by Les Wood
‘Ah’ll go away in a minute, but Ah just wanted to ask a wee question, just a wee one.’
‘And you promise you’ll depart after that? Leave us in peace?’
‘Ye have my word,’ John said. He could see Sir James looking past his shoulder, seeking some sort of help from the room behind, trying to catch the eye of a waiter, anyone who could come and remove this lout.
‘Very well,’ said Sir James. ‘What do you wish to know?’
John clapped his hands. ‘Magic!’ He arranged his face into serious mode, made a show of composing himself. He cleared his throat. ‘Am Ah right in assumin this is your good wife? Lady Anne, Ah believe?’
Sir James’s wife eyed John with suspicion. Sir James sighed. ‘Yes, you’re correct. This is Lady Anne. You have your answer. Now will you go away?’
‘No, no, that wasn’t my question. That was just a premlin… a pre… a prelminary question. That wasn’t the real thing Ah wanted to ask.’
Sir James banged his hand on the table. ‘For God’s sake man! Will you just get on with it then?’
John blinked in mock hurt. ‘Awright… it’s no big deal. Ah just wanted to make sure that Ah was askin the right person.’
‘What are you blithering about? Just ask your question and go!’
‘Okay,’ said John. ‘Ah was just wonderin if Lady Anne would like to have the next dance with me.’
‘Are you out of your tiny excuse for a brain?’ Sir James said, his face reddening. ‘Of course she doesn’t want to dance with you!’
‘Aw, listen,’ said John, looking over his shoulder to the band on the stage. ‘They’re playing Money For Nuthin, that should be right up your street, should it not?’
‘What?’ spluttered Sir James.
‘Never mind,’ John said. He was aware a few other faces at the end of the table were now turned towards them, curious to see what the commotion was about. The guy on the stage was singing about playing geeetars on the emmteevee. ‘One last question then. For Lady Anne.’ Sir James was getting to his feet now, ready to put an end to this once and for all, but his wife was smiling at John, either humouring him, or enjoying the floorshow playing out in front of her. ‘Do ye like wine gums?’ John asked.
Lady Anne spoke for the first time. ‘Wine gums?’
‘Aye,’ said John. ‘Wine gums. Do ye like them.’
She frowned, unsure of the point he was making. Sir James was on his tiptoes, signalling for someone to come over, get rid of this lunatic.
‘Why, yes,’ said Lady Anne. ‘I do believe I enjoy wine gums from time to time.’
John undid his trousers and dropped them to the floor, followed by his boxers. His dick dangled between his legs. Lady Anne gasped in surprise. John jumped onto the table, grabbed his cock and flapped it in front of her face. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Wine yer gums round this!’
That was when all hell broke loose.
***
Davie Prentice rarely experienced the emotion of panic, but he was feeling it now. Panic, or something close to it. Events were slipping away from him. Christ, he’d felt edgy enough before tonight – so many things in the lead-up were balanced between incompetence and ineptitude; this whole plan of Boddice’s wasn’t just flawed, it was a downright insane, fucked-up, half-arsed attempt at some big-shot criminal mastermind shite that had as much chance of success as a ten-man Scotland beating Brazil six-nil in the World Cup Final. All this crap about setting explosives throughout the shop, using a litter-picker – for fuck’s sake! – to steal the world’s most famous diamond, and, despite Boddice’s suggestion to the contrary, no bloody plan to speak of.
Chaos. That was what it was. And the thing pushing him to the brink of an uncontrollable bout of the heebie geebies was the fact that none of the others seemed to be bothering about it. The stupid arseholes. They couldn’t see what he saw: the potential for disaster. The whole operation was one loose nut away from coming off the rails.
And underneath it all, feeding the fire of his disquiet, bringing his rage up to the boil, was the death of the baby. Wee Jackie. Prentice had tried to muffle the tormenting guilt, submerge it with the distraction of the preparations for the robbery, but it kept bubbling back to the surface, nagging away, a constant reminder of the consequences of his selfishness, his self-absorption.
He’d tried to rationalise the guilt; perhaps the news stories were about another baby, some other unknown infant found dead on a bus – that was wishful thinking more than anything else. Maybe she was sick to begin with, after all, she’d been in that room for how long? Days? Possibly. Rosco was certainly stinking the place up by the time Prentice had found him. How long did it take for a body to get into that state? If the baby had been there for days, no food, no water, it was entirely possible she was at death’s door and he hadn’t noticed.
But in the end, he had failed her. Abandoned her, alone and unwanted in the bleak fluorescence of the rear of the bus, her short life ebbing towards its final breath. Prentice had left her to die. He could have done something about it then, but no, Boddice and his fucking hare-brained scheme were more important.
This stupid plan that was now falling apart big time.
And now this McKinnon woman. Boddice’s insider. But Prentice hadn’t imagined it would be someone like her. It hadn’t even crossed his mind it would even be a her. Christ, his balls were aching; her kick had been aimed just right, hitting him bang in the sweet spot, the one place where, no matter how fired up you were, how ready to have a right old go, you were guaranteed to fold to your knees, avoiding any sort of movement. She knew what she was doing alright.
Now she was leading them back down to the ground floor, Campbell and Kyle following like meek sheep, eager to go along with this as if it was all perfectly normal. Prentice watched her lean close to Kyle, mutter something in his ear. Prentice bit his lip, hung back a pace or two. He didn’t trust this woman. This could all be an elaborate ruse; she was the head of store-fucking-security after all – there could be a whole posse of polis lying in wait for them at the bottom of the stairs: thanks very much Miss McKinnon, we’ve been after these boys for years.
Prentice still had the diamond in his pocket. Was it the real thing or not? Would she have let him keep it if it wasn’t a fake? There was no way of telling. Not yet anyway.
They reached the foot of the stairs. McKinnon led them to the centre of the shop floor, where the shaft of the giant arrow dived into the floorboards. They stopped at the spot where the arrow seemingly disappeared into the floor. McKinnon turned to Kyle, gave a single nod. ‘Call him,’ she said.
Kyle looked around him, scanning the sales floor. ‘Boag!’ he shouted. ‘Are you here? You can come out, everything’s fine.’
Prentice fought back the urge to shout out that everything was very fucking far from fine.
‘Boag!’ Kyle shouted again. ‘Where are you?’
A small voice came from behind them, in a distant corner of the room: ‘What the hell’s happening? Are you finished?’
‘No, we’re not finished,’ Kyle shouted back. ‘Just come out and we’ll explain everything.’
There was a clatter as a mannequin fell over, and Boag emerged from behind a partition displaying a poster of a bronzed couple cavorting on a beach.
‘Hurry up!’ McKinnon called to him. ‘We don’t have all night.’
Boag broke into a trot, and Prentice shook his head in dismay as he saw yet another of the team capitulate to her, this time without so much as even speaking to her.
Boag came up to them, his rucksack bouncing on his back, out of breath with the short jog. He eyed the group quizzically, scrutinising McKinnon. ‘Who… what…?’ he began. ‘Ah didn’t get them all done, Ah’ve still got—’
‘Change of plan,’ Kyle said. ‘And don’t worry, we’re as much in the dark as you.’ He took McKinnon by the arm. ‘But we’re just about to get an explanation, aren’t we?’
At fucking last, thought Prentice. Kyle wasn’t c
ompletely won over by her.
McKinnon slapped Kyle’s hand away. ‘Don’t start any funny business,’ she said. ‘It’ll be you who comes off worst, I guarantee it.’
Prentice stepped up to join Kyle. This was more like it. Now they were getting somewhere.
Instead of retreating, McKinnon moved forward to meet him. ‘Goolies not sore enough for you, Prentice? Want some more of the same? Because I’ll be only too happy to oblige.’
Prentice was ready for her this time. He started to bring his fist up, eager to pummel it into her sneering face, when his arm was grabbed from behind. He stumbled, caught unawares.
It was Campbell. The freak-brother. Mister I’m-in-charge. Who did he think he was, manhandling Prentice like this? ‘You can’t start a sentence with because,’ Campbell said to McKinnon.
Prentice struggled to get free, twisting and wriggling to release Campbell’s hold. ‘What the fuck are you talkin about, ya prick? Let me go.’
Campbell’s grip tightened and Prentice turned towards him, powering up to head-butt the fucker into oblivion. But Kyle stepped in and grabbed Prentice’s other arm. The two men wrestled Prentice to the floor, pinned him down.
‘Listen, Davie,’ said Kyle, breathing hard. ‘Ah’ll say this only once. Calm. Down. We need an explanation here. We need to hear what she’s got to say. This isn’t the time for blood and guts stuff.’ Kyle got to his feet, allowed Prentice to do the same, signalling to Campbell to let him go. ‘She’s working for Boddice, Davie. We need her to tell us what the hell this is all about.’
‘She’s working for Boddice is she? How come we’ve never heard of her? How come she’s not been part of this big plan, this fucked-up excuse for a robbery? Eh? Tell me that, ya tosser.’
‘If you’re quite finished,’ McKinnon said. ‘I was just coming to that. You are, of course, entitled to an explanation, and I forgive your outburst Davie. I know this must be an unexpected turn of events.’
Prentice glowered at her, but said nothing. It was Campbell who spoke up. ‘That would be a good idea, Miss McKinnon,’ he said. ‘We’re not exactly—’
‘What’s with this Miss McKinnon shite?’ said Prentice. ‘Tell us yer real name ya bitch.’
‘That’s impossible,’ she replied. ‘But if it makes you feel any better you can call me… Debbie.’
‘Okay, Debbie,’ said Prentice. ‘Freak-show here has got it right. For once. It would be a good fucking idea to tell us. Right now.’
McKinnon rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Okay, but this is going to have to be quick. A potted summary. And then you’re going to have to do exactly as I say.’
‘We don’t have to do anything,’ Kyle said. ‘But on ye go.’
‘Alright,’ McKinnon said. ‘Consider me a freelancer, a hired hand. A job here, a job there, whatever takes my fancy.’ She smiled. ‘And I’m not talking your usual legitimate lines of employment. That sort of stuff doesn’t meet my financial requirements. Although getting the Head of Security gig in this place was easier than you might think. It’s surprising the number of employers who don’t actually check the details on CVs or references once they’ve interviewed you.’ She ran her tongue over her top lip and blinked once, slowly. ‘And, of course, I do have a very good interview technique.’
‘Aye, good for you,’ Prentice said. ‘Get on with it.’
McKinnon made a small bow. ‘A new store like this provides interesting opportunities – expensive merchandise, rich, no, make that very rich, customers, politicians, celebrities, royalty. I decided to get in right at the start, see what came up. Of course, when the advance announcement was made that the Dark Side of the Moon was coming, it was too good an opportunity to miss. Your Mr Boddice has employed my services in the past. He pays very handsomely, which is to our mutual advantage. I get in, get out, he receives whatever it is he’s after. On time, no fuss, no trail leading back to him.’
‘What kind of things are ye talkin about?’ Kyle asked.
‘That’s the other aspect of our agreements,’ she said. ‘He pays me, I keep schtum.You can ask him if you like, but I doubt he’ll give you an answer either.’
‘Which is very convenient for you,’ Prentice said. ‘We still have no way of knowin if ye’re tellin us the truth.’
‘Then you’ll just have to accept it, won’t you? It’s the way I work.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Anyway, I saw a chance, for me and for your boss. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not getting a cut of any money Boddice makes from this. I get paid up front. In fact, I’ve already been paid. I won’t be asking for a penny more. As soon as tonight is over and done with, I’m gone. Until the next time.’
‘But surely you’ll be linked with the robbery then?’ asked Campbell. ‘If you disappear after this it’ll be an obvious connection to make. The shop, the polis, they’ll know.’
‘Makes no difference to me,’ she said. ‘They won’t be able to track me down. I have ways of disappearing.’
‘And what about me and John, then? How will our story stand up, when we’re expected to return to work?’
‘You’re forgetting,’ she replied, looking at her watch again. ‘Around about now your brother should be getting you both sacked. Your services, as of tonight, will no longer be required. And, conveniently, when whoever it is you’ve bundled into those sacks in the security office tries to identify you as the perpetrator of tonight’s business, then it’s going to look more than likely he’s lying. Especially if your brother has something special planned.’ She raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling. ‘You couldn’t tell me what it is could you?’
‘Haven’t a clue,’ Campbell replied. ‘Ah just hope he gets it right, that’s all.’
Prentice held up the stone they had taken from the Bubble. ‘You’ve still to explain this wee bit of the story.’
Boag gasped. ‘Is that…?’
‘No,’ Kyle said. ‘At least, we don’t know if it is or not.’
Boag’s brow furrowed as he scanned the faces of the others. ‘Well if it isn’t, then where is the real thing?’ he asked.
‘The question I’m sure the rest of you want answered as well,’ McKinnon said. ‘And if we could just learn to trust each other a bit more, we might have got to this stage a bit sooner.’
Prentice spat on the floor.
McKinnon ignored him. ‘Okay, as I’ve already pointed out, the stone in your hand is a fake, a very good one, but a fake nonetheless. The real Dark Side of the Moon is within a steel box inside a safe in the manager’s private entertainment suite.’
‘And where would that be?’ Kyle asked.
‘It’s a side room accessed from the manager’s office, on floor nine,’ she replied.
‘That’s the room you can only get to by the special lift,’ Campbell said. The penny dropped. ‘That’s it,’ he said, clicking his fingers. ‘That’s where you were taking the bigwigs on the night of the big party.’
‘Correct,’ she said. ‘Restricted viewings for the very privileged few. Invitation only. Everyone else has been duped.’
‘So what are we standing here for?’ Boag interrupted. ‘Where’s this lift? Let’s get the bloody thing and get out of here.’
‘Wait a fucking minute,’ Prentice said. ‘This doesn’t add up.’ The others turned to look at him. ‘Would somebody tell me why we’ve just spent the best part of an hour trying to steal a fake diamond? Why in the name of Holy Christ did Boddice send us on a wild goose chase for something that’s…?’
‘Because,’ McKinnon butted in, ‘I didn’t think you were up to this job.’ She raised her hand, stopping their objections. ‘I wanted to use my own contacts. Guys I trusted. Capable, competent men. Not a bunch of sorry half-wits who couldn’t find their arse with both hands.’
Prentice stepped forward. ‘Oh, aye? And just what…?’
McKinnon cut him off. ‘However, your Mr Boddice had complete faith in you, said you were just the boys. That you would… what was it he said? You would rise to the occasi
on.’ The four men looked at her, stony-faced. ‘I still didn’t believe him. So, I demanded a demonstration of your abilities. A test to show you’d be able to pull something like this off.’ She walked over to Prentice, laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I had to be convinced that you could organise yourselves enough to at least get to the point of taking the fake diamond.’ Prentice shrugged her off and she spread her arms, beaming a large grin. ‘And here you are… you did it. More or less. Boddice was right and I was wrong. You passed the test.’ She turned to the others. ‘You’re here now. You’re close. Now is the time to present you with the real plan to steal the diamond.’ Her smile faded. ‘But here’s the thing. Do you think you’re up to it? Was Boddice really right?’
‘Wait a minute,’ Kyle said. ‘The real plan?’
‘Ah don’t like the sound of this,’ Prentice said.
‘Yes,’ said McKinnon. ‘The real plan.’ She turned to Boag. ‘Unfortunately, Alistair, it’s not as simple as taking the lift to Nine and walking into the manager’s office to swipe the diamond.
That particular room is very heavily secured. Extremely hi-tech stuff. You couldn’t come within ten feet of the doors without setting off the alarms. Not that you’d hear them, of course. Everything, including the CCTV images, is relayed directly to both the local police station and the Securarama bases in Glasgow and London. Any breach and the whole ninth floor goes into lockdown. The outer reception area for the manager’s office has been equipped with special reinforced doors with unique interwoven four-inch steel deadlock bolts which will be slammed into place by a combination of compressed air and hydraulic hammers. There are no windows. No skylights. No other doors. The whole room is practically a safe in itself.You’d be trapped inside without any way of escape.’ She gave Boag a pat on the cheek. ‘Incendiary devices, or not.’
‘And we wouldn’t even have gained access to the inner office, never mind this other room where the diamond is,’ said Kyle.
‘Exactly,’ McKinnon replied. ‘The whole area is as safe and secure as Fort Knox.’ She grinned. ‘Or so they think.’
