‘Lucas.’
‘Okay, listen, Lucas. We’re not going to hurt you, okay? You need the money, right? We get that. There’s got to be a few thousand here.’ Ben offers the cash over, holding it in front of Lucas. ‘Yours,’ he says. ‘Go somewhere else.’ Lucas looks at the money, then up to Harry, who smiles again and nods at him, reassuring and pleasant in manner. ‘We’re going to take their money,’ Ben says, looking at Lucas. ‘All of it. We need it more than they do. Where is it, mate?’
Lucas blinks a few times, his hands reaching for the money held by Ben. Lucas handles tens of thousands of dollars every day. He banks it for them, but Maurice always knows exactly where he is. This is different. Maurice is down. He can go. He can get out of LA. Go east. He licks his lips, his eyes furtive and cunning.
‘Tell you what,’ Ben says, smiling kindly. ‘Show us where it is, and we’ll cut you in. How about that?’ That does it. Ben spots the flash of greed in the street hustler’s eyes. ‘How much they got?’
‘Millions,’ Lucas whispers.
‘Have you seen it?’
Lucas nods, staring at Ben.
‘Is it in a house?’
Lucas nods, still staring at Ben.
‘Where in the house?’
‘Bedroom at the back. Just stacked up. Like, massive, man. Like, so much of it . . . They got men though, loads . . . Guns ’n’ shit.’
‘We got guns,’ Ben says, ‘and shit. What’s the address?’
‘Cut me in, yeah, man?’
‘Cut you in,’ Ben says.
‘I don’t gotta go in though . . .’
‘Nope, we’ll do that.’
Fourteen
‘Tell me what happened that led you to being here,’ Miri says, the notepad on her lap. She looks at Tango Two, absorbing, analysing, examining, assessing and knowing fully well the same is being done in return.
Tango Two recounts what she said before. She stays basic. Offering fact but not opinion. She speaks calmly, politely. Holding eye contact where it should be held, and looking away when it is right to do so. When she finishes, the room falls into silence. She does not fill it with sound or speech.
‘What is your codename?’ Miri asks.
‘Tango Two,’ Tango Two says.
‘Thank you,’ Miri says, closing the notepad and standing up.
Something is different. Tango Two can sense it.
‘Safa will be back soon,’ Miri says, closing the door as she goes out. Tango Two stares at the door closing and hears the scrape of metal that she has now seen is a thick pin going into a clasp. That’s it. No bolts, no padlocks, no keys. Remarkably simple, yet also remarkably effective.
She prowls the room. Thinking furiously. Why isn’t Miri asking me more questions? Does Miri know why Mother ordered them to kill me? Why isn’t the questioning more intense? Tango Two cannot see the angle. It doesn’t feel right. Safa brought food yesterday afternoon and could barely hide the grin on her face. Energy was pouring off her too. She was playful and joking. A guard should not be playful and joking. It takes months or even years for that level of relationship to grow.
She avoids going near the window because the view is so spectacular it makes her stand for hours and forget everything else. She is also sleeping soundly at night. She thought she must have been drugged to be sleeping so deeply, but she wakes naturally, feeling alert and refreshed.
The whole of it plays on her mind. Questions going round and round. Frustration showing.
‘You decent?’
Tango Two immediately changes to that passive-submissive appearance of feet together and her hands held in front. ‘I am, yes,’ she says. She expected Safa to come later, but Miri has only been gone half an hour.
‘Hi,’ Safa says, pushing the door open to grin at Tango Two.
‘Hi,’ Tango Two says. She spots the huge smile and frowns, still wondering what’s happened that feels different.
‘Want some air? Miri said you can go outside, and the doc seems happy with your injuries.’
‘I’d love some, thank you,’ Tango Two says, offering that polite smile, while feeling a thrum of excitement inside. Her senses sharpen. Her eyes hardening as she follows Safa out the door to see her set of rooms are at the end of a long corridor lined with metal doors, all the same as hers. It feels empty and somehow new. She can’t say why, but she listens to what her senses are telling her.
‘Do you know what smurfs are?’ Safa asks, turning to walk backwards with that grin showing again.
‘Smurfs?’ Tango Two asks. ‘The little blue people?’ She catches glimpses into rooms identical to hers. One middle room with three blue chairs and doors leading to bedrooms.
‘That’s our rooms,’ Safa says, slowing to point in a door. Tango Two hesitates, feeling jarred and weird. She stops behind Safa and peers inside. She could grab Safa’s neck in a chokehold, but the memory of her fighting the five agents in Cavendish Manor once again swims through her mind. Safa is too tough. Too fast. Stay passive. She looks inside the rooms to show interest. The difference is striking. The same dimensions, but with rugs, bookshelves, lamps, paintings on the walls and soft furnishings, giving a lived-in feel.
‘Same as mine,’ Tango Two says.
‘Yep, all the same,’ Safa says, motioning up and down the corridor. ‘Have a look at these,’ she adds and walks on down to the next door. Tango Two follows, and again stops to peer in.
‘Oh, wow,’ she says softly. She knows the response was expected, so duly gives it, but she also means it. The rooms are amazing. Armchairs have replaced the blue chairs. The furnishings have been given thought, instead of the ad-hoc nature of the ones Safa just showed her.
‘Go in,’ Safa says, nodding at her.
‘Thank you,’ Tango Two says, still hesitant, as though fearing a trap. She blinks at seeing the first bedroom, which looks so cosy and warm. So snug. She tries to stiffen her resolve and remember why she is here. ‘Very nice,’ she says. ‘You share a set of rooms?’ she asks, suddenly thinking of all the empty ones she just saw.
‘Yep, woke up in there, so just kinda stayed really,’ Safa says. ‘Ben did these though, with Malc and Kon’s help. I think they did it actually, but it was Ben’s idea. Either that, or the famous Ben Ryder is good at soft furnishings.’
‘Quite,’ Tango Two says, smiling at Safa. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Stop cultivating me!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Six months . . . ish . . . Maybe a bit more, dunno. Anyway, stop spying. Did I tell you Miri wanted to call the time machine the Blue, but I said the TM was better? What do you think?’
‘Er, right, well, er, both have strong points, and I can see the equal benefits of . . .’
‘You’ll get splinters in your arse if you’re not careful.’