wrapping paper. Without a word she pointed to the back of the shop.

“Grazie,” said Dad.

“Ciao,” Rich told her.

There was a door at the back of the shop and Dad barged through it. He held it open for Rich and Jade, then slammed it shut. They were in a small courtyard.

“Hang on,” Jade said. She grabbed a long-handled yard brush that was leaning against a wall and jammed it hard against the door. It wouldn't keep Ralph and the others in for long, but it might slow them down.

From the other side of the door came the sound of smashing glass – lots of glass. Then furious cursing in a high-pitched female voice, followed by a man's cries of pain.

“Maybe she's got another brush in there,” Rich said.

“No time to find out, sadly.” Dad led the way out of the courtyard and into the street beyond. From behind them came the sound of splintering wood as the woman's tirade increased in volume and intensity.

Two streets further on, they slowed to a walk. All three of them were out of breath and feeling the heat.

“Still bored?” Dad asked Jade.

“Still wanting to have a talk about what happened in Mont Passat,” she shot back.

“Ah, that.”

“Yes,” Rich agreed. “That.”

Dad shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Being chased through Venice by the Mafia and an Eastern European gangland boss is no big deal?” said Jade. “You still have some serious lifestyle problems, you know that?”

“I know I could do with a drink.”

Jade's eyes widened, but Rich had seen Dad's mouth twitch with amusement. “He's winding you up, Jade.”

“Well, we can't go back to the hotel. What did Ralph want?” Dad asked before Jade could come back at him.

“Ask him yourself,” said Jade.

Rich thought at first she was sulking. Then he saw that a figure had stepped out of a side street just ahead of them. Ralph. Behind them, dark-suited men stepped out of alleyways and alcoves and stood with arms folded – blocking any hope of another escape.

Jade's fists were clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. She was tense, ready to run as soon as Dad gave the word. The Mafia men stayed where they were while Ralph walked confidently towards Jade, Rich and Dad. He had his arms spread and hands open as if to show he meant them no harm.

“As I told Rich,” Ralph said, “I want to give you a warning.”

“Threats?” Dad sounded amused at the idea.

“No. I think that's what Rich assumed. But no – no threats. A friendly warning. For your own good.”

“Go on then,” Jade said. “Just warn us, then we can all go.”

Ralph was right in front of them now. “First,
I must apologise. I didn't mean to worry or frighten or offend you. But as you will soon appreciate, this is important – to you rather than to me. So I am sorry for the slightly… extreme measures I have taken.”

“You can't say ‘slightly extreme',” Rich told him. “Something's either extreme or it isn't.”

Ralph nodded. “Extreme but well-intentioned then. Let me make it up to you.” He smiled suddenly, turning in an instant into a genial host. “Let me offer you a late lunch. After all, with all that running you must have worked up quite an appetite. I know I have.”

“So, you chase us half across Venice then offer us a pizza?” Dad said. “You always did do things differently, Ralph. If it is Ralph today. Only I've known you by so many names.”

“Hardly unusual in our profession, Mr Chance. Or is it Mr Ronson? Or David Melbor? Last time we met you were Harry…” He clapped his hands together. “Anyway, the offer stands. Lunch at my villa – or rather the villa my local colleagues have put at my disposal. Lunch and a friendly chat and some good vintage wine. Or possibly,” he said, looking from Jade to Rich, “good vintage lemonade.”

“Oh, well,” said Jade, “if there's going to be lemonade.”

The speedboat was large and fast. It cut through the canal, leaving a V in the water and setting gondolas rocking and gondoliers shouting. It was also noisy, but with the spray and the wind in her face, Jade found it refreshing. Her blond hair blew round her and she pushed it from her eyes.

“Aren't you hot in that jacket?” Rich asked the skull-faced man who was sitting opposite them in the back of the boat.

His suit had soon dried in the heat of the day, and even without the mask he looked gaunt and menacing. “But where would I hide my gun?” He opened the jacket to reveal a shoulder holster.

“You could try a career change,” Jade suggested.

“Get a nice job in an office,” Dad agreed.

The man shrugged. “Then I would have to wear a suit anyway.”

Ralph turned from where he was standing at the front of the boat and shouted over the sound of the engine. “Scevola loves his work.”

“
Family
business?” Dad wondered.

“Oh, yes,” the skull-faced man – Scevola – said. “And I love my family too.”

The boat turned off the main canal, heading into a narrow, private waterway. At the end, Jade could see an enormous house. It was painted pale yellow and unlike so many of the buildings she had seen by the water, it was clean and dry and in immaculate condition.

Inside, the building was just as impressive. Heavy crystal chandeliers hung from ornately plastered ceilings, and the carpets were so deep it was like walking on a well kept lawn. Ralph led them along a wide hallway to an enormous drawing room. French windows gave on to a wide terrace overlooking the water, and Ralph gestured for them to sit.

It was bizarre, but Jade found she was feeling more relaxed on the terrace of Ralph's Mafia-supplied house than she had done all holiday. She sipped at iced mineral water and picked at a pasta salad. OK – pasta yet again. But she'd let Ralph off, just this once.

With the exception of skull-faced Scevola, the other men had left. Ralph did most of the talking. He explained again about the Banker and how he had access to a large number of criminal bank accounts.

“Now the Tiger, he is a very different sort of man,”
Ralph said. He poured himself more wine, holding the glass up to admire the quality of the pale straw-coloured liquid. “Like the Banker, no one knows who he really is, what his name might be. But the Banker, one gets the impression, has some morals. He never deals with terrorists or gets involved with the businesses he handles. He charges a fair price for his services. Up until now he has been efficient and reliable.”

“And now you want your money back,” Rich said.

Ralph laughed. “It would be nice. But no, that isn't really an issue. Neither Scevola nor I had very much money involved. Yes, the Banker handled matters for us. Now the Tiger, again, is different.”

“So tell us about the Tiger,” Dad said. “I've heard the stories, of course. But what's the truth?”

“Always a good question,” Ralph conceded. “The Tiger – where to begin? Perhaps if I told you that the most unpleasant, the most violent, the most outrageous stories that you might have heard are the most likely to be true. Or that if you have ever heard anything good or redeeming about the Tiger, then forget it.”

“He's a gangster?” Rich asked, glancing quickly at Ralph.

Ralph caught the look and laughed. “Nothing so honest.”

“He's an investor,” Dad said. “He invests money in criminal activity. Organised crime. Blackmail rackets. People trafficking and slavery. Arms sales and mercenaries. And terrorism. Thought to be British or at least European. He started out as an investor, or so it's said. Came from a business background and applied his knowledge and talent to crime.”

“But you said the Banker kept away from all that,” Jade reminded them.

“The Tiger is the exception.”

“Why?” Rich asked.

“Because he used the Banker right from the start. Didn't want to dirty his hands, wanted to keep one step removed from the actual business of crime. For this reason, even back then, he kept the Banker at arm's length. Not even the Banker has ever met the Tiger – he deals always through intermediaries. It was later, when the banker already worked for him, that the Tiger expanded his reach into the less pleasant activities.”

“
Even
less pleasant,” Jade qualified.

Ralph raised his glass to her, conceding the point. “And having worked for the Tiger, the Banker knew
that he couldn't step away. He knew what would happen to him if he did. The Tiger is probably the only one of his clients who knew who the Banker really was, from the old days when they were both starting out. It may be because of the Tiger that the Banker finally decided to retire.”

“Not an easy job to retire from,” Dad pointed out. “Which is why he made the death run.”

“The what?” Jade asked.

“Disappeared,” Ralph said. “Started a new life. Risky, but if you pull it off it can be worth it. The death run is the closest some of us get to a retirement plan. But somehow the Tiger found out what the Banker was planning and had him brought to Mont Passat.”

“You want to take the story from there, Dad?” Jade raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged. “Not a lot to tell. OK, so I did a bit of business in Mont Passat. That was why Ardman sent us there. I wasn't going to tell you and spoil our break, but it was fairly clear it was a condition of the holiday that I get the Banker away from Mont Passat.”

“So you went into the casino, all guns blazing,” Rich said.

Dad smiled. “Hardly. I walked him out and put him in a car.”

“And the drinking and gambling?” Jade said.

“Part of my cover. Had to do it.” He grinned. “It was hell, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” said Jade sarcastically. “We saw the security footage.”

“And that,” Ralph said, “is why you are here.”

“Oh?” Dad held out his glass for more wine. “I haven't seen them, but the images show nothing. I know that. I made sure of it.”

“True,” Ralph agreed. “I have examined them very carefully. There is no sign of the Banker, nothing to show how he escaped or who helped him. But…” He paused to refill his own glass. “But
you
are there, my friend. That is what I wanted to warn you. The camera footage I have is a copy, an expensive copy. But the original is still with the man who actually owns the casino at Mont Passat.”

“Guess who,” Dad said. “So those rumours are true as well.”

“There are several holding companies and offshore investment banks in between. But yes, behind it all is a hidden Tiger. A Tiger who will also be examining
those security pictures. A Tiger who will, sooner or later, recognise
you
.”

“A Tiger who, like us, does not believe in coincidence.” It was the first time that Scevola had spoken and his tone was still severe. “This is of very little interest to me and my colleagues. As Ralph has told you, we lost relatively little when the Banker went. But you are a friend of Ralph's and he tells us he owes you a favour.”

“And the Tiger,” Ralph said, “if the rumours are true, has lost rather more. He entrusted the Banker with almost all his funds. The Banker and the Banker alone has the account numbers and access codes that can release those funds. The Tiger will be desperate to find him, to recover the account numbers and codes before he hands them over.”

“His bargaining chips,” Dad said. “That's what he'll be offering in return for the death run – access to the money, and the names and details of the people he worked for. A huge coup for Ardman. But the Banker will hold out for the very best deal he can get.”

“As long as he holds out, the Tiger will be after the money.” Ralph sipped at his wine. “Even after the money is gone, the Tiger will want to get his hands on
the Banker. And,” he added significantly, “on anyone who helped him get away.”

“Dad,” said Rich quietly.

“You look for trouble, don't you?” Jade told him.

“It's my job,” he replied.

Ralph turned so he was face to face with John Chance. “
That
is the warning, my friend. If I can find out who helped the Banker to escape, then you can be sure that the Tiger can too. And when he does…” Ralph sighed and shook his head. “Now, who wants ice cream?”