Josh #4
“Are you certain about this?” says Josh, plucking my passport out and checking it over, then handing the coach ticket to Nishan. “I’d offer to come with you, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get time off—”
“No, Josh. I need to do this alone. Whatever it is. I’ll head to the site of the house Albert left me. Maybe I’ll find some answers there. The coach ticket should get me as far as Brussels.”
I notice Nishan has dug out a laptop and is clicking through screens, my coach booking in hand. Within a matter of seconds, he is nodding at the screen.
“Good news is you can use this coach ticket tomorrow. Leaves in the morning at eight from Victoria. Then there’s a coach company in Brussels that seems to be popular and cheap.
I’ll print off the address of the ticket office.
Best pay by cash,” says Nishan, his eyes glued to the screen.
“That’ll get you as far as Florence bus station.
From there, you can either get a train or a local bus. ”
“And the good news is you’re already packed—” says Josh, who has unzipped a side pocket in my passport wallet and looks up, shocked. “What the fuck is this?”
When Nishan and I stare at him, he fans out a substantial wad of currency from the wallet pocket. I frown and shake my head.
“You have a stack of Euros here. Hundreds, fifties and twenties.”
“How much?”
Josh pulls the stash out and counts through.
“I’d say around ten thousand. Mainly one hundreds. How the fuck—?”
“Albert,” says Nishan, impressed. “Without a doubt. Fuck, Gabe. He must have had real cause to be concerned, must have sensed danger and wanted to make sure you had enough money to get you out of the country.”
“Can I even take that much into Italy?”
“Have faith. This is your Albert we’re talking about,” said Nishan. “He must have known anyone entering the EU can take in up to, but no more than, ten grand in cash. Smart man. Means you won’t need to use a cash machine for a while.”
Perhaps I should be grateful for this additional help from Albert.
Instead, I’m angry with myself. That last night, I should have paid more attention.
As usual, he underestimated me. What is painfully apparent to me now is that I did not need protection.
He did. And I would have done whatever it took to do that. If only he had confided in me.
“First off,” says Nishan, as Josh pushes the notes back inside and tosses the holder to me.
“Once you get to Italy, you’ll need to buy a local SIM for the dumb phone and install a secure messaging app.
We’re going to keep your old smartphone.
But you’ll need to give me your password, as long as you’re okay with that.
While you’re gone, I’ll send occasional messages to Josh, Alice and anyone else you can think of.
Let them believe you’re still in London.
Maybe take some photos of the furnished flat we have to let around the corner from here.
Can you give me an idea of your online behaviour?
Are you one of those selfie-narcissists who like to take pictures of themselves working out or showing off whatever they’re wearing or eating, then post them to Instagram, TikTok, Snapchat and the rest of the gang for everyone in the world to see? ”
Josh laughs. “Come on, love. You’ve met him. Of course he doesn’t.”
“Never?”
“Never,” I reply, shaking my head. Unlike many of my generation, I’ve never trusted social media.
“As I say,” says Nishan. “We need to maintain your usual phone behaviour. If anyone’s monitoring and notices anything out of the ordinary, they might get suspicious.”
“He’s serious, isn’t he?” I say to Josh.
“As a blowjob. Bastards these days can track you down from a fart using thermal imaging cameras and sniffer dogs.”
“I don’t want to worry you unnecessarily, Gabe,” says Nishan. “But even Albert’s brother probably has people who could do that for him.”
“Since I moved in with Albert, the only person I called or messaged regularly was him. Alice and I are occasionally in touch. Then, apart from two of the people at the charity where I work, it’s Josh.
All the Callico family members have my number, but none of them has ever contacted me.
They would get Alice to do that for them. What will you do if she phones?”
“Let the message go to voicemail. Text and say you can’t speak right now. If she insists she needs to talk, I can create a link through to your dumb phone. And if she wants to meet you in person, then we’ll cross that bridge—or burn it—when we come to it. How does that sound?”
“Sounds thorough. What if someone traces my phone to this address? I don’t want you guys getting into any trouble because of me.”
“Now who’s sounding paranoid?” says Josh.
“You really don’t need to worry about us,” says Nishan, stubbing out the joint. “What with Josh’s contacts and the people I know through work, we can look after ourselves. Now give me your coach ticket so I can check availability while you go in the other room and deal with Alice.”