“We arenotkilling him, Elliot,” Julien said, pressing his mouth into a firm line. “Cinn’s right. We can’t take that risk. Let’s go back to that flat and come up with a plan. I’m sure we can find a way to sort this.”
The relieved smile Cinn gave him sent a comforting wave through Julien; the warmth radiating from him permeating through Julien’s ice-cold skin. As they fell into step, Cinn’s hand brushed against Julien’s several times before Julien grabbed it, squeezing it tightly, then ran his thumb over it reassuringly.
“This will all be over soon,” he murmured into his ear.
Cinn didn’t reply, but leaned into Julien’s side to nudge his head against his, the simple gesture so intimate it made Julien’s breath catch in his throat, his heart stumble, his mind whirl with possibilities.
twenty-six
Cinn
Noon came, and noon went.
The three of them resorted to perching on the pavement on the edge of the supermarket car park, watching shoppers push trolleys for entertainment.
Well, the other two were. Cinn was bobbing along to the Fugees on his Walkman.
Until his battery ran out mid-song.
He dragged his headphones down to hang around his neck.
“He’s even later than I usually am.” Elliot tapped his watch. “It’s almost two.”
How much longer should Cinn give it before he admitted George wasn’t coming back? He sighed, dropping his head between his legs. This whole day was turning into a nightmare.
Earlier, Julien had used the phone in Bradley’s kitchen to contact his bank in France, causing Cinn no end of guilt. Demanding such a large sum of money be released to a foreign bank wasn’t a simple action, if the clipped tone of Julien’s French was anything to go by.
“Here.” Julien’s voice made him lift his head up. He offered Cinn a cigarette, which he accepted with grateful fingers.
Elliot rolled his shoulders, clicking his back. He’d drawn the short straw and ended up on the floor last night. “Shall we give it another hour, then call it?”
Cinn forced himself to nod in agreement. He couldn’t make them sit outside on the pavement all day for someone that may never come. Then he saw him—dressed in dark clothes, hood up, crossing the car park to reach them. Cinn leapt up. “Shit, that’s him!”
George was alone today. In the stark light of day, the unhealthy pinch of his face was more evident. Deep bags ran under his eyes. He offered Cinn a weak smile. “Sorry I’m late, mate. I had a long one last night. Here’s everything you need.”
Passing him a scrap of paper, George spun on his heels, and was walking away from them before Cinn had time to reply.
The paper held a scribbled address on it, a North London postcode that Cinn didn’t recognise. Then, a time: nine p.m. Then, a figure: £50,000.
Julien let out a low whistle. “Reckon that kid told him how desperate you were?”
More likely, the hundred pounds Julien had so freely handed over had made George think that there was plenty more where that came from.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Cinn’s whole body tensed. “God, I’m so sorry,” he added, closing his eyes. This entire experience of practically begging Julien for money was mortifying.
Elliot punched his arm. “Dude, chill out. Julien doesn’t give a shit about spending Montaigne wealth. His shithead father is at least good for one thing.”
A cool gaze settled over Julien’s face. “You know I don’t rely on him for money,” he snapped. “I haven’t since I left for university. However, you’re right in that it’s not a problem. We will have to go and talk to the bank.”
Three Tube stops later found them outside a large building, whose ornate stone facade exuded wealth. According to Julien, this bank was partnered with his one in France. “Stay here,” he muttered, face set in determination, and went to join the long queue alone.
“What’s the chance we’ll hear angry French cursing in approximately ten minutes?” said Elliot.
It took double that before Julien re-emerged, footsteps heavy, face a scowl. A large padded envelope was now in his hands. “They would only give me ten thousand. Apparently that was very generous of them, and they made a special exception for me, as I’m such a loyal client of their partner bank. Anything more and it’ll be a couple of days’ wait.”
“Looks like we’ll be going with Plan B then.” Elliot smiled like the cat that got the cream.
Cinn didn’t share his enthusiasm. He’d only had one encounter with Heino Richter before, and the memory of his venomous, snake-like smile still turned his stomach. “We better go get ready.”
