The Payback Read Free Page B

O’Riordan – whoever he was – wasn’t expecting anything, it was possible he was an innocent man. That, or a foolish one. Either way, it unnerved me a little that right now he was going about his daily business unaware that two people were discussing the mechanics of his murder a thousand miles away.
    ‘What’s his background?’ I asked.
    ‘He’s a journalist for the
Manila Post
.’
    ‘Someone must really dislike his work.’
    Schagel smiled. ‘Someone does. Did you know that more journalists are murdered in the Philippines than in any other country in the world?’
    ‘I didn’t,’ I said, although it didn’t surprise me. In my experience, the Philippines was a lawless, corrupt place where people from all backgrounds tended to use the gun as a first rather than a last resort.
    ‘Mr O’Riordan lives with his wife in the city. The client only wants him targeted, but if the wife gets in the way …’ Schagel shrugged hisshoulders, and his outsized head seemed to sink into them. ‘Then you will need to get rid of her too.’
    My face showed no reaction to his casually callous tone, but by the way he was looking at me I could tell he was watching for one. Testing whether or not I could be relied upon to put a bullet into the woman if she got in the way.
    I asked him what the pay was.
    ‘The remuneration for this particular job is seventy-five thousand US dollars, payable at the end of the task in the usual manner.’
    The usual manner was in the form of a deposit paid by a Hong Kong-registered shell company into the numbered Panama-based bank account that Schagel had set up for me three years earlier. I would then move it to an account that I held with the Bangkok Bank (also set up by Schagel), and from there I could send money transfers as and when I needed them to a local Laotian bank. The sizes of the payments made were never enough to bother the authorities, and although it was plenty of hassle, it was a hell of a lot less suspicious than carrying large amounts of cash around between countries.
    Schagel puffed lordly on his cigar. ‘In Manila, you’ll be supplied with an unused gun with a suppressor attached. Use that. The client would prefer O’Riordan to be targeted in his own home, and that when you have dealt with him, you set fire to the place.’
    I nodded to signify that this was OK, even though it meant that I was almost certainly going to have to kill his wife too – a task that filled me with a hypocritical distaste.
    ‘The only stipulation with this job is that it has to be done fast. Very fast. I have already booked you on the Cathay Pacific flight tonight at ten p.m. Your flight home is open-ended, but the client wants him dead by two p.m. local time tomorrow. That’s why the pay is higher than usual.’
    ‘There’s no way I can guarantee that, Mr Schagel. I don’t like hurrying these kinds of jobs. You know that. Too many things can go wrong.’
    ‘And that’s why the client came to me. Because he wants a professional to do it. Someone who can act swiftly and decisively.’ He waved the stub of his cigar at me. ‘You have proved many times that you are this kind of professional, Dennis. So do this task for me. O’Riordan has to die by two p.m. tomorrow, otherwise the job is off and I am left looking bad.’
    I started to say something but he put up a hand, signifying that it wasn’t up for discussion, and I knew better than to try. He motioned towards the envelope in my hand. ‘There’s also a phone in there. In the notes section, you will find Mr O’Riordan’s home and work addresses, and several of the establishments he frequents in the area.’
    ‘What if he isn’t in the city?’ I asked, rummaging inside and pulling out a new iPhone.
    ‘I am reliably informed he will be.’
    It seemed Schagel’s client knew a lot about the man he wanted killed, but that suited me fine. It made things a lot easier.
    ‘There’s also a pre-programmed telephone number on there for