version. They needed to talk before he called the police.
Hurrying across the living room, Walker searched for his jacket. He found it near the entrance and picked it up, going through the inside pockets. His own phone had disappeared but the bank’s BlackBerry was still there. Small blessings.
He sighed and checked the time before unlocking it. 8.14 a.m. – DM should already have arrived at the office. He tried the mathematician’s mobiles first, but both were switched off. Then he dialled the Automated Trading secretary but she told him that DM hadn’t shown up yet. It was odd, but he was probably on his way.
Another stab of pain skewered Walker’s brain and he downed a handful of aspirins, suddenly remembering the cash hidden in his bedroom. He rushed to check the underwear drawer, not expecting much.
You clever fucking bitch
. The wardrobe was open, clothes lying on the floor. And his money had disappeared, over ten thousand in Pounds and Euros he kept for emergencies. A bloody expensive night.
Cursing his own stupidity, he headed for the shower and prayed the paracetamol would kick in quickly, before an entire side of his head dropped off.
Walker left the elevator and crossed Dorfmann’s entrance hall, rushing past the security guards and their metal detectors. DM had not arrived or called yet, and half past nine was too late even for his standards. Walker wondered what to do – he could head to his friend’s house, but would risk missing him if the mathematician was making his way to the bank. Or he could wait a while longer, but he was getting seriously spooked after what had happened the previous night.
Stepping into the crisp morning air, he lit a cigarette and almost threw up again. His head still hurt but it was now a milder, deeper ache somewhere at the base of his skull, instead of the blinding flashes of pain he had suffered earlier. He started pacing around the plaza, trying to make up his mind, when a hand burrowed itself in his side, taking his arm and squeezing it hard.
‘We need to talk. Keep smiling and walk on.’
Walker turned and gasped: Layla was snuggled against him, almost unrecognisable underneath a broad felt hat and enormous sunglasses.
‘You… what the fuck are you doing here?’
‘I have a small gun up my sleeve, and I told you to smile. Just keep going and give me a kiss.’
Without waiting for a reply she nudged him towards one of the side roads that would take them to Liverpool Street Station. They ducked into a tiny alley behind an older office building and she twisted, forcing him into a long, lingering kiss as they disappeared from the Circle’s view. Walker struggled free and pushed her back, holding onto her arms.
‘Are you going to shoot me now?’
She stared at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. ‘No. I could prick you with my steak knife, though,’ she shrugged. ‘A little lie, just to get your attention.’
Walker swore and took a step back, his shoulders brushing the wall. The surprise had passed and now he was just angry. ‘What the hell do you want? Are you after more money to return –’
‘Listen to me,’ she cut him short. ‘There’s something nasty going on and you’re deep into it.’
Walker paused and studied her face: she looked nervous, her eyes dancing around and checking their surroundings. He decided to let her talk for a few seconds. The bitch really was gorgeous.
‘Look, I was just hired to do a job,’ she hissed.
‘What job?’
‘You. I had to get inside your flat and take some files, without triggering any alarms that might spoil the data.’
‘Jesus. Who are you?’ DM had installed a series of smart failsafes in Walker’s PC: if someone tampered with the machine they would burn his hard drives. How the hell could she have known that the alarms would only be deactivated by his fingerprints?
Layla waved a hand. ‘That’s not important. Someone has set the entire thing up, given me your profile and placed me
Hurrying across the living room, Walker searched for his jacket. He found it near the entrance and picked it up, going through the inside pockets. His own phone had disappeared but the bank’s BlackBerry was still there. Small blessings.
He sighed and checked the time before unlocking it. 8.14 a.m. – DM should already have arrived at the office. He tried the mathematician’s mobiles first, but both were switched off. Then he dialled the Automated Trading secretary but she told him that DM hadn’t shown up yet. It was odd, but he was probably on his way.
Another stab of pain skewered Walker’s brain and he downed a handful of aspirins, suddenly remembering the cash hidden in his bedroom. He rushed to check the underwear drawer, not expecting much.
You clever fucking bitch
. The wardrobe was open, clothes lying on the floor. And his money had disappeared, over ten thousand in Pounds and Euros he kept for emergencies. A bloody expensive night.
Cursing his own stupidity, he headed for the shower and prayed the paracetamol would kick in quickly, before an entire side of his head dropped off.
Walker left the elevator and crossed Dorfmann’s entrance hall, rushing past the security guards and their metal detectors. DM had not arrived or called yet, and half past nine was too late even for his standards. Walker wondered what to do – he could head to his friend’s house, but would risk missing him if the mathematician was making his way to the bank. Or he could wait a while longer, but he was getting seriously spooked after what had happened the previous night.
Stepping into the crisp morning air, he lit a cigarette and almost threw up again. His head still hurt but it was now a milder, deeper ache somewhere at the base of his skull, instead of the blinding flashes of pain he had suffered earlier. He started pacing around the plaza, trying to make up his mind, when a hand burrowed itself in his side, taking his arm and squeezing it hard.
‘We need to talk. Keep smiling and walk on.’
Walker turned and gasped: Layla was snuggled against him, almost unrecognisable underneath a broad felt hat and enormous sunglasses.
‘You… what the fuck are you doing here?’
‘I have a small gun up my sleeve, and I told you to smile. Just keep going and give me a kiss.’
Without waiting for a reply she nudged him towards one of the side roads that would take them to Liverpool Street Station. They ducked into a tiny alley behind an older office building and she twisted, forcing him into a long, lingering kiss as they disappeared from the Circle’s view. Walker struggled free and pushed her back, holding onto her arms.
‘Are you going to shoot me now?’
She stared at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. ‘No. I could prick you with my steak knife, though,’ she shrugged. ‘A little lie, just to get your attention.’
Walker swore and took a step back, his shoulders brushing the wall. The surprise had passed and now he was just angry. ‘What the hell do you want? Are you after more money to return –’
‘Listen to me,’ she cut him short. ‘There’s something nasty going on and you’re deep into it.’
Walker paused and studied her face: she looked nervous, her eyes dancing around and checking their surroundings. He decided to let her talk for a few seconds. The bitch really was gorgeous.
‘Look, I was just hired to do a job,’ she hissed.
‘What job?’
‘You. I had to get inside your flat and take some files, without triggering any alarms that might spoil the data.’
‘Jesus. Who are you?’ DM had installed a series of smart failsafes in Walker’s PC: if someone tampered with the machine they would burn his hard drives. How the hell could she have known that the alarms would only be deactivated by his fingerprints?
Layla waved a hand. ‘That’s not important. Someone has set the entire thing up, given me your profile and placed me
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