Casanova by Mark Arundel Read Free Book Online Page B

playfully poked me and I smiled.
    ‘Okay okay, Bazzer thinks Casanova is in the resort.’ Bazzer was the name we called Bartholomew Meriwether when it was just the two of us. Well, security is always paramount as Meriwether is often reminding us. Codenames are important for everyone’s safety.
    ‘Why does he think that?’
    ‘I don’t know except Mrs. Casanova and her two daughters are there for Christmas, staying in a catered chalet almost next door to yours.’
    ‘My friend,’ Charlotte said. I got the impression this wasn’t news to her. ‘What else?’ she asked.
    ‘The police already have him as a suspect in their murder enquiry; his DNA was on the database.’
    ‘What are they doing about it?’
    ‘They know he’s disappeared and they want to go public.’
    ‘What does Bazzer think about that?’
    ‘We’ve managed to persuade them to hold off for thirty-six hours while the helpful agent from Interpol tries to track him down for them.’
    Charlotte smiled and said, ‘Good boy, well done.’
    I sipped more tea and stared at her breasts. She saw me and smiled. ‘Wait till you see them in a tight thermal vest,’ she said. I looked away and tried not to think about it. It may have been Christmas but we still had work to do.
    Sensing my thoughts Charlotte asked, ‘Do we know any more about the hole at the bank?’
    ‘I think Bazzer does but he’s not saying. I’m pretty sure he’s got a team working on it.’
    ‘Do we know how big it is yet?’
    This question made me consider telling her about Bradshaw and the ST. I thought about it for a second or two but decided to keep it to myself for now. Charlotte was waiting for an answer.
    ‘It’s big enough to interest Bazzer,’ I said.
    ‘Yes,’ Charlotte agreed, and gave a slow astute nod of her head.
    ‘He insisted I bring this and made me agree to use it.’ I showed her my new K106. She ran her index finger over the screen and across the buttons.
    ‘This means he’s expecting you to go active,’ she said.
    ‘Yes, that’s what I thought.’
    Charlotte was quiet for a moment while she considered the implications of that new information. Then her face lightened and she said, ‘Well, if you don’t want to join the mile high club with me then I’m going back to sit with my grandfather.’ She stood up and left with a backward glance over her shoulder and a grin, which she thought was sexy.
    I looked down at my K106 and ran my finger over the screen and across the buttons just as Charlotte had done. The satellite phone made me remember Tenerife, and Charlotte’s words replayed themselves in my mind: This means he’s expecting you to go active.
     
    We touched down on a clear, dry runway at Geneva airport and taxied to the terminal building. There was more snow in London, I thought. Outside, an icy blue December sky gave up its fragile sunshine like the weakness of an old man’s smile.
    Inside, I passed through control and then continued into arrivals. The hangar-style structure felt antiseptic and functional. I collected my bags and began to move away when Charlotte crossed my path and made me stop.
    ‘We’re being taken in a chauffeur driven car,’ she said. ‘Are you coming with us?’
    ‘No, I’ve got a rental booked.’
    Charlotte nodded and moved aside. She looked over her shoulder and said, ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ and then continued on her way. I saw her grandfather waiting for her and watching. He saw me but his eyes moved quickly to Charlotte and he probably didn’t see me raise my hand.
    The rental was a white German saloon, which, as the friendly sales assistant told me, came fitted with snow tyres, which are a requirement of Swiss law during the winter months.
    I loaded my bags, programmed the sat nav, switched the radio off and drove out of the airport. The low down torque of the big diesel engine had the pulling power of a small tugboat. I was soon on a sweeping dual-carriageway heading east and cruising effortlessly.