Mr Lamb watched them exit one by one. Amazingly all seemed utterly unaware of the others. He knew all of them, including the badly dressed man, even though he kept his face hidden and affected a limp. Last to depart was Josh. He went up and down the steps several times then wandered uncertainly along the pavement. It took him a full minute to travel about a hundred yards, some internal turmoil apparently gripping him. Mr Lamb could well understand why. He wanted to be well away himself but waited in the shadow of the window a full five minutes once Josh finally was out of sight. Then he completed his task and headed out via the back door and along a narrow alley. Over his shoulder was slung a bag containing Hershey’s Blackberry and laptop. Both would be searched, cleaned and put into his office at the Bank, and no one would be any the wiser, particularly the police. But first Mr Lamb wanted to take a look at any data on the hard drive himself.
After a measured fifteen minute walk the apartment was a mile away and Mr Lamb was in a far seedier part of town with a much larger criminal element where he could happily blend into the background. It was where he had spent his youth, after all.
He tapped the number he had memorised into the keypad, calling one throwaway mobile phone from another. The dial tone rang once in his ear before it was answered, as if the person on the other end was waiting only for this call, which Mr Lamb knew was entirely the case.
“The business is concluded,” he said.
“You’re later than planned. Were there issues?”
No ‘congratulations’, no ‘well done.’ Mentally Mr Lamb shrugged, it was typical.
“No, everything was as expected,” he lied, another unfamiliar action.
“Are you certain?”
He felt a moment’s irritation; his word and reputation should be enough. “I have already confirmed that to be the case,” he replied, steel in his tone.
There was a momentary silence before he was answered. “Good. Then I will ensure the details are concluded at my end.”
The connection was broken. He deleted the call memory and powered down the phone before crushing the cheap plastic underfoot. The sharp crack as it shattered went unnoticed. He scooped the shards of casing and electronic board up, deposited them in a nearby bin and walked away.
Culpepper tapped the mobile phone on his chin, pleased that at last he could end this sorry business. Of course there would be a lavish funeral for one of his top employees. Already he was framing the eulogy in his mind — ‘our best and brightest cruelly taken from us in his prime’, or some such bollocks. Another couple of calls to movers and shakers in high places to close the loop and he could head back to his home and a well-deserved crystal tumbler of something malt and at least 40 degrees proof. The phone reception here was crap, out in the sticks and well away from anyone.
He frowned as a ringtone broke his deserved contemplation. It wasn’t the throwaway in his hand, but his own personal phone tucked in his pocket. Damn, he’d forgotten to turn it off. He pulled out the phone and swore as he recognised the number.
“I thought I told you not to call me unless it’s critical,” Culpepper barked.
“It is critical,” came back the retort from Edward Shoe, the Bank’s FD. “The money’s not where Hershey said it was.”
Culpepper could swear he felt his balls shrink with the news. “Are you certain?”
“I wouldn’t be telling you if I wasn’t,” Shoe replied indignantly. Culpepper noted it was the second time in three minutes he’d been reprimanded by employees. That would be dealt with, but later.
“Do you know where it is?”
“Not yet, I’ve got someone working on it. All I know is, it’s not where it’s supposed to be any more.”
“Holy fuck,” Culpepper breathed. The game wasn’t quite over then.
“Hopefully there will be some useful data on the laptop we can mine,” Shoe said, not sounding convincing.
“Keep working on it. Let me know the instant you find something.”
“On this number?” Shoe asked.
“Yes you prick!” Culpepper disconnected the call, a degree of balance in their relationship restored. He sat breathing heavily, heart thumping, vainly trying to calm himself. The money was missing and the Bank still perilously close to the edge of collapse but Valentine couldn’t be asked where the money had gone.
Culpepper sat stock still, his mind in submission. For once he didn’t have a clue what to do next.
Mr Lamb remained unhappy as he clambered into his car. He didn’t like what he was being asked to do, it was beneath him and dangerous. He felt compromised, put upon and horribly exposed. He decided this would be his last job for Culpepper, he could find someone else to do his grubby work. He was sure there wouldn’t be a shortage of takers. The pay was good enough.
His conscience proved an irritation until he started the engine, hauled on the steering wheel and performed a rapid 180o turn. It only took a brief grid search to find him. Josh was conspicuous, unconscious and far too close to Hershey’s house for comfort. Mr Lamb ensured no one was watching and bundled Dedman into his car, laying him flat on the rear seat. It never ceased to amaze Mr Lamb how utterly unaware the general public were. As he pulled away a police car, its lights flashing, whizzed past in the opposite direction. Mr Lamb suspected he knew where it was heading.
He drove Dedman until they were well away from the scene. He saw somewhere suitable, took a left and bumped along an alley. Twenty yards down and well into the shadows he drew up. Leaving the engine running he opened the rear door, lifted Josh out, carried him to the other side into a recessed doorway and set him carefully down. After a moment’s reconsideration he took a blanket from his boot and put it around Josh’s shoulders to keep him warm.
This isn’t good, he thought, I’m becoming sentimental.
Then he was back in the car. A quick glance up and down the road to ensure the route was clear and he was gone.
Mr Lamb pulled into the car park of a large, anonymous supermarket. He booted up the laptop and started searching for anything of value. It didn’t take long. He shut the computer down, closed the lid and slid it back into the rucksack. He started the engine and exited, decision made.
Shoe would be getting a visit later.