Page 2 of Perfect Strangers

‘How have you been this month? Safe? Well?’ asked Uri, an eyebrow raised.

Of all the dark souls in the correctional facility, Uri frightened him the most. His face was scarred and there was a tattoo of a dragon peeping out from beneath the collar of his prison-issue denim shirt, but Uri Kaskov was not your standard prison predator. Uri was educated, ambitious and more cold-blooded than anyone in the Pen. Which was why he had approached the Russian with a proposition. Uri could provide something he wanted – protection – and he could offer Uri something in return. The penitentiary was not so different from Wall Street – it was just one big trading floor.

‘Yes, I’m very well, thank you, Uri,’ he said.

Uri the Bear paused for a moment. His pockmarked face looked quizzical.

‘Then that means our deal is working. You remember how I agreed to protect you from those animals down there?’ He gestured to the floor below, where the black gangs roamed. ‘And from the scum up there?’ He pointed to the Bulls walking the gantry. ‘And, as I understood it, from the number of very wealthy people who wish you harm?’

He nodded back at Uri, remembering the first few weeks of his time at the correctional facility. It had been a time of fear. Not a day went by here without some episode of violence. Men were stabbed over a simple disagreement in the laundry. People were killed because of vendettas from the outside. And he knew that he could be next. Uri was right. Countless people hated him on the outside. Rich people, vengeful people. People who wanted to see him dead. And they could reach him inside the prison, because within these walls, everything was possible for a price.

‘Yes, of course, you have done a very good job, Uri. I have no complaints.’

‘Of course not. No, the complaint is on my side.’

He swallowed, glancing nervously at Uri’s bodyguards.

‘Complaint?’

‘The deal has been rather one-sided, don’t you think? I have delivered my part of the bargain: here you are, fit and healthy. But where is my money?’

‘Money is no good to you in here, Uri. When you get out . . .’

‘That might be sooner than we both expected.’

He looked at Uri. The Russian was inside for fifteen years for extortion and racketeering. The authorities couldn’t get him on any of the bigger charges, but he was still expected to do a decent stretch of time. So why was he getting out sooner? What deal had he pulled?

He felt the Russian’s strong hand on his shoulder again as they walked into the yard.

‘I want you to start making arrangements to transfer the money to a friend of mine,’ said Uri.

His heart was beating faster now. He hadn’t risen so high in the business world without being able to read people, and Uri’s manner was hostile, the squeezing fingers cruel. Yes, he was a brute, a gangster, but until today he had been respectful, jovial even. Something was wrong.

‘Well, that might take a while,’ he said. ‘I have to contact someone. He might be difficult to reach. I just need a little more time.’

Uri’s grip tightened.

‘You don’t have the money? Don’t tell me it’s like the rest of your empire. A mirage.’

‘Of course I have the money.’

‘Then I want it. Including the interest.’

‘What interest?’ he asked nervously.

Uri laughed.

‘We’ve heard you talking about how much money you have stashed away. Under the circumstances, I think the price of my protection just went up.’

He cursed himself. Sometimes he let his mouth run away with him. He had a fan club inside the facility, convicts who idolised him for what he had done, and sometimes it was hard not to bask in their worship and boast about his achievements.

‘Okay, so let’s talk,’ he said, trying to keep his voice even. ‘I just need to make a few phone calls. Give me some time.’

Uri had steered him past the baseball field, behind the bleachers out near the fence. A quiet part of the yard. The gun towers could see them – but would the guards be looking? It was a warm day, and a bead of sweat had begun to trail from his hairline down the back of his prison shirt. But despite the heat, he had gone suddenly cold.

Uri’s dark eyes were full of menace. ‘No more time. I want that money,’ he said, moving his hand slowly up the base of his neck. ‘I want it now.’

He felt his blood pumping in his ears, and his vision began to swim.