Upon his release Bruno helped him find accommodation and work at the body shop. Since then, Manuel had come to Pellegrinos every Friday night to eat and talk about old times and new plans with Bruno. It was during these chats that Manuel discovered Bruno had some troubles of his own and Manuel had willingly offered to help in an attempt to repay his debt to him.
Manuel entered the restaurant which was located in the base of a large office block on Castlereagh Street. Its double glazed façade afforded diners a clear view of the street beyond without the accompanying noise and fumes. Upon entering he saw Bruno standing at his counter, checking the bookings for the night, just as he did six nights of the week and had done so for fifteen years before Manuel had ever set foot there.
“Good Evening Manuel. You look well,” said the old man in greeting, warmly shaking his hand. Manuel again noted how much Bruno had aged since he had first met him. His hair was now completely white and there were deep, permanent lines around his eyes, mouth and forehead. He had lost weight as he aged and now only budged the scales to sixty kilograms and the black dinner suit he wore hung a little loose in places.
“And you old friend,” replied Manuel quietly.
”Freedom seems to be agreeing with you. Please, take a seat,” Bruno said, guiding his guest to a table in a quiet corner at the rear of the restaurant.
The restaurant had undergone a facelift since Manuel had worked there and some serious money had been spent. An oval shaped island bar now occupied the centre of the restaurant and the kitchen had been completely refurbished and was now open plan, allowing the clientele to watch the kitchen staff dance around the flaming grills as their meals were prepared.
New customers entered the restaurant and Bruno left to greet them. Manuel dined on a huge serve of Linguini con Pollo and two pints of beer before leaving and making his way to the Northern entrance of Hyde Park. It was their usual routine.
After a ten minute wait Bruno approached and they walked a short distance together before taking a seat on a park bench beneath the night shade of the large fig trees. At that hour, the park remained a busy thoroughfare for those with money, and a meeting place for those without, but their bench was far enough removed from all so they could talk in peace.
“You look well my friend. That girl of yours, Kylie? She must be satisfying your needs,” said Bruno with a wry smile.
“Yes she does, in every way,” replied Manuel, a rare smile briefly alighting on his lips.
“You must tell her nothing of this,” added Bruno in a more serious tone.
“I know,” replied Manuel, deciding to quickly change the subject. “How are preparations coming along?”
“We are close now.”
Chapter 5
It was almost eight o’clock Wednesday evening and Craig Thoms was nearing the end of his shift. He was tired from being run off his feet for the last ten hours, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand because he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He lazily strolled down the quiet hospital corridor pushing a wheeled bucket with a mop, scanning the hallway ahead while also listening for footsteps behind him. He casually turned around to double check that he was still alone and then ducked into the medical supply room on his left.
Working quickly, he pulled a key from his pocket, moved to the mesh walled drugs locker located in the corner of the room and unlocked it. It was the size of a large walk-in pantry and its shelves were neatly stocked and organised with antibiotics, painkillers and other medications that were kept in the ward. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder through the steel mesh that now encircled him and pressed forward with his task.
He quickly located and sized up the stocks of the drugs he was after on the shelves, knowing that he needed to strike a balance between taking as much as he could without taking too much and alerting the other staff members, particularly the hard-arsed Sister Patricia who ran the ward like a detention camp and possessed a sharp eye for detail.
“Though shalt not be greedy,” he reminded himself quietly.
He packed five small boxes into his underpants, dropped several ampoules into the murky water in his bucket and then quickly rearranged the remaining stock on the shelves in an effort to disguise what he had taken. He re-locked the doors with a gentle and quiet snick and tested it just to be extra safe, thus ensuring he didn’t make the mistake he’d once previously made by leaving the door ajar. Taking a deep breath, he put on his holier than thou face – which was a stretch of character for him - and ever so casually strolled back out into the hall, pushing his bucket ahead of him.
“Craig!” Hearing his name called from behind him sent a knife of despair straight through his spine.
Somehow he managed to resist the urge to run screaming down the hallway like someone who belonged in the psych ward, and slowly turned around as if nothing was wrong. He was momentarily confused and yet also relieved to see Natalie Bassett standing behind him. She was dressed in tight jeans and a black silk blouse that held Craig’s gaze for a moment too long before his eyes reached her face.
“Well hi princess, if I’d known you were coming to pay me a visit I would have got dressed up for the occasion,” he said, sweeping a hand across his dirty blue scrubs, hoping that the tone of his voice wasn’t as high and nervous as it sounded in his own ears.
“How are you Craig?” she asked unsmiling, sounding a little nervous herself.
“Fine, never better. I’ve just spent the last half hour cleaning up the shit of some eighty-seven year old bag, who is too old and weak to make it to the toilet on her own, but apart from that I’m great.”
Natalie regarded his scrubs with new found distaste and took an involuntary half step backwards.
“Good to hear, and too much information as usual.”
“Yep. I tell you, I’ve never seen so much crap in my life. I think she must have been saving it up for the last four years. And of course it had to happen just before the end of my shift. I hope someone knocks me on the head with a shovel if I get that bad. But enough about me and my problems,” he said, realising that he was talking way too much, which he attributed to his nerve-wracking illicit cargo. “What are you doing here?”
“Bryce is in the emergency ward.”
“What? What for?”
“They think it’s a nasty bout of food poisoning. I just thought I’d come and let you know. Maybe you could pay him a visit or something to cheer him up.”
“Yeah, sure. Anything for Bryce. I’m about to finish my shift so I’ll just get cleaned up and come on down in five.”
“Ok, thanks. He’d appreciate that I think.”
Craig turned and headed off down the corridor. Bryce was one of his genuine friends, someone who for whatever reason liked him, warts and all and Craig was the first to admit that he had plenty of warts. Bryce wasn’t someone who wanted Craig to be someone else, someone nicer, more diplomatic and less confronting. They’d met four years previously when they worked together at Carmichael’s Security – still Bryce’s current employer - and had remained close friends ever since.
Craig made his way to the cleaner’s storeroom and was relieved to find it empty. His heart was still beating fast, as if he had just taken three flights of stairs at a gallop. He removed the boxes from his underpants and carefully dried and transferred the ampoules from his bucket to his backpack which he had stashed earlier behind a small mountain of toilet paper. He stored the mop and bucket and threw his gloves in the medical waste bin. He cracked the door to check that the hallway was clear and made a calm dash to the staff locker room which was two doors further down the hall and fortuitously empty apart from someone taking a shower. He changed out of his work clothes and headed down to the Emergency ward on the ground floor.