Page 64 of The Impossible Fortune
Connie leads Ibrahim into the darkness of the cinema room, two rows of four velvet armchairs all facing a huge screen. Ibrahim and Connie take seats in the front row, and she sees Ibrahim tilt his seat back.
‘So are you?’ says Ibrahim. ‘A client? You have things which require cold storage?’
‘I’m a criminal,’ says Connie. ‘I use cold storage, hot storage, encasing-something-in-concrete-and-dumping-it-in-the-sea storage. My whole job is storage. Money, drugs, evidence, information.’
‘But The Compound specifically,’ says Ibrahim. ‘You use it? You could get into it?’
‘Huh,’ says Connie. ‘Do you worry sometimes about our boundaries? As therapist and client?’
She has been reading about boundaries.
‘I think you and I make our own rules,’ says Ibrahim. Connie loves that he makes stuff up as he goes along. Ibrahim’s wisdom is artfully seasoned by self-interest. That’s why they get along. ‘I, because I’m older, and have earned the right to make my own rules, and you, because you adhere to rules very badly. So our boundaries are porous.’
Porous boundaries. Sure, thinks Connie. Whatever Ibrahim needs to tell himself. He speaks to a drug dealer every week, and he enjoys it. He disapproves of everything Connie does, and yet back he comes, like a dog to a favourite tree.
‘The Compound’s not really something I can speak to you about,’ says Connie. She really does need to shut this down if she can. ‘The less you know about it, the better.’
‘It’s just two friends talking,’ says Ibrahim. ‘We are friends, I hope?’
For a clever man, Ibrahim can be very transparent. He wants Connie to talk about The Compound; Connie doesn’t want to. He has approached her directly, and been rebuffed directly, and so she now has a whole afternoon of Ibrahim trying different tacks to get the information he wants. He has begun with flattery, but that’s not where he will end. He will be insufferable. Connie doesn’t want him getting tangled up with The Compound. Too many bad people, even for her. But if Ibrahim really wants to knowsomething, there are very few places where she can hide from him.
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ says Connie. ‘If you can make it through an episode ofBelow Deckwith me, I’ll help you get into The Compound.’
Ibrahim swishes his whisky around in its tumbler. ‘If I say yes, can we have more whisky?’
‘We can,’ says Connie.
‘Then it’s a deal,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Let’s get thisBelow Decknonsense out of the way and then we can talk.’
34
‘She texted me a name,’ says Donna. ‘Jill Usher. Asked if I could look into her.’
‘But it’s not your case, Donna,’ says Chris. ‘It’s DCI Varma’s case.’
‘She died at Coopers Chase,’ says Donna, as Patrice fills her wine glass. ‘Elizabeth was the first to reach the body. That makes it our case, morally, although, yeah, not actually. I should have a poke around at least.’
‘So you’re going to do what Elizabeth tells you to do?’ Chris asks.
‘For now,’ says Donna. ‘Maybe when you’re armed we’ll be able to stand up to her.’
‘If you start investigating,’ says Patrice, dipping a carrot baton in some hummus, ‘who’s going to look after Prince Edward?’
‘That’s the thing – Elizabeth knew I was bored,’ says Donna, sheepishly. ‘We broke into an office, and that was fun.’
‘Honestly,’ says Chris. ‘I leave you alone for one week.’
It is a lovely, sleepy Sunday evening. Patrice has cooked a roast chicken, and Donna can smell it in the oven. Her mum has virtually been living with Chris over the summer holidays. Are her boss and her mum going to get married one of these days? Donna will cross that bridge when shecomes to it. Chris has been regaling them both with tales of his firearms course.
At first he’d said he’s been firing guns all week, but after a couple of glasses of wine he admitted that he’s mainly been sitting in lectures being told how to avoid firing guns under any circumstances. But then they do have target practice.
‘Be careful though,’ says Chris.
‘You’re jealous Elizabeth asked me to help, and not you.’
‘Not my case,’ says Chris. ‘Let someone else deal with the Thursday Murder Club for once. I’ve got guns to fire.’
Donna raises an eyebrow.
