'I’ll take that for a no then.'
'No, I had a drink with the proprietor though.'
'Ah yes, young burglar Bill.'
'You know him well?'
'Knew his father.'
I filled the kettle and plugged it into the wall. Rich shouted, 'You’re breaking up.'
'Sorry.' I walked back into the small bed-sitting room and asked, 'What was he like?'
'A swine. Why’d you want to know?'
'Just showing a friendly interest.'
The envelope containing the money Bill had given me was on the coffee table. I poured it out; a thousand in twenties, not bad for a couple of hours’ work, but I had a feeling it was money I was yet to earn. Montgomery’s manila envelope lay under the cushion on the sofa.
I slid it out and looked at its seal. It wouldn’t be so difficult to break, but somehow I was happy to leave it alone.
Rich’s voice came loud down the wire.
'Listen, have you got a passport?'
I ruffled the notes through my fingers.
'Somewhere, why? Someone want to buy it?'
'I’ve got something for you — Berlin.'
'Berlin?'
'Yes, Berlin, capital of Germany, once divided city now happily reunited.'
'I know where it is. I’m just wondering what about it?'
'I’ve got a contact, who has a contact there, who knows a man who needs a conjurer for his club. Bijou little place, the Schall und Rauch, means Smoke and Noise, just up your street, William.'
'Maybe. How much are they offering?'
'A bit of enthusiasm would be nice. I said Berlin. It’s a top entertainment spot son. The home of cabaret. Remember what Germany did for the Beatles.'
'If I remember rightly one of them copped it there.'
'The money’s OK. I managed to squeeze them for 10 per cent over the usual to cover your subsistence, plus they’ll pay for your flight and fix you up with accommodation.'
It sounded like the best offer I’d had in months, but something made me hesitate.
'I don’t know, Richard. It’s a bit out of the blue.'
'Remember what they say about gift horses.'
'Don’t take one from a Trojan?'
'It’s up to you, but there’s nothing much on the cards for you over here right now.'
There was a short pause while we both silently mourned my early promise. 'I spoke to the boy in Berlin and it all seems kosher, they’ve got a website and all that jazz.'
'Your faith in modern technology is touching.'
'Got to move with the times, Will.' There was another pause while I took a sip of my coffee and Rich sparked up; I heard him draw the smoke deep down into his lungs and reached for my own pack of cigarettes. When he spoke again Rich’s voice was brisk. I imagined him sliding his next client’s folder, complete with mug shot, onto the desk in front of him. 'It’s up to you, old son. You’ve got an hour to decide. No skin off my nose either way.'
I looked at my one-room rented flat, the unmade bed, the scattering of books and CDs, the pile of unwashed laundry, the red demands propped on the window ledge. There was only one thing I had to ask.
'When do they want me?'
'That’s the attitude. They’re in a rush. Someone let them down. Get yourself there by tomorrow show time and the job’s yours.'
I agreed to let Mrs Pierce arrange my flight then sat for a while looking at Bill’s secret. I decided it was nothing to do with me. Then I did a very stupid thing. I wrote a short letter, went out to the post office, bought an envelope big enough to hold Bill’s, sealed it securely and got it weighed and stamped. Then I addressed it to the safest place in the world and put it in the postbox.
Back home I put the kettle on, smoked another fag and started to pack.
Berlin
THE MAN WHO ran the cabaret was a German called Ray. He was the opposite of Bill, a soft-bellied doughy- faced rectangle of a man. He had blond hair shot through with grey flecks that looked too artful to be natural. And a tense smile hedged beneath a shaggy moustache I was willing to accept as German fashion, but at home would have made me think he was a gay man on a retro kick.
I put out my hand and he took it hesitantly, giving it the briefest of shakes.
