Chapter 6: Hands On

Freddie had got an office for me in the run-down block that he used on the edge of the city. "FC Enterprises" it said on a dingy plate by the door. The whole building looked pretty dingy. The up side was that I could get to Brick Lane for a good curry at lunch time. The down side was that even if I didn't feel like a good curry I could still smell it all day.

Upstairs there were researchers and the accounts department. I was sitting in my office, going through my thoughts after my visit to the Prep Centre. What worried me was how normal it all felt, how easily I seemed to have slipped into accepting the ideas, the whole basis behind this bizarre business. A few weeks ago I wouldn't have believed there was such a place as the Prep Centre in the heart of England. Now I was trying to work out ways to make best use of it. I suppose I ought to have had some moral scruples about the whole thing but I guess I was just focused on the problem. It's one of my faults, I know, solving the problem at hand even if I should really be thinking about other stuff.

I was thinking about the trip up to the Sales Centre when the phone rang.

It was Freddie. "Morning, Lawrence," he boomed. "All well at the Prep Centre?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Good, good. Now tell me, do you know an Amanda Hollis?"

"Yes, sure," I said, "she's a friend of Rebecca's, works for Atlantic Airlines too. They used to crew together sometimes."

"Word is that you two used to 'crew' together occasionally as well when Rebecca wasn't around?"

As I was beginning to appreciate, Freddie's intelligence network was extensive.

"That was a long time back," I said.

"Good, good. Then you won't have any objection to us adding her to the collection?"

As always I was non-plussed by Freddie's matter-of-fact approach. Thinking about it, compared with the rest of what I'd been involved in over the past weeks, it was hardly much of a problem. I hadn't seen Mandy for six months — somehow she and Rebecca had always been on the same trips for a while. And anyway it hadn't been much more than a shared physical thing — Mandy was fairly energetic between the sheets, if you know what I mean — so I couldn't say that I had any real reservations about Freddie's proposal. "No," I said, "not really."

"Excellent, excellent," beamed Freddie. "Thought that would be the case. It's just that she's been kicking up a bit of a fuss over her friend's disappearance and that could be a bit inconvenient. I thought you and Harry could deal with it. You seemed to get on all right with the last one."

I was conscious that I hadn't been more than a spectator at the garage job but Freddie didn't seem to want to be diverted by practicalities. "Sure," I said, feeling less than confident, "leave it to me."

"And make it quick can you," Freddie came back. "I'd like to get her in before she causes any ripples."

Harry was hardly what you could call happy when I spoke to him. The broad gist of his remarks was along the lines that he thought we didn't really have enough time to do a proper job and that flight attendants were always a problem, 'cos you never knew if they were going to get re-rostered and you'd find all your plans in the skip. Since it was my fault (not sure I quite understood that bit) I could do the hard work.

I say the broad gist because it was sometimes quite hard to make out his exact meaning in between the various expletives.

We talked through Mandy's likely whereabouts. Harry's view was that her flat was the best bet — he was fed up with trying to find good pick up points in airports and the muzak in Heathrow Terminal 3 drove him mad. He also "suggested" that I could make up for the fact that I'd obviously caused all this rush by setting up the snatch myself.

I gave her a call. She was pleased to hear from me. She was worried about Rebecca. "So am I", I said, "why don't I come round and we can talk about it."

"I'd like that," she said.

So that evening I was standing outside her door with a chloroform soaked pad in a sealed plastic wallet in my jacket pocket and very clear instructions from Harry once again not to "fuck this one up either."

Amanda let me in. She was looking cute. Like I say, I hadn't seen her for a while. It looked as if she'd dropped a few pounds. She was wearing a shirt and jeans, they were tight and I liked the effect. She'd left the shirt unbuttoned enough to show a hint of cleavage. I guessed that her thoughts weren't entirely on Rebecca. She fixed us both a drink.

"Have you heard anything from Becky?" she said. "We were supposed to do a trip together on Monday and she didn't show up. It's not like her and I know you two were, well, seeing quite a lot of each other."

"No," I said, peering at the vodka and tonic she'd brought. "No, I haven't seen her for a while. Things were, well, you know how it is."

"She didn't say. I mean I thought you were still together. If I'd known I might have given you a call."

"That might have been nice." I downed the vodka. She smiled in return.

"Can I get you another?" She sank her own drink.

"Mmm, please."

Amanda picked up the two glasses and headed towards the kitchen. I followed her and thought that now was as good a time as any to make my move. I slipped the plastic wallet from my pocket and pulled out the pad. I caught up with her just as she reached the refrigerator looking for some ice. I was surprised how easy it was. The pad went over her nose and mouth, her arms flew out and the glasses cart-wheeled across the room to shatter on the floor. She gave a muffled squeal as she gasped for breath but all that did was to give her more of the drug. I got my other arm around her chest. That stopped her arms flailing. She tried to break free of my grip but I had her held tightly and soon her struggles subsided. I felt her go limp and let her slide to the tiled floor of the kitchen. "How easy was that?" I thought. "Even quicker than Harry had said." I pulled out my mobile to give Harry a call. No bloody signal.