Free That Will Do Nicely by Ian Campbell Page B

to meet his unknowing accomplices.
    On the morning of March 26th., the day of the conference, Pascoe woke with a start just after six, unsure of what had di sturbed him. He got up straight-away, knowing that to drift off back to sleep would be fatal. While he performed his shaving ritual, taking more care now he had his beard than he had ever done before, his thoughts turned to the day ahead. D-day had finally arrived, the day he had worked so hard for. He only hoped that he would live up to the part he had written for himself.
    He dressed and drank a cup of black sugarless coffee to shock his body into gear before trying to wake Sam. Being a practical man, he had brought everything they would need in London from the print-shop the night before and packed the brief-cases. It was strange that the fru its of his many months' of labor could be packed into three small leather brief-cases... somehow he'd expected more. He picked up one of the bundles of pristine cheques and riffled through it. They felt clean, crisp and good. They even smelled right. A Yank had once told him he could smell the 'green' on dollar bills but he hadn't believed him at the time. Now he understood exactly what the man had meant.
    Returning to the bedroom and finding Sam still not up, he opened the window wide and stripped the covers off the bed, leaving her curled up in her skimpy nightdress trying to hide from the draught. He was half-way through his breakfast by the time she joined him.
    "Bastard.., waking me up like that!"
    "Well after today, I’ll be a rich bastard!"
    After breakfast, they donned their City clothes... both wearing three-piece pin-striped suits, striped shirts with plain white collars, the image of the city gent. While Sam put the finishing touches to her appearance, Pascoe loaded the car.
    They were well onto the motorway before either of them spoke, Pascoe only breaking the silence to go over the details of the day's plans.
    "You did arrange for the photo-copier at the hotel... and the Security guards," he asked.
    "I've told you a dozen times I did!" She snapped in reply.  "It’s just nerves.., that’s all. Sorry."
    The traffic increased steadily and by the time they came to the end of the triple carriage section of the A2, it was bumper to bumper traffic all the way. He wondered when the government would ever learn to build the motorways large enough. Just before Blackheath he took the A102 Blackwall Tunnel route straight into the City to save time, but it still took 40 minutes driving through heavy traffic before they reached the Change Alley office and they couldn't relax until the car was safely parked in a nearby National Car Park.
    The security guards arrived promptly at 9.30 and took charge of the brief-cases for the journey to the hotel, leaving them to make their own way there.
    "How do you feel?" He asked, knowing that if Sam felt any of the tension he was experiencing, her stomach would be churning.
    "I want to pee, if you must know." Sam glared at him as though it were his fault.
    "It's nerves .., that's all." He observed, as if to reassure her.
    "According to you, everything's bloody nerves!"
    "That's for luck." He said, kissing her briefly before paying off the cab. "Just remember... if we keep our cool we're going to become very rich in the next few days and I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend the time or the money with." Sam smiled wanly, then checked her make up before getting out. Pascoe led the way into Reception.
    "Good morning," he announced," Guyton, Reginald Guyton ... the Dallasbank Conference... " The receptionist smiled while she checked her diary.
    "I'll get someone to take you through, Sir. Is there anything else you will need this morning, Sir?" Her accent was pure Roedean.
    "I thought perhaps we would take coffee at 11.00."
    "It's already supplied in the conference room, Sir."
    "In that case, there's just one other thing, Miss Davidson ... " said Pascoe, reading the name from her lapel badge, "I