The Pure

Nobody else’s.’
    ‘We’ll have the same interests. I’ll pay you well.’
    ‘You Americans think you can buy anything.’
    ‘You might be growing some good shit, but you’re not exactly a high-flyer, Adam.’
    ‘Call me Uzi, OK?’
    ‘You’re a nothing as Uzi, and you’re a nothing as Adam. A double nothing. How much are you making, five hundred a week? Work for me and you’ll be living in luxury.’
    ‘I don’t give a shit about luxury. I need to keep my head low. If I attract attention to myself, it could be dangerous.’
    ‘Luxury can be discreet. The highest form of luxury always is. Look, I’m only going to say this once. I’ll pay all your expenses. I’ll deposit four thousand pounds a month into a bank account of your choice. And you’ll have protection from those Poles.’
    ‘I don’t need your protection.’
    ‘Sure.’
    There was a pause. One song stopped, and in the interval before the next one began, rain could be heard pattering on the roof. The Maybach cruised through the waterlogged streets of London, devouring the road. Liberty nodded gently to the music, drinking Pernod through her straw and looking out the window at the rain. Uzi stubbed out his cigarette. Then he poured himself another vodka and drank it.
    ‘What makes you think I’d accept?’ he said at last.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I don’t know who the fuck you are. You send four gorillas to pick me up in a club. You want me to work with you, but we’ve never met, really. It doesn’t add up.’
    ‘I have nothing to worry about,’ said Liberty. ‘I’ll be paying you more money than you could possibly get anywhere else. That tends to ensure loyalty. And like I said, I’ve seen your profile. I think we’re the same.’
    ‘You haven’t answered the question. What makes you think I’d accept?’
    She leaned closer. ‘Two reasons. One, you’ve got nothing to lose. Two, you’ve got everything to gain.’
    ‘Well, you’re wrong,’ said Uzi. ‘I work for myself, nobody else. I’m surprised your CIA contacts didn’t tell you that. And anyway, if my government found out I was working with an ex-CIA operative, they’d fuck me.’
    ‘They wouldn’t. You’re not working for them any more, remember? And I’m no longer CIA. Anyway, America and Israel are the best of friends.’
    ‘You think?’ said Uzi bitterly.
    For a moment they stared at each other. At last, Liberty spoke. ‘All right, leave it. Would you like another drink?’
    ‘Give me one for the road and drive me back to the club,’ said Uzi. ‘You’ve taken up enough of my time tonight.’
    Half an hour later he was standing alone, on the rain-washed pavement, his right hand under his arm, fingering the handle of his Glock as he watched the Maybach roar away into the darkness. In his left hand was a business card with nothing but a mobile number printed in black across the middle. He had no intention of calling the number. He put it in his pocket and took shelter under an awning to smoke a cigarette. Then he made his way back into the club.

 
15
    The following morning Uzi awoke, terrified, from a dream that he couldn’t remember. His mouth was moistureless and his tongue felt like a slab of wood. For a while he spoke to the Kol, under his breath. As usual, he was told to believe in himself. He smoked a spliff and took two aspirins with a large glass of salted water and lemon, a hangover cure he had picked up in Russia. Then, late for work, he caught the bus to Hendon.
    All morning he thought of nothing but Liberty. Her proposal added up perfectly. They were the same, she and him. He knew that he would be an asset to her business, that with his help it would grow. But working with a partner always meant uncertainty, and uncertainty always meant danger, particularly without an organisation to fall back on. And if he was seen to be consorting with an ex-CIA operative, there would be nothing his horses – or what was left of them – could do. The Office was renowned for jealously guarding its assets and intelligence, and would act ruthlessly to protect it. He had seen it happen before. He would be done for. This was what he pondered as he sat in the shed, lifting the barrier occasionally for a teacher or parent or caretaker. But there was another reason not to get involved with Liberty, one that he felt in his gut. The way her proposal added up was just a little too perfect, and the way she had come into his life just a little too