It looked at one point as if they had tried to enforce the rule where you only use a locker for 24 hours and then return the key into the door, collecting the pound coin held as hostage as you left. That rule had clearly either been abandoned or completely ignored as nearly all the keys were missing and most of the rusting lockers looked like that hadn’t been opened this side of the millennium.
‘What do you think? Good idea, huh?’ Sophie asked.
‘Perfect. Nobody would ever know it was here. I didn’t even know they had lockers here.’
‘Neither did I. A friend told me about it. I think the station are probably embarrassed about the state of these lockers and as a result they are a perfect place to hide a secret.’
We were the only ones here. It was quite a shock to the system after being in the busy station seconds before to being suddenly alone. It seemed like the kind of place people got murdered in films. That thought led me on to a more worrying thought. The Kozlov brothers. What if they had been following me? This was the last place in the world I wanted to be if mad criminals were watching me.
I forced myself to see reason. Firstly, I had been careful going to Dr Davies’ office and when I had left I had headed straight home. I was out for ages so if they had wanted to attack me they would have. I couldn’t see how anyone could have followed us after the way Sophie had driven and, as this room was so empty, we would be able to hear anyone else. No, we were safe. Realistically, they were probably less concerned about me now. Must have thought their message would scare me into submission. How wrong they were.
‘This is my one,’ Sophie said, slipping her key into 137. It opened loudly, creaking with stiffness. She didn’t ask for privacy and made no attempt to cover the contents of the locker so I looked in.
It was an incredibly sad sight. I had expected Sophie to hide things of high value that she didn’t want destroyed but looking in all I could see were trivial items. There was a small teddy bear, a book and what looked like a photo album. It would have taken the actions of a very sick and sad man to destroy these sorts of things. Looking in Sophie’s eyes I knew these meant something to her. Not so trivial after all.
‘He wasn’t a nice man,’ she sobbed, weakly. I wrapped my arm around her and let her get her emotions out. It had been the worst time of her life and being here must be bringing back some terrible feelings.
‘He’s gone, Soph. I know it was awful but he is sad and pathetic and you are sweet and kind and beautiful... so much better off without him! He was lucky to ever know you. I know I am.’
She turned to me and smiled gently, looking me right in the eye. I think we both realised how much we both needed each other at that moment. There were never any romantic feelings between us, but there was a desperation for one another, and the realisation that getting through life without each other was unthinkable. She was my rock and I endeavoured to be hers.
‘This is not about me,’ she breathed, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘This is a good day,’ she continued bravely. ‘We are going to find Emma.’
I squeezed her shoulders and offered her as much time as she needed. She took a deep breath, slammed her locker shut and locked it securely.
‘Let’s find Emma.’ She looked determined and I wasn’t going to argue with her. Let’s do it.
I had absolutely no idea which one was hers. How was I going to find it? I would try every single lock if I had to but that would take me hours.
‘You don’t know which one it is do you?’ I asked hopefully.
‘No idea, try numbers that might mean something to you.’
I couldn’t really think of any three digit numbers that would mean something to us. You can’t really make birthdays out of three digit numbers, plus I wasn’t really sure when Emma’s birthday was. Pin numbers were four digits long and dates of importance could hardly be shortened to three numbers. I also thought that most of the lockers were probably used by the time she got there and she may have had to choose a free one, rather than choose a significant number.
‘I have no idea,’ I said at last, pacing up and down in front of the lockers.
The numbers were barely visible and half of them were scribbled over by vandals. Most of the lockers had some form of graffiti on them and I certainly picked up some new words for my vocabulary. I also learned that ‘Steve loved Tracy 4eva’ which was nice, but I had no clue which one was Emma’s. Then I saw it.
Locker number 387 happened to be in line with my eye-sight. As I had walked past it I found myself stopping and inspecting it without knowing why. There was something familiar here. I scanned the locker quickly, looking for what it was. There! In neat, elegant hand-writing there was a love heart written in black marker pen. This wasn’t unusual and it wasn’t even the first love heart I had seen written on the sides of the lockers, but I knew this one. Inside it read, ‘MP loves KtF.’ I knew Emma wrote this and I knew why.
*****
The rain was hammering the windows, threatening to break through and soak us both. Emma and I wouldn’t have cared if it had; we were in the love-bubble. We had got back from our perfect honey-moon only six hours before and been greeted back in the country by a horrendous storm. Sunny old England, huh? We dived into a taxi and made our way slowly back to the flat. There was washing to do, bills to pay and a flat to bring back into life, but that could wait. We raced into the flat, ripped each other’s wet clothes off and made amazing love. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom, just about reaching the sofa. Suddenly, England seemed pretty great again. We jumped in the shower and soon after were back on the sofa, eating takeaway pizza. Best day ever.
‘What shall we do now?’ She asked through mouthfuls of pizza.
‘Whatever you want,’ I replied, helpfully.
‘We could go out, if you want?’ she said, but I could tell she didn’t want to. I took one look at the rain lashing the window.
‘Nope, why not stay in and...watch a film?’
‘OK Baby, you choose. Surprise me,’ she said, too comfy to move.
‘I know, I’ve got a classic. Really dark, edgy film,’ I said seriously and produced ‘The Muppets Treasure Island’ from our DVD collection. She laughed and we settled in to watch it.
I don’t ever remember laughing that much. It wasn’t the film (although it really is a classic) but it was just the moment. Paradise. I had never been and I may never be so happy again.
Eventually, the film finished and we just sat on the sofa laughing and talking for hours. I brought out my world famous ‘Kermit the Frog’ impression and spoke for several minutes in that voice. She loved it.
‘So if you’re Kermit, does that make me Miss Piggy?’ she asked, teasingly.
‘Yes it does, I’m afraid. But as you know Kermit loves Miss Piggy very, very much.’
‘Well,’ she said raising herself up and reaching a marker pen off the coffee table. ‘Miss Piggy loves Kermit very much as well.’ She kissed me and wrote the initials on the back of her hand in a love heart. I smiled, watching her work and didn’t even protest when she turned my hand over and tattooed ‘MP loves KtF’ on my right wrist.
For days that pen mark remained on my wrist and even when I returned to work you could still see it. I took some serious ribbing about it but never let slip what the initials meant and for years after that it was our on-and-off nicknames for one another.
*****
I stood in complete anticipation of what would happen next. This was Emma’s plan to lead me here and I was so happy we had figured it out. It seemed a lifetime ago when she had left. If what was in this locker was from her, it was proof she still loved me. We could still have something.
‘Tom, I think someone is watching us.’ Sophie was glancing at the corner and when I snapped my head up, no one was there. I looked at her quizzically.
‘I’m not sure. I swear the same guy keeps walking past, looking in. He looks foreign. Probably nothing...but hurry up.’
I agree
d with her. This was no time for ceremony. I forced the key into the lock and turned it. It resisted at first but when I applied some pressure the lock gave. The locker door swung open.
At first glance the locker looked almost empty. A surge of horror shot through me and I flung my hand into the locker, feeling a thin sheet of paper. I grabbed at it gratefully.
I don’t know what I was expecting Emma to leave me but it wasn’t this. It was a small note. It read:
Don’t give up on me.
R&S
165
2903
Love You.
That was it. The writing was scribbled and rushed. I recognised it as her writing although it was much messier than usual. She was obviously in a hurry. I read it over three times and then handed it to Sophie to read. I turned my attention back to the locker and examined it. There was nothing left in it. It was empty.
‘What does it mean? Is it a code?’
‘Yes and I know exactly what it means.’ I replied.
‘What?’ asked Sophie breathlessly.
At that moment the man I assumed Sophie had been referring to earlier walked past again. His eyes met with mine briefly and I saw the coldness of his soul. This was not a good man. I could tell he had seen things I couldn’t even imagine. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
‘Do you have any matches or a lighter?’ I ignored her question and posed my own.
Sophie was confused but pulled out a lighter from her bag.
‘Don’t know why I have one really,’ she said. I had never seen her smoke but after all the stress she'd had recently, I wouldn’t have blamed her.
‘What do you want it for?’
I glanced at the note one last time and set it on fire, holding it as long as I could before dropping it on the floor and watching it burn out.
Sophie looked confused but I nodded in the direction we had seen the man. ‘Can’t be too careful,’ I whispered. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the exit. If the man had wanted me dead he would have chosen to come to the lockers instead of a busy train station. He was just spying on me. At least I hoped. I took a deep breath and raced around the corner, dragging Sophie behind me. Within seconds we were in the crowds and away. We didn’t stop running until we reached the car.
‘So what does that mean,’ Sophie panted.
‘I’m not a hundred percent sure. But I know where I have to go next.’
‘Where?’
‘Raynmer and Stein.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘You have to take the good with the bad.’
I felt good. To be honest, I felt a hundred thousand different emotions ranging from elation to fear but one of them was definitely happiness. I knew one thing for a fact. Emma loved me. I had seen it in print.
Nothing else seemed to be so bad after that. My whole life had felt like a lie for so long. Sure, I still had thousands of burning questions but they could wait. There would be time for all that. Right now I was focused on finding her.
We sat in the car, shaking with excitement. We were getting somewhere. Sophie pulled her phone out and busied herself on it for a second. ‘Mum,’ she said in way of an explanation. She looked concerned. If her mother was anything like she was, she wouldn’t stop worrying or rest until she heard back from Sophie in any situation. She finished the text message and returned her focus back to me.
‘So where to? Straight to Raynmer and Stein?’ Sophie was still buzzing with excitement. I looked at the clock in her car.
‘No. I am going to need a suit. I’ll have to blend in. Can we go home?’
‘Yeah of course,’ she said and started the engine. The drive home wasn’t as hectic as the one there, but she still drove with some urgency. As we drove, I used the time to think aloud.
‘Well that was part good and part bad,’ I said, referring to the fact we had found something but really knew no more than before.
‘In this case you have to take the good with the bad,’ Sophie whispered. I nodded in agreement. Things could be worse.
‘How did they know we were there?’ I asked.
‘I guess they followed us,’ said Sophie, lightly.
‘I doubt it. Not the way you drive!’ We both laughed. ‘But seriously, I wasn’t followed to Veronica’s or home and we took some strange side roads to the station. I think we would have seen anyone following us.’
‘Maybe. But these are the best criminals in the world. You and I know nothing about their world. They probably have ways for blending into the background, you know?’
Sophie was right. I had only been involved in this for a few weeks; these guys had been doing it all their lives. What did I know?
We reached home and I ran upstairs to find a suitable outfit. I wasn’t really sure what the plan was but I knew I would want to blend in. Getting past the reception would be tough. But I had to do it and the most logical way to do it was in a suit.
I reappeared twenty minutes later, dressed as smartly as I could. I popped back into Sophie’s flat and asked her opinion.
‘Very smart, very handsome,’ she said sweetly.
‘Thanks Sophie.’
I noticed she was dressed up as well. ‘Do I look OK?’ she asked cautiously. She really did look great and it saddened me she had such little self-confidence.
‘You look beautiful,’ I replied, truthfully. ‘Are you coming as well?’
‘If that’s alright?’ she said sweetly.
‘Listen Sophie I think it’s great and I can’t thank you enough for being there for me, but this is going to be illegal and potentially dangerous. I can’t put you in that situation.’
She didn’t seem deterred by this. In fact she smiled patronisingly at me.
‘Tom, whether you like it or not, I am involved. If we were followed, they know me. Who is to say I am safer at home - alone - than with you? I want to come and like it or not, you're stuck with me now, OK?’ She did her best to sound convincing. I thought for a second and then relented.
‘Fine, just give me a second.’
I disappeared and ran up the stairs. I entered the flat and paced quickly into my room, to the bedside table. I pulled the top drawer open and looked in. The gun. I was shaking as I picked it up and tucked it into my trousers. I really didn’t want to take it but Sophie was right. I was now responsible for her as well as me and I would do whatever it took to protect her. I checked myself in the mirror to make sure you couldn’t see the outline of it through the suit. It was fine.
I jogged down the stairs and rejoined Sophie.
‘Ready?’ I asked, trying to hide my fear and the weapon.
‘Let’s go,’ she said, more convincingly.
*****
Even the building was intimidating. We had spent ages trying to park but eventually weaved our way to the front steps. We stopped for a second to go over the plan. It wasn’t a very good plan, but what about me makes you think it would be?
‘Good luck,’ said Sophie, squeezing my arm one last time.
‘You too.’
She ran up the stairs, turned around, winked at me and disappeared through the revolving doors. I was stunned at how confident she was becoming. In a strange way, all of this had done some good. At least Sophie was blossoming again and I loved seeing it.
Right. Show time.
I took my phone out and walked in through the doors looking as important as I could muster. The role I was playing was an ‘arrogant lawyer arsehole’. The thinking behind this was that in Raynmer and Stein, I would blend into the crowd perfect with all the other arrogant, lawyer arseholes.
‘No, no Julie I don’t care what he says, love. If he’s not got the paperwork signed, I don’t give a shit... No, you tell him... I couldn’t care less... get it done, sweet-cheeks...’ I shouted in my best ‘cockney arsehole’ accent. I was worried I had pitched it a bit strong but nobody batted an eyelid as I walked in. They must be used to that sort
of language here.
I spotted Sophie at the reception desk. She had positioned herself right between the gate security and one of the receptionists, just like we had planned. God, I hoped this worked. I carried on walking and talking, looking for a suitable target. What if I couldn’t find anyone? This whole plan hinged on me finding someone to steal a pass off and until I had, Sophie would just have to stall. Maybe I should have gone in first. Well, next time...
After a minute, I found someone. A man in his mid-forties was walking through reception with an ID badge clipped to his jacket pocket. Perfect. I had seen enough films where people did this and it looked easy. Here goes.
I walked, still talking on my phone, straight into this man. I had hoped that the force would knock his badge off or in the mayhem I could grab it with my free hand. It didn’t work. Essentially what had happened was I assaulted and angered a middle-aged man. I maybe mistimed the pace somewhat and hit him with much more force than I had anticipated. Sadly his badge had not fallen free and my free hand ended up groping his chest, rather than stealing his badge. He turned in furious anger and bellowed, ‘Watch it dickhead,’ before storming off.
People had turned around in the commotion and I caught Sophie’s disappointed stare. She was struggling and really needed me to hurry up. I shot her and apologetic glance and moved on.
OK, regroup.
I had a second plan, which involved a bit of acting (which I am notoriously bad at) and I was not looking forward to trying it. Time was desperate. I scanned around and settled my gaze on an elderly man. He walked through the revolving doors and approached the reception. After signing his name into a guest book he was handed a visitor’s badge which would open the gate. As he walked away, I heard the receptionist say, ‘Have a great day Mr Fitzgerald.’ He was obviously a regular. I had everything I needed.