Free Boss Takes All by Carl Hancock

have heard a rumour that one of our big boys is about to feel the heat of the blowtorch. Now, that would be a case worth watching in court! What would the charge be? Would it be a police prosecution? What judge would be ready to put himself forward to conduct the case, knowing the risks involved in a failed prosecution, or even a successful one?”’
    Abel shrugged. ‘So?’
    Paul made sure that he was standing directly facing his host when he dropped the bomb.
    â€˜You, Mister Rubai, you’re the big boy.’
    Abel went for his mobile, but as he moved to turn it on, Paul added a caution.
    â€˜Before you call your boys to begin the process of turning our two wives in there into widows, just hang on a moment.’
    Daniel continued. ‘Hear us out. We’ve taken a few precautions you ought to know about.’
    â€˜Let’s be honest with you here. We know your style. You don’t like somebody, pouf! Instant history. But if we do disappear rather suddenly, then some pieces are going to appear in some pretty important places. The London Times, The Washington Post. How does that grab you?’
    Abel moved forward until he stood toe to toe with Paul Miller, so close that Paul could smell the flavour of the wine that Abel had taken with his lunch.
    â€˜You do not have a single thing on me that would stand up in a court in this country. Got it? You are committing delayed suicide.’
    â€˜Is that a threat?’
    Abel roared with laughter and mimicked the restrained tone in Daniel’s voice. ‘Is that a threat?’
    Paul moved in quickly and confidently. ‘We’ve got a day picked out. We’ve got a judge and we’ve got witnesses, one of whom will be Reuben Rubai.’
    Before Abel could let rip with his next burst of anger, Paul continued. ‘And we are not stupid.’
    Daniel, smarting after Abel’s little dart of mockery, picked himself up and resumed the attack. ‘We don’t go along with the Rubai way of doling out punishments, but we know that, for the moment, we can’t knock you over.’
    An amused Abel interrupted. ‘Is that a threat, Miller, Komar, whichever the hell you are?’
    â€˜The name is Komar, Daniel Komar. And, no, we don’t go in for threats, just promises.’
    â€˜So if you have got the sense to see that you cannot “knock me over”, what are you two idiots who claim not to be stupid actually after?’
    â€˜Bertie Briggs out on the street by tomorrow morning, at the latest, all charges dropped.’
    Abel was stunned and turned his red swivel chair and sat down heavily.
    â€˜Unbelievable! Unfucking believable! That bastard shot me, damn near killed me.’
    â€˜You have no witnesses, no proof. It could have been your American friend.’
    â€˜American friend?’ Abel sat forward, incredulous.
    â€˜Friend, hired gun, whatever. Strange man, but a real pro. Had every reason to get rid of you. Do you want a name? Alfredo Rossi, Alfred Ross.’
    â€˜Now, Mister Bertrand Briggs, back in Naivasha by tomorrow, early enough to take his son breakfast in bed.’
    Abel had been caught off guard. He was shocked that anyone but himself had known about Rossi. He was inwardly furious that these two nobodies had managed to manipulate him into a position where he might be vulnerable. He could tough it out, get rid of them even, but he was shrewd enough to see how easy it would be to make a bad situation worse. He hated the idea, but it was time to go on the defensive.
    Paul was becoming impatient. Rubai’s hesitation was a worry. Time to press the issue.
    â€˜At six pm this evening we shall telephone the duty officer at Nakuru police station to check that you have sent a message telling them to release Mister Briggs into the hands, custody if you prefer, of two officers of the Naivasha force. We will contact these two people and they will escort him home. Sorry to be so formal. By