novelxo Chapter 14: Suit You Sir
Melrose Philips was many things. His mother always maintained he was a worthless idle sod. While his long-suffering girlfriend would comment on many occasions. “I really don’t know why I stay with you.” “It must be my good looks and wealth.” Melrose would sarcastically quip in response. Even his friends would grumble at his inability to lose at cards, on the occasions he persuaded them to indulge in a hand or two. But no one who knew Melrose could say he was dishonest. Why to even look at him you, would take him for a vicar, or some kind of Savile Row tailor. Which was handy in his chosen calling, for Melrose Philips was a villain. He was also the inside man on this job.
Not Daren Cottrill he was the exact opposite, except for the one trait of being dishonest. But his nerve served him as well as Melrose’s disguise of innocence. When Daren would do a smash and grab, Melrose would achieve his goal with subtlety. That was how they met.
Melrose had followed his mark to the top the Eiffel tower, for an exchange of goods he had fortunately found out about. And so armed with a duplicate brief case, he had relieved his mark of his diamonds. Just before Daren made his move, bashing in to the jewellery courier and grabbing his case. Now only containing some French newspapers. With one deft movement Daren was over the safety rail, and plummeting down to earth. Before his micro glider suit deployed; and he soared away across the Paris skyline. In the pandemonium no one paid any attention to the plainly dressed man, who looked so implacably innocent.
The next time they met was strangely enough in a jewellers shop. This time in London; where Melrose was leading the proprietor a merry dance. He pocketed choice trinkets and moved the display about, so only a full examination of the case would show the loss. That was when Daren came smashing in wearing an exoskeleton power suit. And disabling the auto lock on the door, he just stormed through the shop like a whirlwind. By the time he stomped out through the broken doorway, there was little left to take. And Melrose had to content himself with the meagre haul he had grabbed, before the pandemonium began. He just stood aghast as the ladened down Daren fired up a jet pack, and disappeared from view.
The little he could contribute as a witness did little to help the police catch the villain. But during the process, Melrose’s innocent probing furnished him with a lot more clues than the official investigators could ever guess at. So armed with his new found information, Melrose decided to turn these unfortunate crossed paths in to a potential plus. He set out to catch a thief.
His investigations took Melrose to the soft criminal underbelly, of London’s less reputable end of town. Where life was not only cheep, you could get a discount for a dozen. Despite Melrose’s saint like appearance, he managed to walk through this valley of evil completely unscathed. Partially through the incredulity of his appearance here. But mostly because like a shark seeking his prey; Melrose could see any other predators long before they could strike. And so he saved them the embarrassment of being out classed in their sleight of hand, or general thuggery. For Melrose just wanted his man, and had no need to make unnecessary foes.
His meandering path took him to the Faucet Inn. A disreputable haunt, where even the barman; a figure you definitely wound not want to meet on a busy full lit street, let alone a dark ally. Had prudently erected a wire mesh across the bar, protecting him from his customers, with only a small gap through which to ply his trade. And the glass collectors demanded danger money, due to the frequency that the objects of their trade were so often turned upon them.
This was where Melrose stepped, flooding the darkened room with light, and drawing the attention of the worst of the worst. They say cream floats; well the clientele of the Faucet Inn would sink like stones. And in their line of business they often did; when they grew too tired of life to not keep their eyes in the backs of their heads. Melrose sauntered across to the mesh, and in a loud voice ordered a drink. After a snort of incredulity by the barman, he was handed almost with reverence, a full pint glass of Absinth, enough to drop an elephant. He turned to the room in general and gave a nod. Now every eye was on him. Either in pairs, or the odd single one belonging to look out men, unsuited for their occupation. Then as the tension seemed to reach a fever pitch of paused silence, he raised the glass to his lips and downed it in one go. The seconds seemed to pass like an eternity as the crowd now hungry for the payoff, felt cheated that this waif of a man had not collapsed in a heap on the floor. But Melrose just turned back to the barman and returned his empty.
That was when the hand fell on his shoulder. “I think I know you from somewhere friend”, and smiling Melrose turned to see Daren there in the flesh. As his quarry tried to recall just how this odd ball was giving him an unhappy feeling. “The Eifel tower you were there, and that jewellers shop. Are you the old bill?” Chairs screeched and toppled, as the clientele of the Faucet Inn rose as one. If anything could unite them, it was the prospect of cornering one of their most hated enemies, the police.
With a casual flick of Daren’s wrist, and Melrose was a free man. Then in a loud voice aimed at the bar in general, he spoke to Daren. “You did provide a nice distraction to my Eifel jewellery heist. Did you enjoy the French news papers I’d substituted for the haul, I particularly like their cartoons myself.” Daren was letting these facts soak in, as he weighed the man before him up. When Melrose came in with his verbal coup de grace, in this fight for his life. For to lose the trust of the room, would earn him a swift trip to the morgue. If anybody found the pieces.
“And I must say, my take at Goldberg’s gem emporium was pitiful. After you came in like a bull in a china shop. My name is Melrose.” And he thrust out his hand for his interrogator to take. A small bottle of pills fell from his out stretched palm, and Daren’s cat like reflexes kicked in to action, snatching the bottle from the air. While his eyes never wavered from Melrose’s. Then raising it up, he read the label. “Dexirenolcane. Isn’t that what Russian spies used to cancel out the effects of alcohol?”
He realised Melrose’s little trick with the Absinth. “Just a little calling card, to get your attention”, grinned Melrose. And with a shrewd smile Daren took his hand. “I think I’ve got a little job you could help me with.” And then like a collective sigh, the bar returned to its usual hubbub. As a new clandestine plan was hatched between just two more customers, it was business as usual.
Over in a corner the two men nursed drinks, while Daren explained the job. “There’s a regular flight between the American sky tower and the Soviet one. Strictly for high flyers in the gambling world, a sort of space casino. It’s even decked out like a Mississippi river boat inside, but vegasified to suit the more discerning modern gambler. Now I’ve been sniffing out this job for months; only thing is that security is so hot they would spot a con a mile off. Now the way I see it, you’d just waltz under their radar.” He clapped Melrose on the shoulder. “If you weren’t sat here now, I’d still be swearing you were just an innocent bystander on those other jobs.” Melrose took a sip of his drink, and mulled the proposition over. “Even given that I can get in there, who’s my target? And more importantly, how do I get out with the loot if security’s so tight?” Daren leaned in and began to whisper, “That’s where I come in.”
The clean-cut gent walked up to the departure desk; his impeccable suit was lit up by the faint glow of his Mallomite brief case. The clerk beamed at the passenger, as he handed over his ticket. “Just one way sir?” The angelic smile beamed down on her. “Yes I’ve some business at the other end.” Then he took his now ratified ticket, before heading towards the security gate. He had already been thoroughly scanned before he could even approach the sky tower; but as Daren had said, on this flight security was tight. The lock clicked open, and the big man stared down at the meticulously packed sewing machine; squeezed in between all the other accoutrements of a top specialist of Savile Row. With a grunt, the heavyset security man waved Melrose through. He was just another employee; not like the real passengers who were taking the trip to win or lose a fortune.
These elite of the gambling world didn’t go shopping; the shops came to them. Hawkers displaying their high-end goods for the discerning billionaire, and of course there were the specialists like the tailor Melrose was posing as. He picked up his case and proceeded on board. The fabulous wealth of this palace of the sky didn’t phase Melrose; it was still Mallomite on the outside, just like his case. After the briefest of time in the discomfort of the hub, he proceeded to the slowly rotating wheel, which constituted the hive of activity for the earnest gamblers, and the hangers on alike.
The first thing Melrose had to do was dispose of the contents of his case; it wouldn’t do to leave a calling card when he did the swap. As long as they were far enough from the sky tower, no one would notice another bit of junk being jettisoned in to space. Some scrap collector would harvest it one day; then it was time to mingle. Melrose and Daren had picked the mark some time ago. A Lithuanian Quorn baron, who now enjoying his wealth by spreading it about. The table he was sat at held nine players, all intent on their cards and the other players. Least they betray some little tell; an insight in to how good they thought their cards were. Melrose summed them up in an instant, but Martian rules poker wasn’t his game. He was strictly an in and on man. The hangers on were too busy on the play too, after all if some idiot tried to steal from this casino, where could he go? He’d never get off board up here.
So it was a matter of only a moment. A passing interested party, a glance down, and Melrose was off with the cases swapped. No one knew a thing. He’s even sized up the camera angles for the security system to shield the swap; they were mainly interested on the table anyway. Even the rich weren’t trusted to not cheat the bank. Now though Melrose had a clock ticking, for now he was holding the metaphorical smoking gun.
At some time Mr Vilnius would need to add some more notes to his depleting pile on the table, and then all pandemonium would break loose. Melrose’s route seemed random, as he merely looked like an interested party perusing the games; but he always edged closer to his goal. The waste-disposal hatch again, effectively a mini airlock in to the vacuum of space. The sudden depressurisation would blow the case away from the craft, where a suited up Daren would be waiting to grab it. Then do his daring decent to Earth, just one mini jet pack away. It would be as if the money had never existed.
Melrose closed the inner hatch, and heard the whoosh of a job well done. Only then did he allow himself one brief smile of satisfaction, before he sauntered back to enjoy the show unfold. As he re-entered the main gaming room, there was indeed a commotion going on. Mr Vilnius had obviously lost his steak on the table, quicker than Melrose could have guessed. But a further look proved Melrose wrong. The small raucous crowd was not gathered round Mr Vilnius’ table; it stood at a window cheering and whooping. Melrose sidled over to the group, and had to stifle a gasp of shock.
For the sight that greeted him, was of a cloud of shining silver bank notes rapidly spreading out. As a tiny suited figure tried desperately to gather the money up in vain. The case may have been the stuff of space ships, but clearly the lock and hinge were not designed for rapid depressurisation. Melrose edged his way out of the crowd, and just hoped no one would notice just one more nobody in this crazy show.