I went to the kitchen and fixed myself a drink. When that one was gone, I fixed another.
My phone — not Kurodi's — rang. "Unknown Caller" the display said. That was a bloody lie. I knew who was calling.
"Hello," I answered.
"Good evening. Do you have news for me?" Just hearing Evan Martel's voice made my pulse race.
"Yes. We're on for Saturday."
"Well done, Lawrence."
"Look, Evan, I've done my part. How about you don't drag this out. You know, for old time's sake?"
The son of a bitch laughed. "You're the one who wanted to put old times behind you, chum. Make sure things go off without a hitch Saturday. You'll get what you're owed afterwards." He hung up.
I set the phone down and noticed that my hands were trembling. There were a couple of inches of liquid left in my glass. I finished it off quickly, trying to chase away the sound of my old boss's voice.
I'd heard his voice twice now since leaving Durban and leaving his employ. The first time was two days ago, when he called to tell me about the job he had for me to do, using Kurodi's gang to cripple another bunch of crooks without getting his own hands dirty. I'd told him to sod off, that I didn't owe him a damn thing after how the last job went down. Being left a widower, I told him, was payment in full. I expected him to remind me that it hadn't been his fault she'd died; in fact, he might have tried to argue that it was my fault. That I was the one who'd gotten sloppy and left a trail.
But he didn't make that argument. "It was a shame that Elizabeth died like that," he'd said, his voice unctuous. "It seems to me that the only thing worse than losing a partner would be losing a child."And here's the cover art.