by Philip Cox
‘Yes, you’re right.’ She paused. ‘So what’s Lisa doing with all that money?’
‘No idea yet, but I’m sure it’s got something to do with what she wanted to see me about.’
He fished into his coat pocket and pulled out the envelope. ‘Here; see how much there is there.’
She took out the notes and began to count. ‘There are a hundred £50 notes.’
‘Five thousand pounds. What about the rest?’
‘A hundred dollar notes.’
‘A hundred $100 bills: that’s - that’s ten thousand dollars. And the Euros?’
‘A hundred notes.’
‘All five hundreds?’
‘Yes. That’s fifty thousand Euros,’ Tom whistled.
‘How much is all that worth?’ she asked.
He passed her his phone. ‘There’s an app on there,’ he said, ‘for currency exchange. Check it out.’
She put the money back in the envelope and passed it back to Tom. ‘One Euro, that’s 83p. Therefore fifty thousand Euros is -’
‘About forty grand?’
‘£41500, to be exact.’
Tom whistled again. ‘And the dollars?’
‘One US dollar is 65p. Therefore ten thousand dollars; six thousand five hundred pounds.’
‘So we’re sitting on - on fifty-three thousand pounds,’ said Tom.
‘Hm,’ answered Amy.
‘Where shall we go?’ Tom asked. ‘Rio, or Dubai?’
‘I fancy Rio,’ said Amy.
‘Via Balham?’
‘Guess so. Spoilsport.’
‘They’re all new notes, aren’t they?’ asked Tom, as they passed Clapham South station. ‘We’re nearly here, aren’t we?’
‘Nearly. On the left; another few turnings. Yes. All brand new.’
‘Are they real?’
‘Don’t know how to tell. You?’
‘No idea.’
‘What are we going to do with them?’
‘No idea again.’
‘Should we take them to the police?’
‘And tell them what? That we broke into an office at the weekend?’
‘We didn’t break in, did we? I work there.’
‘That’s true.’
Tom thought a moment. ‘Tell you what. Let’s keep the envelope for now.’
‘But we can’t -’
‘Listen. If the money’s genuine, it was in Lisa’s locker, so it must be hers. If it’s counterfeit, we’ll go to the police; hand everything over to them. But it won’t solve what happened to Lisa. Let’s see what we unearth over the weekend, then take this to the police Monday. All right?’
‘Okay.’ Amy agreed.
‘In any case, you can’t seriously think a market research firm is distributing counterfeit money, do you?’
‘No, not really. Here’s the turn.’
Tom was lucky enough to find a space the opposite side of the road, a few doors up, outside number 177. He turned the engine off and looked around. The street was full of parked vehicles, but they all seemed empty. ‘Come on then. Let’s be quick,’ he said as they got out of the car. Pausing for a moment to let a taxi go past, they crossed the road, still looking around. They walked quickly along the front path, and up the steps to the front door. Amy let them in, and they cautiously climbed up to the first floor. Tom quickly studied her front door: there was no sign of it having been touched since their last visit. ‘What do you need to get?’ he asked once they were inside.
‘Just stuff,’ she said, calling out from the bedroom. ‘I’ll only be a minute.’
‘Just stuff,’ Tom repeated, wandering over to the window. He looked around the flat. Apart from a pile of post on the floor, it seemed untouched since he had last been here.
He looked out of the window, down to the street. He could see the Ford Ka parked further up the street. Both sides of the road filled with parked cars. Two women walking in the other direction on the other side of the road; a man wheeling a bicycle into a house across the street, and a small, fat man, balding with a black moustache, standing outside a black car. He was looking up at the window, talking on a mobile.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘Oh shit,’ said Tom. ‘Not again.’ The man with the moustache, wearing his uniform of dark suit and matching tie, ended the call and started running towards the house.
‘Amy!’ he called out. ‘We’ve got company!’
With a look of panic on her face, Amy appeared in the bedroom doorway with a backpack. ‘They’re here already?’ she cried.
‘No, it’s the other one. The little fat one. Come on!’
Closing her door, Tom looked up and down her landing. They could hear Carter banging on the door downstairs.
‘That door won’t last forever,’ he said. ‘Unless someone lets him in first.’
He indicated over to the window at the end of the landing. ‘Last time you said something about a fire escape,’ he said.
‘It - it’s out there,’ she stammered. ‘I think.’
‘You think?’ said Tom, as he ran over to the window. He looked out. Sure enough, the window led directly out to a fire escape. Of sorts. It was a kind of iron balcony, with a set of open steps leading to the floor above, and another leading down.
‘Here we are. Quick,’ said Tom urgently. The sound of banging on the front door was getting louder.
The window was an old sash type, in common with houses built in Victorian times. Tom tried to push the window up. It would not budge.
He tried again. No movement.
‘Supposed to be a bloody fire escape!’ he yelled.
The banging got louder and louder. Then it stopped. They could hear a conversation outside.
‘If that’s one of the neighbours,’ cried Amy, ‘they’ll let him in!’
‘No choice, then,’ said Tom grimly.
He turned to face Amy, then jerked his arm backwards hard. With a crash, his elbow went through the window. He repeated this action a couple more times, to leave a hole in the glass large enough for them to climb through. He stepped through first, just as they heard the sound of the front door being opened.
‘Quick Amy; be careful,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Give me the bag first.’
Amy did so, and then slowly stepped through the hole in the glass. She screamed as her arm got caught on a jagged edge.
‘It’s okay; it’s only your coat,’ Tom said, pulling the material away from the glass. Now they were both on the balcony. They could hear the sound of some mild protestation and footsteps running up the stairs.
‘Down, quick,’ said Tom, as he caught a glimpse of Carter reaching the second floor. As they got to the first floor balcony, Tom looked up: Carter hesitated for a moment. He reached into his coat and pulled out a handgun. Tried to aim at Tom and Amy, but the iron stairways prevented a clear shot. Instead, he held the gun by the barrel, and used it to clear the window frame of glass.
‘Are all your neighbours deaf?’ Tom shouted as they ran down the stairs.
‘Some are old, yes,’ she called back. ‘But most of them just keep themselves to themselves. First sign of trouble, they turn up the TV.’
With Carter in close pursuit, they clambered down to the ground floor. However, the house was built on a slope, and the steps did not reach to the ground, but a narrow wall, then a four foot drop to the garden adjoining the basement flat.
‘Can you make the jump?’ Tom asked. Amy nodded.
‘I’ll go first.’
He jumped off the wall and landed on the grass. Looked up to Amy and held his arms out to catch her. She nervously looked up the stairs and jumped. Tom caught her. As they started to run off down the garden, Tom saw Carter, now climbing down to the ground level. Tom noticed some white plastic garden furniture: a small table and a couple of chairs. He grabbed the table and pushed it over so it lay where they had landed. Kicked the chairs over also.
‘There’s a gate to the alleyway,’ Amy gasped, grabbing Tom by the
hand.
As they reached the gate, Carter made the jump from the narrow wall. The upturned garden furniture prevented him from making a soft landing; instead he landed clumsily on the side of the table. Crying out in pain, he got up, but tripped over one of the upturned chairs. By the time he had managed to stand up, Tom and Amy were running down the alleyway back to the street.
They ran across the road and climbed into the waiting Ka.
‘Go straight on,’ Amy said. ‘You can take the side roads back up to the A24.’
Tom started the engine and pulled away. As they passed the alley, Carter emerged onto the street, limping badly. He waved a fist at the car as it sped away.
‘That was close. Again,’ said Tom.
Amy said nothing. She turned round in her seat and looked round at the limping figure disappearing into the distance.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘This is becoming something of a habit.’ Tom followed Amy’s directions and took the car through the back streets and rejoined the A24 on the corner of Clapham Common.
‘Running down stairs, you mean?’
‘More like being chased down stairs.’
‘Just as well there was only one of them there.’
‘Quite. I’m guessing our albino friend hadn’t time to get down there from Canary Wharf.’
‘Just as well.’ Amy shuddered.
‘Did you get all you wanted to?’ Tom asked.
Amy checked the backpack. ‘Yes, thanks. Sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For wanting to go back there.’
‘Forget it. We’re away now.’
‘Where to now?’
‘The SE address. What was it? Grim Close? You’d better get the A to Z out again.’
‘Right.’ Amy reached behind her seat and picked up the atlas. ‘Here we are. The best route is to carry on up here and turn right at the Oval. Onto the 202. That’ll take you to New Cross Gate.’
‘Then we’re nearly there. Yes. I know.’
‘Are you okay driving?’ Amy asked a few moments later.
‘Yes, I’m okay,’ answered Tom, looking over at her. ‘Why? You offering?’
‘No; it’s just that you said you hadn’t driven for some time.’
‘Not for a while, no. But it’s not something you forget.’
‘Like riding a bike?’
‘Or swimming.’
‘Or sex?’
‘Or sex,’ Tom grinned.
*****
A few minutes after they had passed through Peckham, Amy pointed to a turning on the right.
‘Go down there,’ she said. ‘Grim Close is down there. On the right, after a bend in the road.’
‘There is it,’ Tom said a half mile later.
‘Are you going to drive in?’
‘I think I will. Have a quick look. If we can’t park there, or it’s not safe, we can get out quickly.’
Grim Close was situated in the heart of an area of light industry, and as such was deserted on a Saturday afternoon. On either side of the close there were the walls of premises the fronts of which were on the main road; at the end were three single level structures: one had roller shutters, the other wooden doors. All three were closed and seemed deserted.
Tom drove until they were half way down the close, then made a three point turn so they were facing the main road.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Amy.
‘Just turning round,’ replied Tom as he reversed back to the three buildings, ‘so we can make a quick exit if we need to.’
‘Are you going to keep the engine running?’ asked Amy as they got out.
‘I won’t do that. Anybody could take the keys. Or the car.’
Pocketing the keys, Tom walked over to the first building, the one with roller shutter doors. He crouched down and tried the shutters. They would not budge. Then he stood on tiptoe and peered in one of the windows.
‘Can you see anything?’ Amy asked, watching what Tom was doing, and looking back up the close.
‘The window’s so dirty, I can barely see anything. It all looks empty. Let’s try the next one.’
The middle building had two large wooden doors. The doors were padlocked shut. Tom tried the padlock, but it was locked. He tried the windows again.
‘Looks empty as well,’ he said, walking over to the third set of doors. These were also padlocked. The windows were just as dirty, but on one set, a small part of the glazing was missing. He tried to reach up, but it was too high.
‘Come over here,’ he beckoned to Amy.
Casting another glance around the close she walked over. Tom picked her up by the waist and held her up so her face was level with the hole in the window.
‘Can you see anything?’
Amy looked in and peered around. ‘It’s so dark inside,’ she said. ‘It seems empty.’
‘Yeah; they all do,’ Tom said as he put her down. He looked around. ‘Wait a minute, though.’
He stepped over to the padlock on the middle doors and studied it. Then the lock on the end doors.
‘Look at this,’ he said, holding the padlock out to Amy.
‘What?’ she said, looking at it.
‘Compare it with that one. That one’s old. Rusty in places. This one’s comparatively new. And look at where the key goes. Remember your front door lock? The little scratch marks where they messed about with the lock? Something similar here. Unless you get the key in right first time without touching any part of the padlock, the key’s going to scratch slightly up against the mouth of the lock. There are scratch marks here.’
‘So someone’s used the padlock recently. Is that what you mean? But everywhere looks empty.’
‘Well, I suppose somebody could have tried to pick the lock recently. To break in, I mean.’
‘Or the lock’s been used recently,’ finished Amy.
‘That’s what I think.’
‘But it all looks so empty, so deserted.’
‘Looks that way.’
Tom stepped back a few paces and looked over the building. ‘There must be a back way in,’ he said.
‘Must there? Why?’
‘Well, it’s a place of work,’ Tom said. ‘Or was, rather. Therefore, it must have a fire exit, surely. All places have to have a fire exit. Except your place, of course,’ he added.
‘No sign of anything,’ Amy said, looking around.
‘Where’s the A to Z?’ Tom walked back to the car and took the street atlas out.
‘Look,’ he said as Amy joined him back at the car. ‘That’s where we are, here. I wonder if we go down one of these roads, there’s another way in there.’
‘Are we walking?’
Tom looked around and said, ‘No, better not. Come on.’
They turned into the main A2214 and took the next left. Tom drove slowly while Amy looked out for an entrance.
‘Nothing here.’
‘Okay; I’ll go left here and back. Keep your eyes peeled.’
Tom took a left at the end of the street and drove back in the direction of the 2214.
‘There’s something there,’ Amy said sharply.
‘Okay.’ Tom drove a bit further on and pulled in. ‘Double yellow, but let’s chance it. Hopefully we won’t be here for long.’
‘Try not to look suspicious,’ Tom said quietly as they walked down to the alleyway. It was clear, and after glancing over his shoulder, Tom led Amy down the alley. The alley was unmade, only fifty or so yards long. Tom stopped outside a brown wooden door.
‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘These are the buildings.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘The buildings in Grim Close were single storey,’ he said. ‘All the places around here are two floors or more. Except these. And there are three of them. Must be them. Let’s take a look at the middle one.’
Each of the buildings had a single rear door, a few steps below ground level. Looking around, Tom stepped down to the middle door. Like the doors at the
front, it was wooden; however, it was not padlocked, just a conventional lock. Tom tried the handle: it was locked. Looking round again, he pushed at the door with his shoulder. There was some give, but it remained locked. He climbed up onto the raised wall upon which the railings were attached, and kicked at the door.
‘Tom...’ Amy called through gritted teeth.
‘Just one more,’ Tom said, and kicked again. This time the door burst open. ‘Quick,’ he said, holding out his hand to Amy.
Nervously looking around, Amy ran inside after him. Once inside the building, they could see it was unoccupied. At the rear, adjacent to the door Tom had kicked in, was a small office: an ancient oak desk and a broken swivel chair. A few pieces of screwed up paper were strewn over the floor, but the office was empty. To the other side was a room with a sink and a couple of low chairs. Next to that was a single toilet. Back on the other side, next to the office was a store room: a small space with two empty, free-standing shelf units.
They walked past these rooms into the main part of the premises. An open plan space, empty; Tom estimated about fifty feet by fifty.
‘Just as it looked from the outside,’ said Amy, wandering around. ‘Empty. Looks like it’s been that way for ages.’
Tom crouched down and studied the floor. ‘Not necessarily,’ he said, running his finger over the concrete floor.
‘What do you mean?’
‘These marks on the floor. They’re kind of square. Look.’
‘Yeah, I see.’ Amy knelt down to look. ‘Looks like something was standing here.’
‘And here.’ Tom stood up and walked around. ‘And here.’
Amy stood up. ‘So...’
‘So I think something - I’ve no idea what - was kept here recently. Then moved.’
‘Moved? But where to?’
‘Maybe to that other location on Jimmy Khan’s list.’
Amy looked around. ‘Can we get out now?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Sure. Come on.’ Tom led her by the hand to the rear door. He quickly peered outside: the alley was empty. He carefully closed the door behind them, and they quickly walked back down the alleyway to the street, and the car.
