Their cannelloni dishes were served on piping hot plates. A second glass of rosé was poured and conversation ceased while they turned their attention to eating. Taking up his story later, Doug outlined why the case had come to court. One of his tenants had refused to pay an increased rent. He said he simply couldn’t afford it and when threatened with eviction he said he would go to his Member of Parliament for help. Another tenant also refused on the basis that the increase was unjustified as the property was not being maintained in the way the tenancy agreement stipulated. On the basis of “pour encourager les autres” both tenants were roughed up, one so badly that he subsequently died and although it was the employed bully who was charged with murder, later reduced to manslaughter, he turned Queen’s evidence and implicated his boss, Arthur Meares. Meares was charged with a serious offence which was likely to end in a prison sentence if found guilty. In those days Doug’s firm specialised in criminal law and was hired by Meares to represent him. When the case came to the Crown Court, as part of his training, Doug was allowed to follow it from the visitors’ gallery. It lasted almost two weeks as the prosecution was plagued with witnesses failing to attend. They had been intimidated by the Meares gang. But one witness held out and he, together with the surviving tenant who had been roughed up, had seemingly damning facts to tell the court.
‘So you watched the drama unfold.’
‘I was only about twenty-one or twenty-two at the time and didn’t think I could sit still for long but the trial turned out to be spellbinding. It wasn’t just the legal procedures and the case itself but sitting in the viewing gallery every day was a man in his late thirties who closely resembled the defendant. I dubbed him Meares Junior and later discovered that he was indeed the defendant’s son. He was a posh version of his father. I heard him mutter a few words and his accent was very different from that of his father’s. He dressed differently from his father too, posh-style clothes is the best way I can explain them. He was his son definitely but he seemed to be portraying an entirely different background.’
‘So was the father acquitted?’
‘Yes. Innocent was the majority verdict. He shook hands with his brief and left with a smirk. His brief hated shaking hands with him but loved the fat cheque he received. All rather nasty I’m afraid but it was a great learning curve for me.’
‘So two criminals seem to be occupying the same building at a well-known address in the City. That does seem excessive!’ Ruth reflected. ‘A link is very plausible. Might they be some sort of a gang?’
‘Probably,’ answered Doug. ‘I think I had better find out who owns the building. Now that is one job I do have the skills to do!’
***
Drop it, his father had advised when Tommy told him the story of Rolf’s last words about the white tube and how he could see no other way to retrieve it than a break-in at Ron’s Ludgate Hill office. ‘You’re a major shareholder of a public limited company now. You can’t just go breaking in to other people’s places. Think what the press would do to you if word got out. Drop it son for your own good!’
‘I can’t drop it Dad, it’s not that simple,’ Tommy replied. ‘Rolf was my best friend. For more than forty years we were best friends, always helping each other in times of need, loyal to each other through thick and thin. I can’t drop it Dad,’ he repeated.
‘You’re a good lad Tommy, misguided in this instance, but a good lad,’ Stan said. ‘Would Rolf really have wanted you to risk all in a venture you seem to know little about?’
‘I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t bother to try to do what Rolf asked me to do with his dying breath. I simply couldn’t. It was something really important, something so crucial to him that he felt unable to tell me the full story. And with his dying breath he trusted me to do what he wished.’
‘But he couldn’t have known how things would pan out,’ protested Stan.
‘But it was my fault Dad. My fault! If I hadn’t made an error in the first place all would have been well. I made the error,’ he repeated, pointing vigorously with his finger at his chest.
‘Calm down. Your loyalty is admirable but I fear it will prove your downfall. You’re my son and I still want to protect you. I’ll make a cup of tea and we’ll sit down and talk it through.’
The Cahills were not renowned for their sophistication but tea in their household was always served in a china cup and usually came with a dry tea biscuit. Sitting in the front room both men reflected on the situation.
‘It’s an irony that this should happen just when things have fallen into place for me in life. Cahill & Dawes are doing well, three outlets now. Then I inherit Rolf’s shares in WareWork which make me a paper millionaire and then I find a woman I love and who I think loves me. All set up for a happy life it seemed. But a mistake I made has come back to haunt me and unless I do something about it I shall never be able to enjoy my new life. It’s as simple as that Dad.’
‘I understand Tommy but what you are planning is lunacy.’
‘What else can I do? Go in and demand they give me the tube?’
‘What about a bribe? Not many men can resist a bribe.’
‘I thought of that but it would leave me open to blackmail.’
‘You may be right there,’ said his father. ‘Do you know what these are?’ he said, tossing a metal object into Tommy’s lap.
‘I’ve got a strong suspicion. Are they to pick locks?’
‘They sure are,’ replied Stan, ‘I retrieved them from the gutter years and years ago at one of the places we had a market stall. I knew what they were instantly. Obviously I couldn’t go around asking other stall holders if they’d lost their lock pickers! So I kept them. They’ve been in my chest of drawers ever since. Can’t think why I haven’t thrown them out in all those years. Maybe the right time has come.’
‘I presume you never used them.’
‘Definitely not, but we may have to practice with them now!’ said Stan, winking at his son.
‘Does that mean I’ve got your approval?’
‘No it doesn’t but I can see you are hell-bent on doing this no matter what I say so I’ll help you as much as I can. We’d better try some lock picking straightaway on the front door before your mother gets home.’
‘Thanks Dad.’
The original plan was for Stan to do the lock picking and then the breaking and entering so that if he was caught Tommy would be in the clear. Tommy would act as lookout and at the merest hint of trouble his father had insisted that he should disappear from the scene as quickly as he could. But when it came to the actual picking of the lock or locks it soon became obvious that Stan simply didn’t have sufficient manual dexterity to do it. He was a man in his late seventies and delicate, finesse-type movements with his fingers were no longer possible because of his arthritis. So it was Tommy who would have to pick the locks and Stan would act as his cover. The tools that had sat in Stan’s chest of drawers for decades consisted of two main types: picks and levers. With a lot of help from internet “how to” videos Tommy practised on the standard pin and tumbler lock on his father’s front door and used a three-lever mortise lock at one of his business premises to become familiar with the technique for this type of lock which was generally assumed to be more secure. In fact the method with both types of lock was similar. The lever, or tensioner tool, was slid in at the bottom of the keyhole opening and twisted so that it produced some tension on the barrel to turn. The pick was then inserted above the lever to move the pins up and down into alignment by pressing each one to the exact right height which would result in an audible click. When all pins were in the correct alignment the lock would open. Stan’s kit was old and useful in a time when locks were relatively basic. It didn’t include the type of pick and lever that was shown in the videos for mortise locks but with a bit of DIY Tommy was able to fashion the tools out of standard two-milli
metre diameter wire. From the videos they seemed to require longer handles to produce real tension on the mortise lock. With practice Tommy became reasonably proficient although his father reminded him that it would be much more difficult to do when his heart was pounding in his chest in a stressful situation.
Stan had done his own recce of the Ludgate Hill ground-floor plan, not wanting to rely on Tommy’s memory of the layout. He had dressed in the type of clothes he believed would make him as inconspicuous as possible. Most people in the street and the building were of working age but about that he could do nothing. He loitered for as long as he dared, trying to decide on the best vantage point to monitor the comings and goings. They had planned to use mobiles to alert one another and Stan took out his and pretended to punch the speed dial button for Tommy just to see how rapidly he could alert him should the need arise. He happened to be in the right place to see a man and woman exit through the swivel door but not be seen himself. He had known of the Lindsey family most of his life. In those days you couldn’t live in the East End without being on nodding terms or without hearing the gossip about your fellow Eastenders, especially when you were a market trader. Tommy had given him up-to-date snapshots of the appearance of the two siblings so Stan was certain that the man and woman were Ron and Lizzie. It was one-fifteen in the afternoon when he looked at his watch. Maybe they were off to lunch. He would come back in thirty minutes or so and from some other vantage point he would monitor the entrance. If he could establish that they had a set time for lunch then he and Tommy might just have a chance of pulling off their crazy plan.
At lunch time two days later they got lucky. Stan and Tommy watched as Ron and Lizzie left the office building at eight minutes past one and turned left up the hill towards the coffee shops and eateries of Paternoster Square. With their mobiles switched on Stan bid Tommy good luck and told him there was no time to waste. Inside the building Tommy was soon at the door marked “Private”. They had discussed heatedly which door to use, the one signed RLL Marketing or the door just next to it. On his reconnaissance Stan had noted that both doors had two locks but the one marked private was just a little farther along the landing and therefore a little farther out of sight of prying eyes. With his ear to the door Tommy listened carefully for noises from within but there were none. With a trembling hand he introduced the lever into the brass barrel of the cylinder lock and applied pressure on the barrel by rotating it anticlockwise. He then inserted the pick and slowly forced each individual pin into the correct position resulting in a series of gratifying clicks. When he thought all pins were accounted for he started on the mortise lock. Using the tools he had fashioned himself, he repeated the procedure and although more fiddly the lock’s bolt suddenly snapped back and the door flew open. Tommy’s heart was thumping and sweat was dripping down the outer edges of his eyebrows. He felt sick.
Seconds passed, although they felt like hours before Tommy was able to marshal his thoughts. He moved inside the room and closed the door silently behind him. There was a small round table and four chairs in the centre and various pieces of office equipment along one wall comprising a large grey two-door metal cabinet and a worktop on which sat a laptop and a printer. Tucked neatly underneath was a shredding machine. Otherwise the room was bare except for an internal door leading into, presumably, the adjacent room which was probably the public face of RLL Marketing. The door had a mortise lock. As Tommy could hear no sound coming from the adjacent room he tried to open the cabinet but it was locked. He pulled on the doors several times but they would not yield. He scanned the worktop again but there was nothing on it save the laptop and printer. With fear that the enormous risk he was taking might be in vain, he turned to the table in the centre of the room. A buff file lay on it which he hadn’t spotted when he entered. He flipped back the upper cover, revealing several sheets of paper. Slipping on his reading spectacles, his heart skipped a beat when he read the title written on the top sheet in longhand: “contents of tube”. There were five sheets, three with handwriting and two with diagrams. All appeared to be photocopies. He checked the room again but there was no photocopier. At that moment the mobile in his jacket pocket vibrated. It was a signal from his father. They had agreed on a code. One vibration meant fifteen minutes had passed, two would equal thirty minutes and three was the signal to get out immediately as Stan had spotted Ron and Lizzie returning. It was one vibration, Tommy relaxed. He tried the internal door. It was locked. He stood stock-still, wasting precious seconds wondering what next to do. Did he need the actual tube, if so he would have to break into the cabinet, or would the list of its contents be sufficient? If so, should he try to pick the internal door’s lock and hope to find a photocopier in the main room? He couldn’t decide but was saved by a flash of inspiration. He could use the camera on his mobile to take photos of the five sheets. Lighting was poor in the windowless room and he would have to hope that the camera’s flash would be sufficient to obtain a readable image. He placed each sheet in turn on one of the chairs and, leaning over to get a level field, he touched the appropriate icon to capture each image. Changing modes to gallery, he examined the last sheet he had photographed. Enlarging the image with reverse-pinching movements, he was relieved to be able to decipher the written words. His mobile vibrated again, two vibrations, he couldn’t believe thirty minutes had passed since he had left his father. With his mobile safely back in his pocket he placed the five sheets back into the file and straightened the chair. He opened the external door slowly. Nobody was around. He pulled it to and the latch of the cylinder lock snapped closed automatically. He inserted the lever into the mortise lock and tensioned it clockwise. He placed the pick tool on top of the lever and pushed it into the lock, feeling for each lever in turn, lifting each to the correct height until the bolt was free to slide into the mortise opening under the rotational pressure of the tensioner. It was then that his phone vibrated three times. He jumped back, startled, and the pick and lever slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.
Stan had followed the siblings up Ludgate Hill and watched them enter a high-class sandwich bar. It was a fine day and they had chosen to sit at an outdoor table. Afraid of being spotted, Stan retreated from the Square and took up a position amongst the continuous throng of tourists climbing and descending the steps up to the cathedral’s entrance from where he could just see his quarry but wouldn’t be noticed himself. When they rose to leave he punched Tommy’s number and allowed it to ring three times.
The building’s foyer was paved in a medium-grey marble with a natural matt finish. The stairs and landing were covered with commercial carpet tiles, almost matching in colour with the marble of the foyer. The lighting on the landing was dim. The colour of the wire tools he had made blended in with the carpet tiles and Tommy could not see them on the floor. He got down on all fours and groped with his hand along the door’s margin but still found nothing. With time fast running out, he hastily donned his spectacles and immediately found them. He moved swiftly up the short flight of steps hoping to exit the building and cross to the other side of the road before the siblings approached but he was too late. He could see a man and a woman nearing the swivel doors; he guessed it was them. The doors of the lift to his left were open, he slipped inside and the doors closed behind him. He let out an audible sigh of relief and the only other person in the lift stared at him with interest. A light was flashing on the selection panel for the second floor. Tommy pushed the button for the third but on arrival he didn’t leave the lift. When it arrived back at ground-floor level he made a bee-line for the swivel doors and was out in the street and marching up to the steps of St. Paul’s in rapid time. Stan was waiting at the pre-arranged meeting point. He looked anxious. The two men moved away immediately, walking through St. Paul’s courtyard as quickly as Stan’s arthritic legs allowed. They crossed the Millennium Bridge and entered a pub on the Thames’ south bank. They hugged warmly but could find no words to say, such was their indivi
dual levels of nervous tension.
Seated eventually with pints and hot chips, they related their stories.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ asked Stan. ‘I pray you did because I couldn’t go through that ever again!’
‘I think I did but let me just check.’
There were five new images in the photo gallery of his mobile. Tommy scrutinised each one carefully, enlarging and minimising as required.
‘I can make out the writing on each sheet,’ he said finally. ‘When I get home I’ll upload them to my desktop and print them off. Fingers crossed!’
‘You’ve paid for your mistake in full,’ said Stan, ‘you owe nothing more.’
‘I’ve only to pass on these sheets with whatever they hold to Daniel. There’s a board meeting next week. When the meeting closes I’ll tell him about the promise I made to his Uncle Rolf.’
‘You do that son,’ said a proud father.
***
It had shocked Angela to the core to see her mother with another man, one with whom she was so obviously besotted. In a million years she would never have guessed such a thing would happen in her family. She could understand years of marital disharmony causing partners to look elsewhere for love and friendship but her father had always looked after Jane and, in Angela’s opinion, her mother should have been grateful. How dare she do this to him, bite the hand that fed, clothed, housed her all these years and presumably still cared for her. She hadn’t discussed the situation with her own husband. She waited until she felt sufficiently calm to come to a sensible decision as to what to do next. She would confront her mother. She would ask her not to see the other man again. She would plead if necessary. As long as her father knew nothing about the affair the situation could be retrieved. When confronting her mother she must stay cool and not give way to her fiery nature. That was essential.
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