‘I know, I’m sorry. I was angry.’ He wasn’t sure if Ella had seen the wet patch on Chris’s trousers so he said, ‘Look, we don’t have a lot of time. Ella, go into the bathroom, change your clothes, wash your face, get the blood out of your hair.’ She looked at him like she needed reassurance, maybe that it was over, that he wouldn’t do anything more to Chris. ‘It’s okay. Go on.’
She went into the bathroom, still clutching the shopping bags she’d been carrying. With the door closed, Lucas said, ‘I don’t think she noticed. Change your clothes, bag them and toss them.’ Chris didn’t move at first so he added, ‘You know, there’s no shame in what just happened. I’ve known some pretty tough guys do the same thing, and worse.’
Chris looked up at him with contempt and said, ‘Don’t fucking patronize me.’ He got up and pulled some clothes out of a bag.
‘Okay, and I am sorry. I was just angry. I mean, Jesus, don’t you watch movies?’
‘Yes, I do.’ He looked angry himself, and wronged, as he said, ‘You told us it was an attempted kidnap. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, I don’t even know if you do, but kidnappers don’t tap the telephone of the victim’s boyfriend’s family. And that man you killed downstairs—he didn’t look like he wanted to kidnap her at all.’ Lucas felt uneasy, sensing that Chris was close to guessing how out of his depth he was, and how unsuited to protection work.
‘Look, last night I thought I was being overcautious. Now I know I wasn’t. These people have serious resources and you’re right, they’re trying to kill her.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. So Chris, you don’t have to be my friend, but I need you to be cool. Ella needs you to be cool.’ Chris nodded and Lucas handed him the key to the other room. ‘Change in there, freshen up. Knock when you come back.’
Chris took the key but before opening the door he said, ‘I’m sorry about the phone call.’
‘It’s my fault; I didn’t make things clear. And this isn’t the kind of work I usually do.’
‘I don’t understand. What do you usually do?’
‘I kill people.’ Chris stared at him as if to make sure he wasn’t joking. He left then and Lucas locked the door and fell back into the armchair.
He knew one thing: killing people was easier than dealing with them, relating to them. And looking back over the last twenty-four hours, he’d done almost everything wrong. He hadn’t spoken to them properly from the start and he hadn’t made clear to them how serious things were and he’d overreacted with Chris when the person he was really angry with was himself.
He couldn’t believe he’d been so sloppy, that he’d nearly let her get killed. Probably the only things that had saved her were her attractiveness and that innocently puzzled expression, and the fact that the gunman was young and stupid enough to be distracted by things like that.
But for all Lucas’s shortcomings, she was still alive. And if he could get her out of Italy, he was confident enough she’d stay that way. What happened afterwards wasn’t his concern.
The door opened and she came out of the bathroom, brushing her damp hair. She was wearing a tight-fitting top, a long hippyish skirt. It made her look taller than she was and highlighted her breasts, her hip bones, reminding him of the previous night, of thoughts he wanted to put out of his head, because they weren’t appropriate, because there were more important things to think about.
‘You look nice.’ She responded with a token smile but looked immediately concerned as she glanced around the room and saw no Chris. ‘He’s getting changed in my room.’
‘How is he?’
‘Okay.’
She looked down at the floor for a second, then looked him in the face again and said, ‘It was unforgivable, what you did.’
His thoughts foundered. Albeit in a shambolic fashion, he’d saved her life twice in the last twenty-four hours and killed three people in the process. But it was unforgivable that he’d made her boyfriend piss his pants for nearly getting her killed.
Even so, he could see how it had to look from her point of view. She’d been enjoying a tour of Europe with a guy she was in love with and this nightmare had descended over them, a nightmare of which the only physical embodiment was Lucas himself.
She was scared, worried, probably with good reason, and she had nobody else to offload any of it onto.
‘You’re right, it was unforgivable.’ He thought of adding something else but didn’t think he could stretch himself convincingly to contrition. ‘Put the other things you bought into one of the new bags. We need to leave soon.’ She looked like she wanted to say something else too, but after a pause she set to work packing the bag.
There was a knock at the door and Chris said, ‘It’s Craig.’
Lucas let him in and repeated the instructions he’d given to Ella, sparing him the awkward silence. When they were ready, he said, ‘Okay, Chris, when you spoke to your brother last night, did you say anything about me?’