"Being in love, Miss Collins, can be unnerving, scary, illogical, badly-timed and everything else that's skew whiff but if it's there, it's there." said Halee, smiling gently. "Think about it and see if it fits with what's going on in your mind,"
"See if it fits ..." said Mary, considering the phrase.
"You see, Miss Collins, love knows no age, race, gender or anything else logical - it just moves in where it does and denial only makes it painful. Acceptance allows it and us to flourish. Let it grow. Let yourself grow and watch the magic happen."
"Oh," said Mary, reverting to her favourite word for now. "You seem to know a lot about it?"
"Yeah, that's another reason I'm on the other side of the world, here in London," said Halee, suddenly serious. "I fell in love and we were to be married ... oh, hell, it would have been our anniversary next week, actually. Then he was diagnosed with cancer, lymphoma, and was gone two months later. I just couldn't stand to be reminded of anything about him so I ran and here I am." She wiped her eyes quickly. "Oh heck, I didn't mean to talk about this now. How's my mascara?"
"It could do with some repair, actually," said Mary, surprised and relieved by the quick return to practicalities. "Fix yourself up and we'd better get going ... oh, gosh, which toilet do I go to, the men's or the ladies'?" Both of them smiled and Halee slipped off to patch herself up while Mary nodded imperceptibly to Ahmed as he passed again, thinking that he looked very exotic and handsome in his traditional dress. She also wondered about love and, if something happened to Sam, what would she do. Would she run to forget, like Halee? Would she work harder to forget? She tried to shake off the thoughts that really didn't want to let go.
"Right, let's go, shall we?" suggested Halee perkily as she returned.
The two women marched off down the street looking, in the artificial glow of the lights, like a very happy and in-love couple - chatting, smiling and, under it all, terrified of what might happen next. They arrived at the blue door a few minutes early, saw no one there, looked at each other nervously and then nodded in assent. Without speaking, their minds agreed that they keep walking and return to the door at the exact time. Mary was bemused at how their thinking was synchronised. Slightly comforted by seeing Ahmed stopping outside Pizza Express, and then going inside, they continued their jaunty (and nervous) way down Charing Cross Road, towards Trafalgar Square.
Back at the blue door, at the stroke of nine, Mary's heart skipped a beat as she saw Sam lounging in the shadow of the doorway. He looked gaunt, unshaven but smiling bravely.
"Give me the case, keep walking and return in three minutes," he said quickly, seriously.
"Oh ... oh, yes, here it is," said Mary, her body drawn to him as a lizard to the sun.
"Go Mary, you must go now," said Sam, his hand at her shoulder, pushing her on.
"Yes, yes, we're going," she said dumbly as she felt Halee pulling on her sleeve.
"Bother!" said Mary, angry and confused as they turned the corner into Orange Street. "Why does everything turn to mush, just when it starts to come right?"
"Yeah, my thoughts entirely," said Halee, bitterly. "The stupid universe sends you this wonderful man and, just when love hits, whips him away. It's so unfair!"
"Oh, Halee, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you too. I was just thinking of myself," said Mary, her own angst dissolving in the care of another.
"That's okay, Miss Collins," said Halee, smiling through her tears. "I suppose I've got to talk about it, deal with it, let it go sometime, don't I? I've been running from it too long."
"And how long has this all been since he ... passed away?" asked Mary, sensing Halee's pain.
"Oh heck, about four years now. I thought I had been coping with it all so well, till now," said Halee grinning through her tears. "It's all your fault!" They both laughed quietly.
"Okay, let's get back on the case. Our three minutes are nearly up!" said Halee, taking Mary's arm and steering her around. "Let's do the deed and do it well. No faltering this time."
"Okay for you to say," said Mary smiling grimly as the fear and longing threatened to drown her. They slowed at the door again and Sam was there with the briefcase.
"Take the case, Mary, take it home and I'll try to ring you in an hour," said Sam, quickly. "I'll do my best to call you then. Go now, my dear and, remember, you'll see all in the clear light of morning."
Mary faltered again, despite her determination not to this time.
"Go, my dear, go!" whispered Sam earnestly. She felt Halee pulling on her arm. She took the case from Sam and left, determined not to think or to look back. "Yes, the clear light of morning. Now go, my dear, go!"
As they rounded the corner, back into Orange Street, Mary stopped and leaned against a shop window, relieved they'd made the exchange safely ... whatever it was they'd exchanged. She realised, only then, that her heart was thudding and she was sweating like a Turkish wrestler. Her body was quivering and she found it difficult to stand upright. She had no idea of the dangers they might have expected but, now they were over, the feeling of release was overwhelming. She looked up and saw Ahmed across the street, waving to her, animatedly ... angry, perhaps.
"Come on, Miss Collins, we can't stop now," said Halee. "Let's rest when we get you home."
"I just need to catch up with myself now that it's over," said Mary, breathing heavily.
"It's not over yet," said Halee. "We still don't know if we were delivering something or taking something away for Mr Lord."
"Oh you're right!" said Mary, her body suddenly in charge again. Ahmed was trying to cross the street, dodging the continual stream of cars, taxis and buses. "What's Ahmed want?"
"I think he wants us to keep moving," said Halee, pulling on Mary's arm again.
As Ahmed reached the curb he suddenly veered off and walked right past them. This didn't make sense. Mary's apprehension grew. She looked up to see where Ahmed had disappeared to and a tall man loomed into view, in front of them.
"Excuse me, Sir, can I have a word?" asked the tall blonde man. Mary considered running and felt hot and cold all over.
"Yes, how can I help?" asked Halee quickly. "My partner is deaf and cannot speak. I can sign for him." Confusion cleared as Mary realised her voice was not a man's. She was glad of Halee's quick thinking and wanted to hug her on the spot. All she could do was smile crookedly.
"Ah, oh, can you?" asked the man, scratching his blonde hair, uncertainly. "Oh, yes, well, can you tell your friend that this dropped out of his briefcase, just back there?" He handed Halee a sealed envelope.
"Oh, thank you, that's very kind," said Halee, obviously relieved.
"No problem, mate," said the man, who patted Mary on the shoulder and trotted off.
As Mary looked at the envelope in Halee's hand, it was snatched away and Mary realised it was Ahmed, with the envelope and in full pursuit of the man. The man was either lucky or practised and had soon disappeared into the crowd. Ahmed returned a few minutes later, puffing and scowling.
"It's not over yet, ladies, let's get you out of here, now!" said Ahmed, frantically waving and looking for a taxi. "Go into this café here, mill around and I'll call you when a taxi has arrived." Nonplussed, they did as ordered and had only just got inside when Ahmed waved them back to the street.
Mary gave the taxi her address in South Kensington and Ahmed objected, saying they could be followed.
"Sam's ringing me there in an hour," said Mary, feeling her brain and all its functions returning to normal. "I want to be there when he rings."
"Right, let's do it, Mr Taxi!" said Halee.
"You know, it's impossible to tell if anyone is following us because we can only see headlights," said Ahmed, smiling, as they set out on the ten-minute ride. "The movies all tell lies!"
"Thanks Ahmed, but that's not really helping," said Mary, feeling very unsafe.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just trying to introduce some humour," said Ahmed, looking abashed. "Perhaps we talk practicalitie
s and I really do have to say this: I do not think your apartment is a safe place to be at all."
"But Sam's ringing me there," said Mary, determined not to let go of that ray of hope.
"And not on your mobile phone?" asked Halee.
"He didn't say, so I'm not taking any chances," said Mary.
"Leave it to the receptionist - she thinks of everything!" said Halee brightly. "Why don't we pop into your flat, divert the phone to your mobile, then scarper."
"It's not risk elimination but it's risk reduction," said Ahmed, looking slightly relieved.
"So, what's in this case, I really want to see!" said Halee, patting the briefcase.
"That's not very safe here," advised Ahmed.
"If we lock the doors, no one can jump in at the lights," said Halee, not to be put off.
"Okay, okay, we'll have a quick look, but keep a lookout for people approaching us when we slow down anywhere," said Mary, as eager as Halee and as cautious as Ahmed.
The briefcase was filled with about a dozen manila folders, each stuffed with papers. It looked very orderly. Mary pulled out the first folder and rifled quickly through the papers. Most of them concerned the accounts of one of Britain's largest companies, Power Corporation, colloquially called PoCo. There were letters from the auditors and from the director, Sir Magnus Davenport. It all looked a bit boring, really. Mary tried the second folder and there seemed to be correspondence and reports regarding the Olympic Games, due to start in four months' time in London. With details about contracts and power supply, with amendments to particular clauses, it was mainly letters between solicitors and Sir Magnus Davenport and no more interesting than the previous file.
"There's nothing about AIL, Lord Atkinson, Sam or anything else we know about," complained Mary. "What's Sam got to do with PoCo and the Olympics anyway?"
"No idea, no idea at all, Miss Collins," said Ahmed with a frown.
"Let's get creative," said Halee with undiminished enthusiasm. "The top's boring and irrelevant so let's try that yellow one at the bottom."
As they opened the yellow folder she saw drawings of machines that baffled her.
"Oh my god!" said Ahmed with surprise, his white teeth lighting up his dark face. "This ... this is alternative technology ... ah, intermediate technology."
"It's what?" asked Mary, totally confused.
"Look, when I studied accounting at university ..." Ahmed began to say.
"You're an accountant?" asked Halee, obviously impressed.
"Yes, I qualified in both accounting and economics and did accounting for a while and then found a counsellor and some good pills and got over it!" said Ahmed, laughing and then, as if remembering where they were, became serious and looked outside, around the car. The two women followed suit. "Anyway, my favourite economist was the Austrian, E. F. Schumacher ..."
"His book, Small Is Beautiful, is amazing!" said Halee, interrupting.
"And his thoughts on intermediate technology and the Law of the Disappearing Middle just had me hooked," said Ahmed. "I was going to take it all back to Pakistan and help my people ... anyway, these are intermediate technology machines, machines that are not too expensive or too complex for developing nations to use and maintain; more complex than the shovel but simpler than the tractor, shall we say ..."
"And these intermediate technologies keep disappearing, Miss Collins," said Halee, interrupting again. "So developing countries only have a choice of spades - which are not enough to expand their agriculture and feed their people - or tractors which they cannot afford and do not have the expertise or resources to repair."
"It's like accounting where we only have the most primitive, paper ledgers, or the most advanced, computers," said Ahmed, looking excitedly at Halee. "Where are all the intermediate accounting technologies like the abacus, the slide rule, the accounting machine and so on, for developing nations to do their accounting with? They've all disappeared."
"Okay! Okay you two," snapped Mary. "We're in a taxi with a case load of papers that, apparently, contain some inherent danger to us. This is all very interesting about technologies and stuff but what value has any of it to us, right here now .... with Sam, AIL or anything else?"
"Oh yeah, right," said Halee, looking mollified.
"Well, let's brainstorm," suggested Ahmed, putting on his logical hat. "We haven't seen all the papers but what we've seen is Power Corporation accounts, Olympic contracts and intermediate technology. Let's keep these big headings in mind and keep looking."
"Oh, we're nearly there," said Mary, putting the last file back in the bottom of the briefcase, just as she had found it. "Halee, please come up with me, switch my phone over - it's not really my thing, this technology - and you, Ahmed, can you hold the fort here and keep a lookout for saboteurs, please?"
"Yes, absolutely, Miss Collins, and I'll keep the case here," said Ahmed. "Then you can fly on winged feet, as we say!"
The taxi driver was happy to continue the fare for an indefinite time, especially as some of it would be paid without actually having to move. He got out for a smoke while the two women dashed inside.
Ahmed was sorely tempted to delve into the case again but disciplined himself to stay alert and keep watching, which was just as well. A car soon parked behind him and two men leapt out and ran into the building. Ahmed recognised one as the tall one who had handed Mary the envelope and then ran into the crowd. The other man was shorter, solid and dark skinned. Without thinking, Ahmed leapt out and told the cabbie not to go but to be ready to take off.
"Just like in the movies, yeah!" said the taxi driver, laughing, as Ahmed dashed up the steps to find the two men in the shadows, pushing buttons, one after another, in an attempt to gain admittance to Mary's apartment.
"Oh hell, where'd you come from?" asked the taller man, obviously not British, looking confused as Ahmed drew out the pistol he told Mary he wouldn't carry.
"Get away from the door, down the steps and be gone!" ordered Ahmed.
"Okay, okay bro', no need to get heavy," said the shorter, dark skinned man. "We're just goin', we're just goin' ..."
Ahmed stepped back to keep space between himself and the men as they backed awkwardly down the steps. He kept his pistol trained on them as they turned and fled to their car. His pistol followed their car as it leapt from the parking spot, with a screech of tyres, and disappeared into the night. His eyes went to the taxi and he realised, with alarm, the driver had disappeared. He looked around and back again, to see a head tentatively appearing from below the driver's window.
"I'm sorry Sir, I won't shoot you!" said Ahmed, realising his pistol was still aimed over the taxi, in the direction the other car went. He quickly pocketed his pistol. "Please wait. We won't be a minute!"
He turned and pressed the intercom number he knew was Mary's. He waited. He pushed again. He waited. He pushed again and heard Mary's voice.
"We need to go now!" he yelled impatiently. "We've been followed so you need to get out here now!"
"Oh, right," said Mary. "I just wanted to get some girly things," said Mary, puffing as she was bundled into the taxi. "So I could get this men's stuff off."
"Sorry ladies, no time. We must away!" said Ahmed gallantly, calmly. "I'm really sorry to have scared you, Sir. This is not something we normally do," said Ahmed, explaining inadequately to a frightened looking taxi driver, to whom he gave the address of his apartment.
"Well, at least you'll hear from Mr Lord now," said Halee, as ever, looking for the bright side as they were driven to Ahmed's apartment in Kensington. "But why do I get the nagging feeling we're still being followed, somehow?"
"I don't think we'll see them again," said Ahmed, confidently.
"How did you do that? And two of them? Did you recognise either?" asked Mary, wanting to know everything immediately.
"Yes, one of them was the one who gave you the envelope, back at Trafalgar," said Ahmed, suddenly remembering the envelope. He pulled it out of his pocket and tore it open.
On it were typed the words: 'We do not give up searching the taonga for anyone or anything. Give it up now and you will not be hurt. Arohanui'.
"Taonga? Arohanui?" said Ahmed, saying the strange words slowly. "What do they mean?"
"They're M?ori words," said Halee. "Taonga is a gift and arohanui is love, big love, universal love. It means they will honour their promise - we won't be hurt if we give it up now."
"Well, that's too bad. I'm not giving this case this up for anyone!" said Mary grimly. "And how exactly did you scare these two men off, Ahmed?" She had distinctly uneasy feelings about Ahmed's methods.
"Oh, I just shouted 'boo' and they ran!" said Ahmed, probably hoping humour would disperse her concerns.
"Why do I get the feeling you used the gun you said you wouldn't?" asked Mary.
"Oh dear, you've caught me out," said Ahmed, smiling sheepishly.
"You have been remiss, Ahmed, but I forgive you," said Mary, smiling at him. "I dread to think where we'd be if you hadn't done what you did, whatever it was. And you might be right about our safety, Ahmed, but something tells me they're still tailing us, somehow."
"Me too," said Halee, quietly.
"They can't, as I said," said Ahmed with finality.
"You might be right but my gut tells me queasy things, whatever they are," said Halee.
"Mine too ..." said Mary. Her phone interrupted her and she snapped it out of her pocket. "Yes Sam, how are you?"
"No Mary, it's Angus," said her brother, laughing. "So yer boyfriend's Sam is it?"
"Angus, what do you want?" asked Mary, confused. "You've never rung my mobile before."
"And I've never been to London before and here I am, in this stupid city," said Angus.
"What the hell are you doing in London, you daft bugger?" asked Mary, feeling strangely comforted by her brother's proximity.
"I want to know where this damned house of yers is," said Angus, sounding frustrated but jovial. "I said I would pop down some time and here I am. Where do I park a car in this crazy town, girl?"
The Last Stand Down Page 21