‘This one is a Lamborghini Miura. A mid-engine supercar.’ He waved his hand at the nearest car, and beamed. I decided to humour Seraphim in all this, to get him in a good frame of mind.
‘Metallic green,’ I said, ‘with tan leather seats. Very stylish.’
‘Now take a look at this one,’ he said.
‘Wow. The Porsche 911.’
‘Magic! Special order Lava Orange.’
I looked inside at the black leather interior with orange stitching and seat belts.
‘This beauty has a 7-speed PDK transmission.’
‘And a switchable sports exhaust system?’
‘Of course.’
‘Impressive,’ I said.
We walked around to the silver Mercedes SL 300 Gullwing. It was beautiful. He put his hand into his pocket and pressed a fob, the lights flashed and he opened the doors on both sides, asking me to step back as if it were about to explode.
‘Now, look at it,’ he said. ‘Didn’t I tell you? Doesn’t it look like it’s about to fly?’
‘Higher than an eagle. This is a car dreams are made of.’
He smiled in the way he had when he was a boy, after he killed Batman.
‘Now the ice will be melting.’
‘The ice?’
‘Our whiskies. We almost forgot them.’ He closed the doors of the car and clicked the fob in his pocket to lock it.
‘I want to talk about Nisha.’
‘Sure,’ he paused, waiting. When I stayed silent, he said, ‘Go ahead.’
‘She came to see you the night she vanished?’
‘She didn’t arrive.’
His evasiveness was making my blood boil. He was playing with me. ‘But she’d arranged to meet you?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes remained fixed on mine.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this, when I asked you this three days ago?’
‘She’s got guts, your girl, I’ll tell you that. She called me, said she’d got my number from you. Said she needed to speak to me about you – she wanted me to let you go. I told her, of course, that that wasn’t possible and reminded her kindly to mind her own business. That this was not the kind of thing she should be getting involved with, that she’d get herself into trouble. She insisted – she doesn’t give up, your girl, I’ll tell you that. She said she had something to offer me that I wouldn’t be able to refuse.’
‘What?’
‘I have no idea. She never showed. She was meant to meet me at Maria’s late that night. I waited. She never showed. I didn’t mention it because your loyalty to us is solid, is it not? I didn’t want to open up a pointless conversation, you know what I mean? I expect your girl will turn up in no time.’ Before I could say anything, he waved his hand and smiled like nothing fazed him. ‘Now, which is your favourite car?’ he asked.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Which of these three cars do you most admire?’
‘I don’t have a preference’ I said.
‘Choose one, will you?’
‘The Gullwing.’
‘It’s yours.’
I remained silent.
‘Stunned, huh? Never thought you’d be in possession of such a beautiful specimen? Now look, if you exceed your target before the end of the season, it’s yours.’
‘I don’t want your car,’ I said.
‘Consider it yours already. You’ve never let me down.’
‘Seraphim,’ I said, fixing my eyes on his, ‘I’m telling you now that I don’t want your car. Or any other reward, for that matter.’
‘I see,’ he said, nodding, and I saw a slight twitch beneath his right eye.
I glanced at my watch.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I said.
‘There’s whisky and snacks,’ he said, but I told him that I had to get going. I needed to get out of there.
*
When I got back to the neighbourhood, it was just past midnight. I was about to go upstairs to my apartment, but something stopped me. I looked about the street almost as if I could see Nisha’s footsteps, as if she’d left prints in the sand for me to follow, or crumbs for a little bird. I started walking down the street. This is the way she would have gone, heading toward Maria’s.
Silver moths flew below the street lamps. Theo was just closing up for the night. He lifted his arm to greet me; I nodded. I watched the road ahead, imagined her walking. What had she been wearing? Would she have held a handbag? Hair up or down? Why hadn’t I asked Spyros? I painted a picture of her for myself. Nisha in jeans and an orange jumper, the one with the sunflower on the front. She was wearing her new black trainers, the ones Petra had bought her. Hair in a ponytail. She was concerned, serious, on a mission to sort my life out. I saw her walking ahead of me, turning right onto the street where I had seen Spyros; the street lined with lemon trees where corrugated metal sheets spilt the island in two. There weeds grow. There is a dead apple tree. There is a row of mostly abandoned shops and workshops, shutters always drawn, doors bolted, some don’t have doors or front walls – they were once cloth and carpet stores; some sold copper, and now they are empty.