Not Passing Go! Ch. 02

Anyway, there I was thinking about this nearly deceased body, with Benny's life leaking casually into that lovely woollen weave when I realised the obvious. The only reason for a rug on top of the thickest, plushest fitted bedroom carpet I've ever seen in my life was ... a floor safe.

I rolled the big bugger over, lifted up the Axminster and there it was. Oh, goody, i thought, a Marshall-Eckhart Mark 2a. Typical Russian gangster, drives a top of the range Bentley but keeps his valuables in the kinda safe you couldn't give away for 99 pence on eBay. Ideally, I needed a slotted screwdriver, but all I had was my trusty heavy penknife, which would have to do.

The voices were still coming from the other room at the end of the corridor, so I had to be quiet. I lined up the knife, pulled the carpet back over to muffle the sound and struck the knife with the heel of my hand. I listened for a moment. Nothing came my way, so I checked the safe. It was open. It's criminal what rubbish some of these security firms pass you off with nowadays.

Inside were thick bundles of notes plus a lot other papers. I took the lot, with just a quick glance through. In cash alone there must've been eighty grand in fifties. I stuffed the notes in my waistband. At least they solved the problem of keeping my trousers up! The other documents I slipped into my jacket or back pockets. I closed the safe, which gently clicked shut, rolled back and smoothed out the carpet and then rolled Benny back on top. He let out a low groan. I stood up, time to get going, I thought.

Suddenly the door crashed open and before I could react a slug hit me at close range and lifted me off my pins. I fell back against the bedside cabinet, cracking my head on the wall and slipped out of consciousness.

I don't know how long I was out, the bedroom was still in darkness but now the corridor light was out as well. The only other immediate thoughts that surfaced was that my head and gut really bloody hurt. I was about to lift my hand to my head when I realised there was a gun in my ungloved right hand. That immediately brought to mind where I was and how I got there. I released the gun and fumbled around and found the torch, flicked it on. Benny was still where he fell, he didn't look well, no, not well at all.

I checked the gun, it was an automatic with the magazine and chamber empty. It had my dabs on it and I was sure as hell that Benny's dabs would be on it too. I could guarantee that there'd be nobody else's.

I imagined how Dmitri's mind worked, the created scenario being that Benny had disturbed me, a known criminal and suspected burglar. He shot me, I wrestled the gun from him and shot him back, he pushed me against the wall and then we both conveniently died of our wounds. That was the scenario. I was feeling less than happy about being that convenient for Dmitri and the recently-widowed Susan.

I got up, unsteadily, and checked my stomach. The wads of notes had stopped the bullet going right the way through although I would have some colourful bruises to show for it and probably piss blood for a few days. Written off about five grand, had Dmitri, but maybe Mum could still pass them off for me through the local shops. Blame it on mice, she could; we get a lot more bloody mice round our way than any crisp fifties!

Couldn't leave the gun there, I'd wipe it and dump it in the river on my way home. I stuffed it in my jacket, zipped it up and put my right glove on again. As I walked down the back stairs, the building suddenly rocked. Damn it Benny, I thought, used too much plastique again as per bloody usual. I guess when you have to pay through the nose for the stuff you use barely enough; when you got loads you use loads. Well, he'll never learn now. I decided to take the fire escape the rest of the way and let myself out the back of the complex, take a stroll along by the river.

Shame about Susan, if she'd stuck with me we could've had a gas instead of being vaporised with both her lovers. I recalled that instant back in the apartment, the open door, Dmitri and his gun, with Susan peering out from behind him, both hands clinging to his protective left arm.

Anyway, I've got a few bob literally tucked under my belt now so I can track down my ex-buddies, and got Benny's Russian passport in my back pocket for Freddie to work his magic on. Wonder what I'd look like in a buzz cut?

In my jacket I had the deeds for a seafront property in the Bahamas and another set for a luxury yacht; wasn't sure where it was moored but I'd track it down. I may have to invite Freddie over for the next few winters, he don't get out much. I know I carried what was left of Freddie after he stepped on that UID, over five kilometres of mountain desert, so he still thinks he owes me. I'll persuade him he's got to concede that we can finally call it quits so that I can pay him the going rate he deserves in future.

Then there was the bank vault key nestling safely in my pocket, along with the yellow post-it with the bank code, account number and password on it. Thank goodness Benny's memory for numbers was like a bloody sieve. I looked upon that as a bit of a bonus.

I reached the end of the fire escape and strolled unconcernedly along the riverside walk. I breathed in the night air, which started out heavy with the smell of cordite, burning rubber and fuel. Soon the air became cleaner, with the fresh pungency of the ebb-tide river breaking through. It was a damp chilly evening, a light mist rising from the water.

I thought how nice it would for the twins to learn to swim in a warm and secluded Caribbean cove.

What the hell, I thought, I can't help it if I'm more comfortable with cute and dumb.

To be continued as a series of connected stories.