back at me through the rear doors as I put my hat and gloves on. 'I'll see you both in Stockmann in two hours.
You'll need about half an hour to check out the station.'
I nodded and turned to Tom. 'We'll use the rest of the time to get our stuff.'
I closed the door of the 4x4 and she drove off. Our breath hung in clouds in front of our faces and every inch of exposed skin prickled with the cold. Tom didn't like it one bit. 'Arctic or what, Nick?
For fuck's sake, can we get inside fast?'
The station was in front of us. It looked like an East German prison, very square and imposing, faced with what looked like dirty brown concrete. It could have been used as a backdrop for 1984. I checked the clock tower with Baby G and they agreed to the minute: 10:22.
As we joined the rest of the pedestrian traffic waiting obediently for the little green man, Tom frowned and said, 'Nick?'
'What?' I was concentrating more on looking for a gap between the streetcars that I could dash through. I had no intention of freezing to death, waiting for little green men.
'Do you trust her you know, Liv? You sure everything's sweet?'
Liv's advice about being truthful flashed through my head, thankfully not powerfully enough for me to take it. I tried never to trust anyone, and after what had happened in Washington, I certainly wasn't going to now. There might not be too much time to do this job correctly, and I might be desperate for the cash, but I wouldn't be doing anything until I'd put my own and Tom's safety net in place today.
The lights changed and we started walking. 'Don't worry, mate, everything is fine. In fact, having a meeting point like this is one of the things that makes me feel better about her. It means these people are switched on and want the job done with no hassle. Don't worry about it.'
He shrugged. 'Yeah, but what can you do to guarantee we ain't getting screwed, know what I mean? Are you going to do what she wants? You know, come back here and give her the Think Pad with the download and take the money? Or are you gonna ask for more? I bet it's worth a fortune.'
Even if the thought had crossed my mind, I wasn't going to admit it to him. 'No, mate, I just want to do this right. Just exchange that little machine of yours for the money and get back to the U.K. That way everything stays safe and easy. Whichever way you look at it, it's still good money.' All the time I had my smiley face on. I felt like I was trying to encourage a small child to eat his sprouts.
I was expecting more questions, but he just shrugged his shoulders again. 'Only asking, mate. If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me. Tell you what, she's tasty, ain't she?'
I grinned. 'Yes, she's very beautiful. Out of our league though, son.' I somehow couldn't picture Liv kissing Juicy Lucy cards in Netting Hill, or spending her day sorting out my boiler.
The main doors to the station were heavy and wooden, with porthole windows protected by metal grills. We pushed through and immediately came face to face with Santa, who was ringing his bell and demanding money. We sidestepped him.
The interior looked more like a well-kept museum than a railway station, with clean, stone-paved floors, thick granite supporting pillars and unbelievably high ceilings. Little snowmen hung from chandeliers, and the place echoed with public announcements, people talking, cell phones going off all over the place and, in one corner, a performer who was having a crack at the Finnish version of 'Good King Wenceslas' on his accordion. The smell of cigarette smoke and fast food was strong and everywhere.
A group of people with Santa hats on and sets of skis over their shoulders tried to squeeze past stressed-out businessmen in overcoats, furry Cossack hats, and cell phones glued to their ears. The strange thing was that you couldn't see or hear a single train-this was a cold-weather station and the platforms were outside.
Tom rubbed his hands together. He liked it in here. 'Christ, I almost feel human again. What now then, Nick?'
Father Christmas carried on doing his stuff as we stood and got our bearings, and I thought 'almost' was as close as Tom was ever going to get.
Liv's DLB was very easy to find and, like the one at the Langham, sited well. We were standing with our backs to the main entrance. In front of us was a wide stairway and escalators that led down into the metro.
The three sides of the stairway surrounded an open square of continuous wooden benches. The DLB was by a trash can on the left-hand side.
Tom followed as I walked between the DLB and the large ticketing hall to our left, heading for a newsstand. A teenaged girl was sitting reading a magazine, ears full of Walkman, mouth full of gum. She was wearing navy-blue down snow pants under a matching jacket which was open to stop her sweating.
I nodded at Tom just before we got level with her. 'There it is, mate. See the girl in blue?'
He nodded back and we carried on past.
'Okay, if you put your hand underneath the bench, exactly where she's sitting, you're going to feel a plastic container attached by Velcro.
All you do is make sure no one's looking and pull it off, go away and write a note telling them where they can find you, and they'll come.'
'Isn't this all a bit James Bond, Nick? I don't like it.'
'It's just basic routine. You need to know what to do if it goes wrong. You know, suppose I break a leg and can't get back here? Then it'll be down to you to hand over the goods and get us our money.'
'So long as there ain't no funny business. You know, fucking her about or anything? I don't want that, mate. I just want the money.'
We stopped by the wall next to the newsstand.
'Tom, it's going to go like clockwork. You just need to know this stuff in case I get injured, that's all. You're my insurance policy, and I'll be yours.'
He liked that. The girl got up and walked toward us, nodding her head in time to the music stuck in her ears.
'Go on, see if there's anything there yet.'
'What, now?' He looked absolutely terrified. 'While everyone's here?'
'It's never going to be empty, Tom. It's a station, for fuck's sake.
All you've got to do is take a stroll over there, sit down, put your hand under the bench and have a feel around. While you're doing that I'll go and change some money for you, all right?'
I didn't wait for his answer. I wanted him to go through the motions.
If he had to get here on his own, he'd at least know what to do.
I walked further into the station. Signs in front of me pointed to the platforms and the long-term luggage lockers. I'd be checking that out soon enough.
As busy-looking people passed through the large wooden doors, I saw snow-covered cars standing at each platform. To my right were stores and rest rooms, and, about fifty feet away, the exit to the bus station. To the left were more shops and the short-term luggage lockers, then another set of doors the same distance away that led out to the taxis. Behind me were the metro stairs and a very nervous Tom.
I went left, to the currency exchange, exchanged $500, then wandered back. As I neared the DLB I could see him sitting on the bench, looking very pleased with himself. I sat next to him, squeezing into the small gap between him and a rather large woman peeling an orange.
'Piece of cake, mate. Found it first time, look.'
He started to bend down.
'No, no, not now, Tom. Leave it where it is and I'll show you how to tell Liv that you've put a message in there for her.'
I stood up and he followed. The woman was delighted and spread herself out more. We went toward the platform doors and turned right, passing the rest rooms.
'Tom, go in there to write your message, okay?'
He nodded, his eyes fixed on the English edition computer magazines as we passed another newsstand, with yet more people wrestling with their luggage and skis.
I explained where to leave his DLB-loaded marker. 'Just beyond this coffee shop, on the right, is a row of telephones. When the time comes, get yourself a marker pen from one of these shops and draw a line down the booth of the right-hand one, okay?'
It wasn't. 'Why?'
