where they belong. Tighten up borders. It’s out of control. That’s what they say. Me, I live here. Everything couldn’t be more in control. But in Europe, the States, other parts of Asia, it’s a free-for-all. People think they can go wherever they like and expect others to care for them. It’s bankrupting the system, the poor countries dragging the rich ones down to their level, not bothering to solve their own problems. You’ve seen the pictures. Internationalism is finished. Isolationism is the order of the day. Everyone to his own. White to white. Brown to brown. Yellow to yellow.”
“Sounds pretty dull,” said Simon. “I wouldn’t want to live in a place where everyone looks like you.”
London said: “And so you make them send hundreds of millions of dollars to the Bank of Liechtenstein. What’s the purpose of those transfers?”
Lester’s eyes darted to London’s, then ducked away.
Yes, Simon thought, we know about that, too. “What is happening in a few days’ time?”
“Nothing. No idea. What do you mean?”
Simon backhanded him. Very hard. Lester raised his hands to protect himself, too late. They remained up, trembling.
“Let’s try that again.”
“I don’t know. It’s his deal. No one knows except him.”
“Luca?”
“Why do you ask me if you already know?”
“Luca who? Or don’t you want to tell me because you think it might put your life in danger? Sorry, my friend. Your life is in mortal danger right this second.” He grabbed a handful of Lester’s hair. “Talk to me.”
“All I know is that it’s going to be in Europe. Italy, France, Germany. I don’t know where exactly. He’s got them all lined up and ready to go. The money is for them. Payoffs.”
“To who?”
“Prato Bornum. Them. Military. Government. Police. Businesses. He said it’s ‘a spark to light the fire.’”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“A lot of people are going to die.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“When?”
“Goddammit. I don’t know. This weekend maybe.”
“Is it or isn’t it?”
Lester nodded. “Tomorrow. Maybe Sunday.”
“You have to do better than that.”
“That’s all I know. He only told me so I could short the market.”
Simon drew a breath. Had he really said, “short the market”? It wasn’t enough to be complicit in the death of innocents; Lester planned on profiting from it. It was all he could do not to pummel the man.
London appeared shaken. “You…you…” She looked to Simon. “Break another finger. Break his neck. Go ahead. Do it.”
Lester met their gazes unrepentantly.
“Who’s Luca?”
“Family.”
“I want a name.”
“I told you. Family. That’s why he can’t hurt me. He’s my brother-in-law.”
“Your wife’s side?”
“Beatrice…she’s his sister. Luca Borgia.”
London’s face creased in surprise. It was a name she recognized.
“What the hell else do you want?” said Lester.
“Nothing. We can take it from here. It’s over.”
Lester gave them a look, all hate and disgust. “It’s not over until he says it’s over.”
Chapter 50
Tel Aviv
No time like the present.
Danni Pine popped her head into accounting. “Anyone home?”
Goldie Levin answered without lifting her eyes from her work. “Busy.”
Danni entered the office and took up position in front of her desk. “Ahem.”
Goldie raised her eyes, met Danni’s gaze. “Sit. I’ll be with you when I can.”
Goldie was sixty if a day, a wrinkled, gray-haired refusenik from the former Soviet Union and, if Danni wasn’t mistaken, this company’s second employee, not counting her father. Danni could intimidate software engineers. Clients she could tell what to do. But Goldie? Not a chance. The woman might as well have founded the company instead of her father.
Danni studied the calendar on the wall showing a photograph of the Galilee. She looked at pictures of Goldie’s family. She picked up an old action figure of Moshe Dayan. Where in the world had the woman found that?
“So,” said Goldie, at length. “To what do I owe the honor?”
Danni smiled as politely as she knew. “I need to check the billing for a client.”
“Name?”
“Borgia, Luca. It might be under a corporate name. Central Umbrian Enterprises, I think.”
Goldie typed the name into her desktop. “Borgia, Luca M. Ten days left on the billing cycle.”
“I need to close it out today.”
“Bills go out at the end of the month.”
“Humor me.”
“I’ll have to add the remaining May days onto June. Messy.”
“Goldie!”
The accountant’s eyes opened wide.
“Send a copy of Borgia’s bill through today’s date to my personal email. I’ll forward it to the client myself. I need to add a personal note. If it isn’t there by the time I get upstairs, I’m going to confiscate Moshe Dayan here.”