Dark Eyes of London (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Sebastian Fleming sat back in his armchair. Took a sip from his tumbler of Glenfiddich and drew deeply from the Cuban cigar. He normally only used the riverside flat in Chelsea during the week, but he had found the last few days exhausting and the last thing he wanted was to make the long drive back to the family home in Warwick and spend the weekend listening to his wife prattle on about nothing and socialize with her mind-numbing friends.

So he made his excuses, told his wife that there was a flap on at the office, which was not totally inaccurate, decided to spend the weekend here.

He purchased this third floor apartment for £800,000 three years ago, not that it was worth that now.  In a prestigious development, overlooking the old Chelsea Docks, it boasted exclusive lift access to his apartment, a concierge, and a basement gym. Not that he ever used the gym. There were other ways of getting exercise.

He looked around the apartment, swilling a mouthful of whisky: yes, maybe he would see if the delectable Tania was available this weekend. Expensive - five hundred pounds an hour - she nevertheless filled a need that his wife had not filled for years. He chuckled as he recalled their last few session here. She dressed up as a school mistress, with a gown and mortar board, and had him bend over a chair for six of the best. Another time, she had him dress up as fireman. So energetic, but she was nineteen after all.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. Maybe not tonight: he was too tired after all, and he had the rest of the weekend.  Tonight he would take it easy. He poured himself another drink and sat back watching the river. The apartment came with a beautiful view of the river and he would spend hours sitting by the huge glass doors on out on the balcony. He managed to get the housekeeper to work a few extra hours to prepare an evening meal; tomorrow he would eat out or see if the concierge would do anything for him, for the right price.

He got
up and walked over to his entertainment centre, which included a 50 inch LCD television. He selected a CD - Mahler’s Symphony No 5 - and returned to his chair. Another puff of the Cuban and another whisky.  As he leaned back in the chair, a buzzer sounded. This was from the entry system downstairs.

Fleming swore. Still holding his tumbler and cigar, he got up and went over to the entry-phone terminal on the wall. At the entrance to the block, there was a small camera so residents could see who the visitor was. To his dismay, when he peered at the little screen, he saw the figure of Ashley Merchant.

‘Yes?’ he grunted into the microphone. ‘What do you want?’

‘Sebastian, it’s Ashley Merchant,’ she said unnecessarily.

‘I can see that. What do you want?’

‘I need to speak with you urgently. Something’s come up. It won’t keep until Monday.’

‘Christ. You’d better come up, then.’

He pressed a button on the pad and sauntered back to the window. After a few moments he heard the lift reach the third floor. And footsteps. He turned round, slightly puzzled as he imagined he heard more than one set of steps. But he only saw Merchant in the lobby.  There was a loud knock on the door; opening it he saw, as expected, Ashley Merchant, but also her associate Vine. He must have been standing out of range of the camera.

‘You’d better come in,’ he grunted. ‘Both of you.’

Merchant and Vine stepped inside, closing the door behind them. Fleming walked back over to the windows. Ghastly woman, he thought: even on a Saturday evening, she still dresses in that god-awful tweed suit. And as for Vine...

‘Well?’ Fleming asked, turning round and staring at Merchant. ‘What’s so important that it can’t keep until Monday?’

‘Something’s happened you need to know about.’

‘What couldn’t you have just phoned me? Why do you need to come here?’

‘I tried to call you. But you aren’t picking up.’

Fleming grunted. She was right: he had switched his phone to silent when he ate earlier.

‘So what’s happened then? Why the panic?’

‘We’ve had a break-in at the office, and security at the storage facility has been breached.’

‘Which one?’

‘The London one.’

‘That’s empty now.’

‘Was still breached.’

‘What about the break-in? How did that happen? Do you know who it was?’

‘It was the Spicer girl.’

‘The Spicer girl? But she’s supposed to be afraid of her own shadow. How did she manage to break in?’

‘She still works for us - technically - remember. She used her smart card.’

‘So she just let herself in? I assume she wasn’t alone.’

‘No. She was -’

‘Let me guess. She was with this mysterious boyfriend of hers. The one the two of you can’t find anything about. Particularly where he lives.’

‘Yes, he was with her,’ Merchant said reluctantly.

‘And what did she take?’

‘As far as we can establish, nothing. It looks like we disturbed them.’

‘You disturbed them?’

Fleming listened while Merchant told him about the events that morning: the chase down the stairs, and Tom and Amy’s escape. She thought it better not to tell him about their visit to Amy’s flat later in the day, and how they eluded Carter.

‘And what about the facility?’

‘Spicer and her friend broke in there later this afternoon.’

‘It was empty, wasn’t it? It did get cleared out properly, didn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes; it did. But there’s still the question of how she knew about it.’

‘More to the point: do they also know about Suffolk?’

‘We can’t take the risk. Vine and I are going up there tonight.’

‘Even if they do go up there, it’s totally secure. They can’t just break into there.’

‘I don’t want to take that chance. That’s why we’re going up there now. That’s also why you’re going to postpone things.’

Fleming snorted. ‘Postpone things? Are you out of your mind? After all this planning? Just because some silly little girl is trying to cause trouble for us? She should have been dealt with days ago. In any case, what can she know?’

‘She may know more than you think. Remember Jimmy Khan?’

‘Yes, but he was taken care of, wasn’t he? Eventually. Are you suggesting he passed on what he knew to her?’

‘Possibly. Or to Lisa Kennedy.’

‘We don’t need to worry what Lisa Kennedy knew or didn’t know. She took care of that herself. Saved you the trouble.’

‘I’m telling you, Sebastian: we need to postpone.’

‘And I’m telling you:  we don’t postpone.’

‘Do you understand the situation?’ asked Merchant, her gaze slightly over Fleming’s shoulder.

‘I understand the damned situation,’ Fleming thundered. ‘It just sticks in your throat that I’m where I am, and you are just in charge of company security. And making a balls-up of that.’

‘You senile old fool,’ Merchant spat back. ‘You’re jeopardizing everything with your arrogance.’

‘That’s it,’ snapped Fleming. ‘Get the hell out of here. And you can start looking for another -’

He was cut short. He had not noticed Vine slowly moving round behind him. Like a snake striking its prey, Vine grabbed Fleming and held a length of cord around his neck, pulling it tighter.

Fleming struggled, glaring at Merchant, kicking back at Vine’s legs and trying to pull the cord away from his neck, but Vine pulled it tighter and tighter.  After half a minute, Fleming stopped struggling and choking; his eyes rolled upwards, his tongue - now blue - hung limp from his mouth, and Vine let him drop silently to the floor.

‘Check this place,’ Merchant said, looking down at Fleming’s lifeless body. ‘His briefcase; any paperwork from the office. He didn’t use a laptop.’

Vine gathered up the briefcase, and passed it to Merchant.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We need to pick up Carter, and head for the other facility.’

‘What about him?’ asked Vine, looking at Fleming.

Merchant looked around the flat. Then walked out onto the balcony. Looked over the side. A hundred feet below she could see the dark waters of the river lapping at the embankment. She turned and went back inside.

‘He always enjoyed the river, and its views,’ she said. ‘Let’s put him in it.’

Chapter Forty

It was still dark when Tom and Amy set off for their journey. The previous night, Amy had cooked dinner as promised. Both of them were tired after what had happened that day, and were in bed by nine thirty.  On the drive home, Tom was wondering if they would repeat what they did the night before, but they were clearly too exhausted, and mindful of the early start they would need to make.

Tom pulled in to a service station to fill up as they neared the North Circular, and then took the A406 across North London and turned onto the A12 at Redbridge.

‘This would have been the route we would have taken,’ Tom remarked, ‘had we driven to Lisa’s place.’

Amy didn’t answer.

‘At least the traffic’s light,’ she eventually said.

‘That’s why I wanted to leave early. Get out of London before the traffic builds up. Give us more time up there as well.’

‘What time do you think we’ll get there?’

‘I’m guessing: allowing for a comfort stop, it’ll take us around two hours.’

‘Right.’

Neither of them spoke for several miles, until Amy broke the silence. ‘Do you think the money will be safe?’

‘Safe as I can get it. We can hardly pay it into the bank, can we?’

‘No. Guess not.’

The night before, Tom had looked for a place in his flat to hide the envelope containing Lisa’s money. After looking around, he eventually moved a bedside cabinet away from the wall, rolled back the carpet around a foot from the wall, then laid the notes in quarter inch bundles on the floorboards. Then replaced the carpet and the cabinet.

‘Should be okay here,’ he had said. ‘Unless we get a flood.’

More silence, until Amy spoke again as they started to see more open country. ‘You hungry?’

‘A little. I guess you are?’

‘Only had coffee this morning, we left so early.’

‘Okay. I’ll stop at the next place. Is that all right?’

‘Okay.’

A few miles later, Tom saw a Little Chef sign a little further up. He turned in the slip road and parked outside the restaurant. Once inside, Amy went to the ladies’ room while Tom found a table and ordered.

‘Ordered us both a full English,’ he grinned as she joined him. ‘Hope that’s all right.’

It was. Two full English breakfasts with black coffee later, and they were back on their way. Tom glanced at the LCD clock: it was just after ten.

‘Brilliant,’ he said. ‘We’re making good pro - Jesus Christ!’

They were travelling along the almost empty inside lane, and Tom paid little attention to what was happening in the outside one. Their Ford Ka shook with the turbulence as a larger black vehicle shot past them.

‘Someone’s in a hurry,’ Amy said. ‘How fast is that?’

‘At least a hundred. We’re doing almost seventy.’

‘Wow.’

More silence, then Amy said, ‘That Walczak guy never called back, did he?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘When did you call him?’

‘The other night, when I left the message. I’ve tried a couple more times, but got voicemail again.  Why don’t you try now?’

‘What’s his number?’

‘Here,’ said Tom leaning to his right so Amy could reach into his pocket. ‘Use mine. The number’s stored under his name.’

Amy took the phone, found the number and dialled.

‘Leave a message,’ Tom said. ‘He might respond better to a female voice.’

It rang a few times, then onto voicemail. Amy left a message. ‘Hello, Mr Walczak. My name’s Amy Spicer. I’m calling about Lisa Kennedy. Could you give me a call back please, when you pick up this message? Thank you.’

‘Keep it,’ said Tom as Amy passed him the phone back. ‘In case he calls back straight away.’

‘Why do you think he hasn’t called back?’ she asked.

‘Could be one of many reasons. One being that that’s an old number. If that’s the case, we’ll have to go visit him. If he’s still at the address Lisa had.’

‘How long now?’ Amy asked, resting the phone on her lap.

‘Not long now, I think.  Look: Ipswich ten miles. Better get that road atlas out.’

The A12 merged into the A14 for the journey around Ipswich and the bridge across the River Orwell.

‘Stay on the A14,’ Amy said, studying the map. ‘There’s a smaller road a few miles up. Turn off there.’

Soon, they saw a sign for Little Newbourne, and Tom pulled off the dual carriageway onto a minor, single lane road. After a few miles of a winding country lane where they saw no other vehicles, they arrived at the village itself. There were a few parked cars, but no moving vehicles. They went through the little village, at the end of which they found a street named Hemley Lane.

‘Here we are,’ said Tom. ‘Let’s keep a look out.’

He dropped their speed down to fifteen and Amy checked the nearside, Tom the offside.

‘Nothing here,’ he said. ‘Just bushes.’

‘No. Up there. There’s a turning.’

Amy was right: fifty or so yards up the deserted road, there was a turning. It led to a set of tall, black iron gates, either side of which were tall red brick walls. Tom pulled up in front of the gates. He got out and tried the gates. They didn’t budge.

‘Any joy?’ Amy called out.

‘None,’ Tom replied, looking around. ‘All that way for this.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Let’s drive round a bit. See if there’s another entrance.’

Sighing, he got back into the car. Fastened his seat belt, then asked Amy, ‘That paper that Jimmy Khan gave to Lisa: have you got it?’

‘Here.’ Amy reached into her bag. ‘Why?’

Tom studied the paper a moment, and then got out again. He walked over to a keypad on the wall next to the gates. He punched in the first four digits of the number on paper, then the green key.  A loud click came from the gates, and they slid open.

‘Bingo,’ said Tom, getting back into the car and heading off down the driveway. The gates slid shut behind them.

‘How did you know that?’ Amy asked.

‘It was just a hunch. When I saw that keypad, I figured that most pass codes - like bank account PIN numbers - are four digits. Like your one at work. That number there was eight digits. It couldn’t have been a phone number; I wondered if it was in fact two four figure numbers.’

‘Which it was. Well done. So you’re expecting another keypad somewhere. Another gate, perhaps?’

Not a gate, but a building: a two storey, flat roofed structure at the end of the driveway. Looking around, Tom parked in front. There were no other vehicles around.

‘Another keypad,’ he said, climbing out. ‘Your turn.’

Amy joined him and keyed in the second four digits, then the green key. Then they heard a loud click from behind the steel door.

Tom expected the door to slide open. When it failed to, he pushed it slightly, and it began to swing open. Looking behind them one more time, Tom led Amy in. Surprised at first by the lights as they switched on automatically, they followed the corridor down to the room at the end. They pushed open the doors and entered.

‘Looks like bank safety deposit boxes,’ said Amy as she surveyed the wall of drawers.

‘Or a mortuary,’ said Tom grimly.

He went over to the drawers and pulled at one. Expecting it to be locked, he looked at Amy as it opened, revealing the metal box inside.

‘Be careful,’ urged Amy as Tom lifted the box out of the drawer and took it over to the table. She joined him at the table.

Tom lifted up the box lids to reveal the contents.

He and Amy stared at each other in disbelief.