One Dead Witness (24 page)

And that assumed Bussola hadn’t simply dumped his fat friend
Gilbert and gone straight home. Kruger hoped the two men - partners
in sexual abuse - would be spending a little quality time together,
maybe chewing the fat, before the Englishman caught the big bird.
Maybe having a drink, or a meal..?

The police constable found that, try as he might, he could not
dredge up any great sympathy for this misper. Seven times now in
the last two months was enough to try anyone’s patience. He,
personally, had taken four of these reports.

As far as he was concerned, she was a nuisance. A silly,
headstrong little kid who needed a good belting.

Nevertheless, he smiled patiently at the mother, took out his
pen and the appropriate forms and wrote down details he knew almost
off by heart.

Full name of missing person: LILTON, Claire Jane.

After making some hurried phone calls between them, using FB’s
name as a lever, Henry and Danny gradually put together enough
police officers to form a team big enough to kick-start a
manhunt.

Weary after this flurry of activity, they made their way up to
the canteen to grab a cup of tea and some toast. Henry guided Danny
to the far corner where they sat out of earshot. He looked
expectantly at her, waiting for her to begin, and noting the dark
rings around her eyes.

‘
He’s driving me absolutely nuts,’ she commenced, calmly
enough. ‘Now he’s started phoning me and not speaking ... really
babyish. But it’s getting to me; making me a nervous wreck. I’m
beginning to feel like a prisoner in my own home. . . God, I hope I
don’t sound like a hysterical female.’

‘
No, you don’t,’ Henry reassured her. ‘But are you sure it’s
him phoning?’

‘
I tried 1471 and got no joy, but it could have come from a
phone on a switchboard ... so, no, I don’t know, but I’m sure it
is.’

‘
We can check out the phone in his office.’

‘
And then twelve red roses came through the letter box at
half-one this morning. I’m sure it’s him.’

‘
Any proof?’

She shrugged thoughtfully. ‘I could possibly check something
out.’

‘
Do it,’ Henry ordered her.

‘
I’m also positive he’s the one who damaged my car. When I
drove out last night he was holding the badge for me to
see.’

‘
Oh, that’s what it was.’

‘
You saw him?’

‘
I was in the vicinity, shall we say? Purely by accident.’
Henry opened his palms. ‘Okay, Danny, what do you want to do? I
know we’ve had this discussion before, but now things have moved on
a pace.’

She looked glum. She sighed through her nose and rested her
elbow on the table, her chin on her hand and gazed out of the
window towards the Tower. There was a huge inflatable gorilla
climbing up it which made her smile briefly. ‘He’ll no doubt have
dumped the badge somewhere, so I don’t see any future in court
proceedings. He’s not stupid enough to have kept it, is
he?’

Henry raised a finger to interrupt her. He smiled wickedly.
‘Yes, he is stupid enough. I sneaked in behind him last night and
followed him to his office. I think he hid it in there
somewhere.’

Danny’s mouth fell open. She was silent for a few moments. ‘Do
you know how much those things are?’ she blurted. ‘Criminal
damage,’ she ruminated as the implications dawned on her. ‘He could
lose his job if he got convicted.’

‘
He deserves to.’

She shook her head decisively. ‘No, I wouldn’t want that. I
simply want him sorted out. I’m not even bothered about
compensation - just get him off my back.’

Henry took a deep breath. ‘Right,’ he said with finality. ‘In
that case, let’s present him with
fait
accompli numero deux de la jour.
Okay?’

‘
It’s a deal.’

‘
And while we’re doing that, let’s do our level best to catch
Louis Vernon Trent ... an old friend of yours, I
believe.’

Kruger meandered around the shops and bars and poked his head
into the VIP lounges he knew of.

Nothing.

He realised he could be wasting time better spent in bed.
Then, as he passed the meeting point Location and Information
Center on concourse E, he had an idea. The pretty lady behind the
counter was called Julia.

‘
Hi, my name’s Steve,’ he said disingenuously. ‘I dunno if you
can do this for me, but I’m supposed to meet my buddy, Charlie
Gilbert here ... about twenty minutes ago. We seem to have missed
each other and I don’t know where he is. He’s due to board the
Manchester flight an’ I’m Seattle-bound. It’s our last chance to
get together before he leaves the States. We probably won’t see
each other again for years.’ He sighed, looking upset. ‘I was
wonderin’ if you could page him, maybe tell him there’s some urgent
information for him. Could you do that, honey?’

Julia smiled. ‘Of course, sir.’

She leaned forwards and opened her mouth to speak close to the
mike in a way which made Kruger’s heart palpitate, when out of the
corner of his eye he saw Gilbert actually walk past. He was
accompanied by a guy Kruger placed as one of Bussola’s
minders.

‘
Forget it, babe.’ Kruger placed his hand between her mouth and
the mike and smiled. ‘Some other time, maybe.’ Then he was gone,
tailing Gilbert at a discreet distance.

The pair walked into the main shopping mall on the first floor
and made a beeline for the Disney Store. With a bored-looking
bodyguard lounging idly by the door, Gilbert spent about twenty
minutes browsing before reappearing, bearing a large carrier bag
stuffed with a giant Mickey Mouse.

He did a little more shopping and, suitably laden down, left
the shopping area. He went to concourse E, turned up some steps and
disappeared through a door marked
Private
-
Executive Lounge.

The minder followed and so did Kruger. He had already made up
his mind to follow Gilbert wherever he went, positive he would be
led to Bussola.

Kruger burst through the door and found himself in a privately
rented room with a small bar, waitress and a few tables and
chairs.

Bussola sat at the bar, drinking whisky.

There were four bodyguards in all. As soon as Kruger came
through the door, they reacted. He was faced with the muzzles of
three pistols, all held in very steady hands. Bussola smiled
broadly at the intruder.

Kruger knew then what it must have been like to step into the
lion’s den, particularly when an ebullient Bussola shouted, ‘Hey,
Steve! Wondered when you’d show up. Come in and have a drink. You
look like you need one. Siddown, let’s have chats.’ He glanced at
the bodyguards. ‘Search him,’ he barked.

It was not so much a VIP lounge as a cosy VIP living room.
Kruger had not known such things existed. Most of the flying he had
done had been on the cheap; waiting with hundreds of other poor
unfortunates, then being crammed with a shoe-horn onto a
pencil-thin plane to sit in seats with hardly any recline, leg
space or comfort.

This, he decided, was the way to travel in the future.
Kruger’s eyes surveyed the bodyguards again.

Two stood near the door. The other two were slightly to one
side of him, positioned to judge his every move and react should he
do anything stupid.

But he’d already done about the most stupid thing he was ever
going to do by turning up at the airport with some half-baked
notion in his brain.

Now he knew he’d be lucky to leave here in one piece. He
looked narrowly at Bussola.

Mark Tapperman jerked into wakefulness. The telephone was
still in his hand. The bedside light was still on. His wife still
asleep. He blew out his cheeks and wondered if it had been a dream,
the phone call from Kruger. With a further rude start, he realised
no. He sat up quickly, re-set the phone and dialled Kruger’s home
number, hoping his friend would not be so stupid as to . . . No,
Tapperman reassured himself as he waited for Kruger to answer, he
couldn’t be that stupid.
Could
he?

‘
You gotta lotta balls,’ the Italian was saying, ‘coming out
here. Either that or you’re a complete jerk.’

‘
The latter, I think,’ Kruger said dryly.

‘
Well, whatever, Steve, you’re here now and we can talk like
two grown men.’

‘
Do grown men cut each other to pieces?’

Bussola stuck a large cigar between his fat lips and lit it
with a silver lighter. It had the diameter of a trashcan lid and
took a lot of flame to get going. Once lit, he squinted at it, blew
on the end and replied, ‘Sometimes, Steve ... when it’s really
necessary.’

‘
Bit of an overreaction, wouldn’t you say?’

‘
For me? Naw ... pussy cat stuff. So, c’mon Steve, I’m hellish
curious. What did Felicity want to see you for? Is that the reason
you turned up unannounced the other night and caught me and my
friend
in flagrante delicto?’

The questions threw Kruger slightly off-balance. They meant
that the two goons who had kidnapped him weren’t so loyal to
Felicity as she believed them to be. They had blabbed to Bussola,
something that didn’t surprise Kruger. However, she was still
technically a client even if she hadn’t paid a dime yet, and Kruger
always retained confidentiality except when ordered to talk by a
court of law.

Additionally, she had once been his wife and though he hated
her with a volcanic intensity, he did not really want any harm to
befall her.

‘
Not sure what you mean, Mario. Felicity?’

‘
Steve, don’t piss me off. The two guys who hauled your ass off
the street informed me. And what’s more, I have a video-tape of you
entering and leaving the house. I am very security conscious, for
obvious reasons.’ He looked expectantly at the increasingly
uncomfortable Kruger.

‘
More drinks, sir?’ the waitress interrupted.

Bussola glared at her for a fraction of a second, before his
face softened and he said, ‘Not just now, honey.’ He patted her ass
and rubbed the back of her leg. She didn’t seem concerned. ‘Make
yourself scarce ... this is business.’

‘
Okay, sir.’

She turned and disappeared out the back of the bar. Kruger and
Bussola watched her retreat and their eyes slowly returned to each
other.

‘
Nice, huh?’ Bussola asked.

‘
Yeah, sure.’

The Italian leaned forwards confidentially to Kruger who could
smell, nay taste, the guy’s cigar breath. ‘Too fuckin’ old for me,
Steve. I like ‘em young and I like ‘em tight and I like to hear the
bitches scream ... but you know that, don’t you?’ He
smiled.

Kruger’s face hardened over. Through gritted teeth he said,
‘You disgust me.’

Bussola rocked back and laughed. ‘D’ya think I give a shit,
you stupid asshole? Now, where were we?’ He brushed some cigar-ash
off his pants. ‘Oh, yes - you and Felicity.’

‘
She missed me and we had to catch up with things. That’s what
exes often do . . . much to the chagrin of their current
spouses.’

‘
Baloney! Did you ball her?’

‘
Uh-uh. No way.’

‘
What did she really want, Steve?’ His eyes glittered. ‘That’s
the last time I’ll ask that question, bud. If I don’t get a
satisfactory answer, you can consider yourself a very dead human
being.’

This situation was the other exception to Kruger’s client
confidentiality rule. When his life was threatened, he had no
qualms about talking over any aspect of the client’s business. His
sense of responsibility to the client went out the window as
self-preservation kicked in. ‘She thought you were cheating on her.
She hired me to find out. I did it because of our past.’ The words
tumbled out of Kruger’s mouth with no further prompting.

Bussola guffawed and almost choked on his cigar smoke. ‘Almost
the right answer.’ Without warning, the mobster’s left hand shot
out in a blur and gripped Kruger’s wrist with fat fingers. At the
same time, he plunged the smouldering end of the cigar hard down
into the back of Kruger’s trapped hand.

Kruger emitted an unworldly scream of agony. He attempted to
yank his hand away, but Bussola held on. Kruger’s next response was
to draw back his free hand, curl it into a fist and propel it
towards Bussola’s fat face.

The fist got nowhere.

Two of the bodyguards grabbed him and held on tight as the
gangster continued to grind the cigar into the flesh whilst leaning
forwards with a look of pure unadulterated glee.

Kruger gritted his teeth as the torture continued. Blobs of
sweat burst from his hairline, raced down his forehead into his
eyebrows. The smell of his flesh burning wafted into his
nostrils.

It
probably only lasted a few seconds.
Kruger’s perception was that it seemed to go on for ever until the
cigar was lifted away, having been effectively stubbed out. A
black-grey-red welt was left sizzling on the back of his
hand.