“You crazy bitch, of course I cared about you. Even though you haven't been able to provide me with children, I still loved you. Maybe you were too self-absorbed to see it. I want you to get out of my house. Go wherever you want; I will give you money. But if you ever darken my door again with your presence, I will have you killed.”
He walked up the basement staircase and into the hallway. He lived in a mansion he'd bought thirty years ago from the proceeds of the first really successful drug deal he’d done. It had netted him five million. Thirty years ago that was a lot of money, and he was suddenly able to move with the jet set. He'd met Maria at a party on a ship in the harbor. She and her parents had arrived a few years earlier from Milan. He remembered how beautiful Maria had been that evening. She was still beautiful, but she'd crossed him in the most despicable way, and now he wanted rid of her.
“Christian, do you know what happened to me half an hour ago?” Fabio asked when a tall, dark, and very good-looking man arrived in his office.
“No, boss. Something good I hope,” he said, a cheeky grin etched across his face.
“No, Christian. While you were, in all probability, dipping yourself in some super model, I was being held at gunpoint in my own fucking bedroom.” Fabio's voice reached a deafening crescendo. To add effect, he slammed his fist onto his desk, which sent a pen flying up into the air.
Christian's expression changed. “What? How?”
“You tell me. This house is supposed to be guarded like Fort Knox. I want you to find out why it wasn't.”
“Sure, boss. Who was the man?”
“I don't know, but he was fucking my wife. She's in the basement. Go down and make her tell you who it was. Use as much force as you need.”
Christian went down to the basement and opened the door. He saw a tearful Maria sitting on top of the washing machine, smoking a cigarette from a gold holder.
“Who was he, Maria?” Christian asked.
“What are you going to do to me if I don't tell you?” she said.
Her mascara had run, and her skin looked blotchy. She'd obviously been crying for some time. “I'll have to torture you until you tell me,” he said harshly.
“That's Christian, ever faithful to my husband. You'd jump from a bridge if he asked you, wouldn't you?”
“Yes. He's been very good to me. Without him, I would have been a nobody.”
“You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, but you're an asshole,” she said. “You're stupid for believing what he tells you. He's just using you.”
“The name please, Maria. I really don't want to have to hurt you. Spare yourself.”
She knew what he would do to her, and it would hurt. “You will never find him. He lives abroad, far from here.”
“After this, I won't ask again. What's his name?”
“Alexander Gorev.”
“And where does he live?”
“I just told you, dumbass. He lives abroad.”
Christian walked toward her and knocked the cigarette out of her hand. “Don't ever call me that again. Now, where does he live?”
“He's Russian. He lives in Moscow, and if you're stupid enough to go there, you'll never come back.”
“Thank you, Maria,” he said. “I really wasn't looking forward to dragging it out of you. You know I've always thought you were a nice-looking woman. If Fabio hadn't been my boss, I might have had a crack at you myself.”
“Don't flatter yourself,” she said.
Christian took a look at her. Who knew, it may have been the last time he saw her, he thought. He'd been working for Fabio for ten years, and he'd always fancied sleeping with her. She could have been his Mrs. Robinson. He would have like that.
“He's called Alexander Gorev, and he lives in Moscow, boss,” Christian said. Fabio looked out of the window and noticed the guards doing their rounds. “Maria says there's no way we'll be able to get him.”
“If he's fled to Moscow, we probably won't. We don't have anyone there. Find out if he has family, anything we can use in the States to persuade him to come back. And find out why my guards missed him.”
“Maria. She told them he'd come to fix the boiler,” Christian said immediately.
“Make sure she leaves as well,” Fabio said.
Half an hour later, Christian returned with a smile on his face. “He’s got a daughter named Amy, and she lives in LA. She's an American citizen.”
“How the hell did you find that out so fast?”
“Maria knew more than I thought.”
“Did she tell you where she lived?”
“I had to really persuade her to tell me that, but yes.”
*****
“Right, listen up, Alberti,” Fabio said as he looked at Christian and Alberti. “Christian has found out that the dog that fucked my wife has a daughter named Amy. We're going to kidnap her. This afternoon she's attending a friend’s wedding. Christian is going to the wedding, and he's going to charm her.” Alberti nodded and drew on his cigarillo. “Christian is going to befriend her, get her to the street under some pretense, and bundle her into the car. You are going to drive her to Oaktree Lodge and keep her locked up.”
“Okay, boss,” Alberti said.