They reached the door of the meeting room, and Blunt pushed Alma through it. She staggered inside, then spun around and wiped her face with her arm as she faced him. Their eyes met with new intensity.
“Anyway. You must be sick of running by now. I tell you, you’ll be relieved when all this is done,” said Blunt.
“Relieved. What, when I’m dead? This is my life.”
“Not much of a life in a pissy old squat.”
“It’s freedom compared to what went before.”
“Was freedom,” said Blunt. He moved forwards, cricking his neck left to right, straightening out the arm holding the Walther PPK. “Sit down,” he said. “Take a load off, then we’ll get down to business.”
“I don’t want to sit down,” said Alma. “Not yet.”
Blunt stepped forward. “I wasn’t asking.”
“How much are they paying you to do this?” Her voice betrayed her, almost breaking before she regained control.
“Enough,” said Blunt.
“You know, Simeon used to be very generous to me.”
“Before you threw it in his face.”
“I mean very generous,” said Alma.
A wrinkle appeared on Blunt’s brow. His eyes narrowed.
“What are you on about?”
“I had plans for myself once. Plans to do something after the travelling finished. Maybe start a record label. Later on I wanted something simple. A shop, maybe…”
Blunt shrugged. “I’m not interested in your sad little dreams. Take a seat, Alma.”
“You should be interested. I saved it all. I kept a nest egg, just for me. And I’ve still got that nest egg.”
“Where?” said Blunt.
“Right here. In my pissy little squat.”
“You left cash in this stinking hovel? How much? I don’t believe you.”
Alma nodded. “Believe me. I’ll show you if you like. And if you let me live, if you walk out of here and never come back for me, you can have every single penny.”
“How much?”
“Twenty grand and change. Tell me Simeon’s paying you that much to do this.”
Blunt turned quiet. “Twenty grand… You’re serious?”
Alma nodded.
“Where?”
Her eyes sparked at Blunt. “I’ll show you,” she said.
“I’ll find it myself, Alma.”
“No, you won’t,” said Alma. The way she said it sounded confident. Too confident for Blunt to ignore.
“If I let you have my money, this stops right here. Agreed?”
Blunt’s eyes brightened. “You have my word.”
Alma’s eyes were bright too.
“Okay, come with me.” She hesitated, watching Blunt, reading his face, before she slowly walked past him and headed out into the outer ring. Unseen, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The end was coming. Alma Poulter was running out of hope as much as she was running out of time.
She led the tall man around the corridor into her dusty, smelly room. He looked at the near empty milk bottle in the sink and the quilt piled on the bed and the make-up on the chest of drawers and turned up his nose.
“No one keeps money in a pit like this,” he said.
“Except if you’re smart,” said Alma. She bent down to the divan bed and pulled the drawer open.
“Nice and slow,” he said. “And you’d better not have a weapon down there.”
Alma looked up at him. From low down on the dusty floor, Blunt looked like a giant. She pulled the drawer slowly, until the whole thing was removed from the cavity beneath the bed. Blunt peered down at the few bits of junk left in the drawer, then watched as Alma threaded her arm into the cavity. She pulled at something, and then her arm came free. Blunt saw the plastic-wrapped bundle in Alma’s slender fingers and recognised the colourful banknotes within. Euros.
“I told you,” said Alma.
Blunt grinned. “Yeah. You did. Show them to me.” Alma stood up, slowly, as if teasing the man with the money.
Blunt held out his hand for the cash. Alma looked down at the PPK in his other hand. “Blunt, you promised.”
“So I did. Hand it over.”
She offered the money across and Blunt snatched the bag from her hand. He let the package unfurl, holding it by the top of the plastic bag. There was a clip-lock at the top. The bundle of cash came loose inside, and he saw by the thickness of the wad that the sum was generous as predicted.
“Thank you, Alma. Now. Seeing as you’ve been so generous, I’ll be generous back. I’ll make this quick, and we can do it right here.”
Blunt lifted the pistol and pointed it between Alma’s eyes.
“Who have you told?” he barked.
“Wait, Blunt! There’s more.”
“What?” said Blunt.
“It’s true,” said Alma. Sweat tricked down her temples and sparkled on her face. She licked her lips.
“No. You’re lying,” said Blunt.
“No. Those are my Euros. I had a load converted to sterling so I could use it here. One of the people you saw, Rhiannon… I think she must have found some before she left. I’m not lying.”
Blunt recalled the words of the security men at the pub. The mouthy one was ‘queen of the big spenders’… “How much?” he said.
“Ten Gs.”
“Under there?”
Alma shook her head.
“No. I never kept it all in one place. Seeing as I lost some, that would have been dumb. I needed a backup stash, insurance in case something else happened.”
“Something’s happening right now,” said Blunt.
Alma nodded. “But you have to promise to let me live.”
“Do you really think I can do that?”
“Everyone can make a choice,” said Alma.
“That they can,” said Blunt. “Let you live? Maybe I will. But first you show me the rest. Show me all of it.”
Alma nodded. “Follow me.”
Blunt followed, the silver pistol still tight in his grasp.
***
Dan, Joanne and Mark crept along the cobbled yard in the darkness. The Albany Centre looked ugly and foreboding by night. The quirky cog-shaped building jarred against its surroundings, like something from a science fiction movie, or maybe a horror. Dan raised a hand and stopped moving. Mark bumped into Joanne’s back and she almost slipped on the cobbles. The damp, drizzly rain had made them greasy under foot
“What is it?” whispered Joanne.
“I think I saw some movement in there. Behind the glass of that outer tooth on the corner. I think that’s Alma’s room. Okay, now you’ve got to be totally quiet… The entrance is around the other side”
Joanne nodded but now it was truly dark. It was almost impossible to see her feet, let alone much else. The windows of distant houses rising above the Albany were like squares of gold, but their light was too far away to be of any help. And so, holding hands with Mark, yet resenting it, feeling utterly ridiculous, Joanne moved on after Dan. The hand-holding was for stability only. For ease of walking. By now she sensed the distance between them, the suspicion, and deep down, she knew it had already festered too long. Their love making had been a lie, and not a good one at that. Lately, there were too many lies, and it didn’t suit her. She wanted out. Wanted to get to the next phase of her life where it was all out in the open and she was free. And yet, here she was, still bound to the old life. This part would have to be endured until then. Somehow, in the effort to break free and be true to herself, she had turned into a liar and the lies had boxed her in. And some of them didn’t even come from her. Which was why she had to stay and endure, and see the last lie unpicked altogether. Closure was what she needed, what they needed and deserved. But to get there they needed to survive this mess of a case. Then Joanne intended to repair her honour, her self-respect. Put together it seemed a tall order.
They edged around the cog-shaped building, until Dan cut across the cobbles in between one set of c
og’s teeth. He pulled at the edge of a door, which glinted faintly, reflecting the clouds above. The door chafed against the frame, and the stale darkness inside invited them in. Somewhere inside there were scuffles of movement, and a few mangled words. A man’s words. They sounded rough and unfriendly.
“Silence,” whispered Dan. “Any noise in there, they’ll hear us.” And then he stepped inside. Just before they were absorbed, Mark squeezed Joanne’s hand. “It’ll be alright,” he said.
“I know,” said Joanne, just one more lie in the list.
They edged around the hallway, their feet padding on the cheap carpet, aware of every hint of movement. Dan led the way. He walked forward, keeping close to the inner wall. They had moved a no more than quarter of the way around the ring, when Dan stopped again.
“Listen…” he said.
There was the noise of moving furniture, the clatter of wood on wood, and doors moving. A rustle of papers. Dan edged forward until he could see a door quivering in the corridor. It was being held open, pressed by the tall man’s back showing against the door’s window. Below him, Dan made out the figure of Alma scrambling about on the floor inside the room, her trendy boots sticking out into the corridor as she delved deep into the cupboards by the former project worker’s desk.
“You lied, didn’t you, Alma. Lied to put off the inevitable?” said Blunt. His words echoed around the corridor.
“No!” said Alma. “It’s here. I hid it well. No one else would know to look here. “Yes… wait… wait… I’ve almost got it.”
“I know where it is now. Get out of the way.”
“No, I’m almost there…”
Dan bit his lip hard. He saw the dull gleam of the gun moving in Blunt’s hand, and wished he had a weapon of his own. But he had hurried and the car had occupied all his thoughts. And now he saw Alma was bluffing. He could feel it. She had lied to stay alive. It had worked, but now her time was fast running out.
“Please…” thought Dan. If Blunt’s arm moved, if he raised the gun, it would be too late. Nonetheless, Dan knew he would have to try. The woman deserved that much at least.
A sound echoed from another part of the inner ring corridor; the chafing of the entrance door followed by a thud as the door hit the wall. The sound was close, and every nuance was amplified in the echo. Dan jumped, and Blunt stepped back, rocking old Margie’s abandoned office door in its frame. On the floor at his feet, Alma looked up and tilted her ear to the stale air. It was either the sound of redemption, or the final bell. There could be no in between. Just around the bend of the corridor, Dan snapped his head further back out of Blunt’s line of sight and pushed Mark and Joanne back the way they had come. Danger was closing in on all sides.
“Hello? It’s us…” said the voice, soft, small and gruff. It was Robert Golding, formerly Poulter. His voice echoed around the ring, unanswered. The next time he spoke, he sounded far less sure of himself. “You better bloody have what we came for, or you know there’ll be hell to pay.”
Dan pushed at one of the living quarter door recesses on the outer wall of the circle. The door didn’t budge and the sound of Robert Golding’s approach was coming closer. They had seconds before the confrontation, but it wasn’t the right time. As it was they were trapped, potential cannon fodder between the two villains. Dan tried the next door. The lock stayed in place, but the door seemed less certain, less strong. Dan traced his finger down around the edge of the lock and found gouges where other street vermin had tried to get their way inside. He knew he could go no further without being discovered. It didn’t matter now if they made a sound – there was enough noise around to give them cover. What mattered was getting out of sight. Dan pulled back and buffeted the door with his shoulder, leaning into the blow with all he had to make it count. The door clicked and the lock gave way, swinging into another dark room of stale air and smelly bed sheets.
“Inside!” he whispered, half dragging Mark and Joanne out of the corridor into the cell space so he could shut the door. He pushed it quickly and softly against the frame and ducked out of sight as the shapes of two men hustled past the door. Poulter and Cripps. Cripps’s profile came right past the window. Dan noticed his blinking eye, and saw the gag tied around his mouth. They were heading around the curve towards Margie’s office. They were heading for a storm.
“This is going to go off, big time,” said Dan. “This is the hard part… Stay here until it’s safe.”
“How will we know?” said Mark, as Dan opened the door into the corridor. “What are you going to do?”
“You’ll soon know,” said Dan. He moved out into the corridor and turned right, travelling in the opposite direction to Robert and Cripps. He moved only a few steps before he called out.
“Hey, Robert, I’m here! I’ve got what you want. I’ve got what everyone wants.”
“Where are you?” called Robert, his voice echoing around the hallway.
“Back here,” he called. Let him work it out. Dan kept moving. There was no knowing how Blunt would react, or which way he would go. His plan had been to surprise the man, keep him on his toes, too busy to decide either way. Which was a risk in itself. A man could panic in such a situation. A man might kill someone out of panic. But so far Blunt didn’t look the panicking type. He looked the type who knew how to get what he wanted before he wasted a bullet. Dan was banking on it – because that kind of expertise could keep Alma alive. Maybe him too.
***
Back around the corridor at the office room, Blunt pulled Alma up by her hair. She staggered to her knees, then to her feet. “Shit,” said Blunt, under his breath. “That freak is back…” Blunt looked down the corridor and lifted his gun.
“I don’t know why,” she said. “It’s nothing to do with me.”
Blunt stared at her, hateful, doubting. “It’s everything to do with you. Did you find it?” he said, his eyes darting all over the show. Movement was coming their way, fast.
“Yes,” she said, and held up the last crinkling package of cash. It was all she had. Her last throw of the dice, and now everything else – her whole life – was out of her hands. Blunt snatched it from her and took a moment to decide.
“Come with me.” Blunt shoved her on and turned away from the approaching man. They rounded the corridor in a hurry, Alma’s boots scuffing and scrambling against the carpet and against the wall. Only Blunt’s dragging kept her on her feet. They flew past the fire exit… so Blunt didn’t intend to leave. Instead, he found the inner door – the door of the meeting room. Blunt reached for the door but his hand groped through the air before he could find the handle. The door was open. Alma noticed the dark gap… but the meeting room door always closed itself because of the spring-loaded mechanism at the top.
“Get in there!” Blunt pulled her inside and tossed Alma to the floor. She spun away from him but kept on her feet, as Blunt leaned his body against the door to push it shut. Alma glanced around the darkness, scanning, searching. Just as Blunt closed the door, she saw the figure crouching beneath the far end of the meeting table, the pinpricks of light in his eyes. Hope, expectation and panic filled her senses. There was a chance. A last chance… Alma stood up and blocked Blunt’s sightline as he turned to face her.
“Why is that freak here again?!” he demanded. “What is he talking about?”
“I don’t know…”
“He’s been following you the whole time. Why?” said Blunt.
“I don’t know. I assumed he was sent by you and—”
“You’re lying to me again. He knows something… just like that tart did. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with him and then I’ll deal with you.”
“But I paid you. I’ve given you every single penny I have.”
“You’re not that stupid, are you, Alma?” said Blunt. “Just keep out of my way, and we’ll work out what to do with you next.”
Blunt turned to the door, fixing Alma with a final glare of warning. She stood her ground, blocking Dan from
sight, and Blunt seemed satisfied that she was under control. He turned his eyes to the door’s window, waiting for his moment to deal with whatever came his way. Alma glanced back and saw Dan edging up and around the far end of the meeting table, slowly lifting his body from a crouch. She took a breath and stepped towards Blunt, stretching her body out, making herself taller, wider, blocking more of the man’s view. Blunt glanced around and caught her eyes. “Stay back!” he hissed.
Alma nodded in acceptance but stayed where she was. Blunt turned his eyes back to the door window and scanned the darkness beyond.
***
“Bradley?” called Robert Golding. His voice was smaller than ever. It echoed around him. He stretched to take a risky look around the curve of the corridor and saw the office door swinging in the smallest draught from the outside door. The man stiffened and lifted his gun.
“Alma? Are you here? You know what the deal is. You know what the price is, too… I know you’re around there. Talk to me.”
Silence. Deafening silence but for the echo of his own voice reverberating from the narrow walls and low ceiling. But there was no hiding what he had heard. There had been plenty of noise, talking, whispers. They were hiding from him, and for that they would pay. But not until he had what he wanted. Getting that was a must. Golding edged forward and dragged Cripps with him. Cripps was sweating. The moisture shone all over his face. His eyes were full of hatred, but Golding couldn’t have expected anything less. Even so, Cripps dragging his feet was an added risk. If the man slowed him too much in a situation like this, he’d end up an easy target. Golding sniffed and looked behind him. Silence. The noise had come from the curve ahead of them. Cripps was gagged, and tied at the wrists. His arms were tight bound and pulled back far enough to hurt. There was no chance of him getting out of his bindings easily. Golding made his decision and pushed Cripps back against the wall. He raised his pistol to the man’s face. “Sit down,” he said. Now he felt his own sweat beading over his brow and running down the small of his back. “Sit down,” he commanded. “And wait for me.”
Cripps stared at Golding as his legs bent and he stumbled down to a seated position on the floor. Golding nodded. “Good boy. I’ll be back soon. Let’s hope you’re feeling lucky.”
Cuts Both Ways Page 26
