Falling (21 page)
The light is coming from the main
office. I would have expected it to come from Charlie’s office. I make my way
towards the light. With a gentle push of the door I reveal Charlie scrabbling
around in one of the cupboards. His back is to me. I step in. At the same time I
pull a pen knife from my coat pocket. The blade is too small to inflict serious
damage. I’m not planning serious damage. It will have to do.
Charlie is still scrabbling
around in the cupboard when I walk up behind him. I place the tip of the blade
at the back of his neck.
‘Do as I say or I open your
fucking jugular.’
Charlie freezes. I tell him to
move towards the door. He obeys. I nudge him towards the lifts. He tries to
turn his head. I press the knife a little harder. Skin splits. A drop of blood
oozes out between blade and skin. I push him forward.
‘Simon?’
I use my free hand and smack him
across the back of the head. He shuts up. I note that his walk is stiff and
slow. The bandaging on his head is quite extensive. The result of Dumb and
Dumber’s intervention no doubt.
I kill the office light and note
that one of the lifts is moving. I usher Charlie back into the office.
We wait
There is a lot of lift movement
so the waiting goes on.
Once I’m sure the lifts are no
longer moving I force Charlie to move.
We descend in silence. The doors
open. I push Charlie to the floor. I force him to crawl until I’m sure we can’t
be seen by the girl in the Astra. I keep the knife tight to his neck. He is
struggling but I don’t care. I force him along the wall and into my car’s back
seat.
I notice that the transit doors
are open and that it is half full.
Once in the car I hand Karen the
knife. It looks tiny and ineffective in her hands. She tells me that the girl
and George are loading up the van.
We need to get out of here before
they return. Karen pushes the knife towards Charlie and he tries to talk. I
smack him again. In these situations you need to remind people who is in
charge.
I want to question him here. Ask
him where the documents are. To tear the bastard’s throat out. I take a breath
but I can’t risk George or the girl spotting us so I gun the car into life and
squeal my way out onto the lane.
My role of inquisitor is usurped
as Karen turns round and asks him about the documents. He blanks her. I nearly
drive the car into the lane wall as she lifts up my pen knife and slams it into
Charlie’s lap. Charlie screams like a stuck pig. It takes all my control to get
us onto the main road in one piece.
She asks about the documents
again but he is screaming too much to answer. She pulls the knife out, lifts it
up in the air and Charlie raises his arm. He shakes his head. She ignores him
and sends the knife into his other leg. Charlie’s vocal chords sound like they
are going to tear apart. He collapses into the well between the front and back
seats. He howls.
I tell Karen to ease up. She
tells me this is nothing to what will happen to us if we don’t clear up the
mess. I look round and see Charlie trying to make himself as small as he can in
the back seat. He is scrabbling at the door handle only to find that the
central locking is on.
Karen opens the glove box and
takes out the car manual. What the hell is she going to do now - teach Charlie
how to change a tyre? The manual sits inside a hard plastic protective shell. She
turns round, raises the manual high and brings it down on Charlie’s head. He
screams. It’s hard to tell if the scream is part of the on going screaming from
the knife wounds or as a result of the new assault.
This is a whole new side of Karen
I have never seen. Her eyes are on fire. I look away. This is turning me on.
She looks stunning when she is running in full anger mode. I could pull over
now. Make love right in the middle of the road. I smile. I look back at her.
She has no eyes for me as she reaches over into the back. She manhandles
Charlie into the seat.
I can see blood, lots of blood.
This is going to be no two hundred pound valet job when it comes.
She asks him about the documents
again. He says nothing. She slams the manual into the bandaged part of his
head. Screaming. More screaming. He howls for her to stop. He lets his mouth
run. He tells her that the documents are with George and some girl called Tina
back at our office. I tread deep on the brakes causing a virtual choir of horns
behind me to let loose.
I can’t U turn in the space so I
three point even though the road is busy with traffic. Under a storm of abuse I
force the car across the road, flip a v at the other drivers and reverse back,
clipping a Vauxhall Frontera on the back bumper. Before the driver can react I
accelerate away - no doubt with my number plate being memorised.
We are less than five minutes out
from the office. The one way system and the compulsory Glasgow lights make that
ten. By the time we race back into the underground car park the Astra is gone.
I notice that the Transit has gone as well. Karen curses like a good one and
smacks Charlie over the head with the car manual. Charlie simpers. He has a
hand over each leg - trying to stem the flow of blood. She asks him where the
girl lives. Three smacks later and it‘s clear that Charlie barely knows her.
She asks about George’s address. He has no idea.
I tell Karen to wait. I leap out
of the car. I shout I’ll be back in five minutes. The lift takes an age to get
to our floor. I burst from the lift doors before they are fully open. I rifle
the reception desk and find the emergency numbers. George’s home number is on
it. I scribble his number down. I think about phoning the number but George
won’t be back for a while, assuming he is planning to go home anytime soon. I
return to the car. I tell Karen what I have been doing. She tells me to give
her the number. She gets out the car and walks to the exit to get a signal on
the mobile.
When she comes back she throws me
a scribbled piece of paper with an east end Glasgow address on it. I ask how
she got it. She throws me a deaf ear and tells me to drive.
I aim for the alley to the sound
of Charlie losing fluid.
This is a mess.
I can see George in the rear view
mirror but I need to let him overtake. I have no idea if he is going home or
not. I pull over as we cross the city and he takes the lead in the van. We enter
George Square. In the centre there is a marquee being put up or taken down - it
is hard to tell. The City Chambers slide past and we head east along George
Street and onto Duke Street and into Dennistoun.
George lives on one of the
streets that fall from Duke St and before long we are outside his house. He
gets out and tells me to leave the car and jump in the van. A few seconds later
a man with the dress sense of a badly advised tramp gets in. I’m not introduced
and glare at George for the slight. However a few moments in the man’s company
and I don’t feel like I want to know his name. He smells of curry and soap and
badly needs a haircut and a shave.
His eyes spend a lot of time on
my cleavage and I take an instant dislike to him.
George heads off and we drive
along the main road for a couple of miles before we hang a right into a small
industrial estate. At the back of the estate are four rows of garage lock ups.
The friend tells George to pull up at the last-but-one on the third row and
gets out and opens the garage door. Inside is an Aladdin’s cave of miscellanea
- all wearing a badge that says ‘handle with tongs only’!
It takes us twenty minutes to
transfer the van’s contents into the garage. Money changes hands and we drop
the friend at the end of George’s street and I fail to say goodbye to Mr Khorma
and Dove.
George suggests a cup of tea and
I can’t think of a reason why not. He is in a far better mood now he has
divested himself of the van’s load. We drive back to his flat and walk up the
tenement stairs to the third floor.
I drift through an array of
emotions. Disgust at George’s revelations about the hooky merchandise,
trepidation at the thought of what may have happened to Charlie, fear at what
might happen to us, weariness at the pace of events and finally anger at being
mixed up in it all. The anger is a living thing as I enter the flat and begins
to stretch its muscles, much as it had done outside Starbucks. George vanishes
to make tea, leaving me to wrestle with my growing rage.
I walk to the large picture
window and look out on the street below. To my left is a primary school that
cuts across the road - dead ending it. George had told me that at one time
there was no school and the road flowed from Duke Street in the south to
Alexandra Parade in the north. To my right the view looks back on Duke Street.
The night is full on but in a few hours the sun will make its early summer rise
and suddenly my rage is gone and I feel tired, bone tired.
George returns with the tea and
we drink it in silence. He tries to bring up the subject of Charlie but my mind
can’t get beyond sleep. I suggest a couple of hour’s shuteye and then let’s see
how things look. I expect resistance but George looks shattered and agrees.
It is a funny time to sleep with
your boyfriend for the first time but there was no debate over the sleeping
arrangements. We simply slip off our clothes and climb into George’s double
bed. George yawns and I yawn and it is a funny time not to make love to your
boyfriend for the first time.
The blind man sits in the dark,
sipping a large glass of Glayva over ice. The sweet liquid coats his tongue and
the alcoholic kick is putting on its boots. An array of phones sit on the table
next to him and the PC is on standby - a single orange light flashing. He puffs
on an over sized cigar held in his left hand and in the dark a perfect ring of
smoke lazes its way to the ceiling.
He watches the glow from the end
of the cigar as he inhales and considers his situation. Not good was a fair
call. Heading towards deep shit was another way of looking at. None of the
phones ring and this annoys him.
The plan had been a good one. A
simple one that had gotten way too complicated. Five people, five deaths but
put the blame on someone else - easy. Leonard had been the tool to achieve
this. Crude but effective and Simon the patsy should it go wrong.
The release of the documents had
all been part of the plan and it had served its purpose - giving Simon a
genuine reason to want the recipients dead. Planting the five names and e-mail
addresses on Leonard’s laptop had been easy. Convincing Leonard to set up the
scheme had been a bit more difficult.
The blind man had known that Leonard
had been on the fiddle but it was of little consequence to him until he needed
leverage to force Leonard into action. A couple of rogue e-mails and he had
convinced Leonard that Simon was aware of his growing stash of cash. The cream
on the cake had been the Karen/Leonard blow up. Who knew she had been shagging
him?
The scheme involving the
documents was all Leonard’s, all be it with a little help from a colleague that
Leonard trusted. The colleague, a fellow accountant in Cheedle, Baker and
Nudge, had been primed to help Leonard with his scheme. What had not been
foreseen by the blind man was the choice of material that Leonard would use as
black mail. The original suggestion had been to use Simon’s tax details - more
than enough to push him over the edge. Leonard’s use of the Retip documents had
complicated things but, if all had gone well, not unduly.
Leonard’s colleague had suggested
the password protection plan and Leonard, a techno geek of the first order, had
leapt on it like a dog to a bone. The five names on the list (two to get
documents, three blanks) were suggested by the colleague and with the password
in hand the blind man could always erase the electronic files at any point. The
voids were easy to arrange and he had to hope that Simon was smart enough to
figure it out. If not he would have been given a hand.
Simon’s contract to kill Leonard
was just grist to the mill. Normally all contact was routed through one of the
blind man’s array of Pay As You Go mobiles but by giving Simon Bally’s number
direct it would implicate Simon in the whole thing. Bally was dispensable - as
was everyone in the blind man’s world.
The hard copy given to Charlie
hadn’t been in the plan but retrieving it would have hardly been a problem
until Bally and Jim had screwed up. It would have been better for all had they
killed Charlie. Instead they had scared him into running. Now Charlie was on
the run with the maintenance man and his girlfriend and the documents. They
probably knew their worth by now and maybe even the detail of their contents.
Less than half an hour ago he had
learned that the last of the five names on the computer were dead. None of the
deaths could be traced to him but they could all be traced to Simon. The
electronic documents were retrieved and only Charlie and his copy stood between
a perfect plan and one that could easily unleash death and destruction.
The blind man had people staking
out Charlie’s, George’s, Simon’s and Tina’s homes but this was stretching his
resources. It was also stretching his nerves as he had expected one of the
phones to ring with an update and the silence offended him.
He stood up to stretch his legs
and the phone nearest him let rip with a ring. He picked it up and answered it.
A few seconds later a second phone rang.