A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [173]
Trueman’s office appeared to be above the dirty-book shop, and surprisingly the door that led to it was open, revealing a narrow, uncarpeted staircase which looked as if it hadn’t been swept for years. He could see a fluorescent light on the ceiling of the office above, but not who was in there.
He could feel the hardness of the gun in his pocket, and he thought he ought to feel safer with it. But he didn’t, he didn’t like the feeling it gave him at all. What he wanted to do was punch the lights out of the man who was holding Fifi. Punch him and kick him until he told him where she was, then beat him some more, and only then, when he felt he’d maimed him for life, was he going to feel better.
There was a mirror on the wall beside him, and it seemed odd that the rage he felt inside didn’t show on his face. He looked normal – clean-shaven, wearing a sparkling white shirt, a blue striped tie and his wedding suit. He didn’t even look like a workman, more like a bank clerk.
But that was just as well, because he was going up into that office now, and he’d got to play at being an office worker who’d lost his way, while he checked the place out. He stubbed out his cigarette, smiled at the girl behind the counter, and walked out of the door and across the Court.
The tapping of the typewriter grew louder as he climbed the stairs. At the top was a half-glazed door. That was a further surprise as he’d expected the place would be like Fort Knox. He knocked, but opened it immediately and went in.
There was a woman of about thirty behind the desk wearing a red blouse. She was plain with glasses and straight, lank brown hair. She stopped typing and smiled. An open door beside her desk clearly led to Trueman’s office, judging by the big leather swivel chair in there. It wasn’t much of an office for a man with a sizable empire, and it was almost as chaotic as Johnny’s.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman said.
‘I’m the temp you booked,’ Dan said. ‘From Alfred Marks.’
She looked puzzled. ‘We haven’t booked a temp,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right address?’
‘I hope so,’ Dan said, giving her one of what Fifi had always called his winning smiles. He made a great show of feeling in his pockets, and finally pulled out the piece of paper he’d scribbled on earlier. ‘Number six, St Anne’s Court,’ he read. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes,’ she said, frowning. ‘But Mr Trueman didn’t tell me to expect anyone from an agency.’
‘Is he here to ask?’ Dan asked, slipping off his wet raincoat and holding it over his arm.
‘No, he’s not I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t normally come in until one. I can’t phone him either because he’s out at one of his businesses.’
‘Oh dear,’ Dan said, looking downcast. ‘This isn’t a very good start. I’ve only just come up to London and I was really pleased when I got offered this job straight away.’
Dan’s Wiltshire accent had grown a lot less pronounced since he’d been working in London, but he laid it on thick for the woman. ‘It would have been nice to work with you too.’
She blushed and dropped her eyes. ‘Where are you from?’ she asked.
Dan told her he came from Trowbridge, and played the country boy up in the big city for all he was worth, telling her how confusing he found London, and how expensive everything was. It seemed to do the trick as he could see her getting more relaxed and interested in him by the minute. He found out her name was Janice, and told her he’d got a room in Kentish Town and that he really wanted to work in a bank but he’d decided to do some temporary agency work until he’d found his way about.
‘I was knocked out when they sent me to Soho,’ he said, grinning at her like a Cheshire cat. ‘It must be really exciting working here.’
She laughed. ‘The Soho you mean doesn’t get going till after the shops and offices close,’ she said. ‘I never see it.’
‘Surely your boyfriend brings you up to the clubs and stuff at night?’ he said.
‘I haven’t got one,’ she said. ‘But ordinary