Free I Was Waiting For You by Maxim Jakubowski Page B

settled on her mind.
    The Greenwich Village comedy clubs and bars disgorged their hordes onto the quietly lit streets as she made her way North. Bleecker Street. Thompson. Sullivan and finally the shores of the darkened park.
    The cell phone she had abandoned still sat on the table. It vibrated, then buzzed. Cornelia first ignored its insistent sound and moved over to the kitchen, took a sip of apple juice from the half empty carton in the fridge and then finally picked the phone up. There were six messages waiting. She held it to her ear.
    â€œHello.”
    â€œWhere the fuck have you been?”
    â€œHere and there,” she said.
    It was Ivan. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him swear at her before.
    â€œDon’t you pick up your messages?” he asked.
    â€œI’d left the phone at home and gone for a walk.”
    â€œDamn, woman, you should have been in touch with me the moment you landed at Kennedy. Reported back.”
    â€œSorry. I was tired. Didn’t think. I would have called you in the morning.”
    â€œVery unlike you.”
    â€œSo, sue me …”
    â€œCornelia, you’ve fucked up.”
    â€œHave I?”
    He snorted on the other end of the line.
    â€œHow?” But Cornelia knew. She’d broken one of the basic rules. Leave no witnesses.
    â€œYou know very well what you’ve done, girl. I’m disappointed with you, really.”
    It had been barely 24 hours since the hit. How could they have known? Was there someone else at the Paris club, observing, checking matters out?
    â€œWhy did you spare the other woman?” Ivan continued. “You know it’s not on. And don’t go telling me you took pity on her. There’s no place for sentiment in this business. You of all people know that.”
    â€œIt just happened, Ivan.”
    â€œWell, the shit has hit the fan, my dear.”
    â€œLet me guess: the doorman reported back?”
    â€œNo matter how it happened, Cornelia. I’m having bad pressure applied. The customers are furious …”
    â€œEven if the girl talks, to the French police or whoever,” Cornelia protested. “Worst possible case, all she can do is describe me. There is no open connection to you or your principals.”
    â€œThat’s not the way they see it, I’m afraid,” Ivan said.
    â€œI’m sorry, Ivan. I’ve let you down. I’ll forego the payment and reimburse the expenses. And the cost of the Sig Sauer, which right now is at the bottom of the Seine. It was disposed of soon after the job, I threw it from a bridge. It won’t be found.”
    â€œThat’s just not good enough.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œNot only did you let the girl go, but she is thought to have then taken some documents from the hit’s apartment. She has to be found.”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYou’re the only one who really knows what she looks like. She hadn’t been introduced yet to the man’s associates, so apart from the doorman at the club who only caught a quick glimpse of her, no one else can now recognise her.”
    â€œOh, Ivan …” she began to plead.
    â€œGo back. Eliminate her.”
    â€œA tall order …” Cornelia said.
    â€œYou’ve always been resourceful. Anyway, you have no choice. You messed it up and I’ve been instructed to the effect that if the young girl is not found and those documents retrieved within ten days at most, it’s you who might have to pay the price. I’m sorry.”
    â€œWho are these principals of yours?”
    â€œYou know I can’t tell you that, even more so in the present circumstances.”
    â€œIt would help to know a little. Might explain who she is and where I should be looking out for her …”
    â€œI don’t even know that, Cornelia, you realise. And there is no way I can ask. You know how it works: every link in the chain must remain just a voice on the