A Choice of Evils (10 page)

It was now time to go for my meeting with Ahmed at 5pm. A slow walk to Tesco’s suited me just fine as the weather was mild and fresh and helped clear my head as I ambled along. The shopping centre was crowded as usual when I arrived. For a few minutes I walked the store, round and round between the rows and aisles. Finally I arrived at the fish counter.

The fluorescent lights cast a bright illumination over the sea foods on display. I stood inspecting a fine specimen of haddock when I became conscious of a presence beside me. A sideways glance saw me staring into the face of Ahmed. His brown eyes were devoid of warmth and held my gaze like a trained hypnotist. A reflection of light bounced from the corner of his gold spectacles. For a brief second it seemed language had disappeared. Then suddenly his face changed into a plastic smile. ‘Hello Jack,’ he said. ‘Another thing we have in common, is keeping our appointments.’

I returned him a weak smile. I felt the bubbling of an uncontrollable urge to tell him what I knew about him and the formula but somehow managed to quell the anger I felt inside. His arm now rested upon my shoulder steering me away from the fish counter just as an assistant was about to ask me for an order. Almost meekly, I walked beside him doing my best to appear nonchalant. As we passed the cheese and milk displays he developed his conversation.

‘Your ansaphone message was intriguing Jack. I thought it warranted some further understanding so I am here for you to tell me about it. Remember, I did tell you that everything had to be accounted for, especially money.’ I took a deep breath. His voice seemed more like a command than a question. It all seemed surreal. Here I was, walking around Tesco’s talking to a foreign spy and I couldn’t do a dam thing about it. This whole sorry saga had evolved from Ahmed reading my autobiography The Mind of a Thief. That’s how he had selected me to be the perfect stooge to accomplish his mission to get the XP42 formula. He continued to speak.

‘You did not hear my question Jack.’ I looked at him intently. I wished he would stop calling me Jack. ‘I heard you,’ I answered. ‘Do you want me to spell it out for you? It is not turning out as simple as I thought it would be. I know exactly where the formula is. But I told you I have to do things my way. It all costs money.’

‘Of course, of course, but time is of the essence. There will be others who want this formula too and I want the advantage of getting it first. You are being well paid.’ he stated crisply.

We now moved onto the meat displays and stopped again. I stared at the frozen packs of lamb and beef all neatly cut, measured and priced. Ahmed looked at me. ‘How perfectly prepared the meat is. I doubt these once graceful creatures could ever imagine such an earthly demise?’ Our eyes looked into each other’s. It was a power stare. My instinct interpreted his remarks as a veiled threat. Fuck you, you bastard, I thought. He then picked up a shoulder of lamb to inspect its price label. ‘You see, everything has a price,’ he whispered. Then at the top end of the aisle, I saw him! It was Ahmed’s shadow from the zoo also seen in the photographs. A fleeting look passed between us then he was gone.

Warning bells rang in my head. I was getting a little more paranoid and needed to be told this was all unreal. I had an uncanny feeling that Ahmed knew I had suspected his motives. But neither of us was saying. His psychology and semantics with words were subliminally designed to intimidate me.

I looked at the leg of lamb in his hands. There was power and menace in his grip of it. He smiled at me then broke the silence. ‘It is such a heartless world we live in. We must draw our own conclusions about life. I’m sure we have a meeting of minds? Does it matter if I am a bastard? Think of the money and what it could do for you.’

He was certainly a cool calculating person. Not a feather of his composure left him as he spoke. I had not the slightest doubt that the meat in his hands was a message for me. On replacing it, his hand gave me a pat on my back. ‘I knew a professional thief like you could be depended upon. Let us remain amicable about it all. The formula can mean nothing to you but is everything to me. He stretched the word ‘everything’ out with emphasis. There was no doubt that his oblique reference to the word was designed to render me psychologically subjective. Emotions of rage, hate and resentment curdled inside me towards this parody of evil. I wanted to bash his nose in but yet not create a hornet’s nest of troubles which I didn’t need. ‘You will have the formula,’ I told him. ‘As you say, it means nothing to me.’ He tilted his head and smiled flatly. ‘Good. Then perhaps now you will allow me to treat you to a fish supper? The haddock looked rather nice on the slab Jack. Would you like some of that?’

Christ! I really wanted to smack him right between the eyes. I shook my head. All I wanted was to get away from him and Tesco’s. What I wanted was a large scotch.

We exchanged glances. ‘I will wait to hear from you then, Jack.’ Again I nodded hearing myself say yes. He gave me another pat on my back as he moved away leaving me staring at the fish. I left in another direction. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted towards me as I passed by the bakery. It did nothing for my appetite.

Once outside, I heard six bells chime on a church clock. There was no need to rush home. My meeting with the weasel was not until 9.30pm. The evening darkness seemed hostile while the oncoming rain was somehow refreshing. I felt a great combustion of energy to be purged as I milled my steps in the walk back home. Like a robot, I trudged on in the knowledge that I had become an unwitting contender in a conspiracy for a death formula.

As I approached my house, it seemed I was oblivious to pedestrians and cars that passed me by. Only the laud honking of a car horn prevented me from an accident as I crossed the road. My thoughts were preoccupied with the past hours revelations.

Indoors, I made straight for the scotch bottle and poured myself a large one. A quick gulp sent a fireball into my stomach helping to quell the queasy feelings inside. My memory at the fish counter brought back vivid pictures of the entire meeting as I knew my instincts about Ahmed were valid ones. I think he knew that I knew his story for wanting the formula was a fabrication of the truth. He knew his double talk was working on me. Psychological terrorism had its place, especially when a thief like me was compromised. He knew I could not go to the police for fear of arrest. Neither could I tell Dr Bruce for the same reasons. It was crystal clear that his ingenious plan was a well thought out strategy from the start. Right now, I didn’t know if I was angrier with him or myself. Thus I cursed myself for the greed of easy money so I accepted that I had brought this whole messy saga upon myself, lock, stock and barrel!

From somewhere in the mists of memory came an old saying, ‘To run is not to hide and to hide is not to see!’ If I upped and left, where would I go? Everything my life stood for was right here. What about Aisha, Sharon and Louise? Then there was Susan, a regular girlfriend I had not seen for months. But that was because she was an air stewardess. Memories of her too filtered through my thoughts. Maybe I should give her a call? Perhaps a reunion for old times’ sake would take my mind off the predicament I was in. Yes, that’s what I would do after I had poured myself another scotch. Now I was beginning to mellow out but I needed to remain temperate for my meeting with Dave the weasel at the Blacksmiths arms.

‘Hello. Is Susan home? It’s Jack here.’ I queried the voice at the other end. I knew it was her flat mate, Charmaine. She was a bubbly woman. ‘Boy, will she be pleased you phoned!’ she answered. ‘She lost her diary with your number in it. She’s asleep just now. It’s the jet lag from her flight from Saudi Arabia. Can she call you back?’ I gave her my number and threw in a compliment of how sexy her voice was. I suggested that maybe she was Susan? But that didn’t go down too well. I left a message for her to call me before midnight. I was sure to be home by then.

It was now 8.45pm. Time I made my way to the pub and Dave. I had already written the key numbers on a piece of paper before calling a taxi as I didn’t want to chance driving the car back. A few drinks with the weasel and I would be over the limit. The thought of being arrested for drunk driving would open up a hornets nest to other things. Ten minutes later there was a taxi outside my door. I knew the weasels hungry fingers would want to count his down payment of £1.000 which was in my pocket. Tomorrow afternoon would see me collect the keys from Doc for a £100.

In the cab, I suffered the gabble of the driver who informed me his last customer had done a runner. I got the impression he sought confirmation I was not about to do the same. I earned a smile from his face as we arrived at the Blacksmiths arms. That cost me £5 including a tip. Sure, we all had to earn a living.

Inside the pub, I was met by the expectant smiling but haggard face of Dave the weasel. For once he was offering to buy me a drink as I pulled up a stool beside him. His tattered leather coat positively looked decomposing on his back while his bright white shirt salvaged a measure of his dignity. I looked at his tobacco stained yellow teeth but was careful not to expose my disgust.

The barmaid held out her small smooth hand as Dave counted through his change. Of course his generosity was too good to be true as he was short of two pounds to pay for the drinks. He turned to me in askance knowing I would make good the difference. ‘It’s the thought that counts,’ he told me. It was my turn to smile. I guess you couldn’t help liking the audacity in him. The barmaid smiled too.

‘Are you ordering a meal sir?’ she queried, looking from left to right of us. He knew I was at his mercy, so I invited him to see the menu as I nodded to the barmaid. ‘Gee. You must have read my mind Jack,’ he smiled. ‘If only I could.’ I remarked. Two steaks, fries and salads were ordered as I paid yet another bill.

He sent a puff of smoke in the direction of the barmaid’s bottom as she went to convey the order. You could tell he was feeling good in himself but this was probably because he knew I had a grand in my pocket for him. It was obvious he would also have to grease somebody’s palm to get the information I wanted. ‘Cheers Jack.’ he said raising his glass. Dave plunged his red nose into his drink like it was a life giving substance. Then he blasted me with a stream of smoke making me gag a little turning my head away.

His fingers drummed out a tattoo on the side of his glass as I studied his reflection through the optic mirrors. His mind was turning over what the genesis of his usage might be at this meeting. ‘It’s big stuff huh?’ he enquired. Whatever way you looked at him, he was always going to be a part time policeman. ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ I answered. The barmaid called our table. ‘I’ll tell you what I need after we’ve eaten our meal.’ I added. ‘Sure Jack. Sure.’ he mumbled.

With table and meal ready, the weasel’s eyes looked hungrily over the food. He was soon munching contentedly without speaking. That suited me as I didn’t want to see what lived in his mouth.

Some distant background music filled in the silence between us as I strained to maintain a good composure. But within me was a restlessness that would not go away. Behind my mask were the ghosts of Ahmed and his shadow evoking the memories of our meeting?The truth was I felt uncomfortable about my secret activities which affected my appetite, so I pushed my unfinished meal away.

Dave tut tutted sympathetically. ‘It would be a shame to waste it. Do you mind if I make a pig of myself?’ he smiled. ‘Go ahead I told him. I’ll visit the gents for a minute.’

Inside the gent’s toilet, I sat in a cubicle to double check the grand I had brought for him and the paper with the bank deposit key numbers on it. On my way back I asked the barmaid to phone me a taxi noting the table displayed two clean plates as I sat down again. The weasel looked up inquisitively but I wasn’t really in the mood for preliminaries. I got straight down to business and passed him the money together with details of the banks and Bruce’s address and the key numbers. He soon became alert when he saw the money. I watched his face almost visibly making his financial calculations. Who he had to pay was none of my business as neither mine was his. ‘Can be done, Jack.’ he assured me. ‘Give me a few days and I’ll have all the details for you, ok?’ I nodded. ‘You get the rest when I’ve got what I want,’ I told him. His face creased into a smile as he buried the envelope down the front of his underpants. ‘Only a woman can find that!’ he quipped. I told him it would be a good idea if he went home now. For once he agreed. Shortly after, the taxi arrived and we both got in.

Ten minutes later I arrived home to have another large scotch after leaving Dave to reach his own destination.

It had just turned 11.45pm when the phone rang. It was Susan. The alcohol helped me to sound convivial but I was far from feeling that way. I knew I was 40/60 sober, but managed to hide my percolating anxieties. The good news was that Susan had a five day rest period and suggested we should spend some time of it together so we arranged to meet at the Downtown restaurant tomorrow evening. It was an all-inclusive price of £30 for a dinner, cabaret and dance and the restaurant was nicely perched on the edge of the Thames River. We flirted light-heartedly over the phone for a while to see if feelings had changed between us. They had not. She had been a longstanding girlfriend for some two years as well as Sharon but Aisha and Louise were really just passing ships in the night, but Susan was special. She had a thing about lipstick and jelly babies too. We were all for playing games. ‘I’ll bring them with me,‘ she said seductively. It was a nice thought knowing I would see her again soon, I thought, as we put the phone down.

After I left the bathroom, I almost fell into bed.

Next morning, mouse reminded me I had little to laugh about so I punched the button on his head. His silence greeted me with a blue sky. Today I needed to snoop on Dr Bruce with a telephoto lens camera. I had not forgotten I needed a close up picture of him for the sisters to work on. The picture could be taken from my car outside his house and this meant I had to leave almost right away to catch him leaving for work. After this, I had to meet Doc’ at the Battersea dogs home again. Time was of the essence.