59 Minutes (28 page)

‘Fuck.’

I seemed to have this effect on people at the moment.

‘You can piss off.’

I smiled.

‘What the hell do you want?’ said Giles.

‘To chat.’

‘What the fuck do we have to chat about?’

‘Amongst other things, the price of bread would seem a
good topic.’

The door closed, a bolt was thrown and the door
re-opened. Giles was dressed in a pair of battered chinos topped off by the
granddaddy of oversized cardigans. The sort that has no buttons and relies on a
cloth belt to keep it closed. He stepped back and gestured for me to come in. I
took a quick look up and down the street but it was clear. I wasn’t expecting
anyone but then again I had thought Rachel’s a safe bet.

‘Expecting company?’ said Giles.

I shook my head. ‘Not unless you are?’

He closed the door, led me through a short hall and
into the room on the right.

It was like stepping back in time. The furniture was
Victoriana, as were the carpet and fittings. Two walls were floor to ceiling
with books and the third wall had a stunning landscape of a ship in the midst
of a hell of a storm.

‘Take a seat. Tea?’ he asked.

‘Thanks,’ I replied.

With that he left me and I wondered why there was no
butler. I didn’t sit down, choosing to browse the book-shelves instead.

I was no great reader but then again this was not Waterstone’s
top ten land. Most of the books sounded like medical texts from an era long
since gone.

‘The Establishment of the Causes and Effects of
Excessive Bile and other Digestive Juices on the Well Being of the Elder Man’,
‘Vibratory and Motion Maladies’, ‘Searchlights on Health: Light on Dark
Corners.’ and so on. Rivetting. I moved to the second wall and it was more of
the same. As I waited on Giles to return I hunted for a non-medical book but,
if it there was one, I didn’t find it before tea and biscuits appeared.

Giles placed a silver tray on the walnut coffee table
that sat in front of two over stuffed armchairs. The tea was in a silver pot,
the sugar in a silver bowl, the milk in a silver jug and the spoons were
silver. The tea cups were delicate bone china. It could have all been cheap
tack but, to my untrained eye, it all looked genuine antique.

Giles sat down and looked at me. I took the chair next
to him but he made no attempt to pour the tea.

‘Good tea needs to infuse for a full five minutes. My
apologies for my brusque language at the door. I was caught a little unawares.’

The change of attitude was a bit too Jekyll and Hyde
for my liking.

‘So what can I do for you?’

‘No small chat?’

‘Do you want to?’

‘No.’

‘Then what can I do for you?’

‘Do you know a French man called Carl Dupree.’

‘Dupree. Wasn’t he the one responsible for your little
residency in prison?’

‘That’s him.’

‘I can’t say I know much. When you so kindly replaced
me I decided to put all that behind me. I’ve heard of the man. A player as I
recall. Big time down here. Other than that not a lot. Why?’

‘I’m trying to find him?’

‘For a social call?’

‘You could say that.’

‘And what makes you think I can help?’

‘You were always well connected. Far better than me.’

‘It didn’t do me much good.’

‘I mean well connected across the board. I never mixed
in some of the circles you did. I was hoping that some of your old connections
might be able to put me in touch.’

Giles leaned forward and gave the tea a stir. Clearly
the five minutes were not yet up.

‘Surely he can’t be that hard to find? I mean he is
hardly a low profile type of person.’

‘No but my old network is long gone. I’ve probably
exposed myself just getting your address. By the time I find him he will have
found me. I thought you might be able to shorten the process.’

‘If I could help why would I want to? After all you
rolled me over big time. I don’t owe you a thing.’

‘Bygones are bygones?’

He laughed and stirred the tea again.

‘Let’s risk it.’

With this he poured milk into my cup and filled it
with tea. He did the same for himself. I picked up the cup and took a sip.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘Well what?’

‘The tea. Was it worth the little wait?’

‘Very nice.’ And it was.

‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘I might be able to help
but I want something in return.’

‘What?’

‘When I left, you took on my office. I never had the
chance to clear it out.’

I remembered the office well. It wasn’t quite in the same
league as this room but you could see that he was on his way to a full blown
life that revolved around Queen Victoria and her subjects.

‘There was a globe of the world that sat next to the
window. Do you remember it?’

I did. It was a huge beast.

‘Do you know where it is?’

It was my turn to laugh. Of all the bizarre things to
ask, I actually knew where the damn thing was.

I had stared at it for months after moving in and
hated it. It was one of those globes that showed the world as they thought it
looked in the late sixteenth century - missing chunks of land, odd shaped
versions of countries, extra islands at the foot of the world - you know the
sort of thing. Only it wasn’t that old. Spencer used to say it was late
Woolworths.

In time I had decided to clean out the office to put
my own stamp on my space and the globe went. I was all for throwing it out but
Martin decided he wanted it. I had no idea he even liked the thing so I said
yes and he took it.

‘Martin Sketchmore took it.’

Giles couldn’t have known Martin that well but his
face changed markedly when I mentioned his name.

‘You remember Martin?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well I can give you a number but he’s gone a bit
A.W.O.L. at the moment. It’s the best I can do.’

‘Maybe later,’ he said and that seemed to close the
conversation on the globe.

‘So will you help?’

Giles poured another tea and offered me the same but I
refused.

‘There used to be a Sainsbury’s at the end of my road.
Did you know that?’ he said.

‘No’ - a bit leftfield again.

‘A small one. It closed. You don’t hear of many
supermarkets closing. It sat right at one end of the
North End Rd
market. It had a fruit and veg section but with the market outside the front
door it never did well. It also had a hostel for Sainsbury employees above it.
Young kids starting out were put up there until they got on their feet. All
gone now. Funny how things move on isn’t it?’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘You think you’ve got a handle on the world,’ he
continued. ‘And then it sneaks behind your back and shoves you flat on your
face. I loved that little Sainsbury’s. I don’t know why but when I found out it
had the hostel I always thought of it as a nursery. Lost souls in
London
being
watched over. It had a nice ring to it.’

More tea was drunk and I waited for the trip down memory
lane to resolve itself into a relevant story or vanish.

‘Mid eighties it would have been,’ he said. ‘Mid
eighties and I was walking home. I’d dropped the car in town after I had drunk
too much and taken the tube to Fulham Broadway. The place was alive with
football supporters.
Chelsea
were playing Millwall in the cup - at least that’s
the way I remember it.’

He sipped at his cup before continuing.

‘The police had thrown a line of horses down the
centre of the North End Rd keeping Chelsea fans to one side and Millwall to the
other. It didn’t really work - there was too much distance between the horses
to make an effective barrier. A fan, I can’t remember if it was
Chelsea
or a Millwall
fan, thought it was funny to light up a newspaper, run up to one of the horses
and try to set light to its tail. The policeman was off the horse in a shot and
a scuffle broke out. A few more policemen on horses rode in and the fan was
lifted. As I arrived at my road I looked up at the hostel above the supermarket.
The lights were on and by now it was late. I saw a face at the window, looking
down on the scene below, and I remember thinking that they don’t really know
what is going on down here. It’s funny but some people can stare at a situation
for years and never really get it. Strange that, isn’t it?’

Leftfield. Definitely leftfield.

Giles finished his tea.

‘I don’t know where Dupree is but I can find out. It
will take me a day or so. Give me a number and I’ll let you know.’

‘Can I call you instead?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Sure tomorrow night about
seven should be fine. Where are you staying?’

‘East end of the city,’ I lied.

He gave me his number and the conversation was over. A
few minutes later and I was back on the pavement.

I’d always thought Giles was a bit off the wall and
old age hadn’t really changed him for the better.

Back at the hotel I told Rachel we were here until at
least tomorrow night and she kept up the silent treatment.

With nothing better to do I wandered up to the Natural
History Museum and then across to the V & A and blew a few hours. I ate in
a Pizza Hut. I don’t know where Rachel ate. I had one drink in the bar and then
called it quits for the night.

I woke up early but had nothing to do and all day to
do it. I borrowed fifty quid from Rachel and decided to do the tourist bit. I
waited until the rush hour had gone and picked up a Zone card that would give
me travel all day.

I had no plan so I drifted through the centre of
London
seeing
much but taking in little. My head played around the upcoming encounter with
Dupree but the event seemed distant and unreal. I wasn’t sure what I was going
to do when I caught up with him, but doing anything was better than this
nothing.

I walked up the stairs at Bank tube station and went
for a wander around the financial city. You could almost feel the money in the
buildings around me but you could also feel the tension. There was change in
the wind. A few days ago the French bank BNP Paribas had signalled some serious
financial problems and the issues over the summer with the
US
markets
didn’t bode well.

I wound my way up to Holborn and then walked along to
Tottenham Court Rd. I cut through
Leicester
Square
and took my time crossing
Trafalgar Square
before I made for
Hyde Park
and some green.

I found a bench and watched the lunch time people
become the mid afternoon people. I got bored and stiff before deciding to go
back to the hotel.

I grabbed a sandwich from a corner store. I wasn’t
hungry but I forced myself to eat it. God alone knows what might happen tonight
and the last thing I needed was to be low on energy.

I lay on the hotel bed until
six thirty
and then
headed back out. I found a phone box and, at bang on seven, I phoned Giles’s
number. It rang half a dozen times and then the answer machine kicked in. I was
about to hang up when he picked up and apologised.

‘I was in the toilet. Your French man has an office on
Lloyds Avenue
in the city. He operates his business under the
company name King to Ace Ltd. I don’t know the number on
Lloyds Avenue
but it isn’t that long a road. I don’t expect to hear from you again.’

Before I could say thanks he hung up on me. I didn’t
know
Lloyds Avenue
but there was a Food and Wine across the road from me
and, after a quick transaction, I owned a shiny new A to Z.

The book told me that
Lloyds Avenue
was not a spit
from where I had been earlier in the day. It backed onto
Fenchurch St
station and was a short walk from the
Tower
of
London
.

I went back to the hotel to find that Rachel was out.
I scribbled a note and pushed it under the door. I didn’t know whether Dupree
would be at his office and I suspected a phone call at this time of night would
prove fruitless.

I tried to look up the company in the hotel phone book
but there was no entry under King to Ace. I borrowed the reception phone and
tried directory enquiries but the people with the answer didn’t have an answer.
My best bet was to pay a visit and suss out the lay of the land.