"Name?"
"Andrew Morgan."
"Address?"
"49 Musbury Street, Stepney."
"Date of birth?"
"10 February 1960."
"Take a slip and wait over there, please."
The people on either side of the one remaining seat drew themselves in, as if repelled by the thought of sitting too close to a stranger. Ash stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled his black leather jacket more tightly around his waist, so as not to encroach on their personal space. He knew better than to draw attention to himself, especially when he was working.
The fair, youngish man two rows ahead of him slouched down in his chair and fiddled with a box of matches. He was obviously dying for a smoke but would have to wait till he left the building.
"Karl Fielding, interview room 3," grated a disembodied voice.
Blondie with the matches got lethargically to his feet and ambled over to a door in the corner of the room. Once the man had disappeared, Ash produced his phone and thumbed briefly at the keys.
Less than twenty minutes later, the door opened again and Fielding re-emerged. By this time, however, Ash had positioned himself in a café across the road from the social security office, ostensibly reading the paper and having a cup of tea.
On seeing Fielding step out onto the street and turn left, Ash abandoned his table and followed at a discreet distance, talking into his mobile. There was no-one on the other end, but he had observed that people automatically assumed if you were giving your full attention to a phone, you couldn't possibly be interested in anything else. It worked as a simple but convincing cover.
After about half a mile, he could still see his target's straggly fair hair among the crowds on the busy East End street. He increased his pace slightly, anxious not to lose sight of Fielding before he met his contact. His total concentration was required now to ensure that he did his job.
Nothing would have cut him like being forced to tell Mickey (or the others, but especially Mickey) that he had lost someone he was tailing. It was a matter of personal pride, and the crew knew that Ash made it a point never to lose his man. Well, almost…there had been The Ghost.
He shuddered inwardly as he thought about how that whole package had nearly slipped through their fingers: the manuscript, York, Albert…he snapped back into focus as Fielding's head disappeared into what was probably a shop, but could just as easily be an alleyway, or the door to a flat. He prayed it wasn't the latter.
Within five seconds, Ash had drawn level with the spot where Fielding had left the street. It was, indeed, an alley, leading behind the shops to a row of dilapidated lock-ups and other storage buildings.
The mark was walking, much more slowly now, towards the rear of some kind of warehouse which lay further up the lane. Ash paused in the archway just off the main street, allowing the dimness to obscure his presence.
Patiently, he watched as Fielding started to retrace his steps, not purposefully as if he would return the way he had come, but as if he was just killing time – which Ash knew he must be. Looking at his watch, he realised that Danny had been spot on about the time he'd overheard. He pulled out his phone again. This was going to be it.
*********
"Danny!!! Slow down!!" yelped Stacie, gripping the sides of the car seat for all she was worth.
"It's OK, darlin', you're safe as houses with me."
"Houses that are about to be demolished, yes!" she retorted, as they lurched to the right and accelerated past two buses. Stacie closed her eyes, but found that this only made things seem more terrifying. Her phone rang and she was glad of the distraction.
"Mickey? Please tell me Ash has found him!" she implored.
"He has, he's in a lane just off Stepney High Street, behind Marks and Spencer," came the reply.
Stacie hung up and turned to Danny. "He's off Stepney High Street," she began, only to let out another scream as the car did a 90-degree turn across traffic and up a side road. Horns blared behind them.
"I know all the shortcuts," smirked Danny, pleased with himself.
"Oh Lord," groaned Stacie, covering her face with her hands.
**********
"Well, Michael, are you ready?"
"Of course. You?"
"Certainly, dear boy. Shall we?" Albert opened the door and motioned for Mickey to leave first. He closed the door behind them and they walked out to the kerbside, where a taxi waited.
"Where to, guv?" asked the cabbie.
"The Park Lane Hotel, please." Albert relaxed back in his seat and eyed Mickey thoughtfully. He had rarely, if ever, seen him so unsettled. He tended to be far too good at keeping his feelings hidden.
"Do you have it?" asked Albert.
Mickey patted his inside jacket pocket. "There's no show without it," he answered coolly, then betrayed himself by turning to the driver and snapping, "Can you get a move on? We haven't got all day."
***********
Karl Fielding strolled back into the sunlight of the High Street, unaware that he had led Ash straight to the man he wanted.
"Henry!" Ash called out to the figure retreating up the alley.
The man whirled round and stared at him, hard. "Do I know you?"
"Not really," Ash practically sneered. He was a consummate professional, but at this precise moment he was finding it very difficult to hide his contempt for this mark.
"But," he continued, nearing the other man, "you've got something I want. That a friend of mine wants."
"Oh? And what would that be?" Henry had recovered his composure by now, and stood confidently before Ash.
"Your signature," came the response, and Ash snapped a document open and thrust a pen at the slightly-built, immaculately dressed man.
Henry scanned the paper quickly and laughed. "You've got to be kidding! After what she pulled? I had to start from scratch – no money, no home, nothing – only what I stood up in and a weekend bag for good measure."
"You're lucky I left you with that, pal. Oh, and don't forget the Phil Collins CD."
Jake Henry looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. "YOU did that?!" He was momentarily speechless, but Ash remained stony-faced. The pen and paper still hovered in front of Henry.
"Sign it," Ash ordered. "You've been dodging solicitors and bailiffs for nearly a year now. Be a man and let her get on with her life."
"Or what?" snarled Henry. "I don't see any backup; how do you propose to make me sign anything?"
"Because if you don't, mate, you'll be minus whatever makes you attractive to the ladieees," drawled Danny from behind him. A distinct click was heard and Henry could feel cold steel pressing against the back of his head.
Ash smiled grimly. "Still think you can walk away?" he asked. "Sign. Here. And here."
Henry, furious but scared stiff by now, snatched the pen from Ash's hand and scrawled twice on the paper. "And initial this here," he was instructed.
Once Ash had the documents safely in his pocket, Danny placed his hand on Henry's back and gave him a shove. Ash stepped deftly aside as Jake went flying past him into the mud.
"Next time, Ash, remember to bring the shooter," said Danny, tossing a ratchet screwdriver into a patch of weeds.
Henry glared in pure hatred at the pair of them. "This isn't finished," he croaked, his throat still dry with fear.
"Oh yes, it is," declared Ash, stepping over his quarry.
"We'll see you around," said Danny airily. "Oh, wait a minute…no we won't!"
No sooner had they disappeared round the corner of the warehouse than the wail of a police siren could be heard, growing ever closer. Dazed, Jake was starting to pick himself up off the ground, attempting to clean the dirt from his Armani suit, as a patrol car came through the archway and screeched to a halt just a few yards away.
Two officers got out, knelt down behind the open car doors and pointed Glock pistols at him. "Armed police!" rang out a voice through a loud hailer. "Lie face down on the ground with your arms outstretched!"
**********
"I can't believe you managed it!" gasped Stacie as she read through the papers.
"It was easy," bragged Danny.
"For some!" objected Ash, who was by now being thrown around in the back seat of the car. He struggled to find the seatbelt and put it on as Danny took yet another corner far too fast.
"Look on it as Jake's goodbye present," Danny suggested. "This way, it'll be a long, long time before he bothers you again."
"Especially when the police find that handgun you stuffed down the back of his belt," added Ash. Suddenly he sat bolt upright and asked, "What time are we supposed to be at the hotel?"
"Two-thirty," replied Stacie.
"Got loads of time," said Danny, stepping on the accelerator. Stacie and Ash were thrown back into their seats as the car shot out into fast-moving traffic.
**********
Mickey sat down heavily in the lounge chair and played with the ice cubes at the bottom of his empty glass. He looked at his watch for the twentieth time that minute. "They're not going to make it," he said, at precisely the same moment as Albert's phone rang.
"Hello?" His face shone with delight. "Excellent, my dear! We'll see you very soon. There we are," he addressed Mickey, "it's done. Everything can proceed as planned now that Stacie has her nest egg back."
"I was so sure Jake would just disappear off the face of the earth once the decree was absolute."
"The man is such an arrogant swine, he simply could not resist waving his new-found fortune under Stacie's nose. Petty little card sharp," finished Albert, wrinkling his face in disgust. "Well, now she has more than enough to start her new life." He smiled again at the thought.
**********
"Have you got the ring?" yelled Stacie, straining to make herself heard above the roar of the car engine.
"No!" Ash bellowed in reply. "Danny! Is this heap of junk going to get us there, or should we be looking for a taxi?"
"Why is it making that dreadful noise?" Stacie demanded to know.
"Calm down, people, it's not a problem. We're almost there. So," he asked, catching on, "if you don't have the ring, Ash, who does?"
"Albert said he would take care of it."
"The best man is supposed to looked after the ring," Danny shouted above the now-deafening racket.
"Who knows where it ended up. Don't worry, Stace, one of them'll have it, "
reassured Ash.
"Just so long as the right man puts it on my finger at the end of the ceremony," said Stacie.
The old banger drew up, belching evil-smelling fumes, in front of the biggest hotel on Park Lane. "There y'go," said Danny to the valet, tossing him the keys. The man looked as if they had brought a pack of skunks for him to park, but they ignored him and went up the steps and into the hotel lobby.
Albert and Mickey both rose quickly to their feet. "My dear, you look absolutely…well, words fail me," said the older man.
Mickey grinned and said, "The registrar's waiting. Shall we go in?"
So they did.