by Andy McNab
Ikea's flat pack division had done well out of Tom. Shiny waxed pine shone everywhere in the small room; even the two-seater sofa had wooden arms. The rest of the place was in a bad way-more damp walls, worn carpet, and cold. The fireplace was boarded up and a gas fire was stuck in its place, just dying to be turned on. I could still see my breath.
A ten-year-old wood-veneer TV stood on a waxed pine stand in the corner, with a VCR underneath, the timer flashing all the zeros, and a dozen or so videos stacked next to it on the floor. To the right of that was a Sorry Play Station with a stack of games scattered around it, and the world's oldest PC. The buff-colored plastic was dark and dirty and the vents at the back were so black it looked like it ran on diesel. Its keyboard was really worn; I could only just make out the instructions on the keys. Not the best of equipment for such a high-tech guy, but very good news for me. It would have been harder to get him to come along if he was making a fortune and living in a penthouse. The need for money makes people do things they would never normally dream of. I was a bit of an expert on that front.
We both stood there and I could feel his embarrassment. I broke the silence. "Put the kettle on, mate, and I'll get the fire going, eh?"
He walked into a tiny kitchen off the main room and I heard coins getting fed into a meter and the knob turning to give us some gas. I heard the tap filling up the kettle as I threw my money on the sofa and tried to light the fire, clicking the pilot light several times before the gas ignited with a whoomph.
Opposite was another door that was open about six inches. Ikea hadn't got round to the bedroom. A mattress lay on the floor, the comforter pulled aside, dangerously close to a portable kerosene heater. The only other furniture seemed to be a digital alarm clock lying on the floor. It felt just like home.
There was no telling where the bathroom was, but I reckoned it would be on the other side of the kitchen somewhere; in fact, it was probably part of the kitchen. I stayed down with the fire for a while to warm up.
"So what are you doing with yourself now, Tom? Still in the computer business?"
At last there was a spark of life from him. He hadn't been filled in, and I was taking an interest in his subject. He stuck his chubby head into the living room; I'd forgotten how it jutted backward and forward like a cockerel's.
"Yeah, I've got a few irons in the fire, know what I mean? Games, that's where the money is, mate. I've got a few movers and shakers in the business desperate for my ideas. Know what I mean, desperate."
I was still kneeling down, rubbing my hands by the flames. "That's really good to hear, Tom."
"Yeah, things are sweet. This is just temporary, while I decide who to sell my idea to. Then it's party time. Look for a house to buy cash, of course then start my own show. Know what I mean?"
I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. He had no money, no job, and was still full of bullshit. He was going to like what I was about to tell him.
His head disappeared back into the kitchen and things started to be washed up. Standing up to go over to the sofa, I saw a pile of plain white cards on the mantel. The top two had lipstick kisses and a handwritten message on it: "I hope you like my dirty panties. Love, Juicy Lucy xx." I picked one up. At least the lipstick was genuine.
I raised my voice as I walked over to the sofa. "How long have you been with Janice?"
"She sort of moved in a couple of months ago."
"What does she do?"
"Just part-time at the supermarket; bits and pieces, you know." He stuck his head around the door again. "Sugar?"
"No, just some milk will be fine."
He came in with two mugs and put them on the not-so-new carpet.
Sitting on the floor by the fire, facing toward me on the sofa, he passed mine over. His, I noticed, was without milk.
I saw him clock the open bedroom door and worry whether I'd seen what lay beyond it. We both picked up our tea at the same time.
"Don't worry about it, mate. I spent my childhood living in places like this. Maybe I can help you find somewhere better. Until the game thing kicks in."
He tried to sip his tea as his eyes flicked toward the Mickey Mouse alarm on top of the fire.
Time to get down to business. "By the looks of it, things ain't that good, are they? You on the dole?"
Jack the Lad came back with a grin. "Yeah, who ain't? I mean, free money, madness not to. Am I right or what?"
He went back to concentrating on his tea.
"Tom, I think I can help. I've been offered a job that would earn you enough to buy an apartment and pay any debts outright."
He didn't trust me: understandable, it wasn't as if he knew me as Mr.
Nice Guy. His eyes were still checking Mickey Mouse now and again.
"How much?" He tried to make it sound casual, but didn't quite pull it off.
I avoided burning my lips on my tea and took a sip. It was horrible.
It should have been in a scent bottle, not a mug. "I don't exactly know yet, but I reckon your share would be at least one hundred and thirty thousand cash. That's the minimum. All I need is a week of your time; two weeks at the most."
I didn't have a clue how long the job was going to take, but once I got him to Finland, what could he do if it took longer? Getting him there was priority number one at the moment.
"Is it legal? I ain't doing anything shady, mate. I don't want any more trouble. I'm not getting locked up again, know what I mean?"
My tea went back on the carpet. It was shit anyway. "Look, first of all, my name is Nick. And no, it's not illegal. I don't want to go to prison, either. It's just that I've been given this opportunity and I need someone brilliant with computers. I thought of you. Why not?
I'd rather you had the money than anyone else. You even get a free trip to Finland out of it."
"Finland?" Jack the Lad was returning once again, head jutting. "Hey, everyone is online up there. It's the cold, know what I mean, Nick.
Too cold, like. Nothing else to do." He laughed.
I laughed along with him as his eyes moved over to Mickey again. "Tom, do you need to be somewhere else?"
"Nah, it's just that Janice is home soon and the fact is, well, she don't know nothing-you know, my old work, getting put behind bars, all that stuff. I haven't really got round to telling her. I'm just a bit worried that, you know, if she came in and you said something"
"Hey, no problems. I'll keep quiet. Tell you what, when she comes in I'll just say that I've got a small computer firm and I'm offering you a couple of weeks' work up in Scotland, testing systems. How's that sound?" "Nice one, but what's the form, you know, what are you after in Finland?"
"It's very, very simple. All we need is to access a system and then download some stuff. Until we get there I don't know what, how, and when."
He immediately looked worried. I had to get in there straight away. I needed some lies. "It's not what you're thinking. It is legitimate.
All we're going to do is find out about some new photocopier technology. And we've got to do it in a totally legal way, otherwise the money men don't want to know." I couldn't think of anything more boring and nonthreatening than a photocopier and I waited for a bolt of something to come at me through the window.
God must have been asleep or had all his lightning still in the freezer. I carried on before Tom had a chance to think about it and ask questions.
"I can get us into the place," I went on, "but I need someone who knows what the fuck they're looking at once we're in front of one of those things." I pointed at the heap of crap in the corner that was trying to look like a computer. He didn't say anything but looked at his greasy monitor screen, maybe thinking of the candy colored Power Mac and matching iMac laptop he could buy with his cut.
"Everything will be laid on when we get there, Tom. They know where the place is, all you've got to do is access and download it. Not steal, mind, just copy. Easy money."
I braced myself in case God had stirred in time to hear that
last bit.
Tom fidgeted on the carpet, so I kept going for it before God woke up or Janice got home. "You know as much as me now, mate. I am going half on the money with you. One hundred and thirty grand, maybe more if we get the job done quickly. That's a shit load of cash, Tom." I paused to let him visualize a wheelbarrow full of banknotes.
Fifteen seconds was enough. "Chance of a lifetime, Tom." I sounded like a double-glazing salesman. "If you don't take it, someone else will."
I settled back on the sofa to signal that the pitch was over. The next stage would be a shedful of intimidation to make him come with me if the soft-soaping failed.
"You absolutely sure it's safe, Nick? I mean, locked up. I don't want that again. Things are sweet here, know what I mean? I'm gonna be earning big bucks soon."
Explaining to him that I knew he was bullshitting would have to wait until I read him his horoscope. "Look, mate, even if it was illegal, there's no such thing as prison when it comes to these jobs. Think about it, if they discover that you've found out about their dinky photocopier, are they really going to go to the police? Are they fuck.
Think about the shareholders, think about the bad publicity. It doesn't work like that, mate. Trust me. What happened to you before was different. That was government business." I couldn't help my curiosity. "By the way, what was it they caught you doing up at Menwith?"
He started to get edgy. "No, mate, I ain't saying nothing. I've done my time and don't say nothing to nobody. I never want to go back." He was starting to sound like an old record.
He was in a dilemma. I knew he wanted the money, but he was struggling to make a decision. Time for a new tack. "I tell you what, why don't you just come with me anyway, have a look, and if you don't like it, you can come back. I'm not trying to fuck up your life, mate.
I'm just trying to do us both a favor."
He was shifting from one buttock to another. "I dunno. Janice wouldn't like it,"
I moved forward once again on the sofa so my ass was on the edge, and went conspiratorial. "Janice doesn't need to know. Just say you're going to Scotland. Easy." The hiss of the gas fire could be heard clearly above my whisper. I decided I'd give him a bit more incentive.
"Where's your toilet, Tom?"
"Through the kitchen; you'll see the door."
I stood up and took my bag with me. "Nothing personal," I said. "Work stuff, you know."
He nodded and I didn't really know if he understood or not, because I didn't.
I went into the toilet. I'd been right, the bathroom was part of the kitchen, partitioned off by a bit of plasterboard so the landlord could claim more rooms and charge more for people to live here. I sat on the pot and counted out six grand from the dollars. I was about to shove it in my pocket when I decided to calm down a bit and put two grand back in the bag. Pulling the flush, I came out talking.
"All I know is that it's an easy job. But I need you, Tom, and if you're honest, you need the money as much as I do. Look, this is what I want to do for you."
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the four grand, making sure I rolled it with my other hand to make it look and sound extra attractive.
He tried hard to stop himself looking at it. Even this amount could probably change his life.
"This is how I'm getting paid, U.S. dollars. Here's four grand. Take it; it's a gift. Pay your bills, whatever you want. What more can I say? I'm going to go and do the job anyway. If you're coming with me, though, I need to know today. I can't fuck about."
If he didn't give me a yes by this evening it would be horoscope time.
He'd still get paid; he just wouldn't enjoy the work so much.
He fingered the money and had to split it in half to get it into his jean pockets. He tried to put a serious business expression on his face. It wasn't working. "Nice one. Thanks, Nick, thanks a lot."
Whatever happened he could have the money. It made me feel good, and with everything else going down the tubes in my life, I needed that.
But I needed to make sure he didn't fuck up with it and let it be traced back to me. "Don't go to the bank to change it or make a deposit, they'll think you're a drug dealer. Especially with an address round here."
His smile broadened.
"Take it to a few currency exchanges. The rates will be shit, but there you go. Have a nice day out. Hire a taxi; you can afford it.
Just don't change any more than three hundred dollars at a time. Oh, and for fuck's sake buy yourself a warm coat."
He looked up and the grin turned into a laugh as he did his cockerel impression. It stopped just as quickly at the sound of a key going into the door lock.
"Shit, it's Janice. Don't say jack. Promise me, Nick."
He stood up and made sure his sweatshirt was covering the two bulges in his cargos. I joined him and we waited in front of the fire as if the Queen was about to visit.
She opened the door, felt the heat and looked straight at Tom, ignoring me completely. "Have you picked up the laundry?" Heading towards the kitchen, she started throwing off her brown coat.
Tom grimaced an apology at me as he replied, "Oh, er nah, it wasn't ready, the driers were broken. I'm going to pick it up in a minute.
This is Nick. He's the one that called, you know, this morning."
She threw her coat onto the arm of the sofa, looking at me. I gave a smile and said, "Hello, nice to meet you."
"Hello," she grunted, "you found him then?" and disappeared into the kitchen.
Janice was mid-twenties, not unattractive, not attractive, just sort of ordinary. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, slightly longer than Tom's. It wasn't exactly greasy, but had that not-washed-today look.
She was also wearing just a bit too much makeup, and there was a line around her chin where it stopped.
I sat back down, but Tom stayed standing by the fire, not really knowing what to say to me about his obnoxious girlfriend. In the kitchen, cupboard doors were banged as she made her presence felt.
She came back into the living room with a candy bar and a can of Coke.
Pushing the coat onto the floor she plonked herself on the sofa next to me, pulled the foil off the chocolate, opened the can and started attacking both. The noise of her drinking would have made a thirsty bricklayer proud. Between gulps she pointed at the mantel. "Tom, pass me the cards."
He did as he was told. We both watched as she pulled out a lipstick from her coat pocket and threw it on her lips. Then, while she slurped and munched, she kissed the remaining blank cards.
She looked up, and stared at me for a few moments, then turned to Tom.
"Pass me the rest."
He picked up a large envelope near the fire and passed it over, red with embarrassment.
Pouring the white cards onto the floor she started to reapply the red stuff and kiss away. The signing was obviously done later, during a gentler moment.
We weren't going to get any more talking done. It was time for me to leave.
"Thanks for the tea, Tom, I think I'll be off now. Nice to meet you'
Janice She nodded, not bothering to look up.
Tom looked nervously at me, then at Janice's head. As I got to my feet and picked up the bag, he blurted, "Tell you what, I'll walk down with you, I've got to collect the laundry anyway."
We didn't speak as we walked down the stairs. I knew what I wanted to say, but what was the point? Someone calling your girlfriend an obnoxious dog wouldn't exactly induce you to go away with him.
As we walked back toward All Saints Road, he stammered, "It's not her, you know, Juicy Lucy. She gets a tenner for every two hundred. This week it's Lucy, I think next week it's Gina again. I help her out." He rubbed his chin. "I have to shave though, otherwise I leave stubble marks in the lipstick. "We have piles of dirty underwear in the bedroom. A guy drops them off on a Thursday."
I couldn't help but laugh at the picture of him in front of the fire, kissing cards and packing underwear for the country's crotch sniffers.
His head went back into cockerel mode. "Yeah, well, like I said, it's only until the money comes in. They're really keen Activision, the Tomb Raiderlot, all the big boys-I'm just about to hit it big time, know what I mean?"
"Yes I do, Tom." I knew exactly.
I gave it one more try once we'd turned the corner into All Saints and Janice couldn't see us if she looked out. I stopped and faced him outside a window full of faucets, waste pipes, and assorted plumber's shit.
"Tom, think about this seriously. I'm not going to do anything that's not kosher. I'm too old for that sort of stuff. All I want to do is make some money, the same as you. I need you with me, but I must know by tonight if you're up for it."
He was looking at the sidewalk, shoulders slumped. "Yeah. But you know " The cold was starting to get to him. I didn't know whether he didn't have a coat because they hadn't kissed enough cards or if he was just too stupid to remember to put one on.
We got to Westbourne Park Road, a main drag. I wanted a taxi so I stood on the corner. He stood next to me, shifting from one foot to the other. I put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, mate, go and change some money and think about it, and we'll meet up tonight, all right?"
I started looking for cabs as he nodded at the sidewalk again. "I'll call you about sevenish and we'll have a drink, okay?"
A yellow light appeared in the gloom and I stuck out my hand. The cab stopped and the diesel engine chugged away, but not as fast as the meter.
Tom was still stooped, hands dug deep in his pockets, shivering. I talked to the top of his head. "Tom, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Think hard about it."
The top of his head moved in what I took to be another nod.
I couldn't stand his shivering any more and unzipped my jacket. "For fuck's sake, put this thing on, will you?" He protested feebly, then returned my grin as he took the coat. At least I could see his face now.
"Once-in-a-lifetime, mate." I got into the taxi, asked for Marble Arch and turned to close the door and pull down the window.