David Trevellyan 03 -More Harm Than Good (15 page)

       
“OK. But would the
burglars know that?”

       
“If they’d done their homework,
they might.”

       
“What about when it’s in
transit?”

       
“Between sites? It’d
definitely be more vulnerable then.”

       
“Maybe that was the
idea, then. To make you move it, and snatch it on the road.”

       
“Maybe. But if that was
the plan, it failed. We haven’t moved it.”

       
“What about after the
inventory, tomorrow?”

       
“I can’t see any need to
move it then, either. Unless - I suppose it’d depend more on the prognosis for
repairing the door. If that has to be taken out of service...”

       
“If that happens, we
should go with whoever moves the canisters. If I was going to steal them,
that’s when I’d do it.”

       
“We can’t ride in the
hazmat truck. You’ll love this - procedures. But I could arrange extra escorts.
And it’s unorthodox, but we could follow in a separate vehicle.”

Melissa stuck her tongue out at me, took the last of my fries, and
then nodded to the waitress to clear our plates. She came over straight away,
and I noticed the city boys leering at her as she leaned over the table. The
clientele had changed during the course of the evening – office workers
stopping in for a quick drink on the way home had given way to people getting
fueled up on their way out to the local clubs – and the atmosphere in the
place had changed with them. I looked at my watch. It was pushing ten o’clock.

       
“Do you want to get
another drink here?” I said. “Or shall we try somewhere else?”

       
“Actually, would you
mind if we called it a night?” Melissa said. “Tomorrow’s going to be fraught,
no doubt.”

       
“That works for me,” I
said.

       
“I need to quickly
powder my nose, then what? Meet by the door?”

       
“Deal.”

The city boys watched Melissa wriggle into her coat, and their eyes
followed her as she made her way across the room. They exchanged a glance,
nodded, and slid down from the their stools. The guy who’d approached Melissa
earlier counted out eight notes - presumably fifties - and threw them down on
the bar next to his glass. It still was half full. The other guy had a final
try at draining the last drops of champagne from his,
then
they set off together. They both gazed at the sign to the women’s bathroom, but
kept going towards the exit, slightly unsteady on their feet. I watched till
they were safely outside, and kept an eye open in case they came back in.

       
When Melissa was ready I
held the door so she could go through first, but as soon as her feet reached
the pavement she stopped moving. I came up alongside her, and could immediately
see why. It was the two city boys. They were standing five feet in front of
her, leaning against the wall. The one who’d spoken to Melissa was smoking a
cigarette. The four of us stayed still for a moment. No one spoke. Then the guy
levered himself upright and stepped forward, blocking our path. I’d guess he
was bang-on six feet tall. He had a mop of blond hair, all unruly curls, which
didn’t blend well with his conservative charcoal grey suit, white shirt, and
striped tie. And it was picking up an orange hue from the streetlights, which
made him look like a clown.

       
The guy took another
drag on his cigarette,
then
flicked the butt at my
right foot. It
missed,
sending a little shower of
sparks dancing across the pavement.

       
“There’s nothing quite
like trying to be cool, but falling a little short, is there?” I said.

       
The guy glared at me,
then turned his attention to Melissa.

       
“My ear’s a little
sore,” he said.

       
“Why?” she said. “Did
you feel a little prick when I grabbed it?”

       
The guy’s eyes narrowed
a touch.

       
“I was thinking,” he
said. “Maybe you want to kiss it better.”

       
“That’s fascinating,”
she said. “Do you seriously think there are any circumstances in which I’d want
to kiss a part of you?”

       
“Well, you better think
of some circumstances, you bitch. It’s time to pucker up, and let me see you’re
sorry. You’ve got thirty seconds.”

       
“Oh, really? And if I
don’t?”

       
“If you don’t, I’m going
to beat your boyfriend’s brains out on the pavement.”

       
“That’s going to be a
little tricky, you know.”

       
“I don’t think so,” the
guy said, looking me in the eye.

       
I smiled back at him.

       
“In fact, it would be
impossible,” she said. “Because I don’t have a boyfriend.”

       
Melissa shifted her
position, readying herself, and the back of her left hand brushed against mine.
I felt the hairs on my arm stand up all the way to my elbow.

       
“I’m talking about him,”
the guy said, nodding towards me.

       
“Him?” Melissa said.
“You’re threatening to beat his brains out? Oh dear.”

       
“It’s not a threat,” he
said. “It’s a promise.”

       
Melissa had to stifle a
laugh.

       
“David?” she said. “How
do you want to handle this? I’ve had a nice evening, up to now. I don’t want to
end up dealing with the police again.”

       
“There may be no way
around the police,” I said. “Let me just check my understanding of the
situation. This guy’s offered to beat my brains out. Is that right?”

       
“It is. I heard him.”

       
“And you confirm that?” I
said to the guy.

       
He nodded a little half
heartedly, and I saw that confusion was starting to replace the anger on his
face.

       
“OK,” I said. “I accept
your offer. Which means we just need one more thing.”

       
I reached into my
pocket, pulled out a handful of coins, and selected a penny piece. Then I
reached out and dropped it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

       
“Hey,” he said. “What
are you doing?”

       
“It’s called a
consideration,” I said. “It’s a legal term. You haven’t heard of it?”

       
The guy looked blank.

       
“It means a form of
payment,” I said. “You need an offer. An acceptance.
And a
consideration.
Take those three things, and do you know what you have?”

       
He didn’t reply.

       
“A contract,” I said.
“Legally binding, under English common law. So. Come on. Time to deliver.”

       
He didn’t move.

       
“Thirty seconds,” I
said. “That’s the timeframe you promised, just now? Which means you have thirty
seconds to beat my brains out, if my friend doesn’t kiss you. Otherwise, you’re
in breach of contract. And I don’t know about you, but I take breaches of
contract very seriously.”

       
I held my left wrist out
in front of me, pulled back my sleeve, and looked at my watch.
Or at least pretended to.
I was actually counting the
seconds in my head, and focusing all my attention on the guy.

       
He did nothing.

       
I gave him an extra ten
seconds, but he still didn’t react.

       
“OK,” I said. “That’s
it. You’re in default. Time to make the call.”

       
I pulled my phone out of
my pocket, dialed three consecutive nines,
then
looked
the guy straight in the eye.
And paused without hitting the
green button.

       
“Although, we do have
one alternative,” I said. “We could think about an alternative form of
penalty.”

       
The guy stepped back
towards his friend.

       
“Stop,” I said. “I’m not
going to hurt you. But I want to know how much money you’ve got in your
wallet.”

       
He didn’t answer.

       
“How much?” I said.

       
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Three hundred.
Four, maybe.
Plus credit cards.”

       
“I don’t want the cards.
Just the cash.
Give it to me. Now.”

       
The guy reached into his
jacket and produced a shiny, black leather wallet. He opened it, took out a fat
wad of notes, and handed it to me.

       
“Good,” I said, putting
my phone away. “I’ll consider that the first installment. Any time I see you in
the
future,
you’re going to give me the same amount
again. Understand?”

       
The guy nodded.

       
“Now leave,” I said.
“And take your friend with you. I’m sick of looking at you.”

       
We watched them all the
way to the end of the street, and when they turned the corner Melissa set off
in the opposite direction.

       
“You coming?” she said.

       
I had to pick up the
pace to keep up with her.

       
“I have to ask, David,
mugging someone?” she said after we’d covered fifty yards in silence. “After
everything you spouted off about in the garden? Was that all lies? Or have you
switched sides? Honestly, I’m a little shocked.”

       
“Mugging that little
weasel? Is that what you thought I was doing?”

       
“Wasn’t it? You
threatened him. And you took his money. That sounds pretty textbook, to me.”

       
“I took his money, yes.
But not for myself.
I’m going to give it to the first
homeless person I see.”

       
“Seriously?”

       
“Absolutely.”

       
She slowed down a
little.

       
“David, stealing from
the rich and giving to the poor – that’s not your job,” she said. “In
fact, that’s not anybody’s job.”

       
“Well, it should be
someone’s job,” I said. “You saw how that guy behaved. Do you think it’s OK to
treat people that way? To take whatever – or whoever – you want,
just because you’re rich?”

       
“Of course not.”

       
“The guy was a bully. Someone
needed to stop him. Or else why would he think twice, next time?”

       
“And you were the person
to do that?”

       
“Yes.”

       
“Why?”

       
“Because I was there.
And it was the right thing to do.”

       
“But who gave you the
right to decide?”

       
“You don’t think I did
the right thing? You think I should have sent him to the hospital, instead?”

       
“No.”

       
“Look, I let him walk
away. I saved the country the cost of an ambulance and a hospital bed. I made
it so that Christmas is coming early for some tramp, tonight. And do you know
why?”

       
“You have a soft spot
for tramps?”

       
“No. Because you told me
to.”

       
“Wait. Let me think. No.
It’s as I thought. I did no such thing.”

       
“You did.
Back at the hospital.
After I finished ‘spouting off’ in the
garden. Remember?”

       
“I told you we had to
find a balance,” she said, after a moment’s thought.

       
“Exactly,” I said. “And
that’s as balanced as it’s going to get.”

Chapter Twelve

I usually fall asleep within seconds of my head touching the pillow,
but that night my eyes would not stay closed. I lay awake for two hours, and
even after I dozed off, I only slept fitfully. I couldn’t stop dreaming. A
woman was in most of them. A Navy Intelligence Liaison Officer. We’d been close
from the moment our paths first crossed in Madrid, then again in Morocco, and
more recently in New York. So when Melissa appeared next to my bed –
fully dressed, and with no sign of the wheelchair – I thought for a
moment she’d taken her place. Then she reached out and shook me by the
shoulder, and I knew it was no dream.