Андерс де ла Мотт – MemoRandom (страница 16)
The thought of the drawings seemed to help, because Tindra had let go of his neck. Then she stood in the window and waved until he was out of sight.
He realized he was going to miss her. The intense look in her eyes, the way she put her little hand in his. The way she tilted her head when she disagreed with something. Just like her dad had done at her age. Maybe he should have offered to stay for longer. To spend more time with Tindra. But what sort of example could he be to her? He was pretty sure Cassandra could help him provide an answer to that question. The same example he had been to Tindra’s father. An example that vanished when he was needed most.
The gym looked pretty smart. It was on the edge of an industrial estate just ten minutes from the suburban station. Judging by the thirty or so cars in the parking lot, it also seemed to have plenty of members. Mostly 4×4s, Honda CR-Vs, various models of Volvo XC, and a few other fairly pricey cars. Almost all of them were typical mum cars, presumably from the well-to-do residential areas just a kilometre or so away. Much smarter than targeting the young lads in the suburbs who couldn’t afford the membership fees. And much less trouble too, of course. Nice and peaceful, a steady income, that was presumably what Adnan had been thinking.
Atif didn’t really know why he had decided to come this way. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. Even if it wasn’t particularly far to the cemetery, he had no desire to go back there again, so this would have to do as his final farewell to Adnan. The dream his brother never managed to achieve. In some ways it was a fitting place for a good-bye.
He steered the rental car into the lot. He tried to look through the big panoramic windows, but the sun filters meant he couldn’t see much. It didn’t really matter. He parked in a vacant space, switched off the engine, and looked at the time. He sat there for a minute or so, forcing himself to think about Adnan.
He tried to persuade himself that he’d done all he could. Adnan had lived his own life, made his own decisions, and paid the price for them. Besides, they were very different, not just in age but in all manner of other ways. Unlike him, Adnan had been good at school, was liked by everyone, the favorite child. He had had opportunities that Atif had never had. Atif was grieving for his little brother, of course he was. But there were clearly also more emotions than grief alone. Guilt, that one was easy to identify. Anger too. He was also able to put his finger on a vague desire for revenge, even if he was keeping that under control. But there was another feeling there as well, one he was ashamed of, and would prefer not to put a name to, even in his thoughts.
He started the engine and did a circuit of the building. At the back, next to the Dumpsters, was parked a row of expensive cars. One of them was a familiar Audi with shiny wheel trims. Atif drove around the next corner and found himself close to the exit from the parking lot. He paused for a few seconds and looked at the time. Three hours and thirty-five minutes left until the plane took off. Plenty of time. The question was, what for? Why not just head out to the airport right away? Leave all this behind him, the way he had planned?
The reception area had a black slate floor and had to be at least five metres high. Rhythmic bass music was pumping from the far end of the building, and behind a frosted glass window he could see bodies moving.
To the left, behind another glass panel, there were rows of gleaming machines. A pair of gym-pumped guys were doing bench presses in there, but they were concentrating so hard on what they were doing that they didn’t even look in his direction. There was no one at the reception desk, but a large arrow marked with the word
Atif strolled toward the closed door. On the way he noticed the security cameras. Expensive ones, with night vision, not the sort of thing you usually found in gyms. He didn’t really know why he’d come in, it had mostly been an impulse. The gym, the Audi, and its owner, Cassandra – none of them was anything to do with him. Besides, he already had a fair idea of who owned the car. But he still hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to come in and get proof of whether he was right.
Next to the café door was a solitary folding chair, and on top of it a half-full plastic bottle containing something pink. The sign on the door said
‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, my friend, nothing at all,’ Abu Hamsa was saying. ‘I’ve known him since he was a boy.’
The other voice grunted indistinctly: ‘… cause problems?’
‘No, no, he swallowed the official version,’ Abu Hamsa replied. ‘Adnan Kassab is dead and buried, and no matter how much our opinions may differ, we have to stay focussed on getting hold of the traitor before he costs us everything we’ve built up.’
Atif felt his heart beat faster. He took a cautious step closer to the door to hear better.
‘… going with the inside man?’ another voice said.
‘The lawyer’s working on it,’ Abu Hamsa said. ‘But apparently there’s some sort of problem. Crispin is convinced it’s only temporary, then we’ll soon be back on track.’
‘We’d better bloody hope so, after what we’ve paid,’ a voice said in a singsong Eastern European accent.
‘That’s hardly fair, Crispin’s insider has been a huge help, which means we’ve been able to compensate at least in part for all the damage the traitor’s caused. The fact is that without the insider, we wouldn’t even know that Janus really existed,’ Abu Hamsa said.
A sudden hush fell inside the room, an uncomfortable silence that went on far too long. Atif realized immediately what had caused it. The name that Abu Hamsa had just mentioned: Janus.
‘Allow me to point out once again,’ a dry voice said, ‘that according to the instructions you have been given, Janus is to be handed over to me at once. Alive, and unharmed. No one is to talk to him until I do.’
‘Not a problem for me,’ the indistinct voice grunted again. ‘There’s no way he’s one of my boys. We don’t have a rodent problem here.’
‘Big words, Lund. It would be a shame if you had to take them back,’ someone said.
Atif started. He had heard correctly a short while before, no doubt about it. That voice belonged to another old friend. Although
‘The fact is that the rat bastard could be sitting in this room right now. With the exception of the consultant here, we’re all equal suspects, aren’t we?’ the familiar voice said. ‘Everyone in here could be Janus.’
‘That’s why you should leave the cat-and-mouse stuff to me and my team!’ The dry voice again, clipped, almost military in tone. Presumably it belonged to the man who had been called the consultant.
Atif remembered that Abu Hamsa had said something about consultants at the funeral. He must have had this man in mind.
‘We’re experts in investigations of this sort, and we don’t have to pay attention to anything that might spoil our concentration. Finding and eliminating Janus is our job, our only priority, and the best thing you can do is stay out of the way,’ the dry voice went on.
Once again, mention of the name brought conversation to a halt. As if none of them wanted to be the first to speak after the name had been uttered.
The sound of a toilet flushing just a few metres away made Atif jump. He turned his head and saw that the dial above the lock on one of the doors was showing red. Someone was moving about in there and was likely to open the door at any moment. But there was another door, this side of the toilet. He took two long strides and tugged at the handle. The door was unlocked and led to a small cleaning cupboard. Atif slipped inside and closed the door behind him just as the toilet door swung open.
He peered through the crack in the door. A gorilla-like man lumbered past, picked up the bottle, and sat down on the folding chair next to the door, just a couple of metres from Atif. The man was shorter than he was and had dark cropped hair and a diamond ring in one ear. His chest muscles were so pumped up that his arms stuck out at an odd angle. A tattoo stretched out from one sleeve of his T-shirt, covering his skin all the way down to the wrist. Atif recognized him at once: it was one of the men from the funeral. Dino, something like that.
The man gulped down the rest of the protein drink, then belched loudly. He took out his cell phone and started fiddling with it. It took a few seconds for Atif to realize that Dino was sitting there for a reason. It was his job to make sure that the men in there could talk undisturbed. Not that he was a particularly attentive guard.