No Sleep for the Dead

Chapter 23

Palmer stepped cautiously over a patch of nettles and ducked through a gap in the wire fence to the commercial estate. He was now behind the VTS Transit unit, just a few feet away from the incinerator drum. A wisp of smoke was curling lazily into the air, which was heavy with the smell of petrol and scorched paper.

Twenty minutes had passed since the last sign of movement between the two buildings, and there had been no sounds of activity from the front. It was difficult to be certain from here, but Palmer guessed the VTS building was now deserted.

He stepped past a stack of metal storage bins and stood alongside the rear door. There were no shouts of alarm, so he tried the door. It was unlocked. He eased it open and glanced inside. Nothing. No voices, no movement, just a scattering of packaging, pallets, waste paper and clutter, and the unmistakable echo of an empty building.

He closed the door again and walked across the yard to the drum. A wave of heat was still coming from inside, but there were no flames and whatever effect the accelerant had possessed was now spent. The bottom of the drum held a shifting mass of ashes and scorched paper, with some of the print showing silver and still readable against the grey background. He picked up a length of wooden batten. Digging into the mass inside the drum, he felt something solid under the topmost layer. But as he disturbed the contents, the passage of air fanned the smouldering ashes and flames sprang up once more, feeding on the untouched paper beneath.

Palmer stepped back and kicked over the drum, spilling the contents across the concrete in a shower of burning paper, smoke and sparks. With the batten, he hooked out the largest object, a bundle of documents dumped inside by Romper Suit. Isolating the wedge of papers, he bent to peer at them. From what he could already see, there appeared to be ample evidence tying SkyPrint to the VTS operation. Whether it would be enough to bring it to a court case would be for others to determine.

Satisfied that the papers were in no danger of re-igniting, he picked up a discarded Tesco bag caught on the corner of a pallet and stuffed them inside. Then he left the bundle in the long grass by the fence to the council depot and returned to the building to investigate further.

Inside, a couple of sparrows, startled by the sound of his footsteps, swooped beneath the metal rafters and disappeared out of the door, their wing-beats loud in the silence. Palmer was grateful for their presence, since it was a sign that nobody else was here.

He checked the office at the front of the building. Whoever had cleared it out had left nothing but an array of paperwork, low-value office equipment and rubbish. Even the walls were bare of evidence that anyone had worked here. As he turned to leave, he heard the rattle of a door handle, and voices at the front of the building. He glanced out of the window.

Radnor.

Palmer moved quickly. There was nowhere to hide in the office, and he prayed he had enough time to get out the back door. But even as he hurried towards the rear of the warehouse, he heard a voice from the back yard and the sound of footsteps approaching.

‘The rubbish bin’s fallen over. Probably kids.’

Palmer swore silently. Now he was well and truly snookered. He went to the only place available, the caged area, and slipped through the door. Against one wall was a pile of cardboard packaging, unused cardboard boxes and broken lathes of wood. He dived to the floor and pulled the packaging over him. If they were here to move this lot, he was stuffed. Seconds later, the sound of footsteps converged on the centre of the warehouse.

‘You destroyed everything, Perric?’ What Palmer took to be Radnor’s voice was calm and businesslike, and came from the door to the office. ‘If they find a link to this place, they’ll go through it with a magnifying glass. These people aren’t stupid.’

‘There is no paperwork.’ Palmer recognised the voice of the man in the white shirt. He didn’t sound happy.

‘It’s not just paper,’ insisted Radnor. ‘Packaging material, oil — even flakes of paint off the weapons and crates — they can trace it back.’

‘It’s all done. Dino burned what papers we couldn’t take. You can check the ashes out back if you want.’ Perric sounded resentful, as if his abilities were being questioned.

‘And the boxes from the last shipment? Those laser sights are worth a fortune. We can’t afford to lose them, not now.’

Laser sights? Jesus, thought Palmer.

‘Ready to go. We’re waiting for a call from the ship’s first officer to say when we can deliver without running into the docks supervisor. They should be on their way across the Med in three days.’

‘And the handguns?’

‘They’ve gone already. We re-packed them as you said and got rid of the original packaging. It’s in a landfill miles from here.’

‘What’s all this?’ A new voice spoke from much closer, and the wire cage rattled as somebody pushed against it. The speaker had a faint accent, but the voice was unfamiliar.

‘It’s nothing,’ said Perric. This time his voice was more respectful. ‘More rubbish. It won’t have any traces on it. It would have taken too long to burn and there wasn’t time to go to the local tip.’

The scrape of shoe leather on the bare concrete floor came close to Palmer’s hiding place, and the corrugated sheet above him shifted as somebody kicked at the pile of packaging. Suddenly, instead of the covering of cardboard, Palmer could see the roof of the warehouse, with its latticework of steel rafters and support beams. A large pigeon was looking down at him, cocking its head and shifting nervously from side to side as the men moved around.

‘Are you sure about that?’ The man’s voice was now so close, Palmer could hear him breathing as he bent over.

The pigeon took fright and clattered from its beam in the roof space, causing the man near Palmer to swear in surprise. As the sound of wing-beats moved across the warehouse and through the rear door, somebody laughed.

‘Michael, we don’t have time.’ It was Radnor again. ‘Let’s get out of here in case Palmer and the woman come back and bring the police with them. This place is compromised.’

The packaging moved again, but this time sliding back across to cover Palmer’s face. He hoped it hadn’t left his feet in sight, and held his breath until the man named Michael had moved away. There was a clang as the cage door swung shut, and the footsteps faded into the distance towards the front of the building.

Palmer waited a full five minutes, then slid out from his hiding place. He walked silently to the roller door and peered out through a gap in the metal slats. Radnor, Perric, and two men he couldn’t see properly were standing outside, talking. One of the men had his back to the building, but Palmer thought it might be the young Russian named Michael. It looked as if this was their final visit to the place before abandoning it altogether.

Palmer eased cautiously away from the door and out into the back yard. He crossed to the fence, stopping to pick up the Tesco bag with its bundle of evidence, then slipped through the gap and jogged through the deserted council depot to the road in search of a cab.