Sing Like You Know the Words (30 page)

The taxi with David already in
it picked him up before it was light. It was a strange flight;
David barely spoke. The brief day was already fading when reached a
high rise hotel in the centre of the freezing city. Finally David
explained what he had meant about trust.

-I have to meet some people this
evening. There’s no need for you to come. I just need you to stay
here. Best you don’t leave the hotel in fact. Keep this case safe,
and don’t hand it over to anyone but me.

He presented Matthew with a
small, but heavy, black document case.

-If I’m not back by, say one
thirty tonight, then you open it, but not before, got it?

-And then what?

-You’ll know once you open the
case.

Matthew snorted.

-I’m sorry, but all of this just
seems a little mysterious and, well, unnecessary. Anyone would
think we were in Chicago in the thirties. This is Switzerland you
know: bankers and cuckoo clocks.

-I’ve been here before, yes.

David motioned him to the
window. Darkness had fallen quickly. Far below them, the city was a
huddle of indistinct black shapes. Harsh neon pools of light
illuminated the sides of buildings. Snaking lines of soft amber
headlights and harsher red tail lights marked the comings and
goings of the traffic.

-Down there.

David pointed. Matthew noticed a
space where the streetlights illumined a wooded area, with neat
pathways running through it; park land obviously. He could pick out
tiny human figures wandering around or slumped on the benches.

-Unusual for so many people to
be in the park, when it’s so late and so cold, he commented.

-They’re out there every night;
some live there. That’s the needle park – only for people buying
selling and using drugs: here in the centre of this neat and
prosperous city of bankers.

-You couldn’t stay out there all
night. You’d freeze to death

-Some of them do. Others
overdose. The city is very efficient about removing the bodies.
This is a neat town; even the park. But still, probably not
somewhere you want to go for a stroll at this time. I’ve passed
through it in daylight. The solid citizens walk by if it’s on their
way and don´t seem to notice anything unusual happening.

-What’s your point?

-The park tells you something
about the city and its people. The kind of place it is. If you have
business here you are more or less free to get on with it, even if
it should consist of killing yourself, slowly or quickly. It’s not
the kind of city where passers-by involve themselves, unless
there’s a percentage in it. I suppose I’m saying that it’s the kind
of place where a certain kind of businessman, might feel at
home

-Now you have me worried

-Well, don’t be. I’ll call you
if I’m going to be any later than expected. Otherwise, the
arrangements are as I said.

-I think I can manage that.

Matthew spent an anxious evening
drinking hotel beer in his room. He never did look in the case. He
didn’t even check if it was locked. He was not so certain that he
wanted to have any knowledge of what might be inside. In any case,
David was back at the hotel not long after midnight. He seemed
relieved, though he didn’t say much. Matthew had to assume that
everything had been sorted out.

In the week that followed,
Cromwell Industries announced moderately encouraging results, and
the unscheduled departure of its Chief Executive Andrew Foster, who
the board thanked for his brief but significant contribution to the
development of the business. David didn’t have much to say about
the split, or how it might be connected to Zurich. He was kept busy
as acting chief executive of Cromwell, but that seemed to make him
his energetic and positive self again.

Chapter Nine

It was a typical wet Monday
morning in a northern town. The roads were too crowded and the fine
rain hung in the grey air making everything seem dirtier than it
already was. Just outside the centre, on the south side, a cluster
of mixed use commercial buildings crowded like neglected shrubs in
the untended deltas between highways and interchanges. The tenants
lived a hand to mouth existence, hoping to make enough each month
to cover rent and outgoings. There was always a new To Let board
appearing somewhere on the estate as another business
succumbed.

Mitchell Walcott arrived late to
work, confident that nothing interesting or important would be
waiting for him. Ignoring the post trays, he slouched straight to
the cupboard that served as his private office and let his soft
body sink into the heavily cushioned chair. He felt exhausted as if
he had done a week’s work already.

His assistant, and sole
employee, brought him tea. He watched intently as Susan put the mug
down and left the office, noting a small awakening of lust. She
knows I’m watching her, he thought, even if she’s not sure that she
welcomes the attention.

Mitchell gnawed at a biscuit
while reflecting on that. Pretty girl; should be out of his league,
but with two young kids and the man gone, who could say? Probably
lonely; probably could do with some help with the kids. Children
though. The thought made him shudder.

She brought the post in, and
some telephone messages, none of which amounted to much. Time to
speak to Derek. Unusually his partner was actually present in the
office that morning.

-What do you have for us today,
Derek?

Nothing real, as usual. Just the
appearance of being very busy. Derek was a big man, fat in fact.
Bustling around his own tiny office, hands never still, threatening
to spill the many papers that were stacked around the room. But it
was always the same papers that had been lying there for months.
Derek muttered something about having a lead on a big consumer
debt, needing to follow up on a trace. Mitchell ignored that.

-We have a stack of bills that
we need to talk about. Here are some of them. Look.

-And we will, but just now I
have to follow up on this (putting on his coat). There is a good
chance I can find us this Hawkins guy before the end of the
week.

-Bear in mind you probably won’t
find him in the bar at the Old Fox.

Derek nodded gravely, as if this
was information worthy of proper consideration, and then he was
gone. Mitchell returned the overdue invoices to Derek’s in tray,
feeling that he may just as well put them in the waste basket.

That was Monday´s business.

On Tuesday, Mitchell had nothing
at all to do. He received three phone calls from a firm of enquiry
agents, whose invoices were gathering dust in Derek’s tray, and
another call from his wife, which was about picking up his
wonderful children. Derek made an appearance late in the afternoon.
Mitchell followed him into his office to cut off the avenue of
escape. He insisted that Derek should listen and that they should
confront the financial realities of their situation. Derek listened
to what he had to say for a while, with a show of great attention.
Finally he interrupted to say that he had not understood anything
of what Mitchell was saying

-That’s why you and I make a
good team Mitch. You have the accounting knowledge to deal with all
this. My expertise is in the field. I’ve got every confidence in
you. But you know that everything you say about numbers is Greek to
me.

Then of course he had to leave
to follow up an urgent lead in the Hawkins case.

Mitchell returned to his office
and opened the dreaded ledgers on his personal computer. The firm
was not so much sinking rapidly as sitting on the bottom, drowning
slowly. Not for the first time, he reflected that Derek had invited
him to join the business less for his bookkeeping skills than for
the money he´d paid to buy into the business; money that Mitchell
had raised on the security of his house. Taking on a debt that now
he couldn´t afford to service. The cash was gone and there was
nothing to show. So much for business projections. Better to have
stayed an anonymous number cruncher at the old firm than this. He
could say he was his own boss; probably for another month or two at
most. And after that bankruptcy, most likely. He opened the office
door.

-Sue, do you fancy a quick drink
after work again tonight? This place is getting to me?

-Why not? My mum has the kids
tonight. Are you ok to be late home?

-Not my night to collect the
brats. If Mrs W rings, tell her I will be working a little late

Not that she’d notice or care,
he thought. Probably, on balance, she would prefer that I should be
late, as in, the late Mitchell Walcott. He thought about his solid,
unremarkable wife and the two teenage children. At that moment he
couldn´t imagine a single reason why he would ever in his life want
to go home again.

Then he thought back to his own
childhood, trying to picture some moment of domestic tenderness,
that would shine out past the years of boredom and resentment that
he remembered all too well. There must have been some moments when
he´d been happy at home, something to suggest that he wasn´t just
wasting his time with his own kids. He couldn´t think of anything.
It´s something lacking in me, he mused, I´m just not a complete
person.

His thoughts returned to his
wife. How to describe her? Words came readily to mind; middle-aged,
aging, past her prime. But in fact they were the same age. That
realization made his hands start to shake. I’m feeling panic, he
marvelled. Maybe it was better to feel that than nothing at
all.

On Wednesday it rained again, so
naturally this was the day he had to leave the office. Derek had
actually managed to trace a couple of debtors. Local small time
stuff but business was business, as Derek reminded him. Mitchell
asked why, if he was the back office man, it should be him who had
to make the call. Derek was very apologetic, patiently explaining
that he would have seen to it himself only that he was completely
overwhelmed by the Hawkins case, which was making good progress,
thanks to help from Derek’s old friends in the police force. It’s
not what you know; it’s who you know, eh Mitch?

Who was he kidding? Derek didn´t
have any friends. And Mitchell knew that the police force had
kicked him out, even though Derek didn´t know that he knew.

-This job is not such a big
deal, but it will be a good opportunity for you to learn about the
operational side. The address is rented and I don´t expect the
debtors are working, but, you know, it´s a catalogue debt. All this
cash they´ve spent, they must have some stuff lying around that
they’d rather hold on to and I´ll bet they can raise some cash once
you let them see that it would be better for them to see the back
of you.

-But there are two of them. Two
blokes in one house

-Are you worried that they might
be dangerous, or that they might be gay?

-I’m worried that they might be
dangerous gays.

-These two aren’t dangerous,
except where there’s a window left open or a door unlocked. Believe
me I know these two characters from way back.

Mitchell drove past the house
twice and then parked a few streets away, where he felt the car was
safer. He walked back to the address. Some of the houses were
boarded. Number 27 was lived in, but run down. He didn´t really
expect anyone to answer the doorbell ring, but Raj and Pete invited
him in almost without explanation, as if they were so bored they
were grateful for the chance to talk to anyone.

In the house there was almost no
furniture, only in the front room a giant TV screen, a games
console, and some dirty cushions against the back wall. Empty beer
cans and pizza boxes littered the fireplace.

-Want a beer? They asked:
Mitchell declined on the basis he was driving and anyway did not
usually drink before ten thirty in the morning. He asked them if
they were in employment.

-Nah, we’re burglars generally,
Raj replied.

-But looking to rehabilitate
ourselves, added Pete.

-That’s what my partner said,
Mitchell told them, mentioning Derek’s name.

-That man is a arsehole, said
Raj. Mitchell nodded his agreement.

-Believe me it in’t easy, said
Raj. They don’t give you no help when you try to go straight.
Sometimes you think you was better off when you was inside.

Mitchell considered this.

-But it looks as if you’ve been
helping yourselves a little bit; with all these purchases from the
catalogue. I´ve got the list here look. You’ve not exactly been
doing without, looks like. That’s a lot of stuff and a tidy bit of
money you owe. And so far you´ve paid back, let´s see; nothing. But
I don’t see much of anything lying around here now.

-No man, we sold most of it
straight away, said Pete.

-But you’re still supposed to
pay for it.

-Yeah, right. With what?

-The way we look at it, Raj
explained, these people was practically giving us free money. We
didn’t even have to tell them no lies – well hardly. So if they are
stupid enough to do that, right, then what we owe them is not our
fault.

-Well now I’m here. You´ve been
traced. I have to ask you to pay something to me on account and to
make an agreement to clear the debt in a reasonable time

-Yeah, right

-We can sign an agreement if you
like.

-Yeah we can afford to give you
a promise.

-I’m used to that, believe me,
Mitchell sighed.

On balance it was not such a bad
visit. At least the car was not damaged when he went back to
it.

Derek told him that burglars
weren’t dangerous, just inadequate. They all did time inside
because they kept getting caught. They were incompetent to begin
with and then they had to be drunk or high to find the nerve to do
the job. Even when they didn’t screw up completely, there was no
money in burgling. You had to practically give away whatever you
lifted. According to Derek, it was just a few people and the police
could easily take every burglar in the country off the street in a
week; except there would be no point because the lawyers and the
court system would put them back on the street the week after.