Seven Daze by Charlie Wade

it’d take days for stop notices to get round, and if you made small enough purchases you could run up huge debts. Nowadays, you were talking hours, even minutes if you made a large purchase or bought in the wrong place. Luckily, the cloners still wanted cards. Copies of the cards would be winging their way round the world to countries without chip and Pin readers. He’d probably get a hundred for the seven cards, maybe more as this was London. Everything seemed to cost more in London.
    Waiting for his stop he looked at the message again. Her meeting must have dragged on. He hoped she’d ring before he arrived at the Queens Arms; trying to talk to her there would be awkward. He was tempted to ring her, but she said she’d ring. He thought of the bald-headed city letch opposite her and curled his fists. A different time or place and he’d have smacked him, and no doubt been arrested or more usually been smacked back ten times harder.
    Changing at Victoria, Jim waddled through the crowded terminal for his connection. The next tube was rammed, sweaty and embarrassingly quiet. Though a good opportunity for petty theft, Jim knew that tube trains were notoriously difficult. There was literally nowhere to run. Following the herd off the tube, he walked back to the hotel. Approaching the door, his phone rang.
    Charlotte.
    “Hi, it’s only me,” she said. “I’ve been stuck in a really bad meeting for hours; you wouldn’t believe it. The bloke’s a moron. Still, that’s life isn’t it? You have to take the good with the bad ...”
    Jim nodded at the receptionist as he walked towards the stairs. She shrugged her shoulders back. Whatever he was doing, she didn’t care.
    “I mean some people just don’t know a good deal when they see it. He almost needed it spelling out. Apart from that the afternoon just sort of flew by. I went back to my office for a bit ...”
    Opening his room, Jim started to switch off. He liked her talking, it felt like having the radio on, but it was too one-sided to really listen to. Emptying his pockets he lay down and, phone clamped to his head, properly examined his haul. Carrying the wallet had been a risk. He should have dumped it straight away.
    “... but I don’t really know about that. I mean, you think you know someone and then they come out with that. That’s juniors for you, I suppose.”
    Her slight pause caught him out while he was fiddling with his gloves. He was trying to pull them on without touching the outsides. A losing battle. She continued. “There’s a new mystery series on the telly tonight. Do you like mystery series? Or thrillers I suppose they’re called. I love them ...”
    Finally getting one glove on, he held the other to get easier access. Pulling the cards from the wallet, he remembered that although he touched them using his jacket, his dabs or DNA may still be on them. They needed cleaning.
    Besides the money, credit and other cards, there was also an emergency condom which was just in date. Jim copied Martin’s address onto the back of a Tower of London brochure. He hoped having Raif’s address would be enough, but it never hurt to hedge your bets.
    “... and crime series too. They’re so cleverly done, aren’t they? Just keep you in suspense the whole time. Some of them are a bit unbelievable. I mean you know there are criminals out there, but if you watch these programmes you’d think everyone was at it ...”
    There was no answer Jim could give to that. He just thanked his not very lucky stars she was still talking. Niggling doubts over where this could go resurfaced. He went back to counting his new money. He’d barely made four hundred after the drinks and taxis. He should have made well over a grand. This wasn’t a good start.
    “... I can’t stand adverts though. I sometimes just pause the telly for ten minutes and do something else so I don’t have to watch them.”
    Quietness descended.
    After a few seconds, Jim said, “So, is there