Did he follow me to the agent? Is he shadowing my movements?
I don’t like the thought of that.
I try to step around him, but he puts a hand on my shoulder and says
in Italian: "Wait, woman. I have another message for you." This time he
drops the ‘ Lei ’ and instead uses the familiar ‘ tu’.
My first instinct is to floor him. Nobody touches me on the shoulders
without my consent. But then I think better of it. I might as well listen to
what he has to say. I will learn more that way than by letting my rightful
anger teach him a lesson. So, I wait, facing him.
"It seems that you did not take my first message seriously. It’s now
three days and I have not seen you take any steps to cough up that money.
It’s only another three days till Friday. You would not want to have any
of your relatives come to harm, would you?"
"Signore, do not give me the ‘ tu ’ and do not dare to touch any of them,
I warn you."
"It is all up to you." He actually switches back to the formal ‘ Lei ’.
"Two million pounds. Three more days. I am not kidding." With that he
turns and crosses the street to the railway station.
My father’s family are the only relatives in England. The girls! A
shiver runs up my spine. They are really in danger. It isn’t simply my
florid imagination. I have to warn my father again.
Then it occurs to me that the mafioso must have followed me last
Saturday evening when I went to warn my father, or possibly earlier when
I went to visit the girls. I inadvertently revealed where they live. I can’t
think of any other way that guy could have found out. Nobody at Lewis
knows where they live. My father has an unlisted telephone number. Gary
is the only one of my acquaintances who has met him, and I doubt that the
guy obtained that information from him.
The moment I’m back home, I call my father’s office. He is away for
the day and is only expected to be back later tomorrow. I wonder if this
means that he took Lucy and the girls to her parents in Wales. So I call
Lucy. My heart sinks when she answers. She tells me that dad is at a
meeting in Glasgow and will only fly back tomorrow noon.
I don’t let slip anything about the renewed threat by the Mafia guy. It
would only upset Lucy unnecessarily, nor can she do anything about it.
I have to be the one protecting them until I manage to convince my father
to take the threat seriously. I figure that the girls are most vulnerable on
their way to and from school. Lucy usually accompanies them and picks
them up again, but occasionally, especially on nice days, Susan, the older
one, picks up Clara and takes her home. It is only three blocks through
roads with little traffic. At home, they are relatively safe, I reason. Lucy
doesn’t let them out into the street. In the garden, Jack, their golden
retriever will protect them. He is a good guard dog. I see no other
alternative but to be their guard to and from school even if it cuts into my
efforts to find the real culprits of the scam.
Tuesday, 2:50 p.m.
I’m waiting in the shadow of a tree, opposite the school gate, observing
the street, particularly parked cars. I’m in my running outfit, big
sunglasses, my hair hidden under a white cap. I reckon that the Mafia guy
hadn’t shadowed me when I went for a run at seven in the morning. So he
won’t recognize me, nor does he have a reason to suspect me being at the
school.
This time I’ve taken precautions to come to South Kensington. Not
only did I leave the apartment building by a back door, but rather than
take the Circle line from Bayswater directly to the Gloucester Street
station, I changed to the Central at Notting Hill Gate, at Bond Street to the
Jubilee and one station later to the Piccadilly line. All the time I
unobtrusively scanned the people around me for a possible shadow. Once
I even intentionally entered a carriage and, just as the doors closed, forced
my way out again. I saw nobody suspect. I got out at Gloucester Road,
pretty
I don’t like the thought of that.
I try to step around him, but he puts a hand on my shoulder and says
in Italian: "Wait, woman. I have another message for you." This time he
drops the ‘ Lei ’ and instead uses the familiar ‘ tu’.
My first instinct is to floor him. Nobody touches me on the shoulders
without my consent. But then I think better of it. I might as well listen to
what he has to say. I will learn more that way than by letting my rightful
anger teach him a lesson. So, I wait, facing him.
"It seems that you did not take my first message seriously. It’s now
three days and I have not seen you take any steps to cough up that money.
It’s only another three days till Friday. You would not want to have any
of your relatives come to harm, would you?"
"Signore, do not give me the ‘ tu ’ and do not dare to touch any of them,
I warn you."
"It is all up to you." He actually switches back to the formal ‘ Lei ’.
"Two million pounds. Three more days. I am not kidding." With that he
turns and crosses the street to the railway station.
My father’s family are the only relatives in England. The girls! A
shiver runs up my spine. They are really in danger. It isn’t simply my
florid imagination. I have to warn my father again.
Then it occurs to me that the mafioso must have followed me last
Saturday evening when I went to warn my father, or possibly earlier when
I went to visit the girls. I inadvertently revealed where they live. I can’t
think of any other way that guy could have found out. Nobody at Lewis
knows where they live. My father has an unlisted telephone number. Gary
is the only one of my acquaintances who has met him, and I doubt that the
guy obtained that information from him.
The moment I’m back home, I call my father’s office. He is away for
the day and is only expected to be back later tomorrow. I wonder if this
means that he took Lucy and the girls to her parents in Wales. So I call
Lucy. My heart sinks when she answers. She tells me that dad is at a
meeting in Glasgow and will only fly back tomorrow noon.
I don’t let slip anything about the renewed threat by the Mafia guy. It
would only upset Lucy unnecessarily, nor can she do anything about it.
I have to be the one protecting them until I manage to convince my father
to take the threat seriously. I figure that the girls are most vulnerable on
their way to and from school. Lucy usually accompanies them and picks
them up again, but occasionally, especially on nice days, Susan, the older
one, picks up Clara and takes her home. It is only three blocks through
roads with little traffic. At home, they are relatively safe, I reason. Lucy
doesn’t let them out into the street. In the garden, Jack, their golden
retriever will protect them. He is a good guard dog. I see no other
alternative but to be their guard to and from school even if it cuts into my
efforts to find the real culprits of the scam.
Tuesday, 2:50 p.m.
I’m waiting in the shadow of a tree, opposite the school gate, observing
the street, particularly parked cars. I’m in my running outfit, big
sunglasses, my hair hidden under a white cap. I reckon that the Mafia guy
hadn’t shadowed me when I went for a run at seven in the morning. So he
won’t recognize me, nor does he have a reason to suspect me being at the
school.
This time I’ve taken precautions to come to South Kensington. Not
only did I leave the apartment building by a back door, but rather than
take the Circle line from Bayswater directly to the Gloucester Street
station, I changed to the Central at Notting Hill Gate, at Bond Street to the
Jubilee and one station later to the Piccadilly line. All the time I
unobtrusively scanned the people around me for a possible shadow. Once
I even intentionally entered a carriage and, just as the doors closed, forced
my way out again. I saw nobody suspect. I got out at Gloucester Road,
pretty
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