Costa del Sol, a lone shark swimming through the human seas in the south of Spain, has realised that not one but two people were involved in a recent high-profile mid-air robbery.
Jack Levy was sitting outside Malaga cathedral with his wife when his phone rang. It was Mr Rabinovich. “Where are ya, ya big mutt?” Levy cried.
“Torre del Mar,” came the voice of his trusted bodyguard, reading a sign. Outside the call-box the beach was busy, children eating ice-cream under the blue-striped lighthouse as a plane trailing an advert droned downcoast.
“Tell me you´ve got the ring?”
“No, Mr Levy. I make a strong landing. I lose mind in landing for a few minutes.”
“You get that little…?” Levy cursed despite himself. He looked up at the bell-tower and rolled his eyes; waved at his worried wife and blew her a kiss.It´s fine, it´s fine.
“No, Mr Levy. They get away. But you don´t worry. I know this place. I work here many times. I find ring. I find ring, bring bad person back.”
“No! You find ring and you kill ´em. You hear me? You find my ring and you…”
As Mr Rabinovich held the receiver away from his ear, Costa del Sol steered his noisy moped around the roundabout behind the call-box, drawing to a halt at a kiosk whose plump owner was sitting outside on a deckchair.
“Looking for Michelangelo,” Costa tried, putting on his best Andalusian accent. It was the fifth time he´d asked the question in an hour.
“Si, si. Straight down there, past the fairground. It´s the last block on the right,” came the answer. Costa felt a surge of power light him up like Christmas.
“Jo´! ¿Que calorhace, eh?” said the big man, mopping his brow.My God, it´s hot, eh?
“Oh, yes,” Costa replied, snapping down his visor. “Hot indeed.”
Costa didn´t notice Mr Rabinovich staring at him as he drove off.