Adrian Magson - No Sleep for the Dead

He rocked on his heels. ‘You mean the army thing?’ He shrugged. ‘Never thought about it. Takes one to know one, I suppose.’ He stood up and beckoned Riley to follow him across to the window, where he stood with his arms folded, facing the lifts. ‘Okay, so what were you doing here?’ he said softly. ‘You and the Redcap?’

‘The truth?’

‘It’s a good start.’ He gave an encouraging smile. ‘The name’s Nobby, by the way.’

Riley took a deep breath. There was nothing else for it. She described the three men they had seen in the lift, and Palmer’s strange reaction. She followed this by relating how, alarmingly out of character, he had subsequently dropped out of sight.

‘You think something happened to him?’

‘No. At least, not the way you mean.’ Riley blinked. She hadn’t even thought along those lines. ‘Frank’s too… solid. He’s always watching his back.’

‘Fair enough. So why come back here? You think he’s in the area?’

She shook her head. ‘If he is, we won’t see him. I was just trying to figure out if his… reaction, was anything to do with the men he saw in the lift, that’s all. I keep thinking about it, and it all seems to stem from there. I thought maybe you’d know something about the people, so I could figure out what was going on.’

Nobby shook his head. ‘Can’t help you there, I’m afraid.’ He raised a placatory hand. ‘Not because I don’t want to — I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, so I haven’t got to grips with the place yet.’ He seemed to consider his words carefully, then continued: ‘There’s only ever three of them go up to the first floor — mostly an older chap and a pasty-faced Russian. There’s a tall fella comes and goes, but he’s some sort of accountant or book-keeper. The other office on that floor is vacant. ‘

‘Did you say a Russian?’ Riley was surprised.

‘Yes. Well, something like that, anyway. He has the look about him. A cold fish. The other fella’s British, although he looks like he spends a lot of time on the sun-bed.’

‘What’s their company called?’

‘Azimtec Trading. No idea what the Azimtec stands for, but they get parcels into the loading bay at the back about once a week, then ship them out again. That’s all I know, I’m afraid.’ He chewed his lip. ‘This may seem a daft question, but your colleague, Frank, is he on the level?’

Riley looked him in the eye with the most earnest expression she could muster. ‘I’d trust him any time, no question. Why?’

‘Because the Russian fella was down here, asking about him. And you.’

Riley felt the ground shift beneath her feet. It was the last thing she had expected to hear. What on earth could have prompted one of the men to ask about her and Palmer? Unless…

‘What did he say?’

‘He wanted to know who your friend was and why he was here. Then he realised you were together.’ Nobby looked pained. ‘Sorry — that was my fault. I couldn’t tell him your names, though, but I had to tell him you were visiting floor six.’

It was Riley’s turn to look sheepish. ‘I’m sorry. Did we get you in trouble?’

He waved a hand. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘Did he say why he was interested in us?’

‘No.’

‘Oh. Are Azimtec and Stairwell connected, do you know?’

‘No, not from the way he was talking. He asked me what they did. I told him they were into various things.’

She was about to thank him and leave, when he said, ‘Hang on a second.’ He walked back to the desk, dug out a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer and scribbled something down.

‘You need to speak to my predecessor, Jimmy Gough. He knows everything there is to know about this place. And he’s got no love for that lot up there. They kicked him out on the pretext of his age. He’s sixty-seven, but the truth is, he’s a damned sight fitter than I am. Personally, I think they’re control freaks; they like to know who’s who.’ He handed Riley the scrap of paper. ‘I’ll let Jimmy know you’re coming. He has lunch every day at the Gold Platter. It’s a greasy spoon about half a mile from here. Not bad if you’re into the Atkins diet, but don’t touch the shepherd’s pie. Tell him if he doesn’t help, I’ll tell my sister.’ He gave her a wicked smile. ‘He’s a bit soft on her, see. Scared, too. She’s a big girl, is Eileen.’

The Gold Platter was the kind of establishment that would have had a professional nutritionist foaming at the mouth. The windows were heavily steamed from top to bottom and displayed a range of signs offering almost anything, it seemed to Riley, as long as you liked chips. The plat du jour was an all-day breakfast. It was cheap and simple, which probably explained why it was so busy.

Jimmy Gough was a short, heavily built man with close-cropped hair and a shiny face, and he appeared to occupy the corner table as if he had been born there. He was neatly dressed in the manner of many former serviceman of his era, and stood up as soon as Riley approached.

‘Pleased to meet you, Riley,’ said Jimmy, when she introduced herself, and gestured with a nod towards a phone on the wall, beneath a large sign advertising a ‘Pensioners’ Special’. ‘Nobby called to say you were coming. You fancy a cup of something?’ He pointed to his own mug and signalled to the girl behind the counter to bring another one. ‘It’s nothing special, I’m afraid, but it’ll kill most known household germs. I come in here because the grub’s cheap.’ He sat back down. ‘Nobby said you needed some dope on the people at Azimtec.’

‘That’s right. I’m not interrupting your lunch, am I?’

‘Nah. Just finished.’ He smiled and looked round at the other patrons, most of them men around the same age, and all trying to pretend they weren’t ferociously intrigued by Riley’s meeting with Jimmy. He leaned forward and confided softly: ‘I have to say, love, you coming here to see me is doing my street cred no end of good. The minute you’re gone, these buggers’ll be all over me like a rash, wanting to know who you are. Nosey lot, but I won’t tell ‘em nothing. Do ‘em good, know what I mean?’ He chuckled wickedly.

Riley smiled, warming to him, and explained why she was there. He listened carefully, nodding occasionally, holding up a hand to stop her when her tea arrived, then urging her to continue once the waitress was out of earshot.

When she had finished, he pulled a face. ‘Azimtec aren’t the only iffy ones in that building, love. But they’re the only ones who keep such a tight lid on what they do. Not that their security is that good.’ He sipped his tea and explained: ‘They import fine art from eastern Europe. At least, that’s what I reckon. I’ve never seen much, mind, but they get lots of crates that look as if they might hold pictures and such. And I found some old frames in the skip out back one time. They’d been damaged beyond repair and chucked out. Then one night I was doing my rounds and they’d wedged the lift door open so they could bring stuff up without having to call it each trip. I stuck my head in to say they were breaking safety regs, and saw a load of packing material on the floor and a couple of icons on a table.’

‘Icons?’

‘Yes. Nice stuff, too, though I’m no expert. I was in Berlin with the army years ago, part of the military liaison team. I got to see quite a lot of museums and suchlike in my spare time. My missus thought it might improve my mind and give me a taste for culture.’ He looked around the café and grinned. ‘Guess it didn’t work, did it?’

The mention of icons reminded Riley of what Nobby had said about one of the men in Azimtec. She asked Jimmy what he thought.

‘Yeah, he’s right. He’s either Russian or Bulgarian, but I don’t know which. Calls himself Michael, but it was probably Mikhail or something like that originally. Creepy little bugger, he is. Got eyes that look right through you. He walks like he’s on air most of the time — you can’t hear him coming. Reminds me of some of the KGB or Stasi bods that used to follow us when I was doing playground duty in Berlin.’