Read The Midas Murders for Free Online Page B

His opening move had been ill chosen. He had fucked up.
    â€œI presume you’re familiar with my dossier.”
    Lonneville folded his hands and rested them dramatically on the edge of his desk.
    â€œEh … I’m afraid not, Mr. Van In.”
    Jackal. You know damn well why I’m here, Van In thought to himself. People in positions of power love to play cat-and-mouse games. The victim has to explain his own miserable situation. He was familiar with the technique from his police work.
    â€œI’m five months behind with my mortgage payments, and I received this letter this morning.”
    Lonneville took the letter and quickly ran his eyes over it.
    â€œFive months,” he said nonchalantly. “Surely not a problem for a man in your position.”
    He referred unashamedly to the more-than-ample monthly salary that was surely paid to an assistant police commissioner.
    â€œI still can’t pay. I need more time.”
    Lonneville sighed like a schoolteacher realizing that his best pupil had managed to get half the questions wrong.
    â€œIs that so, Mr. Van In? Of course, it doesn’t make the problem any simpler. If you ask me, the letter is crystal-clear.”
    â€œI need more time,” Van In repeatedly obstinately. “Or a bridging loan.”
    â€œMore time, Commissioner? Five months is more than a bank can allow itself. Demands are usually sent out after three months.”
    â€œThat’s why I want a bridging loan, or a second mortgage. I don’t care which, as long as you keep your hands off my house.”
    Lonneville seemed aggrieved. His red cheeks were a perfect reflection of Van In’s financial straits.
    Van In jumped when a printer in the room next door suddenly whirred into action. The dividing door was ajar, and he caught sight of a skinny man with a hefty dossier under his arm. He looked familiar.
    â€œSo you need more time. Did you have a deadline in mind?” Lonneville sneered. “Is there someone who might act as a guarantor? Family? Friends?”
    Lonneville pushed back his chair and rested his head against the leather headrest. According to Desmond Morris, this was a sign that the bank manager was distancing himself and considered the conversation pointless.
    â€œThe house is too important to me. My problem is temporary. Surely you can understand that?”
    â€œI understand you perfectly, Mr. Van In. But a bank isn’t a charity. Without an additional guarantor, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”
    Van In ran his fingers nervously through his hair. He didn’t have to feign the lump in his throat. “I love that house, for Christ’s sake,” he rasped. “I’ll be back on my feet within a year and the mortgage is 75% paid. I don’t understand why you can’t extend me some credit.”
    â€œA year deferment!” Lonneville brayed. “You can’t be serious! You have until April 1, Commissioner.”
    The date had already been fixed before Van In set foot in the man’s office. Lonneville liked to give the impression that he sympathized, but this two-week stay of execution was the best he could do.
    â€œAnd what if I don’t pay?”
    Lonneville’s expression turned to ice. “Then the house you love so much will be put up for public auction. I’m told it’s a magnificent edifice,” he added, just to rub it in. “I can imagine there will be no shortage of interested buyers.”
    Suppressed rage swirled in his head like a vortex of water disappearing into a drain. Van In saw himself punching the scheming bank rat in the face.
    â€œI’ve had enough, Mr. Lonneville.” He got to his feet, took a step forward, and placed both hands on the edge of Lonneville’s desk. The bank manager pressed his head deeper into the back of his chair.
    â€œCommissioner Van In….” he protested nervously.
    â€œJust one more question,