5
‘Is he dead?’ demanded Drabble.
Mr Scruffy looked at the man swinging gently by the neck on the end of the rope, and then prodded him in the ribs with his finger. No reaction.
‘Looks like it.’
‘Well is he or isn’t he?’
Mr Slim stepped forward and without a word placed his fingers on the inside of the man’s wrist. Nothing. He looked at Drabble and nodded.
‘Right. I’ll leave it up to you two to get rid of the body. I don’t want to know what you do with him, just make sure no one ever finds him.’
‘Yes, sir,’ uttered Mr Scruffy.
Mr Slim pulled out a knife and cut the rope, stepping back as the body fell to the ground. Mr Scruffy pulled over a large wooden crate from the corner of the room and together they bundled the body inside.
‘Good,’ said Drabble. He looked at Mr Scruffy. ‘Now you take that down to the car while we have a chat in here.’
‘What, on my own?’
‘You’ll manage.’
‘But…’
‘Just clear off, for fuck’s sake Mickey.’
Mickey dragged the box over to the door and out of the room, breathing heavily as he did so and muttering inaudibly. He hated working for Drabble, but he had no choice. Trying to leave the gang now would be suicide. In any case, it was all he’d ever known. Drabble had been friends with his mother when they were both younger, and when she died a few years ago, Drabble had taken him under his wing. But he never looked upon Drabble as a father figure; all he received was orders and irritation. All he wanted was a little respect from the big man. Was that really too much to ask?
Drabble waited until he could hear the box thumping down the stairs one step at a time. He yanked the metal shutter back across the doorway and turned to Mr Slim.
‘This is all very messy, Jez. I mean really messy. What a complete balls-up.’
‘I know, boss.’
‘I thought we had him under control. I thought he was on our side. He was doing okay wasn’t he?’
‘He was. Did as he was told and never really grumbled about it. Always seemed happy enough to take the money too. I guess we pushed him too far with that last job.’
‘We’re going to need a replacement, and quickly. I’ve got big plans for us.’
Jez nodded. Drabble looked out across the Sheffield skyline, thinking.
‘It has to be another lawyer.’
‘Okay, boss. Same firm?’
‘It’ll have to be. I’m not starting again with all this. We’ve got contacts there, good ones. I haven’t got time to mess around with another firm.’
‘Leave it to me, boss. Another junior lawyer I assume?’
‘Yeah, but this time make it a girl.’ Drabble smiled to himself. ‘That’s bound to be less trouble in the long run. If we’re expanding into new areas we need someone we can control. That idiot we’ve just lost didn’t like it. We need someone who will co-operate. Make it clear to her from the start that we don’t take no for an answer. We need to come down harder this time. We need total control.’
Jez smiled. He knew better than to ask any more questions.
‘Leave it with me boss.’
6
He sat up in bed, waiting for the call at eight o’clock. Time was very important to him. So much so that people called him the Timer. At least, people who worked with him did, people who knew him in his professional capacity. It also helped him to keep his work separate from his family, so that no one he worked for knew his real identity. The Timer – it was a name which reflected his reliability, efficiency and accuracy. He had a reputation which had taken years to build up and it meant that he was well paid for any work that came his way.
He looked over at his wife beside him as she began to stir. A lock of blonde hair fell across her large eyes and she instinctively brushed it away. She was so beautiful first thing in the morning. She was everything to him, together with his daughters of course.
‘Hi.’ He smiled down at her.
‘Hello.’
‘I’m expecting a call in a minute. It won’t take long, but I could do with a bit of privacy.’
‘Okay love. I’ll go and get the kids moving.’
She kissed him and in one movement she was out of bed, wrapped up in a thick dressing gown and out of the bedroom door, shouting orders to their two young daughters.
‘Come on you two, time to get ready for school.’
He smiled and looked at the clock. The red digits displayed 07:58. He picked his phone up from the bedside cabinet and checked for messages. None. Good, he hated last minute adjustments; he liked to have everything happen just as it was planned. He got up out of bed and closed the bedroom door. 07:59. He quickly pulled on some jeans and a sweat top and looked out the window. The view of the surrounding hills above the houses opposite was obscured this morning by a thick fog. It looked cold and grey out there, a fine drizzle ensuring the whole scene was damp and miserable. 08:01. Damn, the call was late. Why couldn’t people do what they promised to do when they promised to do it? His irritation was building with every passing second. 08:02. His phone finally hummed a silent ringtone.
‘Yes,’ he answered, not trying to hide his annoyance.
‘It’s me,’ came the familiar voice. ‘It happened last night. The truck’s heading east now from Liverpool docks towards Manchester. It’ll be coming over the Pennines to Sheffield after that. You should be able to catch it up there somewhere around ten this morning. Here, I’ll give you the plate…’
He memorised the registration plate and ended the call without saying a word.
‘I’ve got to go out today,’ he said to his wife as he appeared downstairs. ‘I shouldn’t be too late. I thought we might take the girls to that new burger place on the high street tonight.’
‘Yes please daddy,’ they both erupted at the same time and then burst into fits of laughter as he pulled them into his grasp and dug his fingers gently into their ribs; they’d both always been incredibly ticklish. They were also his pride and joy. More than that, they were his life.
‘You be good today Daisy. And look after Molly at school. You both help mummy okay?’
Before long he was out of the house and on his way. He removed the battery from his cheap mobile phone and dropped them both down a drain as he headed towards the local shopping centre.
7
Chloe stood in Sheffield city centre and looked up at the offices of Anderson, Gormley and Drake. It was an impressive and imposing building, probably Edwardian and much larger than her previous firm.
There must be room enough inside for a couple of hundred people at least, she thought, which did little to settle her nerves. She stood across the street, watching people heading into the building to begin their day’s work, wondering how many of them she would get to know; future colleagues and acquaintances, perhaps even friends.
The cold began to wrap its prickly arms around her and so she took a deep breath and hurried over to the entrance. She’d already noticed that it was a revolving door.
The challenges are coming thick and fast this morning.
Revolving doors were awkward, especially for someone who doesn’t always have full confidence in or control of her own body. How hard does one push? How many people should try to get into one compartment? She decided to use the standard door to the left of the main revolving door to avoid potential embarrassment. She walked confidently towards it and put her hand out to push, in accordance with the instruction printed clearly on the glass. It was locked, causing her to stop in her tracks and back pedal a step or two.
Damn. Why do they always lock these doors?
Already feeling a little embarrassed she turned to the revolving door just as a young man came running towards it. His timing was impeccable as the slow moving door swung round at just the right point for him to enter a compartment. As Chloe looked at the door waiting for it to turn to the next section, he flashed her a wide smile.
>
‘Good morning,’ he said in the friendliest manner she’d experienced since leaving home. She was instantly grateful for the interaction, but somehow mistook it for an invitation to step into the compartment with him. It all happened so fast but as soon as she stepped forward it became apparent that it was a mistake; the space inside was not as large as it had seemed when looking in from outside. It must be something to do with the shape of it. She was embarrassingly close to him, almost pressed up against the back of his coat as the door continued its progress round and into the building.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Chloe, horrified by what was happening.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ replied the young man, though he looked around awkwardly as the pair arrived in the reception area of the building after a seemingly never-ending journey. ‘I’ve got to dash. I have a meeting at eight thirty. It was nice to meet you.’
‘Yes, of course, sorry.’
I’m such an idiot sometimes.
Chloe hoped that would be the last time she would have to apologise to anyone that day. She headed over to the rather fierce lady on the reception desk and then took a seat as instructed; it was clear that not everyone here was going to be so friendly.
She looked around as she waited, remembering her previous visit on the day of her job interview. It was certainly an impressive area – large and spacious and panelled in dark wood from floor to ceiling. Two stone lions sat proudly on either side of the lifts, casting clear reflections in the polished marble floor. She couldn’t help but compare it all to the offices of her previous firm.
Don’t worry, she thought, it can’t be that different. People are people wherever you go. An old eighties pop song burst into her head and refused to go away.
‘You can go up now. Mr Drake is ready for you. Third floor, room three-oh-three.’
Chloe looked up at the receptionist but she’d already moved on to her next task and had the telephone pressed to her ear. Never having been a fan of lifts, Chloe headed over to the stairs and began the climb to the third floor.
Stepping out from the stairwell, she was expecting to see a corridor with numbered offices, much like her old firm. However, this floor was open plan in design. A central area was filled with several rows of desks facing each other with low privacy barriers between them. About half the desks were filled and more people were arriving sporadically to start their daily routines, chatting about the previous evening and collecting cups of coffee from a modern-looking coffee machine. Around the edge of the main area were glass fronted offices. The nearest office to her left was numbered three oh one. She walked past it noticing that it was empty, past three oh two which was also empty, and approached room three oh three. The light was on and she knocked on the glass door, trying not to stare into the room as she waited.
‘Come in.’
She pushed the door open and walked in, immediately noticing how tidy everything was. Cupboards had door fronts on them, so that very few papers were on display, and none littered the floor. No boxes, or coats, or anything out of place. How very different to the old firm, she thought again, and then decided not to keep comparing the two. This was the future. Her future. Time to forget the past.
‘Oh, not you. My God, is someone having a laugh?’
8
Chloe’s heart sank. The words stopped her in her tracks as she focused on the large man sat behind the modern plastic-coated desk. It took just a moment for her to recognise the coffee accident victim from the train.
Really? On my first day? Someone is having a bloody laugh.
There was no obvious sign of the incident now, thank goodness, although his coat had taken most of the drink and that was nowhere to be seen. He was frowning, his already stern features exaggerated by the act. Together with his greying hair and braces, he looked every bit the stereotypical stressed-out ageing lawyer.
‘Hang on, stay where you are, let me move my coffee out of your way before you have it all over my lap.’ He very deliberately picked up his foam cup and placed it to the far side of the desk. ‘Right, good. Have a seat.’ He nodded at the chair on the other side of the desk. Chloe sat down, not knowing whether to smile or apologise again. She decided on the latter.
‘I really am very sorry about that. It was so busy on the train and I’m sure someone pushed me. If you want me to pay for your coat to be cleaned I’d be happy to…’
‘Forget it. These things happen. The coat’s already at the dry cleaners. I’ve had it years to be honest and it’s seen much better days. Anyway, I’m Brian Drake, family law partner. You must be Chloe. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘All good I hope.’ She immediately wished she hadn’t said that.
Drake didn’t smile and Chloe wondered if he could. His face didn’t seem like the kind of face that smiled very often.
‘Some of it, yes. But I take people as I find them. Do a good job here and we’ll be fine. Now, your desk is on the end of that first row there.’ He pointed to a work station just outside his door. ‘I’ve put some files on it so you can get cracking on those. There’s a mobile there too, and some business cards. We like our people to be contactable.’
Chloe sat looking at him, expectantly. She couldn’t help notice the deep lines that, on their own, would probably form an accurate sketch of his face.
‘Well off you go then. Time is money and all that. If you need any help, grab someone out there or ask one of the secretaries.’
‘Oh, right, yes of course. Thank you.’
Chloe walked quickly out of his office and over to her desk. She sat down and reached for her bag. She sighed and kicked herself.
I don’t believe this.
Returning to the office, she knocked gently, edged open the door and whispered quietly, ‘Sorry, I left my bag…’
Drake rolled his eyes, picked up the phone and started to dial out. Chloe scampered over, grabbed the offending object and hurried out to her desk. This day was turning out to be very awkward and she wished it was over already. She pulled out her own mobile and keyed a quick text to her father.
Am here, all OK, nice people, it read. There was no point in worrying him unnecessarily, after all.
9
The Timer took a long drag on his cigarette as he lent against the cold concrete wall outside the shopping complex. From here he had a good view of the huge car park which stretched before him into the distance. He’d always been puzzled by the popularity of these places; he much preferred trudging around his local shops than forcing his way through the crowds amongst the plastic and glass of a characterless shopping centre.
He pulled again on the cigarette. He didn’t usually smoke, but it gave him a reason to stand here unnoticed, effectively invisible, and that’s just the way he liked it.
To the outside world he was just Mr Average, a happily married man with two lovely daughters, but there was so much more to know. Very few people were allowed into that part of his life, and the nature of his work meant it had to remain that way.
He watched the cars streaming into the car park, the occupants carefully locking their doors and disappearing into the centre, shoppers and workers alike. He wanted an Audi today. He’d always loved the mix of reliability, class and comfort, and the power would come in handy on the steep roads that wound up into the Pennine hills. Such was the advancement in modern security that gone were the days when he could simply steal a car using a bent piece of wire or some other basic tool. It was a little more problematic in this day and age. Not difficult, but certainly more of a challenge. Fortunately, it was a challenge he relished.
He saw it then. A black Audi TT purred into the car park and pulled into a space some way from the centre. The car looked new, and no doubt the owner was taking care to park well away from other potentially less careful drivers. She was the only occupant of the vehicle and she stepped out and locked the car with the remote key, the headlights flashing an acknowledgement in return.
As she walked away she turne
d round several times to check her vehicle. The Timer smiled to himself.
Definitely a new car. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.
She came right past him, telephone to her ear, seemingly making arrangements to meet someone inside. Wearing a bright green jacket, he knew she would be easy enough to follow. He dropped his cigarette, extinguishing it with a twist of his foot, pulled his cap down to obscure his face and followed her into the centre.
Keeping his distance, he remained hidden in the crowd, looking into shop windows and pretending to be interested in what was displayed behind them. The woman browsed inside a few shops but, confident there was no other way out, he simply waited nearby for her to reappear. He checked his watch. 09:20. He had to be up in the Pennines by ten and that was a twenty minute drive from here. Still plenty of time, but he needed to make his move soon.
It wasn’t long before the woman met up with a man of similar age to herself. He was dressed casually and they embraced as friends or family rather than lovers and headed over to a nearby coffee shop, deep in conversation, laughing and joking, clearly comfortable in each other’s presence. They found a table against the wall and sat down facing one another, still engrossed in their discussion. The Timer bought a coffee from the counter and sat at the neighbouring table, back to back with the woman in the green jacket. She hooked the long strap of her handbag over the back of her chair next to the wall, no doubt believing it was safely tucked away out of sight. But it was certainly within his reach, and now it was all about the timing. And that was something he was very good at.
For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) Page 2