Hearts of Stone (12 page)

‘Not this early in the game. Later, who knows?' I didn't like the way he said it. But then I didn't like anything about the whole deal. He picked up my feelings. ‘Don't worry, Nick,' he went on. ‘Have a few drinks. Relax. Be like me.'

Anything I wanted less I couldn't imagine.

27

T
he next night was the first time that Brady was late. I wondered if something had gone wrong, but I waited anyway. What choice did I have? By the time he arrived I was sick of waiting. Sick of everything that was happening. I was in two minds whether to just forget the whole thing and go out and get lost between the light and shadow of the London night. Disappear into the gaps where the real people don't go. I would have liked just to vanish like a puff of smoke. But I knew I couldn't. There was no place left for me. Endesleigh and his little crew had me exactly where they wanted me.

So I stayed.

Brady turned up just after ten-thirty. He seemed nervous and spaced out. So what was new?

I was watching out of the window again when he arrived, and I met him at the front door before he rang the bell. He was carrying a small, cheap-looking briefcase. We went upstairs together.

‘I take it that's the money,' I said when we were inside my flat, with the door closed firmly behind us.

‘You take it right.'

‘You had some problems getting it?' I asked.

‘What makes you say that?'

‘You look a little mussed around the edges.'

‘I'll survive.'

I hoped that I would, too. ‘Show,' I said.

He put the case on the table, and opened it. It was full of cash in bundles held by elastic bands. The notes on top were wrinkled and used-looking. ‘Thirty-five grand?' I said with a question mark attached.

He nodded.

‘It looks like more.'

‘Small denominations,' he said. ‘The way they wanted it. You want to waste time counting it?'

I took his word for it. ‘No,' I said. ‘What time's the meet?' I asked.

‘I don't know.'

‘What does that mean? You must know.'

He didn't answer.

‘Where is it?'

‘I don't know that either.'

‘So what the fuck do you know?'

‘I know I've got to give you the money, and you go to Lambeth High Street. You know it?'

‘I know it. Down by the river, right?'

‘That's the one. There are two phone boxes about halfway down. Wait by them, and you'll be contacted.'

‘What happens if someone's using them?'

‘Wait.'

‘If there's a queue?'

‘Jump it.'

‘This is fucking Mickey Mouse, Brady, you know that?' I said angrily. ‘Why can't they just come round here, do the deal, and go home?'

‘That isn't the way they want it.'

‘They're setting me up. I fucking know it,' I said. Or
you
are, I thought.

‘For that?' he said, nodding scornfully at the briefcase on the table. ‘That's nothing. Maybe next time, when the real money comes out. But not for thirty-five grand.' He made it sound like a pittance.

‘I don't like this,' I said. ‘I don't like this one little bit. Are you going to have me followed?'

He shrugged. ‘We'll have to see how it goes.'

‘Meaning no.'

‘Meaning we'll have to see how it goes.'

‘Jesus Christ! What you're saying is I'm totally dispensable.'

‘You knew that already.'

Maybe I did, but it didn't make me feel any better saying it out loud. ‘I'm not going to forget this,' I said.

‘Whatever. Now, why don't you get going. You're supposed to be there at eleven-fifteen. It doesn't give you much time.'

I looked at my watch. It didn't. If there was a hold-up I wouldn't make it at all. So I went.

‘I'll be here when you get back,' he said.

If I get back, I thought. ‘Make yourself at home,' I said.

‘I intend to.'

I took the briefcase, went downstairs, put the case in the boot, got into the car, and headed towards Vauxhall, then north along Albert Embankment, and turned right into the High Street. I pushed the car all the way, and it took me a lot less time than it should to get there. Halfway along the street, I spotted a pair of phone boxes on the right-hand side, deserted, with their yellow lights beckoning like beacons. I drew up next to them, and got out of the car. I left the driver's door open and the engine running. By my watch it was eleven-twelve. There was no one about, and the street was as deserted as an abandoned film set, and felt about as real. The card phone had an official BT sticker on the outside declaring that it was out of order. I lit a cigarette and waited. The card-phone phone rang dead on time. The sound echoed down the street like a death knell. I answered. I knew exactly who the bell tolled for. Me.

‘Hello,' I said.

‘Sharman?' It wasn't a voice I recognised.

‘Yeah.'

‘Are you alone?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Got the package?'

‘Yeah.' Again.

‘There's another phone box by the War Museum. In Lambeth Road, opposite the Churchill Clinic. Know it?'

‘I'll find it.'

‘Get there now. You've got less than two minutes.' And he hung up.

‘Shit,' I said, dropped the receiver, and ran for the car. I slapped the stick into gear, peeled away from the kerb, shot down Lambeth High Street, did an illegal turn across Lambeth Road, cutting up a van as I went – and getting an angry blast from its horn for my troubles. I stayed in second and felt the G-force as the car hit sixty-five in the bus lane. I jumped the amber traffic light at the junction with Kennington Road, and pulled up opposite the telephone box and jumped out of the car. I heard the phone start ringing as I ran across the street. A passing pedestrian stopped beside the box, undecided whether to answer or not, and I shouldered him out of the way with a ‘Sorry'. I picked up the receiver. ‘Sharman,' I said.

‘That was very good.' It was the same voice again. ‘Do you know Cleaver Street?'

‘Sure.'

‘That's your next stop.'

‘Another box?' I asked. I was beginning to get tired.

‘No. Go there, and turn right into Bowden Street. There's an old electronics factory on your left. You can't miss it. There's a For Sale sign outside. Go round the side. The fire door's open. Bring the cash. And be alone. We're watching you.' And he hung up again.

28

I
drove round the block, and back down the Kennington Road to Cleaver Street. It was just by the Cross, at the back of the wine bar where Brady and I had met Seeley and Hughes and Jools.

It was like going home.

I found the old factory with no trouble, parked the car, got the case and went in. The fire-door was just where the voice on the telephone had said it would be. And open, too. I walked inside. A very dim light lit the FIRE EXIT sign above my head. I stopped and listened. It was an old building with thick walls. Nothing.

In front of me was a flight of stone steps leading upwards. I took them. At the top was another fire door. I pushed it open.

Inside was a big room. Empty except for the detritus of a factory that had shut down. A few wooden benches, tables, rubbish on the floor, yellowing page-three pin-ups on the walls. The usual. But with a big plus. Seeley and Hughes, and another face I didn't know, presumably the mystery voice on the phone, were standing in the faint light from three more FIRE EXIT signs, waiting for me. The stranger was another thickset, hard-looking bastard in an expensive brown leather jacket, a roll-neck jumper, chinos and desert boots.

‘Welcome,' said Seeley, like it was a marquee at Ascot.

‘Hello, Roy,' I said. ‘Pat. Who's your friend?'

The face said nothing. Nor did they. Another need-to-know scenario. And once again, obviously, I didn't. I let it go.

‘Got the readies?' asked Hughes.

I held up the case.

‘Let's have it.'

‘Can I see the goods?' I asked.

There was another case on one of the benches. Better quality, by the looks of it, than the one Brady had given me. Free enterprise, see. Hughes opened it. Inside was a single, cloudy plastic package of white powder, about the same size as a bag of sugar. I picked it up and hefted it. Felt about right, weightwise. I put my case next to it. Hughes opened it. He picked up one of the packets of cash and riffled the notes.

‘We'll have to count it,' he said almost apologetically.

‘Be my guest. I'll need to check the merchandise.'

‘Carry on,' he said.

All three set to work on the bundles. Brady had made it easy. There were thirty-five. It took them just minutes.

Meanwhile I stuck a fingernail through the plastic packaging round the coke, stuck in my finger and took a hit. It wasn't Domestos. In fact it wasn't half bad. ‘Seems OK,' I said. ‘I'm sure you'll hear if it's not.'

‘It is,' said Seeley.

By this time they were satisfied the cash was all present and correct. We both closed each other's cases and picked them up. Done deal. Everybody ecstatic.

‘You go first,' said Hughes. ‘We'll see you later.'

‘OK,' I said, and left.

The street outside was empty, but someone was playing opera on their stereo in one of the houses. Loud. Ain't culture wonderful?

I walked through a wash of sound to the car, opened it, threw the case in the back, and drove home. Nobody appeared to give a damn. I was there by twelve-thirty.

* * *

Brady was sitting in the dark on the sofa, drinking a beer and watching a black-and-white zombie movie on the TV. He looked just like one of the juvenile leads in the reflection from the screen. I switched on the light, and he squinted up at me.

‘Got it?' he asked.

‘Got it.'

‘Let me see.'

I gave him the case. He opened it, found the split in the packet, and took a hit.

‘Scientific,' I said.

He ignored me. ‘This is good stuff,' he said. ‘Just right.'

‘Satisfied?'

‘For now. I'll give it the proper test later.'

‘Can you get it out of here, then?'

‘Nervous?'

‘A little.'

‘You're safe. I'm the law, don't forget.'

Then God save us all, I thought. ‘Even so…' I said.

‘Can I finish my drink?'

‘Of course.'

Before he left, I told Brady about the third party who'd appeared at the meet. He got me to describe him, down to the last detail I remembered. ‘Don't know him,' he said. ‘Maybe just a minder, but I'll check around. See if anybody else recognises him.'

‘It was him that spoke to me on the phone.'

‘Probably just testing that you'll take orders from strangers. But you never know. Don't worry. If anyone knows him I'll find out.'

He chugged down the last of his beer and got up. ‘Don't bother to see me out, Nick. I'll find my own way.' He picked up the briefcase and headed for the door. ‘I'll be in touch,' he said as he closed it behind him.

I went to the fridge and found he'd drunk all my beer. So I made a cup of tea and watched the end of the film.

The zombies lost. It wasn't much like real life.

29

I
was working Saturday night and Sunday daytime, so I slept in. Correction: I lay in bed looking at the ceiling and listening to the world go by outside the closed curtains. I felt about as much empathy with it as a grizzly bear does with a parking meter.

I crawled out of the pit about two. The telephone rang at three. It was Brady. He sounded well pleased with himself.

‘Hello Nick,' he said. ‘Top of the afternoon to ya.'

‘You sound chipper,' I said.

‘So would you.'

‘Then I assume everything was OK with last night's little transaction.'

‘You assume correctly.'

‘Good kit?'

‘Exactly as promised.'

‘So part one of the master plan is complete.'

‘Cor-rect.'

‘And part two?'

‘Have some patience, Nick.'

‘I want this over and done with so's I can get back to my life – what there is of it.'

‘In due time.'

‘So what's next?'

‘I'm going to throw a party.'

‘A what?'

‘You heard. A party. A soirée at my place tomorrow night.'

‘Who's invited?' As if I had to ask.

‘Seeley and Hughes. I spoke to them this morning, and told them how delighted I was with the way things went last night. They've accepted the invitation. Jools is coming, and a few other friends of mine. Alfie will be cooking one of his chillis. He really is rather good in the kitchen department. Don't fret, dear heart, it's all a chance for us to get better acquainted. Good music, good wine and good company. And don't worry, you're on the guest list too.'

‘How about our mysterious friend from last night?'

‘If he wants to come.'

‘That's not what I meant.'

‘I know. Don't worry, we'll get round to him in time.'

‘I'm sure you will.'

‘You don't exactly sound ecstatic at the invitation, Nick. Got a problem with it?'

‘I don't like parties,' I said.

‘You'll like this one.'

‘I'm not sure.'

His voice hardened. ‘
I
am,' he said. ‘You'll be there, my friend, or I'll want to know the reason why. Nine o'clock, and don't be late.'

I hesitated and sighed down the phone. My stomach was turning over with tension, and I felt hemmed in by his voice and the four walls of the room. ‘OK,' I said. ‘I'll be there.'

‘I knew you wouldn't find it in yourself to refuse.' And he hung up. When I put down the phone, it rang again straightaway. I picked up the receiver, but said nothing.

‘Nick?' said a woman's voice.

‘Yeah.'

‘Kylie.'

‘Oh, hello,' I said. Even as I did so, I could hear the flatness in the tone of my voice.

‘You don't sound in a very good mood.'

‘Sorry,' I said.

‘Bad time?'

‘When isn't?'

‘If you want to leave it…'

I suddenly realised how pleased I was to hear her voice. ‘No, not at all. I was thinking of something else. It's great to hear from you. Really.'

‘I believe you, thousands wouldn't. Is that why you haven't called?'

I remembered my promise when we'd parted. ‘Yeah. Sorry, babe. I've been up to here,' I said. ‘You know how it is.'

‘I do. That's why I rang you. What are you doing tonight?'

‘Working. I'm afraid.' And I was.

‘Oh,' I loved the way she said it.

‘I thought you would be, too – being Saturday night and all.'

‘I work when I want to. It's a perk of the job.'

‘I'd like to know the others.'

‘I thought you would already. What time are you through?'

‘Eleven-thirty, twelve.'

‘Whereabouts exactly is the place?'

‘West Norwood.'

‘Where the hell is that?'

‘About fifteen minutes from the arse-end of the universe.'

‘Sounds like it. Do cabs venture there?'

‘If the passenger looks like you, they do. Otherwise it can be a bit iffy. Why, are you thinking of making the trip?'

‘If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, I might. Would I be welcome?'

‘As the buds in May.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Absolutely.'

‘Give me the address, then, and I'll see how I feel later.'

I told her. ‘There's a class Indian just down the road,' I said. ‘Stays open late on a Saturday night.'

‘Wow. Be still, my beating heart. For the local public-bar crowd I imagine.'

‘No. The clientele is impeccable.'

‘In West whatever-it-is.'

‘If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd been here before.'

‘Places similar. I've been around.'

‘Well get around here later and I'll buy you a lager and lime.'

‘A double?'

‘You got it.'

‘Sounds better all the time.'

‘So it's a date?'

‘Yeah, OK. About ten-thirty?'

‘Sounds good.'

‘See you, then.'

‘See you.'

I let her hang up first. I haven't done that for a long time.