“No. But we’re not taking the most direct route.”
“Why not?”
“Because you said you wanted to walk. And because the guy I spoke to needs forty-five minutes or so to get things lined up for us.”
“What things?”
“You’ll see.”
“Who did you speak to?”
“A friend of mine.”
“Who?”
“He’s ex-Royal Corps of Signals. We worked together on a job in Gibraltar, once. I did him a couple of favours. He told me to give him a call if there was ever anything he could do for me.”
“Where does he work now?”
“You’ll find out, soon enough. Don’t be so impatient.”
We crossed Piccadilly against the lights, continued straight down St James’s Street, and swung round to the left onto Pall Mall. The wind was picking up a little so Melissa buttoned her coat as we walked. We kept going at a relaxed pace, neither of us speaking, until we reached the outskirts of Trafalgar Square. Then I saw Melissa stiffen, and wrap her arms across her body.
“Is everything OK?” I said.
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just these pigeons. I hate them.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that. Why?”
“It’s not just pigeons. It’s all birds.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. Except one kind.”
“Dead ones?”
“No. Because then I’d still have to see the nasty, feathery bodies. As far as I’m concerned, the only good bird is an extinct bird.”
“I see.”
“Now you probably think I’m weird.”
“Why would I think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an adult with a concealed 9mm and I’m freaked out by small, harmless creatures.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s nice.”
Melissa didn’t respond for a moment. Then she jabbed me with her elbow and nodded towards a couple of teenagers. They were standing next to the vacant fourth plinth, staring at each other, their faces about two inches apart.
“Those kids, over there,” she said. “What will they do next? Kiss? Or fight?”
They were gazing earnestly into each other’s eyes, mirroring each other’s posture, and the boy’s head was moving very slowly towards hers, their lips closing inexorably together.
“Kiss,” I said.
The girl took a step back and slapped the boy across the face so hard we could hear it twenty feet away.
“Really,” Melissa said. “Shows what you know about nice.”
We made it past the front of the National Gallery without any pigeons coming too close to us, crossed St Martin’s place and followed round to the left towards Charing Cross Road. The pavement grew noticeably busier the closer we got to Leicester Square tube station, and it became more difficult to keep together as we elbowed our way through the unruly crowds. We kept up our momentum, though, and when we were almost at Oxford Street a guy stepped forward and handed Melissa a flyer.
“Look at this,” she said, handing the paper to me.
It was an advert for an Elvis impersonator who was appearing that night in a pub on Wardour Street.
“Do you want to go?” I said.
“Not really,” she said. “I just thought it would be funny if it was our guy. The one who saw our fireman.”
“You’re right,” I said. “It would be hilarious. Although, if he is as good at singing as he is at running from the police, it might not be too bad.”
We pushed our way through a gaggle of people milling around outside the Dominion Theatre, then continued down Tottenham Court Road until we were level with Goodge Street tube station.
“So where are you taking me?” Melissa said.
“Somewhere I think you’ll like,” I said, guiding her left into Howland Street.
“How much further is it?”
“Not far. We’re nearly there.”
“Is it a pub?”
“No.”
“A restaurant, then?
“No. Not even close.”
“Then, what? she said, scanning buildings on both sides of the street. “I can’t see anything. Is it underground?”
“Absolutely not,” I said, leading her across the road and into the narrow entrance to Cleveland Mews. “In fact, quite the opposite.”
“Now I’m getting intrigued. If we were in a car, this is the time I’d expect you to say we’d run out of petrol…”
“It looks a little strange, I’ll give you that. But we can’t go in the main entrance, so we’re meeting my friend along here.”
We continued for another thirty yards and then stopped in front of an unmarked, grey steel door set into a textured concrete wall. A keypad was mounted on the frame, but I ignored that and knocked twice on the metal surface. Immediately the door swung open and a man in dark blue overalls beckoned us inside.
“Gerard, good to see you,” I said, and introduced him to Melissa.
Gerard closed the door behind us and led us across a narrow, grey-painted waiting area to a pair of full height metal turnstiles in the centre of a glass wall. He held a proximity card up to a reader to the side of the right-hand turnstile and gestured for Melissa to go through.
“It’s OK,” he said. “There are no metal detectors here. They’re only at the public entrance.”
“What is this place?” Melissa said when I joined her on the other side.
“You’ll see, soon enough,” I said.
Gerard emerged from the turnstile and lead us to a pair of lifts. He hit the down button, the doors to the right hand car slid open, and we followed him inside.
“These lifts only serve the admin offices,” he said, pressing the button for the basement.
We descended one level and followed Gerard out of the left and a long corridor to the left. After twenty-five yards he stopped to open a door in the right-hand wall and hold it for Melissa to go through. This led to another corridor, but this one was curved. We followed round half of the circle and found the entrance to another lift. Gerard hit the only button, but this time it took thirty seconds before the door began to open.
The inside of this elevator car was about three times as tall as a standard one. A rail ran round the outside for passengers to hold on to, and above the door a panel displayed not only the floor information but also the speed. Gerard hit the button for the thirty-fourth floor and the lift started to climb. We picked up speed till four of the seven bars in the triangular pictogram speedometer had turned green.
“We could go faster,” Gerard said, seeing me looking at the indicator. “But I don’t like to. It messes with my ears.”
“That suits me,” Melissa said. “I have no ambition to hurtle up in the air like I’m in a Saturn V.”
In less than a minute we slowed, then came to a stop. The doors opened and Gerard stood back for us to exit first. We stepped out into a tall, circular space, like we’d emerged from the hub of a wheel.
“Oh, my goodness,” Melissa said, striding across to the wall of curving windows. “This view. I can see… everything.”
“Do you know where you are now?” I said.
“This was a surprise?” Gerard said.