Falling (5 page)

I decide on the police and reach
for my mobile just as the smaller of the two men reaches out and grabs Charlie
by the leg. He is trying to rescue him. I rush forward to give a hand. Maybe I
have read this wrong. Maybe they are saving Charlie from himself.

The tall one is shouting
something but I can’t hear what as I am too far away. I run, head down and feel
the bitumen roof getting tacky under my feet as the heat of the day kicks in.

The short one looks like he is
asking the tall one for help. The tall one is saying something in reply but
doesn’t make a move to give a hand.

I rush past the tall one and get
side by side with the shorter one and grab onto Charlie’s other leg. I can see
the look of surprise on the short man’s face when I arrive but I don’t have
time for introductions.

Between us we put in some muscle
and haul Charlie up and over the small retaining wall and drop him onto the
roof. We are both panting and for a second or two neither of us has the energy
to do anything but suck air. I slump to the roof with my back against the wall
and try and take in what is happening around me. The tall one is open mouthed
and if you ask me has the sort of eyes that suggest his picnic basket is
missing a few Marks and Spencer’s pre packs. He is putting his phone away but
seems in two minds as to what to do next.

Next to me the short man is bent
double and still heaving in air. He is also rubbing the bicep on his right arm
and glances at me before looking over at his tall friend and then returns to
massaging his arm.

Charlie is sprawled between us.
His eyes are closed and dribble is running from the corner of his mouth. His
head is bleeding and I notice stains around his crotch. His fly is open and
there is a suggestion that his manhood is not as securely tucked away as it
should be. I look away.

Above me the end of a plane’s
contrail provides a distraction as I take a deep breath before trying to stand
up. The short man moves with a speed that belies his bulk. He leaps straight
over Charlie and slams me back on to the roof - pinning me to the wall by my
arms. His face is a few inches from mine and his fragrant mix of mouthwash and
after shave hangs in the air before he lets go of my left arm and grabs my
hair, pulling my head towards him.

I’m eyeball to eyeball. He has
deep green eyes, not unintelligent but a little world weary. The stubble on his
face is more designer than lazy and the crispness of the shirt collar and sheen
on the tie suggest a not inexpensive attention to style.

He cocks his head to one side and
after a second of studying me he looks round in search of his mate. I don’t
move. I’m not sure what’s going on. He rolls off me and stands up and I stay
seated. He walks over to the tall one and they begin chatting in a low whisper.

I flick my eyes back to Charlie.
The pool of dribble is growing. I put one hand on the roof and start to stand
up again. The short one spots the movement and is back on me like a shot. No
words - just action. I slump back against the wall and he lets me go again. I
get the idea and resign myself to waiting.

I look back at Charlie and the
drool now has a red tinge. Blood.

‘Excuse me.’

The short one looks round at me
and walks over. He looks down, leans a little closer and slaps me across the
face. Hard.

‘Shut it.’

My cheek stings.

‘But Charlie’s got blood coming
out of his mouth,’ I say.

The short one looks at me with a
quizzical squint.

‘Who the fuck is Charlie?’

I look back at him - my own
version of quizzical washing across my face.

‘Charlie Wiggs. You know the guy
we just hauled from certain death?’

The short one kicks me in the
thigh and returns to the tall one.

Charlie’s drool is getting
redder.

Chapter 9

A gorilla realises his mistake
.

I look at Jim and then back at
the pair next to the wall. Charlie Wiggs? Who the hell is Charlie Wiggs? Jim
looks confused but then again Jim always looks confused. It’s what he does for
a living.

Think back - the vic’s name is
Leonard Thwaite. Mid fifties, married with three kids, balding, beer gut -
works as an accountant on the twentieth floor of Tyler Tower for Cheedle, Baker
and Nudge. ‘the Voice’s description was quite graphic.

‘Gormless fucker, looks like a
pervert.’

Lives in the third office on the
right as you pass by reception - only he wasn’t there. One of the other guys on
the corridor thought he had gone for a slash so we had gone hunting and lifted
him at the pisser.

I tilt my head slightly to get a
better look at the prone body. He is a dead ringer for a gormless fucker.
Balding, mid fifties - what’s not to be Leonard?

I walk back over to the stranger
that just helped me save Leonard/Charlie.

‘Who the fuck are you?’

He tells me his name is George
and he’s the maintenance man for the building.

‘And this isn’t Leonard Thwaite?’

He shakes his head and tells me
again it’s a guy called Charlie Wiggs. Shares an office with Leonard. He even
tells me that they look a little like each other. Bingo. I walk back over to
Jim.

‘Fuck up time, Jim.’

I explain that we’ve lifted the
wrong man. Jim starts talking about coffins - I tell him to shut it. I need to
think.

Jim asks why I rescued the ‘vic’.
I want to tell him it was because I was going to interrogate the ‘vic’ to find
out if Jim knew something I didn’t - but I leave it for later.

Jim suggests doing a Mikey on
both of them and then finding Leonard.

‘Aye. Right!’ says I in return
and when the police turn up to investigate two dead bodies in the lane they
won’t figure to ask around just as we are trying to abduct Leonard. How easy
will that make our job? This is a prime time, gold plated, diamond encrusted
fuck up. Jim opens his mouth. Here comes another pearl of wisdom.

‘Lennox. Bobby Lennox.’

I have no idea what he is on
about. He has left this world.

‘I knew I’d remember. Bobby
Lennox. Simpson, Craig, Gemmell, Murdoch, McNeil, Clark, Johnstone, Wallace,
Chalmers, Auld AND Lennox.’

I know Jim is cheap to hire but
you don’t need this kind of shit when things are heading for the back door in
such an obvious fashion. I need to sort this out.

Three things to do.

Point One - deal with the
maintenance man and Charlie Wiggs.

Point Two - find Leonard and give
him the bad news.

Point Three - find out what Jim
meant by ‘thievin’ prick’.

Intuitive improvisation. I try to
live by the phrase. I got the idea from ‘View to a Kill.’ It’s what Max Zorrin,
the megalomaniac, tells James Bond is the secret to genius and it’s what I need
to demonstrate right now.

I tell Jim to go find some rope
and be quick about it. I bend down to look at Charlie Wiggs and things are
looking poor. There is now a large pool of blood around his mouth, his
breathing is shallow and the blood from his head is matting what little hair he
has.

I turn to the maintenance man.

‘Do you know anything about first
aid?’

The maintenance man shakes his
head so I kick him. Charlie is almost lying in the recovery position anyway so
I pull his left arm from under him and use it to support his upper body. That
seems to accelerate the blood flow. I order the maintenance man to lie face
down next to Charlie.

Where the hell is Jim?

The door to the roof opens and
Jim walks out trailing a jumble of plastic coated wires. The wires are covered
in dust and interspersed with connectors and switches.

Jim tells me he couldn’t find
rope but they are re-wiring the floor below so he ripped out as much wire from
the wall as he could. I can’t decide if this is clever or stupid.

I tell Jim to bind the
maintenance man and Charlie by their wrists. Hands behind their backs. Probably
not the best thing for Charlie but I need to get control of this whole thing
quickly.

Once they are both tied up, I
drag the maintenance man to his feet. The bindings are tight but messy. We
don’t have any decent knives to cut free the spare cable so the maintenance man
is trailing a tail of wire a couple of yards long.

‘Tell me somewhere safe I can put
you for an hour or two?’

I have to slap him twice before
he opens up. He tells me there is a cupboard three flights of stairs down. The
keys are on the ring hanging from his belt. I tell Jim to take the maintenance
man down to the cupboard lock him in and then come straight back. As they both
walk away I’m hoping Jim won’t fuck this up.

Once they are gone I turn to
Charlie. I need to put him out of sight and give me as much breathing space as
possible in case someone gets nosey.

Charlie coughs up some blood and
I know he is not doing well but I can’t afford the time to do anything else but
dump him. I want to question Charlie but he is in no fit state and I need the
time to bag Leonard and scarper.

I look round. A row of air conditioning
units run out to the far side of the building. Beyond them there is a
depression in the roof. I grab Charlie by the armpits and haul him past the AC
units and towards the dip. It’s hard work. Even on a good day it takes muscle
to drag a man anywhere. This guy is sixteen stone of dead weight but he feels
twice that.

My right arm is bitching after
holding onto him as he swung out over the lane and I am sweating like a horse
on the last furlong. I keep looking back to the door hoping Jim will re-emerge
and give me a hand.

Far below I hear the whoop of a
police siren. I freeze. One whoop and one whoop only. The way they do when a
police car is coming to a halt. I drop Charlie and head back to the wall and
lean over to look down into the lane.

It’s too far to see to the bottom
with any clarity but there is a car down there, but not a police car, and two
figures next to it. One looks like he is lying down. An accident? I scan the
lane and at the far end a police car appears and winds its way slowly towards
the two figures. As I watch the police car stops and a policeman gets out and
looks up. I duck back out of sight.

I hear the crackle of a police
radio below. It’s too far away to hear words but you can’t mistake the noise.

I hope they are dealing with the
car in the lane and haven’t been called in by someone in one of the other
buildings that happened to see Charlie take his short flight. The policeman
looked up. Not unusual. Not unusual unless you’ve been told that someone is
throwing bodies from the top floor.

I return to Charlie and pick him
up again. The last of the AC units grinds past and I drop Charlie into the
depression. There are no doors near by and no buildings overlooking. Unless you
walked right up to him Charlie is all but invisible. He is still dribbling
blood and there is a trail leading from the edge of the roof to where he lies
but there is nothing I can do about that.

The roof door opens and Jim
appears. He waves and I head over. I ask if the maintenance man is locked away
and he nods. He starts talking about coffins again and I ignore him and move on
to point two - Leonard.

I make a note to get to point
three soon.

Chapter 10

Tina phones the police.

It takes me a few seconds to take
in the enormity of what I am seeing. There was a man jumping from the roof or
was he being thrown from the roof? I can’t tell. Then I see a pair of hands
appear and grab one of the man’s legs and then a split second later another
pair of hands appear and grasp the other leg. For an instant I see the faces of
the men as they desperately try to pull the falling man back in but at this
distance it is hard to make out detail. I stare harder and feel my heart skip a
beat. I recognise the second helper. I’m a good ten storeys below but I think
that… No it can’t be. I try and squint to compensate for my short sightedness.
I need new glasses but can’t afford to even take the eye test at the moment.
Cigarettes are a costly way to die.

I yelp.

George. That’s George up there. I
watch as George and a stranger pull the falling man back onto the roof. What in
heaven’s name is George doing? Then I remember - of course he’s the maintenance
man for the building. He must have seen the man in trouble and rushed to help.
So like my boyfriend. A kind soul. He has taken our whole relationship a step
at a time. No pressure. No rush to bed. Nice guy. Although a bit of rush now
and again might be nicer. And now here he is acting the hero. My George.

I can’t see what is happening
now. All the figures have vanished behind the retaining wall. I walk back as
far as I can on the roof and jump up and down but the retaining wall on the
other building still blocks my view. I reach for my mobile, hitting the short
dial key for George’s mobile. It trips to answer machine and then I remember
that the firm George works for doesn’t allow personal mobiles at work. I look
up his work number and punch it. It too diverts to answer machine.

I return my attention to the
other building and I think I see some more movement but then it’s gone. Should
I phone someone? I can’t think why I need to. If George is there he will have
things under control. But that’s not true. George isn’t good at these things.
He means well but there is a big difference between meaning well and doing
well.

For a few moments there is no
movement above and then I see George again. Someone is helping him up. It looks
like George has his hands behind his back and then he is pushed out of sight.
Not guided out of sight, or helped out of sight but PUSHED out of sight. My
eyes might be crap but that didn’t look like a friendly push. I haven’t a blind
clue what is going on up there but I’m sure that was a push and not a good
push. Not a good push at all.