Conman (14 page)

My mobile phone began to buzz in my pocket. Henry. Shit shit shit.

Other terminal doors were hissing and thudding, families and couples stumbling through with bags, pointing at the taxi queue. I let one or two in ahead of me with a wet smile so as not to be too near before taking my place in the queue.

Breathing out, wiping clammy palms on my jeans, I sent my eyes on quick reconnaissance. There were about a dozen people in the queue in front of him, one by one, two by two, clambering into the passing cabs that barely stopped.

Grayson was glancing around. Bored. Checking his watch, pulling out a mobile phone of his own from his little handbag and dialling with a fat thumb. As the queue shortened, he shoved his
wheelie-case
forward roughly with his trainers.

With a deep breath, I fished out my buzzing phone and thumbed open the line.

This was it.

“
Neil, where are you? Dad’s furious? He’s waiting for you at the house. His accountant’s there, he’s got a train –
”

“Shit. Jane, Jane –”

“
Where are you now? Are you nearly there? It’s half past five. He can’t wait much –
”

“I-I’ve … shit, I’ve been trying to call,” I whispered, “I-I’m stuck in traffic. We’ll have to reschedule. Apologise for me can you? I’ll get the cab to turn around, head back –”

“Oh Neil, for heaven’s sake –”

“I know, I know.”

I could feel Jane’s fury crackling down the line. Another shell loaded into her father’s arsenal to pummel her with at their next lunch.

“
I’ll have to tell him to just go,” she sighed. “You’re still on for picking him up from Victoria when he gets back next Tuesday though? I can tell him that? I said eleven-thirty by the newsstand outside. You’d bring the car and drop him back here
?”

I looked up. Grayson was still drawling away on his phone, kicking his bag forward. Cabs rolling up, rolling off.

“Oh, yes yes. Look Jane, the er, the cab driver’s trying to talk to me, I’d better –”

“Catherine and Jack have confirmed dinner on Thursday, okay?”

The family in front scuttled forward three feet.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” I said, voice wobbly. “Call your dad. Apologise. Look, I-I have to go. Love you. Love you lots.”

“
Call us later.
”

I thumbed the line closed, breathing out hard, heart thudding. Rain drummed on the plastic awning above. Around us, cabs were rolling in squeakily, dropping off, yellow lights snapping on, then sliding over, splashing black surf against soggy socks. Grayson was three groups away from the front of the line, still on the phone. Slippy fingers and thumbs, I dialled the shop, clearing my throat. The phone was snatched up on the first ring.

“
Heroes Incorporated,
” an Australian voice crackled.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “Sorry, Jane w-was –”

“
Yes and no answers mate,
” Henry interrupted brusquely. “
Can you see him? He should be on a phone. Christopher’s on the other line confirming tomorrow’s buy with him.
”

I looked over. Grayson was nodding, fat fingers peeling the pages of an
A-Z
.

“I see him.”

“
Within fifteen feet?
”

“Yes.”

“
Quickly. Turn your back on him. Don’t look. Now complain about the line. Bad line. Apologise. Speak up, shout.
”

“Uhmm, hello?” I said. “Hello?” A little louder. The family facing me stared back. I mouthed an apology. “Where are you, I can’t hear? Hello? Can you hear me?”

“
Good. Keep the voice loud. Not shouting. But he has to hear you. More, keep going. But keep your back to him.
”

“You’re breaking up a bit … can you hear me now?”

Henry continued to prompt me. I stood, one finger in my ear like an idiot, shuffling backwards along the queue, speaking at an obnoxious volume.

“Pardon? … Yes, yes I heard about it. That’s why I’m here …”

I swallowed hard, heart slamming.

“No, not according to
Sotheby’s
website … what? … No, Joe
Shuster’s
…”

At which point, despite all of Christopher’s warnings, I turned around.

I couldn’t help it.

I turned around.

Grayson was staring at me. Not blinking. Eyes fixed on mine.

“Mr Grayson?” Christopher cooed. “Mr Grayson, it’s Christopher Laurie. We spoke yesterday. How is your hotel? … My sincerest apologies, truly. I … Yes, yes I understand, but my train was terribly delayed leaving Blidworth and there were signal problems at Daventry …”

The next day. Monday morning, Christopher’s clipped gentry tone might still have been in attendance but his clipped gentry tweeds were spending the day back in the closet. He was attired in ugly loafers, cheap shiny-bummed suit trousers and had his chubby pot-belly inside white polyester shirt-sleeves, rolled roughly above his elbows. His sweaty frame oozed petrol station-pies and cheap salesmen’s hotels. Perched behind my till, chattering into his tiny phone, he peered into a small shaving mirror balanced on top of a silver attaché case on the counter, dabbing tentatively at a painful-looking gash on his forehead, blood shining on his
fingertips
.

“I know we arranged the buy for ten o’clock but I’m running about forty minutes behind … Hmn … Yes yes of course, I have it here with me now,” and Christopher ran a palm over the silver case. “ … Uh-huh … And you have the agreed fifty-four hundred – ? … And where are you now? Well then what I’m thinking, save you sitting around waiting, is if you wouldn’t mind, maybe meeting me a little north of there? … No, just a short stroll, I promise you. I have a viewing appointment with the owner of a shop on Brigstock Place. He’s holding some items for the auction I mentioned and I’m keen to … well it’s just off Beak Street …”

I had my breath held and my fingers crossed. Which, while making me feel a little better, made holding a step-ladder as Julio clambered up to unscrew Judy Garland from the wall rather difficult.

“My train’s due in at Charing Cross in a few minutes. I’ll join you there as soon as I … Again I
do
apologise … That’s
marvellous
. Until then,” and Christopher hung up.

“Well?” Julio said, handing me the
Easter Parade,
but Christopher raised a blood-smeared finger, requesting silence. His phone began to rumpty-tumpty-tumpty-tum again but barely got a chance to deet-dee-deet-dee-deeee-dee before he clicked it open.

“Henry? … Good. Keep with him. He’ll probably go along Piccadilly and cut north …”

I hefted up to Julio the display case containing the aging
underpants
.

“… Righty-ho. Keep him in sight and let us know when he’s ten minutes away,” and Christopher thumbed the line closed. “Grayson is on his way. Uniform looks very natty Julio dear.”

Julio too was out of his usual garb of combats and walking boots, squirming up the ladder in a crackly polyester
security-guard
outfit, all epaulets, shiny peaks and the great smell of
dry-cleaning
.

“Now, it’s three-quarters of a mile,” Christopher said, lifting the mirror and pouting at his scar thoughtfully. “We’ve timed a steady walk at just under twenty minutes. That’s if you don’t stop and you know where you’re going. Grayson’s heavy and new in town. Chances are he’ll get a little lost and do a little browsing. Which gives Pete,” and Christopher checked his kitchen timer, “about a half hour to get back from the printer. Shouldn’t be any problem at all. Excellent. Splendid.
Bon
.”

The Archers
were calling again.

“Ah, that’ll be him. Hopefully just around the corner.” Christopher opened it up. “Dear fellow! How close are … Arses. When … ? Are you … ? Daww, frolicking fuckbusters,” and he snapped his phone closed, jaw grinding. “That was Henry again. Grayson’s in a cab. Two minutes away.”

“Cab? Aww fack …”

“B-but the brochure … ?” I flapped. Oh God.

“
Check the back!
” Christopher hollered. “
Go, go!
”

With a panicky jitter, I left the team spitting, cursing and wobbling up ladders, slapping back through the office and out of the fire escape into the cold alley. Wading among the split bin-bags and
next door’s soggy book-boxes, I moved quickly, my All-Stars splashing through piss and litter, bouncing off the damp walls. Up ahead, where the alley opened onto the street, traffic slid slowly past. White vans pulled in and pulled out, couriers blurred past with a yell until a cab finally squeaked to a halt, the back door flying open.

“
Pete!
” I bellowed.

He looked up, eyes wide. He was dressed just as I’d suggested – the traditional shopkeeper’s garb of black denim, tatty Converse and an unironed
Green Lantern
T-shirt. Just as I was in fact.

The only key difference between us being the glossy brochure tucked under an arm.

“Hey,” a muffled American voice said. “Hey, you open?” The door rattled hard.

“
Down!
” Christopher whispered, backing away quickly in a low hunch. Julio sprung from atop the step-ladder in a blur of braiding and Air-Ware sole, wiping a shiny forehead and pulling down the peak of his cap.

“Wait wait,” Pete hissed behind the till, breathing deep. Flustered fingers hovered over the keys. “Sub-total twice, right? Then total?” He lifted the empty telephone receiver to his ear and licked his lips.

The door rattled again.

“
Let’s go ladies,
” Christopher hissed, grabbing the mirror and case from the counter and bustling me out to the kitchen in the back. “
Keep it tight.
”

I fell stumbling against the wall in the dusty darkness, heart rattling like the shutters. Christopher stood close, the warm
pipe-smoke
smell of his clothes deep in my lungs. I could feel his breath on my face, hot and fast. He smiled, placing a shiny finger to his lips.

We listened.

Footsteps. Julio. Those heavy security-guard boots. The crack of the lock and the jingle of the door. Traffic. Loud. The wind rattling the steel grid over the window.

“
Wish I could, pal, but I can’t.”
Pete’s voice.
Firm. “Huh? Speak up, this line … Well you can call Los Angeles but they’ll tell you the
same thing I’m telling you … Japan? No I don’t. It’s all by strict
appointment
only. I just get a list from the Sotheby’s people.
”

We could hear Julio muttering, giving the visitor the once over.
Who are you, what do you want, appointment only
– the whole Securicor bit.

Pete continued down the empty phone.

“
They’re running the same closed system in LA, I’d add a nought to that if you want to be taken seriously.
” Glossy pages flapped. “
No, if you haven’t received a catalogue I wouldn’t expect an invitation to LA or London sir.
”

Christopher looked at me in the darkness, wet eyes full of excitement.

“
Gotta go, I’ve a customer.
”

I held my breath.

Pete hung up.

“Mister … sorry, Mister Laurie?” he said. “You my ten o’clock?”

“Grayson. Bob Grayson. Call me Bob. Pleased to meet you fellahs. Phee-yew! Gotcha self a stink in here ain’tcha?”

“Mr Grayson, I’m sorry, it’s by appointment only. Could you show Mr Grayson the way –”

“Now juss’ hold yur horses fellahs. S’okay, ah’m a fellow collector. Perhaps you heard o’ my museum in Kansas? Here ya go, my card.”

“That’s very nice Mr Grayson but I’m afraid –”

“Bob. Call me Bob. Over for a few days. Juss’ agreed to buy a pretty piece on eBay. Right up yur street. Meant to be meetin’ your Laurie fellah here for the exchange. Said he’s runnin’ a li’l late.”

“Look sir, there are strict instructions regarding pre-bid
viewings
for this auction. Mr Laurie had no business arranging –”

“Auctions auctions eh? Everywhere ah’m goin’ that’s all ah’m hearin’. Howzabout ah give you first gander at mah new purchase when Laurie shows up, an’ you let me take a peek at whatever’s causin’ all this fuss, huh? Now, what we got up here?”

“You step back a little please, case is alarm. Thank you.”

“Now then, now then, what’s awl this?
King Jockie
of Mississippi? Holy … These wouldn’t be … Jeez, these cotton fellahs what ah think they are boy? Mah gawd …”

“Sir, I must ask, step
away
from case.”

“Whell ah’ never did … That the catalogue yew got there boy? Lemme take a lookie at that.”

“Mr Grayson –”

“Shush now. Here we are. Manufactured by
King Jockie.
Bought from
Glenville Tailoring
in Cleveland in 1932. Wh’ell ahll be …”

In the darkness of the kitchen, Christopher winked and turned quietly, moving silently on tiptoeing loafers through the office to the fire escape. Stopping to check his scar in the mirror one last time, he heaved open the door silently. An icy breeze
scuttled
through, fluttering the office papers inquisitively and he was gone.

Swallowing hard, I concentrated on the play out front. Grayson seemed to be reading aloud.

“…
still facing rejection from, among others, National Allied Publishing and the United Features Syndicate, artist Joe Shuster feared it was the amateur quality of the artwork that was holding them back. In 1937 –
”

“Mr Grayson –”

“Ah said a-hush now, this is history here.
In 1937 he hired Joanne Carter as a female model and began to rely further on the poses of Jerry for those of his most famous creation. Usin’ a red cotton tablecloth and these men’s briefs, pictured, the very first infamous poses of –

“Sir, please, alarm is very sensitive …”

“Easy now boy. Customer’s ahlways right, don’t they teach you that in this country? No one’s touchin’ nuthin. Ahm juss’ tryin’ to get a lookie –”

The door gave a jangle.

Christopher.

Then a voice. Not Christopher’s. Not Christopher’s at all.

“What’s all this?”

No. Oh no no
no
.

“Well g’mornin’ miss,” Grayson said. Not a line anyone was expecting to hear. Not a line anyone wanted to hear.

I stood in the dark, grabbing the counter top, knees buckling.

“Neil about?” Laura said. There was a soft clicking. Heels moving up the shop towards the counter. A shuffle. Men moving. The kick stool being shoved to one side.

“
Laura
?” Pete said.

There was a beat. A silence. The script was slipping. I could feel
everyone flipping desperately for the right page, stage-hands panicking, the director gesturing in silent fury.

“Hey,” Laura said.

What was she doing? I’d
told
her we were … What the hell was she
doing
?

“Ain’t you gonna introduce us to this lovely young thing?” Grayson said with an oily voice. Even hiding in the kitchen in the dark, I could sense his wet eyes widening. “Bob Grayson. Pleasure, miss. A pleasure.”

Laura giggled. In the way you might when a randy old bastard kisses your hand.

“Well, Neil said he was having important viewers this morning,” Laura cooed. “He didn’t tell me how
distinguished
they’d be. A pleasure to meet you.”

Oh for Christ’s
sake
?

Julio and Pete had gone uncomfortably quiet. Unlike my bottom, which was beginning to register its discomfort at the situation. I looked at my chunky watch. Christopher was due any –

“Jesus H Christ!” Grayson yelled, the door jangling and clattering. “My … Jesus buddy, you all right?”

“Ow, ahhh.” It was Christopher’s voice. He sounded in trouble. “Bastards, those damn … ahh, shit.”

“You okay buddy? Your head looks …”

“Just a knock I think. Oww, shit.”

“Siddown, siddown.”

There was a bang and shuffle of the chair being heaved out to the aisle of the shop. Everyone seemed to be cooing and oo-ing.

“They took the fuckin’ … ow. You got … you got some water? Any water?”

“Of course.”

I braced myself in the dark as hurried footsteps approached. Pete entered the kitchen, pushing past me in angry silence. He ran the tap noisily.

“
What’s happening
?” I hissed. “
Pete
?”

“
Happening? Your girlfriend’s fucking the whole game!
” Pete spat. “
What’s she doing here?!
”

“
I-I swear, I don’t know! I told her …
”

“
Get out of the way. Out of sight. Christ, extras cluttering up every
corner
,” Pete muttered. “
You out here, her out there. Julio is right. Goddamn amateur hour, this whole damned play.
” He shut the tap off and stared at me. “
Go on! Move it. What are you waiting for?!
” he hissed.

Dumbstruck, I backed away in the darkness, through the narrow door of the staff toilet, back of my knees bumping against the cold bowl. Pete tutted and left, pushing back into the glare of the shop clutching a mug of water.

I breathed out as quietly as I could, heart thumping.

I could hear voices. Muffled now.

Teeth tight, I edged back out a few feet towards the doorway, ears aching for sounds.

“Thank you. Christ. Are any of you Grayson? I’m meant to be meeting a Bob Grayson –”

“
Mr Laurie?
”

“That’s
you
? God, you’re here. Thanks so much for … look I’m sorry …”

“What the hell happened boy?”

“Kids,” Christopher croaked. “Fuckin’ … Daventry train got into Charing Cross late. I was heading over here. Hurrying. Up whassit. Had my case with me. Silver case. Your comic.”

“
Had
it?”

“Got just up here. Soho. These two kids. Couldn’t have been more than fifteen? Yelling. I turn, spinning around. Then
whack
.”

“Jesus.”

“Wait. They got
mah
comicbook?”

“Took the whole case. Left me on the pavement. Is it cut? It feels like it’s cut …”

“You look right. Need cleaning up though. How you feel?”

“They got mah book?” Grayson said again. “Ah come all this way? Five an a half grand’s worth of comic book, you let ’em just
take
it from you?”

“Five and a half
grand
?” Laura said.

The room went eerily quiet for a second too long.

“Ah was meant to be buyin’.
eBay.
We had a deal,” Grayson said. He wasn’t happy.