helped Johnno to his feet.
‘Dead man walking!’ Johnno yelled. ‘Next time I see you - that’s a promise, pal!’ He jabbed a finger in Hate’s general direction. Glenn was patting him on the back, trying to calm him down. Johnno’s eyes were on his employer. ‘We need to take him out, Chib. See him taken care of . . . send a message to anyone and everyone.’
‘Reckon you’re up to the job, Johnno?’ Chib asked. ‘I wouldn’t say you looked rusty back there, but I’ve known scrapyards with merchandise in better nick - and that’s after the compactor’s had a go at them.’
‘We could follow him,’ Glenn was saying. ‘Find out where he’s staying, what his real name is . . .’
Chib nodded thoughtfully. ‘Knowledge is power, Glenn. Reckon you could track him without him noticing?’
‘We can give it a go,’ Glenn offered. But the giant was three quarters of the way across the playing field. No way they could go after him on foot without him knowing about it: there was no cover.
‘Make some calls instead,’ Chib suggested by way of an alternative. ‘Bed and breakfasts to start with. Say you’re from the tourist office and some Norwegian bloke’s gone and dropped some money.’
Glenn was nodding. ‘I want to get his money back to him.’
‘And put out his description among the dossers and the jakeys - that lot have got eyes in the backs of their heads and would pimp their granny for a bottle of Buckie.’
Glenn was studying his employer. ‘Can I take it you’re not planning on paying up?’
‘Let’s see,’ was all Chib Calloway said, unlocking the car with his remote.
10
‘I don’t like this,’ Mike Mackenzie was saying.
He was in Robert Gissing’s office, the door locked and the plan of the warehouse spread across the desk, weighted down at its corners with oversized art books. Gissing had paid another visit to the warehouse and had amended the plan accordingly.
‘You turned up there unannounced,’ Mike stated. ‘Might make them suspicious come the heist.’
The professor patted Mike on the back. ‘I never thought of that, Michael. You’re quite right, and I’ll be sure to check with you first in future. But to put your mind at rest, I do the same thing once or twice a year, and I don’t think my presence was much noticed. They’re too busy finding space for all the new arrivals.’
By which he meant the extensive overflow from the Royal Museum. The place was getting a major overhaul, and a good part of its collection needed shifting elsewhere for the duration. As Gissing had explained, it might make their job harder on the day. Items could have been moved to make space. But he didn’t think the paintings would be relocated - he’d made the trip to assure himself of that.
Mike was studying the plan. ‘Gatehouse,’ he recited. ‘CCTV cameras. Guardroom. Staff acting as guides, plus everyone on the tour. If you’re sitting in the getaway van, that only leaves three of us to cope with it all.’
‘And at least one of you will need to be collecting the actual paintings.’
Mike nodded slowly, then began shaking his head instead. ‘We’ll never manage.’
‘Cold feet, young Michael?’
‘Just want to make sure we’re covering all the angles.’
Gissing seemed to accept this. ‘Maybe it’s Allan whose feet are getting chilled . . .’
Allan hadn’t been able to make the meeting. Mike had called it at short notice, and Allan had apologised by text: there were things at work he couldn’t get out of. Mike tapped the plan a final couple of times and then walked over to one of the chairs, sitting down on it heavily, running both hands through his hair while he looked around the room. The office was emptier than before - some of the boxes of books had gone. Pictures were missing from the walls.
‘Allan’s fine. He wants you to make a copy of the plan so he can study it at home.’
‘I’ll arrange it, but meantime, put my mind
‘Dead man walking!’ Johnno yelled. ‘Next time I see you - that’s a promise, pal!’ He jabbed a finger in Hate’s general direction. Glenn was patting him on the back, trying to calm him down. Johnno’s eyes were on his employer. ‘We need to take him out, Chib. See him taken care of . . . send a message to anyone and everyone.’
‘Reckon you’re up to the job, Johnno?’ Chib asked. ‘I wouldn’t say you looked rusty back there, but I’ve known scrapyards with merchandise in better nick - and that’s after the compactor’s had a go at them.’
‘We could follow him,’ Glenn was saying. ‘Find out where he’s staying, what his real name is . . .’
Chib nodded thoughtfully. ‘Knowledge is power, Glenn. Reckon you could track him without him noticing?’
‘We can give it a go,’ Glenn offered. But the giant was three quarters of the way across the playing field. No way they could go after him on foot without him knowing about it: there was no cover.
‘Make some calls instead,’ Chib suggested by way of an alternative. ‘Bed and breakfasts to start with. Say you’re from the tourist office and some Norwegian bloke’s gone and dropped some money.’
Glenn was nodding. ‘I want to get his money back to him.’
‘And put out his description among the dossers and the jakeys - that lot have got eyes in the backs of their heads and would pimp their granny for a bottle of Buckie.’
Glenn was studying his employer. ‘Can I take it you’re not planning on paying up?’
‘Let’s see,’ was all Chib Calloway said, unlocking the car with his remote.
10
‘I don’t like this,’ Mike Mackenzie was saying.
He was in Robert Gissing’s office, the door locked and the plan of the warehouse spread across the desk, weighted down at its corners with oversized art books. Gissing had paid another visit to the warehouse and had amended the plan accordingly.
‘You turned up there unannounced,’ Mike stated. ‘Might make them suspicious come the heist.’
The professor patted Mike on the back. ‘I never thought of that, Michael. You’re quite right, and I’ll be sure to check with you first in future. But to put your mind at rest, I do the same thing once or twice a year, and I don’t think my presence was much noticed. They’re too busy finding space for all the new arrivals.’
By which he meant the extensive overflow from the Royal Museum. The place was getting a major overhaul, and a good part of its collection needed shifting elsewhere for the duration. As Gissing had explained, it might make their job harder on the day. Items could have been moved to make space. But he didn’t think the paintings would be relocated - he’d made the trip to assure himself of that.
Mike was studying the plan. ‘Gatehouse,’ he recited. ‘CCTV cameras. Guardroom. Staff acting as guides, plus everyone on the tour. If you’re sitting in the getaway van, that only leaves three of us to cope with it all.’
‘And at least one of you will need to be collecting the actual paintings.’
Mike nodded slowly, then began shaking his head instead. ‘We’ll never manage.’
‘Cold feet, young Michael?’
‘Just want to make sure we’re covering all the angles.’
Gissing seemed to accept this. ‘Maybe it’s Allan whose feet are getting chilled . . .’
Allan hadn’t been able to make the meeting. Mike had called it at short notice, and Allan had apologised by text: there were things at work he couldn’t get out of. Mike tapped the plan a final couple of times and then walked over to one of the chairs, sitting down on it heavily, running both hands through his hair while he looked around the room. The office was emptier than before - some of the boxes of books had gone. Pictures were missing from the walls.
‘Allan’s fine. He wants you to make a copy of the plan so he can study it at home.’
‘I’ll arrange it, but meantime, put my mind
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