‘All I’m asking you is for thirty minutes of your time. That’s all. Just half an hour. Let me tell you what the job is. You don’t like what I have to say you can walk away and you’ll never hear from me again. You’ve got nothing to lose. I’m just asking you to listen to me here. See what I have to say first before you turn me down. I’ll even buy you a coffee. You do drink coffee, don’t you? Or tea if you prefer. You English guys like tea, right? Earl Grey or something like that. I don’t know. I never drink it.’
‘Who said I’m an Englishman?’
‘No one, I just thought that…’
‘Okay,’ Victor said after a moment. ‘I’ll listen to you, but I’ll give you ten minutes of my time. Not a second longer.’
‘Great,’ Muir said. ‘Thank you. But let’s talk somewhere else.’
‘There’s a nice place round the corner where we can talk.’
‘Sounds great,’ Muir said. She touched her stomach. ‘I could really use a sit down, you know?’
ELEVEN
The French bistro was small and cramped, with tightly packed tables beneath a low ceiling. Black and white photographs of famous French nationals covered the walls. Framed and signed football shirts had pride of place behind the bar. The lunchtime rush was over and there were plenty of empty tables, but the close proximity of neighbouring diners meant there was little chance of privacy, especially with the affable – and slightly drunk – owner making the effort to chat with all of his customers.
Victor selected a table outside on the pavement where there were no other patrons. He chose the table furthest from the entrance and took the chair against the wall so Muir sat opposite him, her back to the road. Pedestrians passed in sparse enough numbers to ensure they were not overheard.
Sunglasses shielded Victor’s eyes from the glare of a sun unobstructed by clouds. The photosensitive lenses of Muir’s own glasses had darkened automatically to compensate for the brightness.
A waiter was quick to arrive with menus but Victor motioned for him to keep hold of them.
‘Just coffee, please,’ he said. He looked at Muir. ‘Espresso?’
‘Sure. Whatever.’
‘Two espressos.’
The waiter nodded and smiled.
After he was back inside the bistro, Muir placed her phone on the table between them and slid it over to Victor. He didn’t reach for it. He didn’t look at it.
‘Procter being out of action changes nothing about the way I conduct business. I’m not assessing a target in person and especially not in a public space. Put your phone away. I’m here only to listen to what you have to say. So say it. The ten minutes begin now.’
Muir shuffled her chair closer to the table and leaned across. She tapped the phone. ‘Do me a favour and look at it, okay? It’s just a photograph. Just a guy’s face. That’s all. Just take a look.’
‘No,’ Victor said. ‘If you don’t want me to stand up and walk away right now, you do things my way. I’m here to listen. That’s all. Ten minutes isn’t a long time. I suggest you use it economically.’
‘You don’t have to touch the phone if you don’t want to.’ She manipulated it briefly and the screen lit up in Victor’s peripheral vision. ‘Just look at his face. It’ll make all this a lot simpler. And quicker. Please, it’s someone you know.’
‘I’m not sure why I’m failing to make myself understood. I’m not looking at the photograph. I don’t care who it is. I’m not killing him.’
That got Victor’s attention, but Muir waited a minute until a couple of teenage girls had passed on the pavement. He overheard something about a double date gone spectacularly wrong.
Muir slid her phone back and slipped it away into a pocket. ‘And the reason why this guy is currently horizontal is because you made it happen.’
She sat back in her chair and watched him process the information.
He said, ‘My previous contract.’
She nodded. ‘Felix Kooi. Dutch national. Citizen of Amsterdam. Professional contract killer. Killed almost a month ago. Stabbed in a back alley in Algiers. A mugging gone wrong, according to the authorities.’
‘You told me you didn’t know the details of the work I’ve done for Procter.’
Muir showed her palms. Her hands were small and glowed white in the sun. ‘I only know because it’s relevant. And it’s all I know. I promise.’