so I can check them.’
‘Sure,’ Ismain agreed. ‘But there’s just one thing, one little problem that’s come up.’ Sean felt his excitement quickly turning to anxiety. ‘You remember Jimmy Logan?’
‘Yeah. I remember him.’
‘Of course you do, because he introduced us. He vouched for you – said I could trust you – that you were a man I should do business with – right?’
‘What’s your point?’
‘My point,’ Ismain shouted, ‘is that Jimmy’s a fucking grass – so what do you think about that, officer?’
Sean’s belly tightened as he swallowed rising bile. ‘What do I think? What I think is you’re still fucking with me.’
‘No fucking bullshit this time. Jimmy’s a grass and that means everyone he touched is tainted, man.’
‘Fuck Jimmy,’ Sean bluffed. ‘My business is with you – here and now. Jimmy’s nothing but a low-life fixer. So what he introduced us – he’s probably been a grass for years. It doesn’t mean everyone he did business with is dirty, and that means you as well as me, Enrico.’
Ismain sat back in his chair, seemingly calm again. ‘You know what,’ he said, ‘you make some good points. But I got to know if you’re Old Bill, so I had a little think about things – you know what I mean?’
‘I’m listening,’ Sean told him.
‘And I was thinking that if you is Old Bill then right now this warehouse will be being watched, right, and that as soon as the truck pulls up outside all your policemen friends will come swooping down on it, arresting everyone they see, right?’
‘If I was Old Bill – which we both know I’m not – then yeah, I guess you’d be about right.’
Ismain began to laugh, delighted with his own cunning. ‘Only thing is, the truck is going to be empty – so when your police colleagues come running, all they’re going to find is an empty fucking truck and I’ll know for sure that Jimmy Logan is a fucking grass and you’re a fucking cop.’
‘And when nothing happens,’ Sean asked, ‘when none of these imaginary cops come crashing down on us, what then?’
‘You just worry about that empty truck,’ Ismain warned him, lifting a mobile phone from his desk and pressing a sequence of numbers before speaking into the mouthpiece. ‘Send the first truck in,’ he ordered before hanging up. So long as Benton followed Sean’s instructions and held the troops off until he got the call from Sean, they could still spoil Ismain’s day. The two hoodies from outside stepped into the room, meaning Sean was now outnumbered five to one – not good odds if the proverbial hit the fan. Ismain stood. ‘Let’s go. You too, Mr Policeman.’
Sean followed Ismain from the office and along the corridors – a henchman on either side and two more close behind. He tried not to dwell on what they might be armed with – guns would be bad, really bad. He concentrated on his breathing, keeping it short and shallow, enabling him to control his voice when he needed to speak, disguising any nervous tremors. His life was in Benton’s hands – if he called in the cavalry at the sign of the first truck, Sean would be in trouble. Any hint of the police and he could be bundled into the back of a car and driven away to an uncertain future. But if Benton held off until Sean called him, Ismain and his crew would relax, imagining the easy seventy-five grand they were about to pick up. By the time they worked out they’d been played, it would be too late. Benton had to hold his nerve – Sean’s neck depended on it.
They exited the warehouse the same way Sean had entered and stood in the car park waiting. Sean felt the presence of the two men behind him and tried not to imagine the guns, knives or metal bars they could be holding, just waiting for Ismain to give them the sign. He winced at the imaginary pain of a bullet or blade punching through his skin, shattering bone or slicing through vital organs; or the dull, sickening thud of a blunt object caving in the back of his skull. He felt his legs almost give way until he was distracted by the headlights of a single vehicle bouncing down the rough road towards the warehouse – the empty truck. Whatever you do, Benton, don’t make the call – not yet.
‘Now we find out, right?’ Ismain’s voice broke the silence.
‘You’re wasting your time,’ Sean told him, managing to sound sure of himself despite the tightening of his chest. Ismain looked away from him and waited as the truck pulled up in the car park, the driver and passenger remaining in the cab with the engine still running, the back of the truck pointing towards the warehouse. No one else would be able to see whether it was full or empty. Ismain stepped forward and rolled up the truck’s back cover, the noise disturbingly loud in the semi-darkness.
‘Take a look inside,’ Ismain gestured to Sean, a wide smile spreading across his face. Sean stepped forward and peered in before moving away. ‘No, no,’ Ismain told him, ‘all the way inside.’ Every fibre of Sean’s body told him not to climb inside the truck. He weighed up his chances of escape if he made a run for it, which he decided were pretty good – he was in decent shape and doubted whether his would-be captors were, but if they had guns … He climbed into the back of the truck and looked around – empty, just as Ismain had promised.
‘Now what?’ he bluffed.
Ismain looked at his men, all of them smiling and laughing at the joke they thought they were playing on the police. ‘Now,’ Ismain told him, ‘now you get the fuck out of the truck.’ Sean shrugged his shoulders pretending he didn’t know what was happening and jumped down from the back. ‘And now,’ Ismain continued, ‘we wait.’ He held out his hand. ‘Shake my hand,’ he ordered.
‘Why?’ Sean asked.
‘Because I fucking told you to,’ Ismain barked, still smiling. ‘Because I want all your police friends to see you’re happy with the goods.’
‘Like I said – you’re wasting your time – and mine,’ Sean told him, reaching his hand forward for the shake.
‘We’ll see,’ Ismain insisted, searching the night around them for signs of life, approaching lights, the sounds of sirens or revving engines, ready to drag Sean to one of the waiting cars and spirit him away. Sean stood close to him, praying Benton remembered his instructions and followed them to the last. The seconds crawled by, each one feeling like a lifetime, until finally he was sure enough time had passed and Benton had held his nerve.
‘Well?’ Sean asked. ‘We gonna stand here all night, or we gonna do some business?’ Ismain looked him up and down before returning his gaze to the surrounding land. ‘I got seventy-five grand sitting in the back of a motor with one of my boys – d’you want it or not? Laptops I can get anywhere – you ain’t the only supplier.’
‘Okay,’ Ismain relented. ‘I was wrong – you’re good. But I had to be sure. No offense meant.’
‘None taken,’ Sean played along.
Ismain nodded and pressed another sequence of numbers into his mobile. ‘Bring the truck round. Everything’s cool. Everything’s sound.’
As they waited for the truck, Ismain spent his time apologizing and appeasing, explaining why he’d been within his criminal rights to be suspicious of Sean and anyone who’d done business with Jimmy Logan in the past. Sean waved his apologies away as if they were unnecessary,
