Free Out of the Night by Dan Latus Page B

sort of impediment to stop someone crashing a stolen vehicle through the doors. Bollards, or something similar, would do it. Decorative street furniture, perhaps? A sculpture or two?’
    She was looking doubtful.
    ‘Jac, big museums have had priceless artefacts stolen in less than a minute by people who have smashed a window, climbed in and helped themselves and been away again before the alarms have got into their stride. You can’t depend totally on alarms and motion sensors, or any other kind of electronic device.’
    ‘I suppose …’ she started, ‘but what…?’
    ‘I know an architect who would be glad to advise you on a sensitive approach to fitting these kinds of things. He’s good. It’s not hi-tech,’ I added, ‘but it can be better than that – more effective.’
    She smiled at last. ‘OK, Frank. That makes sense.’
    ‘He lives in York. Mostly he protects medieval windows. I’ll contact him for you, if you like?’
    ‘Thank you, Frank. I would appreciate it. Gosh!’ she added. ‘There’s more to this than I thought.’
    ‘A lot of it’s just common sense, and experience. You could skip the electronics altogether and still make the place a lot more secure than it currently is.’
    ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m happy with what you’ve told me. Let’s do what you’re suggesting.’
    ‘Good. I don’t think you’ll regret it.’ I stirred my coffee. ‘It’s a very nice gallery, by the way. How long have you been going?’
    ‘A year. A little more.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re not pulling up trees yet, but we’re doing OK. Better than I expected, the truth be told.’
    I nodded. ‘You seem to employ a few people?’
    ‘More than you might think, actually.’ She smiled. ‘Probably like you?’
    ‘I don’t employ anyone.’
    ‘No one at all?’
    ‘No. Not one. That suits me best. No one to argue with, that way.’
    ‘Is that what you do – argue a lot?’
    I grinned. ‘So people say. Ask Lydia.’
    ‘Maybe I will.’ She threw back her head and laughed, exposing a milk-white throat that I felt a sudden urge to lick. ‘But you don’t seem the aggressively argumentative type to me,’ she added.
    ‘No. I’m a real softy.’
    Somehow I had amused her. I could tell. I felt pleased with myself.
    ‘How did you get into the gallery business?’
    She shrugged. ‘I’ve always been involved with the visual arts. School, college, etcetera. I liked painting. I still do. But I took stock and decided I was never going to make a decent living out of my pictures. This was a way of keeping in touch. I like what I do here anyway. I discovered a flair for business I hadn’t realized I had.’
    If this was all hers, she probably did have a flair. She had done well here.
    ‘How about you?’ she added.
    ‘Oh, it’s a long story,’ I said, draining my cup and making moves to be on my way.
    ‘Too long for now?’ she asked archly.
    I nodded.
    ‘Some other time, perhaps?’
    ‘Some other time,’ I agreed with a smile as I stood up.
    ‘Oh, by the way, Jac, there’s an art centre opened recently not far from where I live. Meridion House, just outside Port Holland. You haven’t heard of it, have you?’
    She thought for a moment and shook her head. ‘What do they do?’
    ‘No idea. I can’t find anything about it. When I turned up this morning, the gatekeeper wouldn’t let me in. He wouldn’t tell me anything about it either.’
    She frowned. ‘Perhaps they’re not up and running yet?’
    ‘They’ve been going a year, apparently, like you.’
    ‘It sounds an odd sort of place.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll see what I can find out. It’s always good to know what’s happening in the region.’
    As I made my way out, I saw a little knot of young people who had wandered in off the street and were excitedly discussing a painting. I smiled. This was a very different place altogether to Meridion House.
    Back outside, I looked up and saw Jac standing at the window of her office. She