‘Let me tell you something about your client, Paolo. If he did pick Thierry Henry as his role model then it wasn’t working. Frankly he might just as well have picked Joey Barton or Mario Balotelli. The more I look into this kid’s life the more I begin to see how close to disaster he actually was.’
‘You’re exaggerating, surely.’
‘I don’t think so. Between you and me he was using drugs and prostitutes like his two middle names were Charlie Sheen. Bella dumped him because she found a sex toy under his bed. He bought a gun off some gangsters in one of the banlieues. He was clinically depressed and using happy pills. And now, on top of all that, you tell me he used to have a gambling problem. It seems to me that there are two Jérôme Dumas. Maybe three. There’s the Dumas who plays football for PSG and fancies himself as a man of the people and a bit of a street philosopher. Then there’s the guy who’s down with the gangs who likes hookers and dope and guns. And somewhere in between these two slices of bread is the advertising brand you were trying to turn him into. The black David Beckham. The face of a bank and an Italian fashion label. Talk about a false nine. This guy is the false nine to end all false nines.’
‘If you say so. But we’re all a mass of contradictions. This is the human condition. A hero on one day can be a villain the next. No human being can ever really hope to understand another, and no one can fathom another’s unhappiness. Heroes are no longer the simple men of old — the Bert Trautmanns and the Bobby Moores. Perhaps they never were. The world is not black and white, Scott. It’s always been black and grey. You sound surprised about that. And that surprises me.’
‘Clue me in here, Paolo. The kid’s disappeared. The cops on Antigua have looked all over the island. But there’s no trace of him. And no trace of him having left the island. Apparently he checked out of the hotel — a little earlier than scheduled — paid the bill by credit card, and left. Hasn’t been seen since. So where do you think he‘s gone?’
‘I really have no idea. But I assume that’s where you’re going next. To Antigua. I mean, that’s the logical place to begin your search in earnest.’
‘I leave tomorrow. I’m following the same route he took. Flying to London Gatwick and from there to Antigua. While I’m on my way down there maybe you can persuade FCB and PSG to change their minds about offering a reward for information as to Jérôme’s disappearance.’
‘There’s not a chance of that happening, Scott. This is commercially sensitive on all sorts of levels. I thought they made that clear already. I know I just did. Besides, the cops down there didn’t want us to offer a reward. They thought it would be counterproductive.’
I shrugged. ‘Can’t blame me for asking. It would certainly make things a lot easier.’
‘In which case they’d hardly be paying your ass a hundred grand a week to find him.’ He looked around. ‘You’re staying at the Jumby Bay, too? Like he did.’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s a great restaurant there. You should try it.’
‘I expect I will.’
‘And I should check out Guadeloupe while you’re down there. That’s where Jérôme was from, you know — before he went to live in Marseille with his mother — and it’s only a short plane ride south from Antigua. Or is it north? I can never remember.’
‘Antigua is north of Guadeloupe.’
‘It should be nice down there at this time of year. I would say have a nice time but I assume you’re going to be busy.’
‘It’s a real hardship, isn’t it? Going to the Caribbean in February. But someone’s got to do it.’
‘If anyone can solve this mystery, I’m sure it’s you.’ Paolo was silent for a moment and then frowned. ‘Maybe you can already tell me why he bought a gun. And from whom?’
‘He bought it from some punks who hang around the Alain Savary Sports Centre in Sevran. It’s one of these charming suburbs in northeast Paris. I was there this morning.’
‘Not dressed like that, I hope. Or wearing that gold watch.’
‘No. I went back to my hotel and changed before coming here.’
That was almost true.
‘The Alain Savary Centre is the one Jérôme was supposed to be putting money in. He was giving the local youth money, all right. But it wasn’t for footballs and sports kit. It was mainly for weed and blow. And the gun, of course. I don’t know why he wanted that, no. Not yet. I’m going to ask the lovely Bella when next I see her. Maybe she can tell me. That won’t exactly be a hardship, either. She’s very easy on the eye.’
Paolo Gentile’s brown eyes narrowed over the top of his wine glass; he took a sip, and then wagged a perfectly manicured finger at me. I’ll say one thing for Paolo, he’s probably the best-dressed man in football. GQ, look out.
‘What?’
‘Just make sure you keep your hands off her.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning that life is just like football; just different sets of tactics.’
‘And that means what, exactly?’
‘It means, my deliberately obtuse friend, don’t try and fuck her. She’s just a kid.’
‘Nonsense. This is a grown-up woman we’re talking about, Paolo. You make her sound like Lolita with a lollipop and a pout.’
‘Just stay out of her pretty little pants, sport.’
‘Why would you think that there was even half a chance of me getting in them?’
‘Because no one ever fucks these models. Everyone thinks they’re untouchable. Which means they’re anything but, of course. And don’t act so innocent about this. You’re a dog, Scott. That’s right. You’ve got a bit of form here, Scotty my friend.’
‘What are you talking about, form?’
‘For fucking other men’s wives. That’s what got you into trouble before, wasn’t it? When you were still at Arsenal? I mean, if you hadn’t been with that guy’s wife, you’d never have gone to prison, would you? So, learn your lesson well, my friend, and just make sure you just leave Bella Macchina alone.’
‘As far as I’m aware, Bella and Jérôme Dumas weren’t married. In fact, they broke up just before Christmas.’
‘Perhaps they did. But that’s irrelevant from where I’m sitting.’
‘Take my word for it, there’s a velvet rope around a girl like that.’
‘Is there? From what I heard she likes black guys. I’m telling you to make sure you’re not one of them.’
‘You know I hadn’t thought of trying to fuck her, Paolo. But now you’ve mentioned it...’ I grinned. ‘You’ve given me an idea here. Maybe no one is fucking her. Be a shame to let a nice white booty like that go to waste. Isn’t that what this is about? Maybe you just don’t like the idea of white women going with black men. Because believe me, the ship has already sailed on that particular vexed issue. Even in Italy.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with race. And everything to do with that boy’s commercial future. With her commercial future, too. She may not realise it yet but there’s a shelf-life for models, too. They’re both of them financially much stronger together than they are apart. I figure Jérôme will stand a much better chance of getting back with the lovely Bella if no one else is seeing her. And no one would certainly include you.’