“Yes.”
Well, that’s just great.
“You realize I was coming back, right?’
“I know, but I still have to tell him.”
"Pity. I was just beginning to like you."
Simone smiles. "You'll like me again when I fetch you an icepack and some ibuprofen."
“Probably. I’m fickle like that.”
Resting my head back against the seat, I sigh. Perhaps I should have kept on running because when Adriano hears about this he's going to be angry.
Despite the fact I changed my mind, about escaping, he’ll probably want to punish me. This time, I'm not looking forward to it.
EIGHTEEN
Adriano
The Port of Marseilles smells of the sea, diesel and corruption. The old port is dressed up for tourists in the front while the real business happens in the dark behind it. There's a lawlessness in this city concealed behind pretty shops and restaurants, tourist boats and the basilica. I've never liked the place. It's too obvious what goes on here. There's as much corruption in Rome but we keep it behind closed doors. Here it's out on the streets for the whole world to see.
Timofey Lenkov meets me and Benito at the warehouse on the Rue de la Joliette. He's a big man, second in command to his brother, Daniil, whose role since marrying and producing several children, has remained strategic rather than operational. Timofey is married too, but his wife was in the British security service or something like that and she has more of a sense of adventure.
In this city, we’re Timofey’s guests. Benito and I will conduct ourselves accordingly. When our colleagues come to Italy we expect our rules to be respected and we do the same here.
Our Russian friend pours vodka without asking if anyone wants it and slides glasses across the table to us and the others assembled around it. There's Niamh Donnelly, a Scottish ray of sunshine with blonde hair and blue eyes so sparkly they put the Mediterranean in the shade. If you didn't know she heads a criminal organisation you'd think she was a children's TV presenter. She's got that air about her. At first I thought it was an act she puts on to fool people but once I got to know her I realized she is actually fucking nice. She's something of an anomaly in our world.
Sitting next to her is Nico MacFarlane, the bastard son of an Italian mobster and a Scottish schoolteacher, if you can believe it. He and Benito get on well. I'm not sure if it's because they have similar backgrounds or the same aptitude for violence. Nico is here representing the Cameron clan, whose leader Alexander returned from the dead a year ago and has been establishing his rule ever since. His sister, Eilidh is married to my cousin Gio. We do love our strategic unions in the underworld.
There are three other men at the table. The first is Sev Baranov, who heads a small Bratva organisation affiliated with Piotr Reznov, who I'm surprised not to see here tonight after running into him in Rome. The next is Nikolai Morozov, husband of Mila Lenkova who would probably be here herself if she wasn't heavily pregnant. She's no doubt sad to miss out on the opportunity to kill our enemies. I've never met a more casually bloodthirsty woman. The last is Rory Donovan whose family are new to the consortium. I don't know him but his reputation precedes him. He'll be an asset to us tonight.
Together the people at this table represent more than half the illegal activity in Europe and beyond. If the police chose to swoop in now, it would be a major coup. They won't, of course, because the Lenkovs have them firmly in their pockets.
Despite the big egos in the room, none of them clash. Everyone here wants the same thing tonight and we're all good enough at what we do that there's no need for posturing.
Niamh chairs the meeting as usual. She's the one who brought everyone together in the first place. She's good at putting likeminded people in touch, seeming to know instinctively who'll work well together. When Gabriele decided he wanted to get married, he asked Niamh to find him a bride. This woman has done incredible things but putting my cousin and Katya together might be her finest work.
"There are seven targets," Niamh says. "Each of you has details of one of them on your phone. We'll hit them simultaneously at ten thirty. Tell your teams we're in and out as quickly and cleanly as possible. We reconvene here at midnight." She turns to Sev. "You're the exception. I've given you their main distribution center. I want them to feel the explosion in Tirana."
"Don't worry about that," Sev says. "I've got it covered."
"Good. Now everyone check the information I've sent you. If there are any questions, now's the time to ask."
Benito and I open the messages on our phones and check the details again. We've been given a restaurant at the old port where the Albanian's accountant, Besnik Gashi, dines each night. We're there to take him prisoner not to kill him since he's the one who knows where the money comes from.
It should be an easy mission. He has the restaurant closed down for him at ten. Two bodyguards accompany him. One stays at the front door, the other is inside with Gashi. We'll take them out and grab Gashi.
Benito and I only need one of our men to drive so the other three men we brought will go with Niamh who's taking out the girlfriend of Valon Berisha, the leader of the Albanians here in Marseilles, and his grown up sons.
By eight o'clock everyone has confirmed what they're doing. Niamh closes her laptop and we disperse. As we get back into our rental car and drive off to stake out our target location, I can't help thinking about Eliza. The way I treated her before I left Rome wasn't right. I don't know why I did it. She's making me feel things I don't understand. I needed to put her in her place, I guess. Only I no longer know what that place is. That concerns me but not as much as it should.
"You okay, fratello?" Benito asks.
"Of course. Just focused on the mission."
He gives me a skeptical look but says nothing. Santino drives us to the restaurant which sits at the edge of the old port and we wait.
