Read Shadow of the Rock (Spike Sanguinetti) for Free Online Page B

motionless in his harness like a hanged man. ‘Does the mirror glass power the building?’ he asked.
    ‘It will do,’ Nadeer said, pressing his palms together. He smiled, eyes glittering like a tiger. ‘Have a seat, Mr Sanguinetti. Please.’
    Spike sat down on a stool opposite the desk, as Nadeer settled into a high-backed swivel chair. Spike caught a monogrammed flash of ‘NaZ’ on the lower left side of Nadeer’s shirt. He checked the cuffs of Nadeer’s blazer: the last button was undone, a subtle signal that the suit was bespoke.
    Nadeer clicked down an Apple laptop, planting his elbows on the desk and resting his narrow chin on interlaced knuckles. ‘So,’ he said, ‘how is he?’
    ‘Still in a state of shock.’
    He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. ‘It’s unbelievable. If there’s anything we can do. Anything.’ He opened them again, watching.
    ‘We’re going to fight extradition on human rights grounds,’ Spike said. ‘Article 5, Security of Person. We’ll argue it’s unsafe for a Jew to be held in custody in Tangiers.’
    ‘Would that my country were a signatory to the Convention.’
    ‘Gibraltar is. And so long as Solomon remains on Gibraltarian soil it applies.’
    Nadeer tapped a nail against a pearly front tooth. ‘You’d need proof of a genuine threat, of course.’
    ‘That’s why I’m here.’
    He canted his head. ‘Morocco is not Gibraltar, Mr Sanguinetti. It is perhaps a little less about what you can prove than who you know.’
    Spike glanced over to the picture of the King of Morocco; Nadeer followed his gaze. ‘Cup of tea?’
    ‘Not for me, thanks.’
    ‘No, no. I insist.’ He lifted the phone without pressing a button and murmured in Arabic. ‘All this sunshine,’ he said, cupping the receiver, ‘and I still miss England.’ He smiled and hung up. ‘The grey skies. The theatre. Annabel’s. Do you get to London much?’
    ‘Enough.’
    ‘And Gibraltar’s always been home?’
    ‘University and law school in London. Since then, yes.’
    ‘Doesn’t it get . . . claustrophobic? Same size as Hyde Park, I seem to recall.’
    ‘Minus the Rock.’
    ‘Ah yes, the Rock, the great symbol of –’
    A tap at the door mercy-killed the small talk as the receptionist teetered in with a silver tray. Nadeer remained seated as she lowered it onto his desk; he reached forward, raising the teapot lid, then dropping it with an icy clatter. Within the faint, rasping Arabic Spike recognised the words ‘Earl Grey’. The girl began to slide the tray backwards.
    ‘Mint tea’s fine.’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘I’ve come all this way so it’s a shame not to drink it.’
    Nadeer nodded and the girl crept away. Smiling flatly, he arced a caramel spout of liquid through the strainer into Spike’s cup. ‘Human rights grounds,’ he repeated as he poured a cup for himself. ‘I suppose I could have a word with our local governor. Though he might not welcome accusations of anti-Semitism.’
    ‘Nor global media coverage of a murdered Spanish girl on the beach.’
    Nadeer puffed on his tea.
    ‘Has there been much coverage of the death?’ Spike said.
    ‘Not thus far.’
    ‘Of course,’ Spike went on, blowing on his tea as well, ‘one good thing about the size of Gibraltar is there’s only one proper newspaper. The editor’s a close friend.’ He took a sip: sickly sweet, sugared in advance in the pot.
    ‘Too sweet for you?’
    ‘I like it that way.’
    ‘Have you got a business card, Mr Sanguinetti?’
    Spike put down his cup and reached for his wallet.
    ‘ “Somerset J. Sanguinetti”,’ Nadeer read aloud. ‘ “Barrister at Law”. Your people Italian?’
    ‘Genoese, originally.’
    ‘Escaping Napoleon?’
    ‘In 1798.’
    Nadeer turned the card over where the same information was written in Spanish. ‘You know,’ he said, tucking it beneath his phone, ‘we’re like blood brothers, Moroccans and Gibraltarians. Colonised. Oppressed. How many wars have you had against