The Whiskerly Sisters (20 page)

As she turned towards the main building, her luck ran out. Shit! Standing on the other side of the tarmac were two members of the customer services team, taking five for a crafty fag out back. They had acknowledged her as she made her way across the concourse towards them, heading for the back stairs.

“Nice day for it,” remarked Sandra, drawing on her cigarette and looking up at the weather.

“Beautiful,” muttered Celia, trying to act normally and feeling as though the stolen envelope, perched on top of the factory samples, would suddenly turn from white to scarlet and begin self-rotating. She half thought it might begin to beep or pulsate alarmingly to alert the two smokers that it was stolen property.

“Depends what IT is,” remarked Graham, who winked knowingly at Celia, whom he had long fancied, but unfortunately had never made it past first base with.

“You saucy bugger,” Sandra said to Graham. “I never knew you had it in you.” Pausing, she had then turned to Celia and had begged her not to rush off. “You’re always in such a bloody hurry these days. Where’s the fire? No one will notice if you slow down for five minutes. We’re all desperate to know what made you hand in your notice. Could’ve knocked me down with a feather – I thought you were here for life. And what’s all this about an amazing new job?”

“Yeah, Celia, how can you up sticks and leave me behind?” asked Graham ruefully. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Sorry folks, you know what it’s like round here – busy, busy, busy. Tell you what, I’m planning farewell drinks at the Crown next Friday and I’ll tell everyone all about it then,” replied Celia, thinking on her feet and trying to sidle past her two colleagues, but only succeeding in barging into Graham, who was in no hurry to see her leave.

“Sorry,” she had muttered, stepping away from the man and then hot footing it back into the building. Graham had called after her, but she had taken no notice of him. There was no way she was going back. Breathing a sigh of relief at not having roused their suspicions, Celia had hurriedly made her way up the back stairs and into the rear of the building.

“Just one more load to get,” she had called down to Vince as she tried to walk normally back to her office. Vince wouldn’t bat an eyelid; he was close to retirement and just wanted an easy life these days. Sending out samples was part of Celia’s job so she was often seen popping in and out of the storeroom. Back in her office, she had dropped the toys onto the spare chair in her office. Placing her hands on the desk, she had then taken a series of deep breaths in an effort to calm herself down. It took some time as she felt her heart pounding and her temples beginning to throb. Slowly, she had regained her composure and, when she finally felt steady, she had turned back to the office chair and began rummaging through the medley of samples in search of the envelope.

It wasn’t there. It had to be! She had tried again and still couldn’t find it. Her heart began to sink and she felt herself growing colder. Taking a very deep breath, she had searched again, a third time, this time lifting each toy in turn and placing it on the floor. Now she was sure; the envelope was most definitely missing. Fuck no! Oh Christ, please no! How could it be missing? It had definitely been on top of the pile when she had left the storeroom and crossed the road. She could remember seeing it when she was speaking to Sandra. Oh no, oh holy Christ and all the saints, no! Realisation struck her full in the stomach. She must have dropped it when she had knocked into Graham. Oh shit! Oh holy, sodding shit! What the fuck should she do now?

Forcing herself to stay calm, Celia again left the office and had begun to retrace her steps when the stair doors opened and Graham walked in with Sandra, back from their fag break. Celia looked at them and there, in Graham’s hand, was the missing envelope. Celia’s heart turned to ice. Had he looked inside it? Did he know what it was? Jesus, it didn’t bear thinking about.

“Celia, you twerp” called Graham, cheerfully, “You dropped this on your way in,” and, mercifully unaware, he had passed over the little envelope. “I called after you, like, but you were in too much of a bloody hurry. You ought to pay more attention to what you’re doing and stop rushing from job to job. You’ll give yourself a bloody heart attack if you don’t watch out.”

That’s the fucking understatement of the year
, thought Celia, who had merely smiled and taken back her property.

Returning to the office once more, Celia had sat down, put her head in her hands and had taken several more, slow deep breaths. What the hell was she doing? That had just been too bloody close for comfort! As soon as she had felt calm enough, she had grabbed a sheaf of papers and had made her way directly to the photocopier. Amongst the documents she had hurriedly copied was the single sheet of paper from the envelope. Back at her desk, she had separated it from the rest, had tucked it carefully into her handbag and had then locked that away in her bottom desk drawer. She had then made her way back downstairs to the store room and had returned the envelope to its rightful place, thankfully remembering to collect a few more samples for her return journey to the main building.

Once back upstairs, she had taken some files from the cabinet and had taken them into Patrick’s office and put them on his desk. On her way out, she had simply dropped the tiny key back into its resting place. The whole exercise had taken less than twenty minutes, but she had been left trembling with exhaustion. She had then gone into the kitchen to make herself a very strong cup of black coffee. Her heart pounded, her head ached and she felt sick, but she had completed the first stage.

The next stage would be considerably more difficult.

Just after midnight, Charley dropped Celia a few hundred yards from the back of the Dumbleton’s buildings and then drove her car round to the front door, parking just short of the entrance. She took out her mobile and dialled Celia’s cell phone. Excellent, she was in position. She keyed in a short message, returning the device to her pocket without pressing send.

Driving her car to the very centre of the forecourt and leaving it there, Charley entered through the front door, walking confidently towards the front desk. The night watchman stood up and looked at her in surprise. He was rarely disturbed at this time of night and never by so glamorous a visitor. He looked at her questioningly, the admiration beginning to reach his eyes. All Charley had to do was hold his attention for the next few minutes. This was going to be a piece of cake.

With a flash of her beautiful smile, Charley explained that she was having trouble with her car. She seemed to have lost her breakdown card otherwise she would have called the rescue agency for advice. She shrugged and looked up at the night watchman guilelessly from beneath her long lashes. She was hopeless at technical things she told him. Could he possible take a look? With a shrug of his shoulders at the incompetence of women and the gallantry of men, the captivated man followed the lovely lady outside. It was at this point that Charley, who’d kept her left hand inside her pocket, fingers clasped around her mobile, pressed the send button.

Celia, dressed all in black and pressed flat against the back wall of Dumbleton’s just a few steps from the back gate, had been wondering what the hell Charley was doing. Get on with it Charley, she silently begged. This wasn’t Ocean’s fucking Eleven; this was real life. If she was caught, she could be prosecuted, might even end up in prison. Was it worth it? At the sudden buzz of her mobile, Celia nearly jumped out of her skin. Her hands were damp with sweat inside the latex gloves Sly had supplied from the hospital. This was it; she had minutes. It was now or never.

While Charley and the night watchman looked under the bonnet of the car for clues, Celia crept into the back of the office, easing her way through the foyer and up the stairs to Patrick’s office, stopping in front of the safe. Once there, she took out a single sheet of paper from inside her jacket. It was the same one that she’d hidden in her bag only a week before on the day of her first robbery. She had memorised the numbers on it, but, as a way of reassuring herself, she checked them again by the light of her pencil torch. She keyed in the combination, opened the safe and removed a large manilla folder. Checking that the information it contained was what she wanted, she placed it carefully inside her jacket, closed the safe and tiptoed back downstairs, past the security cameras and back towards the most vulnerable part of her journey. Celia was untroubled by the cameras since she knew they were empty; back in the day, they might have caused her a problem, but a cost saving exercise a while back had taken that particular burden off her shoulders. Tiptoeing towards the foyer, Celia crossed her fingers and hoped that Charley was still holding the night watchman’s attention. Butterflies crawled through her stomach at the thought of meeting him face to face in the foyer.

As she sneaked through the empty hallway, she could see that Charley was doing a brilliant job outside on the forecourt. She had positioned her rescuer so that he was standing with his back to the front door and she was making damn sure she had all his attention. From the short distance between them, Celia could’ve sworn her friend was flirting with the man. Silently, she sent a prayer of thanks towards the heavens for the nerve of the woman. Still, if that’s what it took to get the job done, she would do it too. Charley’s full attention seemed to be focused on her prey but, out of the corner of her eye, she had been watching for Celia and the moment she saw her, she almost jammed the poor guy’s nose into the car engine. Taking advantage of the situation, Celia sped down the hallway, through the foyer and made her way towards the back door and out of the gate. From the safety of the quiet lane that backed the property, she sent her own text message to Charley, giving her the all clear.

She had done it!

When Celia met the Whiskerlies after class the following day, she had a lot to report. So far, although there had been several stressful moments, everything had gone according to plan. Head Office had become aware of the increasing inefficiencies in the UK Branch and Patrick had been summoned to Dusseldorf. Unfortunately, he had been unable to catch his flight as he had somehow lost his passport. Celia grinned as she told her friends that it might have been because at the time he was supposed to leave for the airport, the document had been locked in Fresna’s top drawer. Fredericke had flown in the following morning and had met Patrick at a hotel a few miles from the office. A warning had been given; there could be no further incidents.

Despite nearly pulling out at the last minute, Celia’s raid had gone very smoothly. Patrick had no need to access the safe for a couple more months so the crime should remain undetected for the foreseeable future, giving the burglar plenty of time to use the theft to its best advantage.

Sly, who had taken a small, yet significant role behind the scenes, was able to add that his meeting with the buyer had gone better than expected. A price had been negotiated and an exchange date agreed.

Jax finished off with the news that her meeting had also proved very successful. The contact Charley had given her had proved very knowledgeable and was able to provide just what they needed. There was a price of course, but Celia was only too happy to pay it.

All in all, the Whiskerlies had to agree that it had been a productive, if nerve-racking few weeks. With a bit of luck and a fair wind, the sting should hit its target. As Celia popped open the champagne, she felt amazed at how things had turned out. Who’d have thought that Charley would have such an unusual contact?

O
h my god! She blinked; she couldn’t believe her eyes. It couldn’t be – not after all this time. It was!

Tiffany had imagined all kinds of situations over the past eighteen months, but she had never envisaged this one. She had pulled the car over as part of a regular stop check; just a random car in a stream of passing traffic and yet why had she picked this car of all cars? Sheer coincidence? The luck of the draw? Or just one of those things? Who knew?

The man, smiling up at her from behind the open window, was trying to tell her how good it was to see her again, trying to remember how long it had been, commenting on how well she was looking. Feeling like the worst professional in the world, she stuttered her way through the request for his driving licence and waited, heart fluttering, for its deposit into her waiting hand. The polished smoothness of its leather casing in her palm seemed to steady her. She moved onto the next stage, going through the motions, hardly aware of what she was doing. In the comfort of routine, she hoped to regain her composure.

She examined the document, asking the standard questions and listening intently to the answers. He was on his way to a training course in a village just outside town. He was running a bit late since traffic on the bypass was heavy at this time of day. He wasn’t sure of the location so could she be a pet and hurry up? He didn’t want to keep his audience waiting. There’s a love. Lovely. Lovely little Tiff. Who’d have thought after all this time…?