getting ready to bin it and start staking out the Vietnamese when the unmistakable haircut of Max Kleinmann emerged from the doorway. He walked down the three marble steps and chucked a left towards the square. I pulled off the blanket and refolded it exactly as I’d found it.
Hood up and hands in the lower, bigger pockets of my parka, I started south again. I fingered the blister-pack, bending it over the sharp ends of the knives until they pierced the plastic. I hadn’t opened them before now, in case I got stopped and searched. An open knife is an offensive weapon. One still in its packaging is a birthday present for your mum.
He was walking quickly but he wasn’t aware: he was too busy waffling away on his mobile. His head was down, his shoulders hunched against the drizzle. Rain glistened on the pavements as the street-lights flickered into life.
He dodged the traffic on his way to the green area at the centre of the square. He was either going to carry on towards Oxford Street, or head for the entrance to the underground car park.
He passed a red phone box and disappeared. I followed him into the stairwell, no more than five seconds behind. I slowed down almost immediately and heard a door bang.
I ran down the first flight of concrete steps, turned on the landing, then down another. The smell of stale piss made my eyes water. I didn’t know if there were cameras down here, but I had to assume there were. I pulled one of the knives out of my pocket and held the pretend wood in my palm with the blade against my wrist. I went through the door into the basement.
The smell of exhaust fumes took over. Cars lined the concrete walls. There was movement to my left. Kleinmann was in a black jacket and matching jeans. Ahead of him, lights flashing, was a new red Volvo two-door hatchback.
‘Hey, Doc! Am I pleased to see you!’
I waved. Big smile, big surprise. I still couldn’t see any cameras
His eyes narrowed, trying to make out who I was.
‘Fancy seeing you here, Doc!’
I got nearer, looking down so my face was covered by the baseball cap.
He cocked his head to the side, trying to get a better look at me. ‘Do we—’
‘Know each other? Yeah, course we do.’ I grabbed his hand with my right one, making sure he felt the weapon dig into him, and embraced him with my left. ‘Fuck me about and I’ll cut you.’
His body shuddered as he tried to step back. I gripped him and dug deeper.
‘Please, take what you want. I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise.’
‘Shut up! Get into the car!’
He nodded, wild-eyed.
I pulled away from him, my right hand still gripping him and my left hand on his shoulder, controlling him.
He was flapping big-time.
‘Don’t look at me. Look at the floor.’
A car mounted the ramp to my half-left, its tail lights glowing red as it made its way to the exit.
‘Just stay calm, all right? Don’t do anything. You got kids? Think of them.’
He shook his head, which made him more of a dickhead. I would have said yes, to make my assailant think he had the leverage.
‘Then think of your wife. Got one of those?’
I let go as another car swung towards us. ‘Go to the driver’s side.’ I made sure I stayed level with him, the far side of his Volvo as a Prius glided past us. We got in together. I jabbed the knife against his crotch as he went to put his seatbelt on. ‘Not yet. Don’t look at me. Face the front.’
We were inches from a bare concrete wall, with his reserved parking sign drilled into it at head height. His nostrils flared as he breathed. I knew what was going through his head. He was working hard at not fucking up here. He wanted to get this nightmare over and done with.
By the look of him, he hadn’t shaved since I last saw him.
‘Give me your phone.’
I could hear a couple talking behind us. I saw them in the wing mirror. They didn’t notice us. Even if they did, they’d probably do the city avoidance thing and not want to get involved. They’d rather walk past and see if their suspicions were right when they watched the ten o’clock news.
He passed over an iPhone. I took it with my left hand, and kept the other holding the knife to his