Page 62 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
“Could we maybe not steal the car, though?” Joe suggested.
Percy’s eyes lit. “Why didn’t I think of that? We could simply hire the car. We haven’t done anything wrong.” Then he raised a mischievous eyebrow and added devilishly, “Yet.” Joe laughed and Percy laughed and Althea looked back and forth between the two of them and wondered what she had got herself into this time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
JOE’S BOYFRIEND
Percy assessed the small space, then turned, his voice and eyes full of concern. “Joe,” he murmured on a serious air, “why are you doing this to yourself?”
“Doing what?”
“Is it a Catholic guilt thing?”
Joe cast his eyes around in confusion, before they flashed back to Percy as the understanding hit him all at once. “It’s just a normal hotel room!”
In the two minutes since Althea had turned up at Percy’s far grander apartment, Percy had moved them all to Joe’s room, being that the princess may turn up at his own door at any moment, attempting to coerce him into the unsavoury deal. Yet here they were, in the middle of an emergency, and there he remained in the open doorway with a judgemental glower.
“Get in here and sit down!” Joe angry-whispered.
“Yes,” Percy sighed. “Let’s all come in and sit down on… Joe’s bed.”
“It’s a normal hotel room!”
Percy stretched himself out long on the single bed, regardlessof his misgivings, crossed one ankle over the other, and lit a cigarette. Althea took an uncertain seat at the foot of the bed, and Joe remained standing, intending to make Althea feel more comfortable, but having the opposite effect entirely, his wide shoulders and generally very impressive stature towering over her as she shrank a little from them both.
“Why are we in this room?” she asked softly.
“See?” Percy drawled. “Althea knows how bad the room is.”
Joe’s lips pulled tartly to the side. “Percy, it was your idea to come here.”
“I didn’t know it would be so bad.”
“Percy!”
Percy sat up on the bed, forcing back a smirk at the irritation he’d provoked. “You’re right. I just wanted to have a cigarette and make a phone call before we get started.”
Accordingly, he dropped his feet to the floor, tapped a few numbers into the phone on the bedside table, and Percy’s half of the conversation, a cigarette wobbling at the edge of his lips all the while, went like this:
“It’s me… No, Libya… No… No… Stop talking… No, I need you to… Stop talking or you’re fired… Good. You need to be in Tunis in…” He checked his watch. “Seven hours… Tunis in Tunisia. Do you know another Tunis?… I don’t care, just do it… No. Stop talking… Three of us will need passage on the ferry to Sicily, but there’s an extra with no identification… That’s not my job, it’s yours…” Percy ran an assessing eye over Althea. “About five foot four… No, she looks light… No. And forward my mail to des Palmes… Presidential… I don’t know… No… Shut up, Leo… Shut… That’s it, you’re fired. I’ll make my own fucking way.” He dropped the receiver down and leaned back on the bed.
They sat in perfect silence for a few tense moments, until Joe started, “Are you going to expl?—”
Percy held up a quieting finger for three more silent seconds.
The phone began to ring. And ring. Percy smoked his cigarette and smiled at Joe and let it ring some more. It rang out.
More silence.
“So—” Joe started.
The phone cut him off and Percy picked it up after six more rings, then said nothing and listened for some time, absentmindedly tapping his ash into a glass ashtray on the bedside table. Eventually he said, “Apology accepted.” Then he laughed softly. “Il meglio… No, no, I get it. It’s very funny.” And he placed the receiver down again. Still smiling, he stuck the cigarette back in the corner of his mouth, reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of colourful notes. “Althea, here’s two thousand dinars.”
Her already wide eyes doubled in size. “For… For me? No, I don’t want?—”
He threw the money down on her lap. “We’ll be making one short stop on our way out of the city. That money should buy you whatever you need to get to Sicily. We’ll pay for food and transport, but anything else you need, that will be our only stop.”
“We’ll never make Tunis in seven hours,” said Joe, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand instead of on Percy’s actions. “Wouldn’t we be better off going to Misrata?”
