A Choice of Evils Read online

  I left everything as I had seen and found it. A thought of sympathy crossed my mind for the animals imprisoned in the back room. There was nothing I could do for them without giving myself away. After using my twirls again, I secured the lab door lock and left, boldly making my way downstairs to the entrance door. I knew the building and the security guards office were empty as I again worked the oracle on this door too. It took a little longer than the lab one as this was a Chubb XX. But persistence always wins in the end. Twenty minutes later, I had it open from the inside and secured from the outside as I left, noting it was fast approaching midnight.

  There was still sufficient people and traffic on the street for me to remain inconspicuous. It was only a short walk to my car in the side street where I had left it so within minutes; I was behind the wheel and driving on my way home. By 12.30 I was indoors pouring myself a large scotch then sank into an armchair. It had been a long day. It was the beginning to the end.

  All I wanted to do was sleep but there were a lot of anxieties in my mind. Some two hours and half bottle of scotch later, I had made it to the bedroom. Sleep did not come easy. I had a fight with Ahmed in my head before I sunk into oblivion.

  Morning came quickly as mouse gave me a harsh awakening at 7am. I thumped the alarm button to cut short his laugh as I wasn’t in a jovial mood. It was a dog day feeling that set the tone of a new day. There was much to be done and it was now a month since my meeting with Ahmed. Why had he not contacted me?

  As I lay there, a new wave of paranoia swept over me. The why’s, buts and ifs in my mind hit me like bullets. For all I knew, Ahmed’s shadow may have been following me from day one. I knew he was not alone as the photos and tapes had shown. Did he know I had been to the Tropical Research lab? Would he be expecting me to report to him? What if I told him the formula was in a deposit box at Barclays bank? Would that be my out? Surely he couldn’t expect me to break into a bank? I was just a thief, not a bank robber or safe blower. My thoughts zig zagged around all kinds of possibilities of getting into the bank. It was like trying to find my way into and out of a maze.

  Unable to empty my head, I rolled out of bed and made for the kettle and shower. As the water pelted me with a warm spray, I stood motionless, thinking out my plan of action. My choices were limited, though I knew I would have to return to the Research lab’ and take a print of the keys for cutting. Somehow I would have to get into the bank deposit boxes. There had to be a way I could do this so for a few minutes I thought through some ideas.

  The water was soothing. An urge to motivate myself released some fresh energy into my body. The tiredness left me as I scoured myself with some shower gel and two minutes later, I was out, dried, shaved and dressed before having a toast and some coffee.

  My mind was made up. A plan unfolded. If I could learn Bruce’s passwords for the bank depository, then with the help of a good makeup artiste, I could impersonate Bruce myself. Getting the keys prints from the Research Lab was easy. The deposit box numbers were stamped upon the keys. If I offered Dave the weasel the right price, I felt sure he could use his mercurial influence to get me the answers I needed. I warmed to this idea. The two failed actresses called Lisa and Laura could make me up into looking like Dr Bruce. But I needed a good close up picture of him first.

  I rang Dave and made a meeting in the Blacksmiths Arms at Rotherhithe Street. ‘I had a premonition you were going to phone me,’ he jibed. He sounded smug. ‘I hope it’s worth my while,’ he queried. ‘We all have to earn a living.’ ‘Sure,’ I told him. There was some big mega bucks to earn if he could get what I wanted. ‘Everything is possible,’ he assured me, then added, ‘Especially if the price is right.’ I knew he would have to grease somebody else’s palm on this one. But for £2,000 I knew he could do it. ‘Now we are talking,’ he answered. ‘I will see you in the Blacksmiths tomorrow 9.30. Cheers.’

  With that sorted, I left for the paper shop and felt the wind bite into my skin. There was not much to do before my evening’s trip to the Research Lab again. It wouldn’t take long to get a print from the keys. I decided to put some time into writing more of the novel. It was a dull day anyway. Besides, the publishers were looking for a taste of the first few chapters. I would need to get my head wrapped around that.

  I noticed that dammed dog that I had treated to packets of crisps. He spotted me too and wagged his tail in memory of our friendship. A thought of all the animals in the lab’ crossed my mind. They weren’t as lucky as he was. There was nothing I could do for them but at least I could give this little brown mongrel another packet of crisps. He sat waiting for me as I came out of the shop. A few steps along the road then I emptied the crisps out for him. With the intake of a vacuum cleaner, he scoffed them all having once again adopted me, until another lamp post claimed his attentions.

  There was nothing in my post box when I arrived home but there were two messages on the answerphone. On Replay, I recognised the voice of Ahmed. It was short and to the point. ‘Please leave a message for me in the usual place.’ I knew it was only a matter of time before he contacted me. I would have to play his game as I had planned without letting on what I knew.

  I gave his number a call and said the objective was not without complications. Progress was in the making, though I was up against all my previous experience on this one. I would be in touch again, I told him.

  The second call was a nice surprise. It was from Louise who I had walked with the other evening. She was free this evening at 8.30 if she meant anything to me, she said. I was flattered. She was very pretty. I felt quite lucky having met Aisha recently and now Louise. I decided to give her a call and make a date for this evening after I had been and got the keys impressions. Eight thirty seemed just right, as I knew I would be in and out of the lab by 8 o’clock so I rang to hear how delighted she was to hear from me. We would meet outside Surrey Quays station it was agreed. Now I was ready to crack on with some more typing of my novel. I would need to send some chapters off soon.

  The afternoon passed quickly as I became immersed in my typing. The chimes of the carriage clock came and went though I was oblivious of the hours. Mid-afternoon passed into 5 o’clock and eleven pages had expanded my novel into the 4th chapter. Now reality had taken over as my thoughts collected towards the Tropical Research Lab. Once again, I would have to hide in the cupboard and become the thief in the night again.

  Like before, I dressed in a suit and checked my kit ready before making haste to my car. I was soon married into the rush hour traffic cursing and cussing like everyone else who thought they owned the road and eventually arrived to find a parking space. My watch showed 5.45pm as I bounded up the steps of the Research Lab. A casual flash of my forged pass gained me entry again as the bored security guard grunted his approval. Then I made haste for the staircase and quickly out of sight.

  A boffin in a white coat passed me on the first floor as I ascended towards the second flight of stairs. A brief ‘hello’ exchanged between us being none the wiser who each other were. Without delay, I made my way to the broom cupboard and secreted myself behind the stack of boxes as before. As darkness enclosed around me, I could hear the banter of goodnights beginning inside the building. It would not be long to wait until big foot the guard did his rounds so I sat there reflecting how quick I would be on this occasion. There was no searching to do, merely take a cast print of each key and note there punch numbers. I had prepared a locksmiths impression pad in a flat Tom Thumb cigar tin. As quiet as a mouse I sat there as the minutes rolled by until I heard the sounds of closing doors followed by the footsteps of the security guard. The time had come to make my move.

  The familiar sound of the main door lock clicked shortly after the guards descending footsteps stopped. Then the silence strained my ears. Confidant I was alone, I emerged and swiftly made my way to Dr Bruce’s Lab. With my twirls to hand, I manipulated the lock until I heard the freeing of the tumblers inside. A deft twist of the door handle soon gained me entry. Then
without a wasted second, my torch directed me to the wall cupboard. It was open as before.

  I opened the tin holding the impression pad and firmly pressed both sides of the keys onto it. It seemed I had a good template. Then I wrote down the punch numbers of each key. I then took care to be sure all the resin traces was cleaned from them before closing the cupboard as I had found it. Now I wanted to get the hell out of this Frankenstein place and left with a sense of relief.

  Within minutes of locking the Lab door I was outside the main door locking that too. It seemed my knack of using the twirls had come back to me with a touch of finesse. Shortly after 8 o’clock, I was now driving to Surrey Quays to meet Louise. We were both on time as agreed.

  She greeted me with a coy ‘Hello.’ I could see she was wondering how the evening would go on our first date. But I was landed with a nice surprise as she planted a kiss on my lips and there was a hint of passion in it. Methinks she likes me, I thought. Louise was very pretty and had all the curves to go with her beautiful looks. I was a little flattered that she said I looked like Tom Jones the singer. It wasn’t the first time I had been told that. Our hands met as we walked along. ‘Where would you like to go?’ I asked. She tossed her wavy long brown hair to one side. ‘How about a bite to eat with a drink or two, then you can show me how a bachelor lives?’ she answered. I liked her eyes. They were green. She smiled. I smiled. ‘Why not,’ I replied. ‘But I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. Bachelors are said to be untidy but I manage to keep order in my house. You’re welcome to inspect it.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘Ok I will.’ There was something about Louise like magnetism, warm, friendly. How clever of her to know I was a bachelor, I pondered. It seemed we both felt we had known each other a long time. Yet in truth it was just some weeks on a casual basis until this meeting. We walked to Donny’s diner around the corner.

  We spent some time learning about each other. I discovered she was a journalist who covered the stock exchange. She was into media economics but lost me completely. I told her I was just a writer doing novels. I’d had some success and there was one on the go right now. She was single, had tried marriage and been divorced. Now she preferred unencumbered relationships and was attracted to certain types of men like me. She was independent, solvent, and confidant and knew what she wanted. I was impressed.

  We enjoyed a meal of beef stroganoff washed down with some bull’s blood wine. It was mutually agreeable that we should now walk back towards my home. The late night air stimulated the effects of the wine as we giggled and squeezed hands in anticipation of our expectations. It didn’t take long to arrive there.

  Louise claimed ladies privilege of the bathroom first while I put on some smooch music on the stereo. We exchanged places then I returned to find her admiring the décor of my sitting room. ‘Call me Louie’ she asked ‘I rather like that. It’s a cute name. Just like Jack is for you,’ she added.

  ‘Not as cute as you.’ I told her. ‘Come and inspect my bedroom Louie. I think you’ll find we have a lot in common.’ She took my hand as I led the way upstairs.

  The moon shone through the window onto the bed. There was enough light to reveal the look upon her face. She turned towards me and pulled me to her in an embrace. Kisses turned into exploration. Buttons became undone. Flesh touched flesh as our bodies fell onto the bed. Hands stroked, fondled and teased. Mouths met. Kisses moved gently then urgently down in a straight line as she arched to tell me her need. Our heat turned into passion as I delved into her flower of eternity. She quaked, shuddered and held me in position until the passions became unbearable. Louise let go her final resistance and let flow her gratitude which caused me even greater excitement. It was as if life and death had eclipsed. Now the tiger had arrived but the lion was king as our pistons thundered into a perfect symphony. We had reached the stars and meltdown was complete. Our bodies floated in the heavens. Two blissful souls were consumed in the miracle of life. Sleep kissed us quietly as our bodies locked together in a triumphant harmony.

  The next morning, mouse awoke us with his cheeky laugh. Seven hours had passed. Louise smiled as I silenced the alarm. She looked just as nice as my dreams had remembered her last night. There was no need to say anything as it had all been said. It was time to live another day. We wanted to see each other again but for now we both had things to do. Her job was important she said, as we made haste to breakfast and ready to go our different ways. Within an hour she was gone looking forward to my phoning her again soon.

  Now I had to call my old friend Doc’ the locksmith. He would make up the keys from the impressions I had taken. He was just getting up when my call reached him. His ultra-cautious nature opted for a meeting at Battersea dog’s home instead of a pub. It was agreed for 11am this morning. Sure he could make them from a template, he confirmed. It was no problem. I knew that was true as it was Doc’ who had taught me to use the twirls. It would cost me £100 he told me and I agreed.

  Time was pushing on towards 10 o’clock. I remembered I had to phone Lisa and Laura to arrange a meeting for the week ahead. I guessed that would be plenty of time for the weasel to get me the information on Bruce’s bank passwords. I was meeting him this evening. As I anticipated, the sisters were keen to demonstrate their theatrical skills as makeup artistes. I told them I would have an up to the minute photo of the man to be impersonated. We agreed on a price. There was a lot of face work involved, they told me, so for £200 each I had secured their services. Now they would count the days until our next meeting.

  No sooner had I put the phone down when it rang. It was Ahmed. My answerphone was on. I listened to his message. ‘Meet me at Tesco’s Surrey Quays by the fish counter at 5pm this afternoon.’ It seemed I now had a busy day ahead with Doc’, Ahmed and then Dave.

  I had a quick coffee and wondered what might transpire from my meeting at Tesco’s. I now knew of course he was not a Dr or a scientist. He had conned me. But worse than that, this formula was not about gene cloning. It was something sinister being tested on those unfortunate animals in the Tropical Research Lab. But for what else was it going to be used for? What was it really all about? I wondered. Ahmed was a good actor and a professional. Maybe he misread my message I had left him on his answerphone? Maybe I had made a slip? Thoughts raced around in my head. I would have to keep up the pretence of being none the wiser when I met up with him again. Now I had to go and see Doc’ at the dogs home.

  It didn’t take long for me to get there by car. We both met at the agreed time. He was already waiting outside the entrance doors as I crossed over the road to meet him.

  Doc’ was a small chubby man with a large roman nose which was unfortunately often the butt of a joke for him. A shock of dyed black curly hair belied his age of fifty years. He was always impeccably dressed. Today he was wearing the latest Giorgio Armani jacket and trousers. His pair of Reebok trainers tapped out a rhythm on the pavement while his left hand held a rolled up newspaper like a baton. Our hands met on contact. It was almost a year since our last meeting we remembered as we shook hands.

  On payment of an admission charge we were soon part of the visitors wandering around the kennels. It was a sad sight, seeing all the hundreds of dogs and cats appealing for someone to give them a home. Some wagged their tails in vain hope while others howled angrily. But I knew how lucky they were compared to those animals I had seen in the Tropical Research Lab. I knew Doc’liked dogs too as we had met here before.

  As we made our way around, I passed him the impression pad. I wanted two of each, filed, honed and tested. ‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ he said. I felt like a patent telling a surgeon how to use his scalpel. Doc’ knew his job inside out. If he said a key would open a lock, then for sure, you could be certain it would.

  The smell of antiseptic floor wash drifted around the kennels. Doc’ told me the keys would be ready by tomorrow afternoon. He would give me a call and would meet back here as soon as he was ready. That sorted, we agreed to go our separate ways. I went stra
ight home calling at my bank on the way. Dave would be looking to see the colour of my money and a down payment of a grand. (1K).

  It was now time to go for my meeting with Ahmed at 5pm. A slow walk to Tesco’s suited me just fine as the weather was mild and fresh and helped clear my head as I ambled along. The shopping centre was crowded as usual when I arrived. For a few minutes I walked the store, round and round between the rows and aisles. Finally I arrived at the fish counter.

  The fluorescent lights cast a bright illumination over the sea foods on display. I stood inspecting a fine specimen of haddock when I became conscious of a presence beside me. A sideways glance saw me staring into the face of Ahmed. His brown eyes were devoid of warmth and held my gaze like a trained hypnotist. A reflection of light bounced from the corner of his gold spectacles. For a brief second it seemed language had disappeared. Then suddenly his face changed into a plastic smile. ‘Hello Jack,’ he said. ‘Another thing we have in common, is keeping our appointments.’

  I returned him a weak smile. I felt the bubbling of an uncontrollable urge to tell him what I knew about him and the formula but somehow managed to quell the anger I felt inside. His arm now rested upon my shoulder steering me away from the fish counter just as an assistant was about to ask me for an order. Almost meekly, I walked beside him doing my best to appear nonchalant. As we passed the cheese and milk displays he developed his conversation.

  ‘Your ansaphone message was intriguing Jack. I thought it warranted some further understanding so I am here for you to tell me about it. Remember, I did tell you that everything had to be accounted for, especially money.’ I took a deep breath. His voice seemed more like a command than a question. It all seemed surreal. Here I was, walking around Tesco’s talking to a foreign spy and I couldn’t do a dam thing about it. This whole sorry saga had evolved from Ahmed reading my autobiography The Mind of a Thief. That’s how he had selected me to be the perfect stooge to accomplish his mission to get the XP42 formula. He continued to speak.