Monday morning Paolo was in the office just before Tony.
“Why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone?” demanded Tony.
“I lost it. Had to buy a cheapo.”
“Well why the fuck didn’t you answer that one?”
“Security!” was all Paolo said, very cheekily and perhaps unwisely tapping the side of his nose. But he wasn’t concerned. He’d done a good job, on time, and felt buoyed up by that.
“So he’s dead, bastard Flaherty’s dead?”
“He sure is. Cut his neck!”
“Knife? Tony queried.
“Knife!” Paolo confirmed.
“So where’s my gun?”
“Threw it in the Thames. Security!” Paolo lied.