Falling (9 page)
I know
the locks on these cupboards are not substantial. Unusually the door opens
outwards, as they all do. I wonder how much pressure I would need to pop the
lock. I lean my shoulder into the door, press and build up until I am putting
as much pressure on as possible but nothing gives. I consider my next move. I
can shoulder charge the door but this is hardly a silent option and if the
thugs are still around I’m in trouble. But I need to do something. They could
come back soon and that isn’t a fun story either.
I make
my mind up and back up as far as the cupboard will let me and take a run at the
door and hit it with my shoulder. I bounce back and my shoulder registers its
disapproval in a big way. The door seems unaffected so I try again with the
same result and after the third attempt I stop. Obviously the locks are a touch
more substantial than I gave them credit for.
I scan
the cupboard for anything of use but it is clean as a whistle. I search my
pockets and come up with a small win in the shape of a Swiss Army knife. Not
the daddy of the range but a faithful servant over the years.
It is
about four inches long and nearly an inch thick and amongst a small array of
accoutrements it has two blades - a three inch and a two inch. I flip out the
smaller blade and try and insert it where the lock is located but the door
frame protects the mechanism. Had I been on the outside this would have been
easy. Had I been on the outside this would be a redundant problem.
I study
the door frame. A protecting strip of wood is tacked on to the door frame with
what look like small panel pins. I insert my knife between frame and wood at
the top of the door and lever the strip away. At first the small pins hold firm
but then, with a small pop, part of the strip comes free. I bend to the floor
and repeat the process.
I move
up the strip, prising it away from the frame until it is sitting proud a
centimetre or so along its entire length. I turn my attention to the lock area
and work at the strip until there is enough space to get my fingers in. I
insert my fingers and try to pull the strip free from its mountings but it is
stubborn. I start again with the knife at the bottom and this time loosen the
whole strip another centimetre and insert my fingers and try again. This time
it splinters and pulls away. I throw it behind me and insert the small knife
into the now exposed gap between door and frame and with a little effort pop
the lock.
I open
the door but keep it from swinging free. I push my head through the gap and
look out. The stairs seem empty. I open the door further and put my head round
the door. Still all clear. I exit.
I head
down to the next floor and I hear approaching footsteps with some speed on
them. The door below opens and two figures come through. I throw myself against
the wall but there is nowhere to hide. The figures start up the stair and
reveal themselves to be a policeman and a paramedic. They rush past me and up
to the roof. I change my mind about going down. Police upstairs. Thugs maybe
downstairs. I’ll go with the police.
I’m
back on the roof seconds behind the police and the paramedic. There are another
two policemen on the opposite side of the roof to where Charlie was being
thrown off. I follow the paramedic and the first policeman over and see Charlie
lying on the ground. The paramedic drops to the ground and gets to work. The
policeman walks over to me.
I give
him chapter and verse. No holding back. I tell him who Charlie is and he notes
it all down and then makes me go through the story again. ‘
Was the man being
thrown from the roof or did he jump.’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Did the two men in suits
say anything?’ ‘Not much.’ ‘Do I know why they might have chosen to throw
Charlie off the roof?’ ‘I’m not sure they did throw him off, after all wasn’t
one trying to save him’ ‘Explain?’
I explain about Leonard.
‘Who is
Leonard?’
I tell him.
The
questioning runs on and I stop it to ask if Charlie is ok and the policeman
asks the paramedic. The paramedic says he’ll live. It’s all the answer I get
before the three policemen get together for a chat.
I
wander over to Charlie. He is in some state. His face is bruised and his nose
is at right angles to where it should be. His left ear is caked in blood. His
right eye is closed but his left eye is open and active. He spots me and he
tries to say something. The paramedic tells him to lie quiet but he curls the
right finger of his right hand in a beckoning motion and I close in. The
paramedic is loading up a syringe. No doubt something to send Charlie to
dreamland for a bit.
Charlie
reaches up and grabs the paramedic’s hand to stop him and beckons me again. I
look at him and then I look at the paramedic and the paramedic leans back to
let me talk to Charlie.
Charlie
whispers. So low I struggle to hear him and low enough that no-one else can
eavesdrop.
‘Leonard.
The gorillas said I was Leonard.’
I nod.
No understanding but I nod.
‘Not me
that was the thievin’ prick. Leonard.’
I am
clueless.
‘Behind
my filing cabinet. Take the parcel and hide it.’
I am
about to ask what is going on but then Charlie moans big time and the paramedic
pushes me aside and unloads the syringe into Charlie’s arm and he is gone.
I’m
confused.
The
first policeman approaches me again and tells me that I need to come down to
the station. I ask if that is really necessary but it is clear it is. We head
for the exit just as two more paramedics appear with a stretcher. Right behind
them is Tina. She looks in a state of total bewilderment. She rushes to me and
wraps herself around me like a long lost brother. She babbles about the man
getting thrown off the roof and me being pushed. A bad push. Tina can do
shorthand of the mouth like no-one I know.
The
policeman cottons onto to what she is trying to say and gently pulls her away
and starts to question her about the incident. I hear her side of the story and
I’m still not sure if Charlie jumped or was thrown.
I have
time to think about what Charlie has just said to me. It makes no sense but
then again the whole shooting match makes no sense. One thing does make sense
is that the two men in suits clearly thought Charlie was Leonard.
‘Not
me that was the thievin’ prick. Leonard.’
That’s
what Charlie had said and it sounded like Leonard Thwaite had stolen something.
Maybe the gorillas were here to repay Leonard’s thievery. Maybe they thought
Charlie had something to do with it.
To say
I’m confused isn’t even half the story.
‘Behind
my filing cabinet. Take the parcel and hide it.’
Could
this be what Leonard stole? Maybe? Then why would Charlie have it? I’m still
confused.com. Whatever the story the parcel must be important. Charlie was
clearly in pain but he blank refused the jab until he passed on the
information. The policeman is finished with Tina and I ask him if I can have
two minutes with my girlfriend. He agrees and I reassure her that I am ok. I
then tell her what has happened and what Charlie said.
‘Do me
a favour,’ I say. ‘Go down to
Cheedle, Baker and Nudge. Charlie works there.
Susie will be on reception. Tell her George sent you to pick something up for
Charlie Wiggs. Me and her are good so she’ll let you in his office. See if
there is a parcel behind Charlie’s filing cabinet. If there is can you grab it
and hang on to it. Can you do that as soon as possible?’
She’s not keen. Not keen at all.
I don’t blame her. Tina’s not stupid. She tells me to forget it and tells me to
say to the police about the parcel. But Charlie is one of the good guys in
life. One of the guys that didn’t take the piss out of my cupboard
indiscretion. Good guys are thin on the ground and I want to help him. I push
her to help.
Tina asks why she shouldn’t pass
the parcel straight to the police. I tell her that Charlie doesn’t want that to
happen. ‘How do you know?’ she asks. ‘He would have told the policeman about
the parcel, not me,’ I reply.
She is wavering. I kiss her and
the policeman steps in and tells me we need to go. I ask if we can stop at the
front desk to pick up a spare set of office keys and he agrees.
I wink at Tina and hope she
follows up for me. And then I’m out of there.
And then George is gone and I’m
standing on the roof with the sort of feeling I used to get when I was stood up
by my boyfriend at school. There are still two policemen and a paramedic
fussing over the man on the roof. I wander over for a look but I don’t
recognise him. Presumably this is Charlie Wiggs but I wouldn’t know him from
Adam.
I chew over George’s request and
can think of a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t do what he asked. For a start I
have no idea what is going on. Bodies on the pavement, bodies on the roof.
Police, paramedics and heaven knows what else. It would seem more prudent to
run than get involved.
Yet I like George, I may even
love him but that is a debate for much later. I want to help him but I’d also
like to know what I’m getting myself into.
The urgency in George’s request
isn’t helping. That and the cloak and dagger nature of the whole thing has me
flipping like a top. Help. Don’t help. Help. Don’t help. I hate being like
this.
They are lifting Charlie onto the
stretcher and I realise that I need to make a call. Assuming that Charlie’s
request is tied up with the whole situation then time is of the essence. It won’t
take the police long to get round to Charlie’s work place. I mentally flip a
coin but I’m already moving before it lands. There was never any doubt that I
would help.
Suzie turns out to be a little
less helpful than George suggested. She knows something is going on but not the
detail. I tell her that George has asked me to pick something up for Charlie.
She is hesitant and says she’s not supposed to let anyone in the offices
without a member of staff. She is lying but I nod in understanding. Part of me
wants her to refuse and take the issue out of my hands. I say nothing and wait
for her to make up her mind.
The phone on her desk rings and
she picks up and answers with a cheery greeting. Her grin vanishes in a second
and she tells the caller that she will put them through right away. After a
moment it is clear that whoever she is transferring to is not in. She informs
the caller of the fact and after a short conversation agrees to go and track
someone down and phone the caller back.
She looks at me and informs me
that that was the police. Something about Leonard and Charlie. The police are
on their way up and want to talk to Mr Cheedle. No doubt the Cheedle in
Cheedle, Baker and Nudge. She excuses herself and disappears into the offices.
I know I should leave. Even being here will raise questions.
I look at the door to the
offices, step forward and push it open. Beyond is a corridor with doors to the
left and the right. I shouldn’t step through but I do. The first door has a
small brass plaque informing on the occupants. All the offices are signposted
in this way and it doesn’t take me long to find Charlie Wiggs’ office. I see it
is also home to Leonard Thwaite and Christine Obego.
I enter the office and see three
desks. One against the window and two against the far wall. I examine the first
one but there is no way of knowing whose desk it is. The second desk has
pictures of kids and a picture of a man standing with the Golden Gate Bridge in
the background with the words ‘From Mr Obego to Mrs Obego with love’ scribbled
across it. Obviously Christine’s desk.
The desk next to the window has a
pen and pencil set and a small paperweight - otherwise it is clear. Next to it
is a filing cabinet with the initials LT on a sticker above the top drawer. I
return to the first desk and the filing cabinet has the letters CW. Charlie’s
desk.
I’ve been in too long already. I
can feel the police approaching. I try and pull the filing cabinet away from
the wall but it is heavy. It moves an inch or so and I look in the gap between
the wall and the cabinet and I see a small parcel. I rock the cabinet another
inch and the parcel falls to the floor. I pick it up and I’m out of there.
The corridor is clear and I head
for the door to reception. As I reach for the reception door handle a voice
from behind me rings out asking if they can be of help. I turn round to see a
small, compact, balding man in a neatly fitting suit. I tell him I’m looking
for Suzie and he asks if she is not at reception. I tell him she was but left
to get someone and hasn’t come back and I popped my head in to see if she was
nearby. The man is not convinced by this and escorts me out into the reception.
Luckily Suzie hasn’t returned and
the balding man tells me to take a seat and he will find her. He vanishes back
into the office and I head for the lifts. I press the button and wait. And
wait. And wait. The lift arrives and I step forward as the balding man’s voice
rattles my ears again. I ignore it and press for the ground and the door
closes.
The lobby is chaos. The police
are letting no-one out until they have checked each person’s ID. I have no
choice but to wait in the queue, sweating as it crawls forward. Any moment now
the balding man might appear and I’ll be at the centre of a spotlight. There
are four people in front of me and two officers working the line. Everyone is
being asked for identification. A woman at the front of the queue doesn’t have
any ID and is asked to stand to one side while they process everyone else. She
reluctantly moves over to stand in a small crowd of other people that have no
ID.