Ivory by Tony Park Read Free Book Online Page B

seventies, had pride of place amongst the bric-a-brac which included a rusted German helmet Novak had salvaged from the wreck of a U-boat, a silver-plated AK-47 Mitch had looted from one of Saddam Hussein’s palaces, Henri’s Foreign Legion kepi cap, and the Taliban flag Alex had captured in Afghanistan the day he lost his fingers.
    The music was a few decibels less deafening by the bar. Alex ordered another rum and Coke from Jose, and a gin and tonic for Danielle.
    â€˜No thanks, Jose,’ she countermanded him. ‘I’m leaving, Alex.’
    He nodded.
    â€˜Aren’t you going to say anything?’
    Mitch bumped into him as he leaned over the bar and grabbed two frosted bottles of Laurentina beer. Alex elbowed him back into the crowd. ‘You said a couple of weeks ago you were thinking about it. About the time you said you wanted us to take a break, remember?’
    â€˜You don’t care that I’m going, do you, Alex?’
    He shrugged. ‘They were your rules, Danni. You were the one who said you wanted to live a little, to be wild and free. No more chartered accountant from boring Belfast. Don’t tell me you’re actually just a good Catholic girl after all? If so, you might need to say a few dozen Hail Marys after taking part in our grandest theft, auto.’
    â€˜Don’t mock me, Alex.’
    He held up two hands, palms out, the first and second fingers missing from his left hand.
    â€˜Wipe that bloody smile off your face, Alex. Sure, I’m trying to be serious here for five minutes. I need to get on with my life. I need to grow up, and I’d like you to be there with me when I do.’
    He ran a hand through his thick black hair and looked out at the dark waters and the long strip of reflected moonlight. Then he turned and stared across the beach, to the looming white concrete shell of what had once been the finest resort hotel in Portuguese Mozambique.
    â€˜That bloody monstrosity.’ Danni had a way of reading his mind.
    â€˜It’s all I’ve got, Danni. It’s my life, my future.’ He walked barefoot across the sand to the pile of timber that sat in front of the half-finished foyer. He stared up at the building in which he’d been born.
    She shook her head and walked after him. ‘This is your problem. This gutted pile of concrete means more to you than any woman, any human being could.’
    He shrugged. His mother and father had owned this hotel. It was a part of his family, his childhood and, yes, he would rather lose a beautiful woman than give it up again. ‘You’re probably right. Though you could stay here and change my mind.’
    She laughed without mirth. ‘I might, if I thought that was true, or possible. It’s not just the hotel, though, Alex. It’s this Peter Pan life you lead. You’ll never give it up.’
    â€˜Peter Pan? He wore green tights. No, I’m more Captain Hook.’ He held up his left hand.
    â€˜Very funny. I don’t think you’ll ever stop, though.’
    â€˜What?’ He was drunk, but he also knew what she meant.
    â€˜The theft. The piracy. You’re addicted to the danger, Alex. You’refooling yourself – and all those mad bastards who follow you – that you’re stealing to get enough money to open this five-star wet dream of yours. Thieving’s not a means to an end for you any more. It’s become the main game.’
    â€˜That’s not true.’
    She waved his words away, as though swatting a mosquito. ‘The car carrier was crazy, Alex. I wish I hadn’t gone along with it.’
    â€˜Does that mean you want to give me back your ten grand?’
    She smiled, then resurrected her grim look. ‘You’re asking for trouble. You read the emails, the piracy report. You’ve put us on the international hot-spot map. You’ll have the bloody South African Navy up here if you’re not