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The black-garbed squad were still on-duty around the low-rent building where my low-rent offices were located. As far as I could tell, they were the same group who were there last night. They must have endured a long and boring stint overnight. I had no sympathy whatsoever; any decent stakeout needs two or, ideally, three groups to make sure a fresh crew was ready when the mark returned to the lair. This spoke of poor management all around. These lads would be cold and tired, not at all alert and likely to make stupid mistakes when the unexpected happened. Unlike my stealthy approach on the previous occasion, this time I strolled up the main road from the direction of the transit tubes as if I didn't have a care in the world. I carefully ignored their lurking presence of the watchers and their clumsy attempts to stay out of sight, and tried - with reasonable success, I thought - to give the impression that I had enjoyed a long and restful sleep and a good meal before a late arrival at work. The lobby was deserted when I arrived, although in truth I don't think I have ever seen anyone in the building lobby. Oh, I know that a reasonable number of the other offices are tenanted - I am a detective, after all - although the exact occupants do seem to change on a weekly basis. This was probably just the expected result of cheap rents and dubious business models. I collected my mail from the box and made a show of thumbing through them as I trudged up the stairs - an unsurprising collection of bills and advertising materials, at first glance. Nobody tried to intercept me, nobody attempted to follow me. I pushed open the office door and glanced around - nobody lurking under the desk - then slumped in the squeaky swivel chair and tossed my hat on the scarred leather surface. I didn't have long to wait. I quickly scanned Drummond's note, which contained nothing he had not already communicated, then stuffed it in my coat pocket. I had slit open, and immediately binned, about half of the junk mail before the two henchmen shouldered their way through the office door. They glanced around, looking bleary-eyed and jumpy, starting at the shadows in the recesses of the office. I had carefully avoided turning on any lights to engender just such a reaction. "Good day, gentlemen," I spouted cheerily, looking up at the familiar figures, "How can I help you this fine morning?" One of the goons looked too tired to speak coherently. He glanced at the other, a pleading look in his eyes. His companion was clearly made of sterner stuff. "Madderfy wants to talk to you," the second Goblin said, enunciating his words with special care. "Sure," I replied brightly, leaning forward to pick up the phone, "What's his number?" The first goon lumbered forward, pressed his thumb down over the phone cradle so hard that I thought the creaking plastic would shatter under his weight. "In person," he grunted, some remaining part of his instruction still firing up the neurons in his brain. Not that I imagined he was a world-class thinker under normal circumstances. "Well, why didn't you say so?" I continued in the same cheery tone, glancing from one to the other and back again, "Let me just have a look at my appointments for today." "Wise guy," the second Goblin snorted, "Now shut up." He picked up my phone, which was still working despite the ministrations of his colleague a few moments before, and dialled a number. It was answered almost immediately. "Gask is back," the goon muttered into the handset, then listened to a stream of instructions from the other end, "Right. Okay. Keep him here. Five minutes." He slammed the phone down and glared at me. I sat back in my chair, smiling pleasantly and giving the pair of them my best impersonation of bright-eyed helpfulness. I had been pretty certain that they would not attempt to take me to Madderfy. Trying to escort a slippery customer like me through busy streets without giving me an opportunity to get away would have been next to impossible. The first black-garbed Goblin moved to stand by the door, presumably ready to intercept me should I try and made a run for it. Not that I was planning on going anywhere just at the moment; they were exactly where I wanted them to be. The second henchman, trying very hard not to yawn, backed away from the desk, keeping his distance in case I tried to grab him. Neither of them had bothered to pull the bulky automatics that were clearly visible under their jackets. Either they thought they didn't need them, or maybe they had heard about my anti-gun magic. Didn't matter either way to me.
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Part 74