To Catch A Storm (7 page)

She dropped the champagne bottle. He caught it before it spilled. She threw her head back, squeezed her eyelids closed tight and swam in the moment for a good thirty seconds. Once her eyes re-opened, he gave her the champagne back and she continued to neck it as he eased himself toward climax.

They lay in a collective glow and sniggered at the state of Janet’s knickers as they hung from the bedroom’s chandelier.

“Ripping them off and flinging them over my head was probably not the most lady like thing I’ve ever done.” They collapsed laughing. It was funny but she had sore marks on her hips where she’d ripped them off.

Joseph rolled over toward the phone, called room service and asked they send up some another bottle of champagne. While they waited, he got them Perrier waters from the mini bar and then held up a selection of spirits and mixers. Janet asked for a vodka and tonic. Neither of them knew what time it was and had no care. It didn’t seem even slightly odd to Janet that Joseph was walking around the room totally naked even though she’d only met him less than seven hours ago. She watched him as he goofed around making drinks and wanted his body near hers again. She pulled the sheet to cover herself, but it wasn’t that she felt odd being naked, she just had a slight chill. A phone had vibrated a few times as if receiving text messages but they were ignored. They were both in the moment. That moment that happens when two people connect.

They chatted and joked and played games whilst they waited for room service. They laughed about Janet’s huge burp at the end of their meal and she covered her face up in embarrassment reliving the moment. Once again, she went bright crimson which Joseph thought was hilarious.

After they’d drunk yet more, Janet said (slurred) she wanted to have a cigarette. Joseph who also didn’t smoke, apart from very occasionally, said he too would like one. They dressed and made their way down to the hotel’s bar where they were able to buy cigarettes from the bar staff. Let’s go to the car park to smoke Joseph said, adding ‘I need to get something from the car’.

At the car park, Joseph lit a cigarette and passed it to her before lighting one for himself. They walked to the car and he lifted up the boot lid (which was at the front of the car) and pulled out a bag which was very obviously Gucci.
“Don’t really wanna leave this in here overnight.”
“Is it your million pounds?” she asked glancing at the bag.

He nodded, adding “And one or two other necessities.” and tipped her one of his winks. “God, I fucking love smoking. Why’s it got to be so damned bad for you?
And
make you stink.”

“Shit isn’t it? I started smoking when I was at school which was pretty stupid, but I don’t really smoke more than one or two a week now. How about you?”

“Just when I’m nervous about something.” he said.

“What could you be nervous about? You’re the most self confident person I’ve ever met.” she said and this was not a lie. “ At least you seem it on the outside.”
He just smiled, choosing not to comment any further. “At least we’ll both stink, so it’s not so bad.”

They started to walk back toward the hotel’s entrance, Joseph with the bag slung over his shoulder. An Audi drove up the ramp and toward them and Joseph stopped in his tracks. It was going faster than it rightly should have been in a multi story car park, but not crazily fast. Then Joseph saw it was a different car to their getaway car and anyway, he’d sold that. They would not be in that car if (when) they came for him.
“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I was just a little shocked by how fast that car was going, that’s all.” he lied. They took the lift straight up to their floor and walked to room 374. Joseph stuck the bag on the floor next to the bathroom entrance and poured what remained of the champagne into the two glasses. Tonight, they had hollow legs.

“Ring and order some more booze, whatever you want.” With that, he disappeared into the bathroom.
“Good idea.” she said and picked up the phone. She went to pick up her glass of wine, but knocked the glass to the floor where it smashed. She barely noticed. Janet was definitely not thinking straight. She ordered a bottle of ‘good’ Scotch, with two glasses and lots of ice. Janet could no longer remember that the last time she’d drunk whiskey with Allan, an old boyfriend, she’d actually quite liked the taste and actually drank way too much of it, passed out unconscious so much so that Allan panicked when he couldn’t wake her up and called an ambulance. She awoke up in hospital just slightly before she had her stomach pumped. This was neatly swept under the carpet of Janet’s memory in her current drug, champagne and wine fuelled state.

Joseph turned on the taps to mask the sounds he would be making in the bathroom. He could hear her slightly muffled on the phone to room service. The odd words came through - ‘...Scotch... ...ice... ...how long?’

He pulled the side panel from the bath. It came away easily. He only had to hide it from her and she was pissed beyond belief anyway. He stuffed the bag into the cavity and pushed the panel back. He peeked out of the gap in the door and saw Janet was having yet another line and he decided he wanted one too.

Barely noticing the smell of smoke on one another, they had sex again. Their third showing. Though the other times had all blurred into a mash up of sex, drink, giggles and drugs now. Definition to the evening’s proceedings was fading. The sex this time it was less sensual. The finer edges worn away. Almost animal now.

. . .

A sharp double rap at the lock up door rattled through the space inside and awoke Carl. He went to open it with a feeling of relief spreading through his mind. Checking his watch, it could only be the rest of them. No one else would be about at 6:30am. Nevertheless he asked who it was. ‘Kyle and Jim’ was the answer. He pushed the door open.

He was shaking his head as soon as he saw the two of them. The looks on their faces told him everything he needed to know. His face and head was going bright red again.

They came in looking sheepish as the others woke up. The five of them were a sorry sight. All the risk, all the work and nothing to show for it. None of them were thinking straight now. Talk about having the rug pulled out from under you.

After they were ditched at the services. They’d wanted to hot-wire a car from the car park, but finding nothing suitable, they’d had to hitch a ride with a lorry. They’d got as far up the M6 as they could, then gone across country to find a car, eventually getting an old Ford Fiesta which served its purpose.

“I don’t fucking believe this.” said Charlie.

“I’m sorry, but how do we know this isn’t some plot that you’re in with that fucker?” Dan asked. “Do you really expect us to believe that he just walked away when you went to the bog? You two throw us off his tracks and then two weeks down the line and you go meet up with him and get your share of the cash...”

“How the fuck we know
you’re
not in it with him?” Jim came back. “Right now, I don’t know who or what to trust. My fucking head’s comin’ off... What I
do
know is that he is one devious fuck.”

Carl looked directly at Kyle and Jim “You wouldn’t do that to me would you lads?” the years they’d known one another writ heavily over his face.

“You know the answer to that Carl. I don’t even like that smug, fucking twat...” Kyle trailed off, hurt that his honour had been questioned in this way.

Carl turned from Kyle and Jim to Charlie “Ok, can’t believe we didn’t start this earlier, we need to put that insurance policy we took out into action.”

The others looked warily at one another.

“Ok, gonna need to get my hands on a computer?”

Carl raised his hands slightly to show he was in charge and he had a plan. “Ok, Dan and Kyle, get to Edinburgh train station. There will be plenty of people with laptops in their bags on trains. Go and get one. Jim and Charlie, you guys go and get breakfast and supplies for everyone. I’ll wait here, just in case he turns up. Oh and get some newspapers.”

Carl sat down in the quiet of the empty lockup. He tipped his head back and thought about how stupidly trusting he had been and how he wanted to just kill someone. Anyone. Just to release some tension. Just stab and stab and stab.

. . .

Joseph had stopped moving and was simply laid on his back. Dead of heart failure. Janet was atop him unknowingly having sex with a dead Joseph. Her eyes were shut, her head tipped back, she ground her hips against him and had another orgasm. She vaguely noticed he’d stopped moving and thought to herself with a smile on her face ‘I’ve worn him out’.

Janet briefly traced a finger over herself from her neck, to her nipples and down her stomach. She shuddered, then collapsed onto him, rolled to the side and let out a quiet giggle. She didn’t want to wake him. Her body dipped quickly into half deep sleep and half unconsciousness.

Room service had finally made a decision on what counted for a ‘good Scotch’ and brought up a bottle of Laphroaig with two heavy crystal tumblers and an ice bucket. After knocking several times, firmly but not so loud as to disturb other, frankly more respectable, guests, the Scotch was taken back to the bar.

‘Which woman orders a bottle of Scotch at 5am?’ Josh the young waiter muttered to himself as he walked away. ‘Someone with a death wish?’

The day after

At 11:00am precisely, she sat up in bed. Wide eyed, sweaty and confused; taking in her surroundings. Yet more unfamiliarity. Then, it came back to her. Hotel. Edinburgh. Alone. The dead guy… Joseph… he was in Glasgow. What else? She had inherited a crazy car and stolen a bag full of money. She wasn’t sure how well it sat with her conscience. ‘You stole off a dead guy Janet’, she told herself. A little shocked when it was put that way. ‘You used to be such a nice girl.’

She walked to her window and looked out at Edinburgh. She could see the castle and the gardens below, then further in the distance the train station and then a bridge and something clicked. She realised that she could see the hotel where she was actually staying. For her banking conference. And she had bags and clothes there.

The conference would be finished now she seemed to remember. She probably should have checked out from her room. She rang and explained that she had been ill and would need to keep her room another day. They were fine and asked no questions thankfully. She couldn’t face bumping into conference stragglers today.

A large gurgle erupted from deep within her stomach. She was hungry. Very hungry. She had barely eaten yesterday. Had she missed breakfast? She dialled reception and asked if she could have breakfast brought up. ‘Of course Madam’ was the reply. She asked for a continental breakfast with coffee and sure enough within minutes there was a knock at the door and a young man had a tray with her breakfast. Her papers sat on the carpet outside her suite and he brought them in and placed them on her dining table. She took her mind off recent incidents for a while tucking into warm croissants and drinking strong coffee. She scanned the Scotsman for any news of a death at a hotel in Glasgow but there was nothing. In The Times, it was all the same stuff. Political scandal. Upcoming elections in the US. Shock horror, a TV star had snorted cocaine at a party and someone had filmed it on a phone. ‘So what?’ she asked the paper. Again, she was mainly looking for news of a dead man being found in Glasgow. There was no such a story.

She kept scanning. On page 10 of the Times though, a headline above a small article grabbed her interest.
£17 MILLION ROTHKO NABBED UNDER THE NOSES OF TOP LONDON AUCTION HOUSE.
A Rothko had been stolen from an auction house in London by thieves posing as the secure courier company who was supposed to deliver it to its new owner. The painting had recently sold for over £16.7 million. Didn’t Joseph say something like - ‘he’d stolen a painting worth millions’?

Massive co-incidence? If he was behind this, it would explain that bag of cash. He’d just sold the painting on more than likely. He seemed very smug with himself - as you would be if you’d successfully lifted a painting worth millions and then sold it on. No, it had to be. Surely. It had happened the morning that she met Joseph. It couldn’t be a co-incidence.

It made up her mind. If it had been someone’s hard earned cash, that might be different, but there was a strong possibility that this was the money from this stolen painting. If she didn’t have it, someone else would. Who had lost out after all? The person who had bought this. But surely, they would have some sort of insurance. If not, they would take the auction house to court for the money and they would probably have insurance. She needed to check more of the news and see what was going on. Had any other gang members been caught? Or were they likely trying to find Joseph and that bag of cash too? They were going to feed him to... someone or something. Those particular details escaped her right now. She greedily finished the rest of her breakfast plate.

She needed to get out of her dress and into something less flash. She had no toiletries or spare clothes, she smelled. A lot. She couldn’t rely on the concierge to bring her deodorant. Could she? She needed to charge her phone and had no charger with her. No, plus she needed to get out and get some fresh air. She’d been in hotel bedrooms for days it seemed.

She went out in her black dress and high heels. She looked pretty odd she knew, but this was a necessity. She simply avoided eye contact with anyone. She put on her ‘fuck everyone face.’ It was similar to Lamborghini girl but with less panache. She found a nearby chemist and half filled a basket with everything she would need if she was to spend the next week in a hotel room. Hotel toiletries were all well and good and nice as a little treat occasionally, but not like having your own toiletry bag filled with your own toiletries. Next she got a few changes of clothing and some very needed new and spare underwear. This was not the usual clothes shopping trip, there was no trying clothes on, she took a pile of clothes to the counter and handed over a wad of cash. Then finally, she found a mobile phone shop and pulled out the dead mobile she had been carrying around. A young salesman found her the correct chargers.

Safely back in her suite, she charged the phones and each had several new messages awaiting. She was trying as hard as she could to ignore that window back to her ‘usual’ life, but it was not going away. She was missing from a financial conference and she’d missed two business meetings. Her boss was annoyed as hell. Finally, she sent a message to say she had food poisoning. It did the job, her boss gingerly replied asking if she needed a doctor? She said she was over the worst of it now and would keep him up to date.

Ignoring text messages on Joseph’s phone, she examined it to see if there was anything else in there that might be of interest. There wasn’t. Apart from the text messages that had come in since they’d met, there wasn’t anything of note. It seemed Joseph either didn’t have any friends or just deleted messages after he’d read them. No Facebook. No chat. Very unsocial.

. . .

“Why would he come to Edinburgh?” Carl asked Charlie and Dan.

“Surely, you’d go to the opposite end of the country if you screwed over your mates? I don’t get it.” Dan said in a hushed tone.

“Guys, guys, we don’t know for sure he’s here, all we can tell is that his phone is located here currently. He could have had it stolen. Or he could have left it here to throw us off his trail. That’s much more likely knowing that slime ball.” Charlie pointed out.

Carl had driven the three of them in the bigger Merc from the lock up. They had a bag with two guns, knuckledusters and baseball bats in the boot. Not that they thought they’d need it for Joseph. To them Joseph was a posh public school boy with a criminal mind, but he was not able to handle himself. Carl was worried about the fact that there had been no response whatsoever to his texts, calls and answer phone messages he’d left. Maybe he had just left the phone here as a decoy to put them off his trail? Theoretically, he could be half way around the world by now. Laid on a beach somewhere hot and exotic. Or was he just being his superior smug self, lording it up in a posh Edinburgh hotel thinking he’d got one over on the muscled up thickos of the gang?

They sat in a huddle in the corner of the bar, keeping an eye on reception and trying their hardest to look like they fitted in here. They were doing an okay job of it. They didn’t have the air of business men about them, but they could pass for staying in Edinburgh for a lads weekend, just about. Charlie had asked reception if there was a Joseph Nicholson staying here. There was not. Charlie had said they were meeting him in the hotel bar but weren’t sure if he was staying in the hotel. Now they were going to play the waiting game. Sooner or later, he’d have to pass through the reception
if
he was in the hotel.

With the thinking that the woman from Glasgow might be with Joseph, Carl set out what was to happen. Scenario One. If they saw Joseph. Grab him and bundle him into the car and get him to the lockup. It didn’t matter who saw or how much noise or disruption this made. Scenario Two. If they saw Joseph and the woman. Exactly the same as scenario One. Except with the pair of them. Scenario Three. If they saw the woman from Glasgow without Joseph, they would need to show caution. She had seen Dan and had a good look at his face and probably at Carl’s from following her car. Plus she was potentially the key to finding Joseph. She had not seen Charlie, so he would follow her and try to get her isolated. Charlie seemed very comfortable with this. He said he had a trick up his sleeve.

. . .

She ate Croque-Madame from room service, slept for an hour then awoke a little restless and decided to go to the spa for a massage. After all, her life was going to be changing and she was going to be doing a lot more Janet pampering. May as well make a start on that now. No time like the present.

Feeling relaxed and fresh (she had decided to have a facial whilst she was in the spa), she resolved to venture out into Edinburgh. It was a warm Friday evening. She needed a drink. She stuck a cheap blouse and jeans on she’d picked up on her mini clothes shop and covered her black eye as best she could with several heavy dabs of Touche Éclat. As her blackened eye was mainly in her eyelid, she found if she went quite dark with eye shadow on the other side it evened things out.

She wound her way around to the bar where all this madness started. She scanned the cocktail menu, ordered a Singapore Sling and went over to sit at the table where he’d been. The bar was quiet and she could relax and catch up with friends online. She’d stayed away from Facebook, but she knew she had a lot of messages awaiting her on there as she’d been off the radar for a while. A few friends wondered when she’d be back in London.

After finishing up three drinks, she set off for a stroll. Once again, she had a taste for drink tonight. She was going to take it easy though. Last time she got a taste for it, she ended up losing her memory and waking up next to dead Joseph. One or two more couldn’t be too bad though. She walked across Princes Street and up the hill to George Street and took a left, window shopping as she went. The shops were closed now, but she was making mental notes of things she liked. She found herself in a dimly lit bar not dissimilar to the bar she’d just left. Dim lighting was good. She didn’t feel like she needed to hide, but it felt good to be able to dissolve a into bar without standing out. A blackened eye did that to you. At the bar, she ordered a large Bombay Sapphire & tonic with a good squeeze of lime. It was still quiet and the bar man said he’d bring her drink over for her. There was only a handful of people in. She sat at a small table in the corner and sipped her drink slowly, savouring the delicate, herby fragrance.

Positive and happy now, she’d put the tough day and memory loss behind her. She evaluated her life and found herself at a cross roads. Except it wasn’t a cross roads, it was more like a roundabout with ten or twenty exits all going different directions. She had a good career but was utterly bored with it. It only went one direction and that was further into finance, which was fine, but good god it was boring. She didn’t want to be bored anymore. Life was too short to be bored. Now, she had the opportunity to make a new start and do something she really wanted. Not just something she’d drifted into because she’d happened to be good at mathematics from a young age. She knew of women her age who’d been able to set up in business as they had the backing of their rich, city husbands who invested in them. She sneered at the frivolity of their cake making businesses and dog grooming bars their husbands bankrolled for them. But given the choice, now that she had it, what would she do? Her possibilities were limitless. Well almost, she still needed to see exactly how much cash was in the bag, but she guessed definitely upwards of two million. Maybe she needed to do nothing for a while. Just go and travel; enjoy herself. A little time on the French Riviera or perhaps Thailand or maybe the West Coast of America; it was quite a boyish thing, but she wanted to drive the West Coast from LA, through San Fran where a friend from university now lived, on to Seattle and finally up to Vancouver where she had an aunt she was fond of. It would have to be during the summer (this summer?) and in a convertible, but not an American one, too big for her. Maybe a Lambo. If they did convertibles. And with someone at her side. She’d be no good doing this alone. It’d need to be with a nice guy. She wasn’t sure why this need was so strong. She just wasn’t particularly good at being single. As independent and successful as she was, she liked a man around. Not to look after her. She definitely didn’t need looking after. She just didn’t like being on her own. Her own company.

She looked up from the trip that was unfolding at the bottom of her large gin and tonic glass and straight into the eyes of a guy sat at the bar. He smiled and looked into his pint, like he was a little shy. He was cute. Very cute. And damn, he already had the upper hand on her as she’d held the look for a fraction longer than him. She should have looked away straight away. She was getting cocky lately, but she supposed she quite liked it. The new, more confident Janet. She played it cool and continued to sip her drink. She was wondering if he would make a move. She doubted it from the way he looked away and back into his drink, but it was amazing what a pint could do to someone’s bravado. She gently reminded herself of what had happened to her over the last few days and told herself - ‘No!’ The last thing she needed right now was to meet a man. She was not out for that, she was out for a few drinks to help herself shake off last few days. That was what she told herself. The reality was that she found herself watching him after a few minutes. Looking up from busying herself on her phone. Being careful to not make eye contact again, she kept her eye on him and a minute later, he looked up from his drink to her again, but this time she avoided his eyes. He was tall, probably six foot, with a mop of dark hair and light blue or green eyes, she couldn’t quite see in this light.
The doors opened wide, letting in the noise of traffic and a lot of woman. A hen do started to pour rowdily in. Not the usual pink sequinned cowboy hats or printed T-shirts. They were actually just dressed regularly, but their vibe still very much said hen do (or out for a good time / off the leash / bring it on boys / I don’t usually drink but I’m sloshed now). Perhaps they didn’t really know where they were going or where the most appropriate bars were, but this was not one. They congregated en masse at the bar. Surrounding the cute guy. They ordered drinks (mainly vodka) and shots and then the cooing and giggling started and it was all aimed squarely at the cute guy. He must be used to this sort of attention she though.