A Choice of Evils (2 page)

With a jerk of his head, he finished the remains of his drink. I followed suit. ‘I shall wait to hear from you then,’ he said, and left the bar with his briefcase. Without looking back he was gone out into ordinary street life.

I remained at the bar thinking over how best to plan the first step of the payment. The barmaid saw my empty glass. ‘Refill sir?’ She enquired. Her nipples stood out from her tight fitting blouse. A pair of overpainted eye lids fluttered an apology for breaking my preoccupied thoughts. Red lips repeated the question.

‘Yes, large scotch again, please,’ I told her. She pivoted around to press me a measure from the optic bottle. Her long brown hair hung down the back of her neck and a slight tilt of her long shapely legs emphasised her firm rounded buttocks. She sensed I was mentally undressing her and quickly placed the glass in front of me. I guess she had seen it all a hundred times before, but then it was part of her job to look and be nice to her customers. We exchanged smiles as she parted with my money. Two scotches later, I was talking to a gorgeous female on the bar stool next to me. I had no idea how long she had been there. But I soon learned her name was Aisha and she was on a three month holiday from the Middle East. We made small talk until it became apparent she was interested in me then I really got interested in her.

Aisha was staying at the same London Park hotel during her holiday. The hotel was tucked away in the Kennington suburb of Lambeth. It was not a pretentious place, but it attracted the tourists and was central to the city itself.

It was impossible for me to feel out of place here. Although some beautiful works of art and fine jewels had filtered through my fingers, I had never forgotten my roots. I had grown up in poverty but had learnt to mix with all kinds of people. There had been no graduation ceremonies in my background. At least, not the recognised ones experienced at academic universities. The only universities I had been too were in the prison systems. From those I had learnt every trick in the book. I had met just about every type of person there was along the way. From killers to robbers to fraudsters to con men and numerous tricksters of every genre along with those who had committed heinous crimes against the person. Thieves came in all shapes and sizes. The tricks of their trade were handed down like masonic secrets as I became well-schooled in them. More important, I had learnt to keep my mouth shut. ‘Never tell anyone what they don’t need to know’ was the advice. If I needed help on this job I would surely bare that in mind. After all, I was officially retired from being a thief.

Having introduced myself to Aisha, I wondered what extraordinary power I possessed to capture the attention of this beautiful woman. Could it be that I looked like Tom Jones the singer? Or was it true that she preferred older men? If thirty eight was old then I qualified against her twenty eight years. But it was much nicer to believe that I had some mature magic charisma that appealed to her. A fringe of long black hair hung down her back. She had a nice olive skinned face that was attractive and lights of twinkling mischief danced in her brown eyes. I liked the way she offered to buy me a drink too.

The rendering of Frank Sinatra singing in the background filled in the breaks of our conversations. Somehow, we found things to laugh at and other interesting things to talk about. She was good company, and combined with the alcohol, I found my hands liberating my thoughts by holding hers. Things really moved fast from there, like we had known each other for years.

It was getting time to leave the bar.The late shift was fast growing in numbers while a weary brunette barmaid was struggled to maintain her credibility as a warm and friendly person. We watched her touch up her lipstick and dab on some fresh mascara to see her through until closing time. I gave her a smile and turned to look at Aisha who was looking at me. ‘Come on Jack’ she invited, ‘I’ll show you where I am staying here.’ She took my hand and walked me from the bar up to her hotel room!

That night, heaven and earth moved. Aisha was one hell of a woman who knew what she liked and wanted. She had no inhibitions and wanted to do it all over again but sleep became the referee. That night I fell asleep in hope. When morning came, Aisha agreed some things were meant to be and promised to phone me in a few days’ time. I called for a taxi to take me home.

It was now raining heavily on the street. Umbrellas were sprouting up like parachutes and cars hooted at hurrying pedestrians crossing the roads. My taxi arrived to take me home as its meter ticked away, gobbling up each minute of the half our journey as if it was its last.

Inside the cab, the world passed by the rain spattered windows. Blurred pedestrians ran for cover but as least I was dry and warm. Snug and mellowed, I arrived as a glare of disappointment showed on the drivers face when I paid him the exact fare for taking me the long way home.

My keys were in my hand as I alighted at Brunswick place where I lived. A short walk to my house near Surrey Quays shopping centre soon saw me inside the door. It was always nice to shut out the world and do my own thing. I was a writer and lived alone. Marriage was a relic of my history and casual girlfriends suited the kind of life that I currently led. Female company depended on my biological requirements. But what I did know was that last night’s experience with Aisha would be repeated again, but this time in my bed.

I sat and thought about yesterday’s agreement with Dr Ahmed and what I could do with an extra £100.000.00. I would have to make sure there were no mistakes. My carriage clock chimed for 10.30am and I needed to occupy myself for a while to clear my head and let the ideas come in. The best way to do that was to type some more of the novel I was writing so after a visit to the bathroom and a coffee, I got stuck in.

As always when writing I became fully absorbed in developing the plot. The hours rolled by often past midnight. Once more a day had gone. It wasn’t the hunger pains that brought me to a stop. The thought that I was coming out of retirement to do a ‘job’ reminded me. I was thinking like a thief again. Sleep brought those thoughts to a halt as I crashed out in bed and sank into oblivion. Where ever my dreams took me that night, Dr Ahmed, the money, and the formula were in my mind when I awoke the next morning.

As usual I awoke at 7am. My carriage clock in the sitting room chimed alongside the hilarious laugh of my micky mouse clock. A thump down on the alarm button soon stopped his merry cackle. For a moment I stared at the eternal grin on mouse’s face. ‘Seven o’clock and all is well’ said a moving graphic on its face. That was always a nice thought to start the day with.

A visit to the bathroom while the kettle boiled was part of my morning ritual and a look out of my window did nothing for my choice of clothes. It was raining. Some toast, marmalade and coffee were my prerequisites as I listened to the radio news. After this it was out to the paper shop then return to see what was in my post box. My routine was the same every day. But now it was not one of writing for leisure so much, but rather making a real life plot happen.

As I munched through my breakfast, I read over the scrap of paper with Dr Ahmed’s telephone number on and dialled the numbers. ‘Please leave a message after the bleep tone’ said a voice. It intrigued me where the answerphone was located. A quick call to the operator soon taught me it was in the Barbican area of London. More enquiries informed me it was in an office complex housing a hundred answerphones. Dr Ahmed’s number was in the name of a Dr Stephens. It was obvious then that he did not want to advertise his name. But then would any thief do that?

There was much then that I wanted to know about Ahmed’s former colleague Dr Bruce too. Where he lived, worked now and where he played so to speak. Above all, where he kept the XP42 formula? No doubt Dr Ahmed would furnish me with most of the details. But my first step was to collect the £50 grand down payment and get my plan rolling. A time, date and place were needed. I had just the idea. A visit to the London zoo was a good meeting place, I thought.

It was the perfect place as it was enclosed and would be easy to spot any mischief that came in with him as I would meet him on the inside of the turnstile entrance. My companion would be my digital camera. I could not be certain yet that I would not be double crossed. I was not so green to believe that Ahmed’s word was his bond. But I could see how important this formula was to the scientific community and rivalry was always a competition that brought out the worst in people. Everybody had a price. A retired thief like me would not be noticed on the missing list, I pondered!

The bench by the first toilet on the left as you came into the zoo entrance would be fine. I would meet him there. We could blend into the crowds as we walked and talked. With the information about Dr Bruce and the down payment, it was up to me to make the happening.

Having decided on the zoo, I rang the number and left my message. The meeting would take place on Monday 1
^st
February at 12 noon. On top of this, I would arrange to have myself photographed with him at the zoo. Flash gun Terry was just the man for that. He made his living taking instant photos of the London tourists. A £50 note would see him right. I rang him to pin him down for the day. ‘You know me Jack’ he told me. ‘Anything legit for a pound note, that’s me.’ Cheeky bastard, I thought. He was more crooked than I was. But I knew he would be there on the day.

I didn’t often use my car especially if I was having a drink but I was going to need it a lot for the events to come. It would be an interesting week to see what Dr Bruce got up to in his spare time. Everybody had a life outside their work so with these thoughts in mind, I decided to give my old cherished ford sierra a good going over.

It soon fired into life. The oil, petrol and water needed topping up and I soon attended to that at Surrey Quays service station. I bought a new film memory card for Terry there too. It was a part of my deal with him.

A walk into the shopping centre brought me a few hello’s nods and winks as I bought the items I needed. Most of the people I knew were on the fringes of crime or involved in it in some way. But it was none of my business they were looking for a wilful opportunity to pick a pocket or two. Some knew a little of my history, but my knowing could never be their doing. They were the petty types who lived on a hand to mouth existence known as the sausage and chip brigade. But life was full of choices. Why have sausage when you could have steak!

Back outside, my dusty car needed a wash. It was not good to be seen driving a dirty car in the city. Dirty car equalled dirty person. Maybe the sort who was up to no good the police might think. So a car wash would eliminate that excuse to stop me. As I came out the car wash, I stood back to admire the face lift. With a smart suit on I would look the business when driving around.

Before going home, my next stop was at Italian Tony’s the barber. A trim, shampoo and a dirty story, was just the job to sharpen up my perceptions. Tony knew how to talk his way into a customer’s pocket. You wouldn’t know until you walked out with a bottle of expensive scalp conditioner, and then ask yourself why you had bought it. Every customer was a potential victim. I had enough bottles at home to play chess with. But I guess everyone was entitled to earn a living. We all differed in our own ways. On arriving home, I added my latest bottle to my collection. A refund at 10% would come near to £100. Tony was on to a good thing. But then so was I.

Inside the house, the green light on the answerphone was blinking. I pressed the recall button. One wrong number apology sounded like the voice on the second message. It was Dr Ahmed. He had received the details I had left him. ‘I can confirm the arrangements’ was all he said. It was short but good to hear the meeting was on at the zoo. There were no anxieties to trouble me over the next few days until the 1
^st
February so I could relax until then. A night out with Aisha would tune up my biological rhythms.

As I looked out of my window, I smiled at a snapshot of childhood. Three young boys were peeing onto an empty drinks can. Their amber streams were competing to see who could move it the furthest along the pavement. An old lady crossed over the road away from them while a passing dog copied them against a tree but that didn’t move. It seemed a small contribution to the light rain.

I telephoned Aisha at the London Park hotel.She had just got out of a bath, she told me and it was a lovely coincidence I had phoned her. She had been thinking about me and was debating to ring me herself. Could I pick her up at 7pm? We could have a night out with afters to come she seemed to imply. I was amazed she still remembered me. I thought our chance meeting would be no more than a one night stand. Promise was in the air. Aisha knew what she wanted and so did I.

My carriage clock chimed six bells. It was time to shower and put clean sheets on the bed. I had remembered the smell of her perfumed body on the sheets at the hotel. Everything about her was feminine and every crevice of her body oozed with a wild musky fragrance that excited my primitive urges. Her perspirations were like an aphrodisiac that I found irresistible. Like the smell of her pink peach pussy.

As the power shower cooled my ardour, I towelled and splashed on my usual Paco Rabane eu de toilet. I remembered her approval of it when we first met. She liked that.

By 7oc’ I was out the house and into my car. There was still a mild drizzle but the evening was warm with it. My casual clothes were smart enough to denote I shopped at a River Island designer store and a fold of money was good insurance I could pay my way for the evening. Thirty minutes later, I was meeting Aisha in the foyer of the London Park hotel again.

She was dressed to kill. Her hips walked her towards me as her v cut top displayed her prized possessions and a short navy skirt exposed her olive skinned thighs. It was impossible not to stare and she knew it. Her face blossomed into a happy smile. She had it all with looks, intelligence, and style. We exchanged a kiss. ‘You are going to show me some of your beautiful London?’ she asked. ‘With pleasure sweet flower,’ I answered. ‘Come this way.’