The Drop

can’t help ourselves.
    Fuck it. I picked up my phone and dialled.
    ‘Hello,’ a soft voice on the end of the line.
    ‘It’s me,’ I told her, ‘you doing anything?’
    ‘Right now?’
    ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘right now.’

TWENTY-SIX
    ...................................................
    ‘W ill I see you later?’ she asked me as I was dressing. The sun was shining through the windows, bathing her bed in a bright morning light that showed just how much we’d creased her sheets the night before, but at least it helped me to find my clothes as I picked them from the floor where we’d left them. I’d made sure it was her flat we went to, so much easier to make an uncomplicated exit.
    ‘Maybe,’ I said, checking myself in the mirror. ‘You at Privado?’
    ‘Yeah, I’m working tonight,’ Michelle said, ‘supposed to be anyhow but… I don’t know… thought I might phone in sick, you know,’ and she laughed, ‘you’ve tired me out David. I need a duvet day.’
    Before she could invite me to share that duvet with her, I said, ‘think of that student loan pet. Anyway you’ve got hours yet.’
    ‘Guess so,’ then she giggled, ‘you know it was only the other day I found out what Privado means,’ she told me, ‘I Googled it.’
    ‘And what does it mean?’ I asked as I started to lace my shoes.
    ‘It means “confidential friend”, she said, ‘is that what we are eh? Confidential friends?’
    ‘Yep, and let’s keep it that way,’ I said, then quickly added, ‘the girls in there can be jealous.’
    ‘All want you, do they?’
    ‘I didn’t say that. If you let on about us they’ll soon think you are getting special treatment.’
    ‘I am,’ she told me, ‘very special.’
    ‘Good,’ I said, ‘got to go now though.’
    ‘Do you have to dash off?’ she sounded disappointed.
    ‘Sorry.’
    I checked I had everything; wallet, keys, phone. I didn’t want to leave anything behind. I walked back over to the bed.
    ‘Last night was good,’ I told her, bending to kiss her on the lips. She liked that, accepting the kiss then almost toppling me forwards when she wrapped her arms round my neck and kissed me back, long and deep ‘ you were good,’ I said breaking from her embrace. For a moment, as I looked at her bare, inviting breasts, I almost climbed back in there.
    ‘Was I?’ she asked hopefully.
    ‘Oh yeah,’ and she lit up like a Christmas tree. There’s never any harm in making a girl feel good about herself afterwards.
    I put on my jacket, ‘call you later yeah.’
    ‘Yeah,’ she brightened, ‘we could do something,’ she suggested.
    ‘See you,’ I said.
    Sharp was leaning against the bar at Rosie’s. The pub was one of our usual meeting spots because it was ideally situated on the corner of Stowell Street, right by the football ground and you could easily tell if you were being followed as you approached it. A quick glance behind you down a short, clear street and you’d pretty much know if someone was on your arse then you could just keep on walking by, meeting aborted. The pub was popular and nicely public so you could stand a few feet apart but next to each other at the bar and a casual observer might not even notice you were together. Plus, it was always a good pint in there.
    Of course, if we were spotted, we would simply resort to our default position. I was a criminal source, a highly-placed grass whom Sharp had been secretively cultivating for years in an attempt to find out more about the crime boss, Bobby Mahoney. Playing the double agent was not without its danger for me but I made sure Bobby knew all about our bent copper and the fall-back plan if we were ever lifted. He had a right to know all about it. After all, the money we were paying Sharp was coming out of his coffers.
    ‘We managed to put a face to a name,’ he told me.
    ‘And?’
    He slid a folded piece of A4 sideways along the bar to me, ‘it’s all in there. We reckon your guy is Andrew Stone, a professional burglar from Glasgow, a regular exponent of robbery with violence. His local boys checked out his address but, surprise, surprise, he hasn’t been seen there for days. Before you ask, Stone is not directly affiliated to any of the main gangs up there, including their top boys.’
    We both knew he meant the Gladwells. ‘A freelancer?’
    ‘We’re working on that assumption.’
    ‘That’s what I’d do if I was probing somebody else’s firm, bring in an outsider, someone