Red Fox by Gerald Seymour Page A

meant by the Mafia, it's an overused word, something simplistic to cover whatever you want it to. In my book the Mafia means skill and ruthlessness and power and patience. If your husband has been taken by these people, then there will be an initial contact followed by a drawn-out haggle over money, and it will end with a business transaction. Very clinical and quite slow because they will want to know that their tracks are well covered.'
    'And if it's such a group how will they treat my husband?'
    A long time coming, that question, thought Charlesworth.
    'Probably quite well. They'd keep him fed and dry and margin-ally comfortable, enough to sustain his health . . . in a basement, perhaps a farmhouse . . .'
    'That's as long as they think we're going to pay?'
    'Yes.'

    'And if they aren't sure we're going to pay?'
    Charlesworth looked hard at her, slipped behind the swollen eyes, delved beyond the mascara. He wondered how his own wife would react in these circumstances, loved her and knew for all that she'd be a disaster. Helpless as a bloody ship on the rocks and thrashing around for someone to blame. She was different, this woman. Different because she didn't wear her concern and her care on her shoulders. Hadn't even put her knickers on for the great day. Didn't sound as if it meant a damn to her beyond the inconvenience.
    'Then they'll kill him.'
    She didn't react beyond a flutter of the eyebrows, a slight and fractional quiver at the mouth, but nothing that he would have noticed if he hadn't been watching her, absorbing her face.
    'And if we go to the police and throw it all into their lap, give it to your Mr Carboni, what then?'
    'If they see through an indiscretion or a clumsiness that we have offered full co-operation with the police, and if they feel that endangers their security, then too they will kill him.' He turned the knife because the realization of how much he disliked the woman, how alien she was to his background, seeped through him. ' I put it to you, Mrs Harrison, that the people who have your husband will not hesitate to murder him if that serves their purpose better than keeping him alive.'
    He paused, allowed the message to sink and spread, find its own water level. He found his advantage growing. The signs of fear were shown by the slight pant in her chest, the motion of the fingers.
    'And even if we pay, if the company pays, we still have no g u a r a n t e e . . . '
    He anticipated her. "There are never guarantees in these matters.' That was about as strongly as he had the stomach to put it. He couldn't bring himself to tell her of Luisa di Capua whose husband had been dead two months before the body was found, and who had received the last ransom note the day before the discovery. 'No guarantees, we would just have to hope.'
    He won a shrill, short laugh from her.
    'How much will they ask, Mr Charlesworth? How much is my Geoffrey worth on the Italian market?'
    'They'll ask for more than they'll be happy to end up with.

    Starters would probably be around five million dollars, and they'll settle for perhaps two. Not less than one million.'
    'Which I don't have.' She was faster now, and louder and the control was fracturing. 'I don't have it, do you understand that?
    Geoffrey doesn't, his parents don't We don't own that sort of money.'
    'It's not really your husband that's being ransomed, it's his company. The group will expect the company to pay.'
    'And they're tight bastards,' she spat across at him. 'Tight and mean and penny-pinching.'
    He remembered the exterior of the block, allowed himself to glance across the interior fittings of the flat.
    ' I'm sure they will look favourably when they have had the situation explained to them. I had intended to speak to them after I had seen you. I thought that might be valuable to them.'
    'So what happens now? What do I do?'
    The questions rolled from her, as if Charlesworth were some all-knowing guru on the subject of kidnap reaction. 'We have to await the