either. If she didn’t, something must have happened to her, possibly connected to a case she was working on. I just need to get into her office, take a look at her correspondence …” Though at my reading speed, looking at it would be all I could do, I thought.
Vora chewed his lip, torn between doing the legal thing and doing the right thing. “You don’t need to get into her office,” he said at last. He glanced through the glass walls towards the reception area, but no one waswatching. “I’ve been copying her case files, so I could pass her clients over to another firm. The police will expect to see the originals, but these …” He gathered up the copies he had stacked on the table and dropped them into the two box files. “I’ll just copy them again,” he said. “But don’t mention my name. I don’t know how you got hold of these, OK?”
There were a few empty cartons lying about that had originally held photocopy paper. Vora clipped the box files shut and handed them to me, and I wedged them into the cardboard box.
“Good luck,” he said.
“I’ll find her,” I said. “Or I’ll find out what happened to her.”
“If something did happen …” Vora hesitated. “Watch out it doesn’t happen to you too.”
They were only legal papers, but the weight of the files nearly pulled my arms out of their sockets before I made it as far as the Tube and finally got to rest the box on my lap. The carriage rumbled and rocked and swayedwestwards, the other passengers playing on their smartphones or staring into space, while I peeked into the box.
At school I’d eventually been diagnosed as dyslexic, but by the time they’d organized remedial classes I’d been expelled for fighting … and dealing drugs, and criminal damage. There were adult remedial classes I could take now, but I’d never got around to it because I couldn’t be bothered and I was too embarrassed. Now I wished I’d swallowed my pride; it was going to take me months to read all these. I didn’t have Sherwood’s money, and I would barely have time to dump this lot at the gym before my appointment at his plush brothel of an office over the pool hall. I counted my options: I could tell Sherwood I needed more time, I could tell him to go ride a donkey, or I could follow Nicky’s example and disappear … any or all of which would leave Delroy and Winnie in the firing line.
I didn’t have any options at all.
Sean the Wardrobe smirked when he saw me standing on the doorstep outside Sherwood’s offices, like he knew something I didn’t. Istudied the bruise on his face. “It hardly shows now,” I said. “Did you dab a bit of Estée Lauder on it?” The smirk wilted into a sulky glower and he stood back to let me go first up the stairs. At Sherwood’s office he reached past me to open the door, without knocking this time, and I wondered why until I realized Sherwood was not behind his big desk. Elvis was there, though, perched on the same unit in the corner, like a pet lizard. He said nothing, just watched me, and I guessed this was another of Sherwood’s games.
My mum had taken me to the dentist once, when I was about eight, to get a tooth extracted. I knew it was going to be painful and I wanted to get it over with, but this particular jerk of a dentist seemed to go out of his way to prolong the anticipation to screaming point. I had sat waiting in the padded chair for what seemed like a day and a half, staring at a rack full of gas cylinders and some dubious-looking chemical flask with a long clear tube leading to a mask, while Mum tried to distract me with daft questions about my favourite video games. I was reminded of that experience now.
Already I was getting less respect than on my last visit. Sherwood knew something was up.
“Flynn, hey,” said Sherwood as he appeared from a door in a recess beyond his desk, shrugging on his jacket. He was wearing a different suit, as sharply cut as the first. In his line of
Vora chewed his lip, torn between doing the legal thing and doing the right thing. “You don’t need to get into her office,” he said at last. He glanced through the glass walls towards the reception area, but no one waswatching. “I’ve been copying her case files, so I could pass her clients over to another firm. The police will expect to see the originals, but these …” He gathered up the copies he had stacked on the table and dropped them into the two box files. “I’ll just copy them again,” he said. “But don’t mention my name. I don’t know how you got hold of these, OK?”
There were a few empty cartons lying about that had originally held photocopy paper. Vora clipped the box files shut and handed them to me, and I wedged them into the cardboard box.
“Good luck,” he said.
“I’ll find her,” I said. “Or I’ll find out what happened to her.”
“If something did happen …” Vora hesitated. “Watch out it doesn’t happen to you too.”
They were only legal papers, but the weight of the files nearly pulled my arms out of their sockets before I made it as far as the Tube and finally got to rest the box on my lap. The carriage rumbled and rocked and swayedwestwards, the other passengers playing on their smartphones or staring into space, while I peeked into the box.
At school I’d eventually been diagnosed as dyslexic, but by the time they’d organized remedial classes I’d been expelled for fighting … and dealing drugs, and criminal damage. There were adult remedial classes I could take now, but I’d never got around to it because I couldn’t be bothered and I was too embarrassed. Now I wished I’d swallowed my pride; it was going to take me months to read all these. I didn’t have Sherwood’s money, and I would barely have time to dump this lot at the gym before my appointment at his plush brothel of an office over the pool hall. I counted my options: I could tell Sherwood I needed more time, I could tell him to go ride a donkey, or I could follow Nicky’s example and disappear … any or all of which would leave Delroy and Winnie in the firing line.
I didn’t have any options at all.
Sean the Wardrobe smirked when he saw me standing on the doorstep outside Sherwood’s offices, like he knew something I didn’t. Istudied the bruise on his face. “It hardly shows now,” I said. “Did you dab a bit of Estée Lauder on it?” The smirk wilted into a sulky glower and he stood back to let me go first up the stairs. At Sherwood’s office he reached past me to open the door, without knocking this time, and I wondered why until I realized Sherwood was not behind his big desk. Elvis was there, though, perched on the same unit in the corner, like a pet lizard. He said nothing, just watched me, and I guessed this was another of Sherwood’s games.
My mum had taken me to the dentist once, when I was about eight, to get a tooth extracted. I knew it was going to be painful and I wanted to get it over with, but this particular jerk of a dentist seemed to go out of his way to prolong the anticipation to screaming point. I had sat waiting in the padded chair for what seemed like a day and a half, staring at a rack full of gas cylinders and some dubious-looking chemical flask with a long clear tube leading to a mask, while Mum tried to distract me with daft questions about my favourite video games. I was reminded of that experience now.
Already I was getting less respect than on my last visit. Sherwood knew something was up.
“Flynn, hey,” said Sherwood as he appeared from a door in a recess beyond his desk, shrugging on his jacket. He was wearing a different suit, as sharply cut as the first. In his line of
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