She hasn’t been able to enjoy Venice, or their opulent hotel room, with its sweeping views of the Grand Canal. She wants John Burnley dead. But the thought of another murder makes her feel faint.
They’ve discussed it late into the night in their hotel room. The problem is that John Burnley showed up at Ted’s office that day and gave his name to the receptionist. Anyone who checks will know Ted and John have been in contact. Ted might be asked questions. They will know about John’s criminal record. They will dig. They might even, given John’s past, suspect blackmail. No matter how they get rid of John Burnley, it’s going to be uncomfortable.
So far, they haven’t come up with a viable method.
‘Ah,’ Ted says now. ‘I know where it is.’ And he takes her by the arm and leads her on a circuitous path to the restaurant, where they order expensive food for which neither one of them has an appetite.
Back at their hotel after dinner, Ted is growing more and more tense. This hasn’t been the getaway he’d hoped for, but perhaps that had been hopelessly naïve. Instead, he’s picking up on Jill’s nerves. That, and he feels increasing pressure to come up with the perfect murder, and so far, he’s got nothing.
It’s eleven o’clock at night in Venice when a text pings on Jill’s phone. Ted hears the sound and immediately feels alarm. It’s a Pavlovian response. He looks down at the text, Jill shoving the cell phone toward him.
SOON I WILL TELL YOU HOW MUCH I WANT
He stares at the message.
‘What the fuck does that mean?’ Jill asks.
‘No. No fucking way,’ Ted says. The amount is not open for negotiation. ‘He can’t ask for more. We agreed on four million. The son of a bitch.’ He tells himself it doesn’t matter; Ted will kill him before he pays him anything.
They sit in charged silence. Jill says, ‘Maybe it’s not Burnley.’
‘What?’
‘He already told you how much he wants. And he has your new cell number now– why is he still using mine? Maybe this is someone else!’
Ted feels his stomach curdle. ‘It can’t be,’ he protests. ‘John admitted it was him!’
She looks back at him, her expression both fearful and furious. ‘How? What did he say, exactly?’
The way she’s looking at him, doubting him, judging him– it’s unbearable. He turns away, tries to think, to remember. It has to be John, he tells himself. It has to be. But what if it isn’t? Now he thinks he might have made a terrible mistake. He thinks he might have been a complete idiot. He’d accused John of planting the cameras, sending the texts. Ted had asked him how much he wanted, to get the digital files back. Maybe John didn’t plant the cameras at all. Ted is seized with panic. How he must be laughing at him! How could he have been such a fool? He can’t let Jill know how he’s fucked up, but she seems to be drawing that conclusion on her own.
‘What exactly did hesay, Ted?’ she demands, her voice tight.
‘He– he said he would give me back all the digital files when he got the money.’ But he can’t lie to her. This is too important. ‘I don’t remember how the conversation went word for word.’
‘We have to besure, Ted!’ she shouts. She gets up off the bed and begins pacing the hotel room like a madwoman.
If it’s not John, he thinks frantically, then someone else is sending these messages. Someone else planted the cameras and has damning evidence against them. If not John, who?
And now John Burnley knows that somebody has something on Ted, something worth four million dollars, and he’ll assume it’s about what happened on that boat. He feels a clutch in his heart. This is a fucking disaster.
‘You have his number, right?’ Jill asks now, standing in front of him.
‘Yes.’
‘Text him and tell him to send us just one file. Or part of one. To show proof that he has them. If he can’t do that, then he doesn’t have them. Tell him you won’t pay him otherwise!’
He looks up at her, his clever wife. She’s always been smarter than he is. Her eyes are wide, the pupils large and dark in the low hotel room light. He swallows. Everything is happening too fast. He needs time to breathe, to think. Finding the cameras, then talking to John the next morning– he’s reacting too quickly, he’s too emotional, making mistakes. He can’t afford to make any more mistakes. He hesitates.
‘Do it!’ Jill urges.
He picks up his own cell phone and composes a text message to John. He’s not going to do all caps, as if he’s shouting.John, I would like you to send me part of one of the digital files, now, as a show of good faith. If you don’t, then the deal’s off.He shows it to Jill before he hits send. She nods, and he sends it off.
Then they wait.
Chapter Thirty-Five
JOHN BURNLEY IShaving dinner alone in Manhattan when he gets the text from Ted. It’s unexpected. He reads it, stops chewing his excellent steak.
