drinking man then?’
‘It has been known.’
‘What’ll it be?’
‘A beer.’
‘One of these to chase?’
‘I’ve never said no.’
The barman settled the drinks and I backed up on to a stool. A woman eyed us coolly from the other side of the bar.
‘I told her to fuck off before she even got her bum up on the stool,’ said Napier.
‘You’re learning, but it pays to be polite here. It’s the French in them.’
‘Couldn’t get any life into the old boy even if I wanted to.’
‘Anxious,’ I said, and we drank.
‘No,’ said Napier, squeezing his lips with his fist. ‘Fucking petrified.’
‘Petrified?’
“Swat I said.’
‘Have you heard something?’
‘What’s it to you?
‘I’m sitting next to you in a bar. That’s what people do. Tell each other what’s on their minds.’
‘What’s on your mind?’
‘Money. I want to make some.’
‘Out of me?’
‘If there’s any to be made.’
‘Do you mind getting killed?’
‘It’s not high on my list of goals.’
‘You have goals?’
‘No, it was just something to say.’
‘I had goals,’ he said, sniffing at his Scotch and then taking a pull of beer.
‘What happened?’
‘I scored too many in my own net.’
‘Don’t get maudlin on me, Napier.’
‘I thought we could say what was on our minds.’
‘You cheated. You were going to tell me why you were petrified. You lost some money. That’s worrying but it doesn’t make you scared. You asked me if I minded getting killed. Who’s going to kill me if I stick my nose in?’
Napier waggled his finger at the barman. Two more grandes pressions arrived and two more Red Labels. He lit a Camel. The phone rang in the hotel.
‘Gardez l'écoute,’ said the receptionist.
A short fat fellow came into the bar from the hotel and held up a finger. ‘M. Napier. Téléphone.’
Napier squirmed off his stool and leaned back for his cigarettes in case it was a long one.
‘Keep my beer warm,’ he said, and let me know how drunk he was by pinballing his way out of our tight corner before getting on the straight and narrow.
He was back in ten minutes, looking frisky and not half as drunk as he had been. He hopped up on to the bar stool and clapped me on the back. I didn’t like the turnaround in mood, especially as it looked as if it was going to involve me.
‘Still wanna make some money, Bruce?’
‘Not if I’ve got to lay down my life for it,’ I said.
‘You can’t take it with you, Napier, remember that.’
‘Sure I do,’ he said and socked back the chaser. ‘That was them on the phone.’
‘Who’s them?’
‘They said there’s been a mistake.’
‘That’s big of them. Who’s they?’
‘They said they want to give me my money back.’
‘Why should they suddenly want to do a thing like that?’
‘I don’t know …’ he said, without letting his confidence falter, before he remembered not to lie. Pressure.’
‘Tell me about the kind of person who can exert that kind of pressure.’
‘Well, you know, like you say, you meet people. You tell them what’s on your mind. Sometimes they help you. Sometimes they don’t even have to be asked. You coming?’
‘Napier, you’re going to have to tell me what you’re talking about.’
‘I want you to hold my hand.’
‘That’s not …’
‘I’ll give you five. No. I’ll give you ten thousand … dollars.’
‘What’s wrong with your hand?’
‘Nothing you’re going to catch.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I said, and drained the first grande pression and started in on the second. ‘Let’s get this straight. The gang that stole your money from your UK bank account have called you here in your luxurious Beninois hotel and have volunteered to give you your money back. In cash. In dollars.’
He nodded.
Ten hours ago you came into my office so frazzled you wouldn’t even tell me their shoe size. Half an hour ago you tell me you’re petrified … seem to think your death is required in all this. Ten minutes ago you get a phone call and you’ve kissed and made up. Now you want me to hold your hand out there in the dark. What annoys me, Napier, what you have to tell me right now is-do I look that much of a sucker?’
He nodded.
‘You’re on your own,’ I said, and stood up to finish the beer.
‘No, no, Bruce. Sorry. I didn’t mean that. What I meant was that if I start telling you what it’s all about we’re going to be here until six in the morning and the meeting is at nine tonight. There just isn’t the time to fill you in. You’ve got twenty minutes to say “yes” and get me there. But look, what I can tell you is that the person gave me a name. The name of a very powerful man who has guaranteed the handover and my personal safety.’
‘What about mine?’
‘Yours too.’
‘What the hell do you need me for?’
‘How do you get a moped taxi to stop in this town?’
‘You shout kekeno. It’s Fon for “stop”.’
‘Now
