Page 77 of A Life Imagined
“Looks like you got your funding.”
They both stared down at the bag of cash, and Rayan gave a quiet laugh.“There’s no way the mayor will approve.”
“I’ll take care of Durand.”
“Thought you weren’t going to kill him,” Rayan teased.
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
Rayan narrowed his eyes suspiciously.“Was this your plan all along?Call in a favor with the ’Ndrangheta?”
Mathias shook his head, still puzzled by the unexpected turn of events.“I have no idea what happened there.”
Rayan’s face grew serious.“Promise me, no more trouble.I’m sorely out of practice.”
Mathias reached out to brush a lock of hair from Rayan’s forehead.“No promises.”
Chapter
Twenty-Five
On the way back to the house, Mathias had Rayan drop him off at the warehouse.He had no doubt it would be as Marsela’s lackeys had left it—wide open to the world, a treasure trove of high-value art sitting around for some light-fingered opportunist to help themselves.
He’d called Charles from the car on the drive to Calais and told him to expect a visit from the Osmani group.He’d given Charles clear instructions to hand over the stash without incident.At least Burim would succeed in setting right one of the evening’s wrongs.Mathias had to give it to her—Marsela had pluck.That or a death wish.He wasn’t entirely sure.
As expected, when they pulled up outside the warehouse, the roller door was still raised.
“I can wait outside while you lock up,” Rayan offered as Mathias got out of the car.
Mathias shook his head.He wanted to have a look around and inspect the damage.Not to mention there was eight million in cash currently sitting in the trunk.The sooner that made its way into the safe in the study, the better.“Go on ahead and secure your little windfall.I’ll meet you back at the house.”
He watched Rayan drive away then walked into the warehouse and pulled the roller door closed behind him.Mathias surveyed the floor strewn with fallen frames and shattered ceramics and decided to leave the wreckage until the next day.For the time being, he’d see if the office remained intact.They didn’t keep much in the way of cash on-site, but that was where someone would go to look.
Mathias stopped dead in his tracks.From where he stood, he could see a light on inside the office.They’d left the warehouse in the afternoon, and there was no way the lights had been on then.Someone else had been here.Or perhaps they still were.
He reached for the pistol tucked against his hip and held it in front of him as he approached the door to the office.Through the window, he could make out a squat figure in a gray suit sitting behind his desk.
Mathias froze mid-step.Then he dropped the hand with the gun and pushed open the door.“Enzo fucking Carbone.”
Enzo was reclined in Mathias’s chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips.He looked the same as he always had, right down to the boxy cut of his suit.The man gave him a knowing smile and straightened up to stub out his waning cigarette in the ashtray on Mathias’s desk.
“De Luca was kind enough to let me know where I might find you.”He gestured at the office around them.“Nice little operation you’ve got here, Beauvais.What are you pulling in each month?”
Mathias returned the gun to his waistband, making no attempt to hide it.He knew better than to assume this was a social call.“I know you didn’t come here to talk shop.”
He walked over to the desk and reached for the half-empty bottle of Macallan standing on the corner.He and Elise were partial to the occasional glass on nights they found themselves working late.“So they sent you.”
“Could you imagine if Gabriele had come?You’d have plugged him between the eyes before he could open his mouth.You and I always seemed to have somewhat of an understanding.”
It was true.Of the three old men on the council, Enzo had been on the same page as Mathias more often than not.Mathias poured a generous serving of scotch into two tumblers.After the day he’d had, he would have preferred to drink straight from the bottle.
Enzo accepted his glass with a nod, and Mathias pulled up a chair, surprised at how much his body hurt as he sat down.Tomorrow would be painful.If I make it that far.There was no telling why the councilman was here or what that meant for him.
“You look a little worse for wear,” Enzo commented.
“I had to take care of a small problem.”
“An Albanian problem, by any chance?Trouble seems to follow you everywhere.”
