“And now my man owes Franny a million bucks,” Vinnie said.
“Since hawala is entirely based on an honour system, she knows I’m good for it.” Colin smiled at Francine. “I’ll settle the debt at a later date or it will balance out through hawala payments coming from her side and paid out by me.”
“Hassan would die before he reneges on a debt.” Vinnie crossed his arms, all humour gone from his face. “He told me his business is built entirely on trust and the use of his huge network of connections.”
Colin nodded. “The vast majority of people using the system are hardworking civilians sending money to their relatives. In some parts of the world, it’s really the only way to transfer money legitimately. Even aid organisations use it because it’s the only functioning institution in certain areas. And it’s fast.”
“It’s not quite as anonymous as cryptocurrency, but it’s definitely one of the safest ways to move money across borders.” Francine was standing next to Daniel, her tablet in her hand.
“It makes sense that this would be the way Adèle paid for her drugs and stolen art.” Colin turned back towards the monitor and stared at the enlarged photo. “Not that we can tell anything from these.”
“Who’s Hassan?” I asked Vinnie.
“I’ve known him for many years and he has the deep respect of the Arabic and Indian communities.”
“Then don’t just sit there.” Manny fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Get us a meeting with this criminal.”
Vinnie’s risorius muscles pulled his lips into a sneer. “And this is why I think you should stay the fuck away from Hassan. He’s a good man. People trust him. Much more than they trust the police. With all the hate against immigrants, they will lose faith in Hassan if you go in there guns blazing.”
Manny’s face turned red, the vein on his forehead becoming more pronounced. His lips thinned and he inhaled sharply. Colin got up. “Dan can come with us while you cool down.”
“Now you’re talking.” Vinnie gave Manny an insincere smile and took his phone from his pocket. He got up and walked into the team room.
Manny glared at his back, then turned his anger on Colin. “I hold you personally responsible.”
Colin laughed. “For what? It’s not my fault you’re such an arse.”
“Doc?” Manny focused on me.
“Yes?”
He threw his hands in the air. “Bloody hell.”
Daniel laughed. “I’ll make sure the interview with Hassan is on the up and up, Manny.”
“You bloody better.” Manny stomped out of the room. Francine followed, teasing him about sexy angry men.
It exhausted me, so I looked back at the photos, but ten minutes later I was in Colin’s SUV, my analysis of Adèle’s charts yet again interrupted. Daniel and Vinnie were sitting in the back and Colin was navigating the large vehicle around a parked delivery truck. For a moment, I allowed myself to think about the senselessness of driving large vehicles in narrow European streets. But my mind was gripped by the many mysteries surrounding Adèle’s business.
I hoped Hassan would be able to give us more context to the receipts we found in Adèle’s basement. Vinnie had been completely truthful when he’d said Hassan was a ‘good guy’, but I’d seen the deception when Vinnie had avoided giving Daniel a forthright answer to the question of the lawfulness of all Hassan’s dealings.
Colin turned the SUV into a street off the main road. We were in a district known for large outlet stores. My eyes widened when he parked in front of a Persian carpet store. I’d been so absorbed in my concern about Manny and thinking about the case, I had not listened to the directions Vinnie had been giving Colin.
We got out of the SUV and I looked at the other cars parked in front of the store, all high-end vehicles. Daniel was staring at a red sports car. “Who drives a Ferrari when it’s minus five and the roads are full of snow and ice?”
“People with money, dude.” Vinnie pulled the zipper of his thick jacket all the way to his chin. “Come on. Hassan is waiting for us.”
I followed the men into the warm store and blinked. In my travels, I’d been in a few Persian carpet stores and most times had left as soon as I’d entered. The chaos of the rugs piled on top of the other without any regard for lining up the edges had been too much for my mind. This large store was a surprise.
It looked more like a gallery exhibition than a rug store. Dark wooden floors gave the store an upmarket feel, the hidden ceiling lights adding to the impression. Strategically placed spotlights were aimed at the exquisite rugs hanging against the walls like paintings. Lining the walls were neat piles of rugs, organised according to colour and size. Even the price tags hanging off the sides of the rugs were aligned. This was a place where I could spend time.
“Vinnie!” A rotund man rushed from the back of the store, his arms open. “You rascal!”
“Hassan.” Vinnie’s smile was genuine and wide.
As Hassan neared us, I noticed that he favoured his right leg and had dark rings under his eyes. His joy to see Vinnie lifted his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes in a true smile. Vinnie walked into Hassan’s open arms and lifted him off the floor in a strong embrace.
Hassan’s laugh sounded through the large space and he slapped Vinnie on the shoulder. “Put me down, you big child.”
Vinnie lowered Hassan gently and turned to us. “Hassan, these are my very good friends. The pretty boy is Colin, the cop is Daniel and this is my best friend Doctor Genevieve Lenard.”
“Welcome! Welcome!” Hassan shook Colin’s hand, then Daniel’s. “A cop?” He narrowed his eyes, not letting go of Daniel’s hand. “You bringing trouble to my house?”
“No, sir.” Daniel lowered his head not to tower over Hassan as much. “We’re hoping you can help us.”
Hassan stared at him for a few seconds before another genuine smile deepened the wrinkles in his face. He let go of Daniel’s hand and turned to the back of the store. “Ali! Bring us tea. A lot of tea.”
“Sure, boss.” A lanky man in his late twenties jumped up from a heavy wooden desk and hurried to the left of the store.
Hassan turned to me. “I hope you will enjoy my tea, Doctor. It’s Moroccan mint tea, specially imported.”
“I—”
“We would love to try it.” Colin took my hand and squeezed.
I supposed now was one of those times when polite lies were socially important. Academically, I understood the concept of diplomacy and its social importance. Rationally, I considered these lies to be silly and not relevant to our reason for being here. But I’d learned that my rational approach didn’t build easy rapport with strangers. Not like Colin and Daniel were currently doing.
“Follow me. We’ll go to my office and you can tell me how you think I can help you.” Hassan limped to the right side of the store and we followed. He opened an ornate wooden door next to a particularly beautiful rug.
I stopped. This rug had swirling motifs and minuscule lines that defined the contrast between the vibrant array of colours. At the centre of this Persian rug, the lines exploded in a familiar pattern, one that always soothed my mind.
“A woman with superb taste.” Hassan sighed happily. “This is a late twentieth-century Persian Tabriz rug. Personally, I love the kaleidoscope effect.”
I found it calming. “It’s beautiful.”
“Indeed.” Hassan took a step back to make space for his young assistant carrying a heavily laden tray into the office. “Our tea is ready. Shall we?”