Three nights ago …
“THERE YOU GO.” He counted them out for me. “Two shirts, company tie and, of course, your cap. That’s the full kit,” he said.
I looked at the cap. The company badge stared back at me. Established 1974. I nodded to Tony Bagshaw, head of Bagshaw Security Limited. “You’re the boss,” I said to him.
He went back to the paperwork at his desk. “Any more questions?”
“No. It’s fine,” I said. I looked again at the cap, tried it on for size. It’d do the job. Sometimes you’ve got to take whatever’s on offer to pay the bills.
“You’re not a private investigator now,” he said. “You start tomorrow.”
Two nights ago …
“You’re the new guy, then?”
I nodded. I’d followed the directions Bagshaw had given me and found the control room. “I’m the new guy,” I said.
“Grab a seat, then.”
I put my cap on the table and sat down. “Joe,” I said, holding my hand out.
He took it. “Bill.”
I looked around the control room. It was dominated by a bank of CCTV screens showing the various angles and corners of the warehouse. Bill had a well-thumbed paperback and a mug on his desk. I could also see empty chocolate wrappers. “Busy night, then?” I asked him.
“Pretty much the same as any other.”
“Right.”
He pointed to the kettle. “Make yourself at home, lad. Tea, white, one sugar for me.”
“And that’s pretty much that,” Bill said to me. “The grand tour.”
He’d shown me around the warehouse. It was essentially a large storeroom full of toys. As we’d walked back to our office space, we passed the half-built extension to the building. Several JCBs and diggers sat still for the night.
“Company’s expanding, is it?” I said.
Bill shrugged. “At least someone’s doing well at the moment.”
“There’s always winners and losers,” I said. Bill sat back down at his desk. I filled in the log to show we’d made our hourly inspection. I ticked the box to say no problems and signed my name. I put the kettle on. Again. The usual tea for Bill and coffee for me. I needed the caffeine. Even though I’d carried out countless overnight surveillance jobs in the past, it was still a shock to the system. We settled down for another spell. Bill sighed and picked up his paperback. Showed it to me, told me it was a load of rubbish. The first Stieg Larsson novel.
“The wife gave it to me,” he said.
I told him I’d not read it. I had no interest, just continued to stare at the bank of CCTV images. The images were grainy, like watching a poor quality video cassette. I knew there were no other people on site. Nothing happened, nor should it. I picked up Bill’s newspaper and flicked through it. All I had to look forward to was the next circuit of the warehouse in another hour’s time. Time passed slowly. I tried to finish Bill’s crossword for him. Failed. His mobile rang. Bill took the call, said very little, but it was obvious he didn’t like what he was hearing. He ended the call.
“I thought private mobiles were banned,” I said to him.
He shrugged. “What Bagshaw doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him.”
“Fair enough.”
I waited for Bill to break the silence. “The wife,” he eventually said. “She was a bit upset.”
“I gathered.”
“What does she expect, lad? If there isn’t any overtime, what can I do? It’s not my fault we’re losing contracts all over the place, is it?” He pointed at the CCTV screens. “Besides, who wants to spend every waking hour looking at them?” He took a breath. “Do you get out much?”
“Not really.”
“You can kiss goodbye to it, anyway. Might as well get used to the shit hours. I’ve been doing this since the trawler work finished.” He threw the pen he’d been doing his crossword with on to the desk. “Nearly thirty years.”
Now …
We were both on edge. We didn’t speak, just shared the odd grunted word, our eyes on the CCTV screens. We were supposed to patrol the site in pairs, but Bill didn’t want to move. I switched my mobile on, gave him my number and set off on the hourly circuit of the warehouse. Midnight. I wasn’t a jumpy sort of person, but tonight my torch was picking out shapes against the wall I knew weren’t really there. I moved slowly, trying not to make a sound. I walked into the new extension area, flashed the torch around. The JCBs and diggers were neatly lined up, ready for tomorrow’s work. Nothing doing. I adjusted my cap and walked back to the office. The circuit had taken me fifteen minutes. I found Bill curled up in a ball on the office floor, sobbing. I crouched down and straightened him up. His glasses were broken. I picked up the pieces and passed them back to him. I found a toilet roll and helped him wipe up the blood. I waited for his breathing to return to normal.
“What happened?” I said.
“They came.”
One night ago …
We worked until ten o’clock. There was time to make it to the pub before closing. Last chance before we started working nights. I passed him a pint of lager, sat down opposite him.
“Cheers,” I said, drinking down a mouthful.
Bill said nothing. Didn’t even touch his drink.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He shuffled closer to me. “I’ve got a problem, Joe. A big fucking problem.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it. I put my drink down. “Go on.”
Bill picked up his drink. I watched as he drained half of it in one go. “I wanted to let you know I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
Now …
“You did well, Bill,” Bagshaw said. “I’m proud of you.”
Bill looked at me, confused.
I nodded back.
“Thanks very much,” he eventually said.
Once I’d settled Bill down, I’d made the call. Told Bagshaw what had happened.
“Did you get a look at the men?” he asked Bill.
Bill shook his head. “Balaclavas. I couldn’t see their faces.”
Bagshaw turned to me. “Not much to go on, then.”
“Seems not,” I said.
“At least they didn’t get anything.”
They hadn’t even gone into the warehouse.
One night ago …
“They had pictures of our Sharon in nightclubs. Pissed out of her head,” Bill said to me.
“What did they say to you?”
“They didn’t need to say much. They knew who she was. They knew where I worked. Told me how she could get into a lot of trouble behaving like that when she’s out and about. Especially if she got separated from her mates.”
I watched Bill drink the rest of his pint. He drank it down in one go. “She’s only nineteen, Joe. A bairn. I can’t let it happen.”
Now …
I looked at Bill. Best part of thirty years’ service and it had come to this for him. Blackmailed by scrotes. I’d understood what Bagshaw had told me when he’d hired me. It wasn’t the warehouse full of toys thieves were interested in. They definitely weren’t worth all this effort. That was for the fly-by-night chancers with Transit vans. These people wanted the JCBs and diggers. They held their value and were easy to lose on building sites. If they were taken from here, Bagshaw Security was finished. And Bill was finished. Neither of them deserved that. Even if the insurance covered the loss, the blow to the company’s reputation would be fatal. That was why Bagshaw had called me. I took my cap and tie off, handed them back to him, ignoring Bill’s stare. I’d done my job. It was back to the office tomorrow and another job. “My invoice will be in the post,” I said. “At the price we agreed.”
Bagshaw walked over to the CCTV screens. I stood up, walked behind him and quietly took the JCB keys out of my pocket. I’d been a step ahead. Bill hadn’t been able to give them what they wanted. He’d taken a kicking because the keys had been missing. But at least he still had a job. Bill’s eyes widened. I winked at him. The police would catch the robbers eventually. It’s always wrong to cheat the trying man. Or in this case, men. And without Bagshaw realizing what had really happened, I replaced the keys on the hook and left.