Free Falling by Gordon Brown

to one that
his plans are on the Blackberry and that he backs the thing up on the laptop. I
take another look round the office. Nothing.
    I grab the laptop.
    It occurs to me that the
secretary will see me carrying the laptop out. I’m not wearing a jacket. I open
my shirt and slide the laptop into the top of my trousers. It is cool against
my skin. I button up. I try and fold my arm over it. I’m going for the ‘natural
but hide the bulge’ look. I end up with my left arm stretching up to the right
side of my neck. My other arm is draped across my midriff.  Awkward
looking but it will have to do.
    I exit the office. The
receptionist looks up. I ask her to tell Leonard to give me a call on the
mobile. I tell her I can’t wait any longer. She smiles and nods. I’m gone.
    I ride the lift up to my office.
When I’m back in my seat I open up Leonard’s laptop. As expected it is password
protected. I know someone who can crack this but not here. I gather up my stuff
and put Leonard’s laptop in my brief case. I take the lift to the basement. I’m
still a million miles from being fit to drive a car but I have no choice. I
need to get the laptop to my computer wizard as soon as possible. A taxi will
take too long.
    It won’t take the police long to
find out that I have been down to see Leonard. Once they talk to the
receptionist I will become a very interesting person to the police. If anyone
notices the missing laptop then my interest quotient will go through the roof.
    I pull out into the lane. The
Merc purrs. I moan. I nudge the nose out onto the main road. To my right the
crowd has swollen again. Three police cars have arrived to join the ambulance.
There are two policemen at the front door. I signal to turn left. I can see the
police stopping people leaving the building. I put my foot down and pull out
into the outside lane. I’m swallowed by the traffic.
     
     
     

Chapter 16
    George escapes .
     
    I can’t breathe. I really can’t
breathe. The tall thug stuffed an old handkerchief in my mouth. A used
handkerchief. A recently used handkerchief. The cable tying my hands is inch
thick in dust and as I struggle the dust kicks up and is hanging in the air
seeming to vaporise oxygen.
    I’m wheezing and the world is
dropping a poor shade of pale. I hate breathing through my nose - one of my nasal passages is larger than the other. My left
passage is almost closed and I am breathing through my right and I can’t grab
enough air. I can feel myself passing out. My panic is extreme. I need air and
I…
    I come
round lying on my side. The handkerchief is lying next to me in a small pool of
vomit. I could have choked on it. How Keith Moon is that. I hear footsteps on
the stairs and try and shout out but my throat is bone dry and I can barely
whisper. My hands are still bound but now that I am free of the breathing panic
I begin to work on the bindings and it doesn’t take long to wriggle my hands
free. I sit up and the world spins so I lie down again and wait. I sit up again
- this time at a more sedate pace and the world spins a little less. I wait for
it to slow to a crawl and try and stand up.
    The
world returns to carousel mode and I need to sit down. I wait for a few seconds
and try again. On my third attempt I make it. I’m wobbly but vertical and I
reach out and try the cupboard door handle - the light from under the door
providing just enough vision to work with. It is locked and the thug took my
keys.
    The
cupboard is one of a hundred dotted throughout the building. They are identical
in size and identical in layout. Each has three shelves at the back, a power
point, a single ceiling light and little else. Usually they are full of the
sort of rubbish that such cupboards excel at accumulating - cleaning material,
mops, tools and the like, but this one is different. This one is rarely used and
is bare. I place my ear to the door but there is no sound from outside. I
consider banging the door but in the back of my