Twist Read online

  It was raining hard outside now. It stung his eyes as he looked up the old iron drainpipe to the light in the window that corresponded to the Ladies in the plans. The pipe was freezing cold and wet beneath his hands. He looked down. Dodge stood beneath him, watching nervously, trying to guide him to the vital first footholds that would allow him to gain the momentum he would need to monkey up to the first floor where he would try somehow to get the replacement fob to Red.

  * * *

  ‘Hello? Are you all right in there?’

  It was Losberne. He was knocking at the bathroom door and Red ducked lower behind the desk.

  Do something! He’s not going away, she texted.

  ‘What’s going on in there?’ Losberne asked, speaking through the closed door of the women’s lavatory.

  She thought he was about to go in and would see immediately that she wasn’t in there but her message to Dodge paid dividends and the telephone on the desk above her head started to ring.

  ‘I’m coming!’ Losberne shouted.

  She heard footsteps then the phone being lifted from its cradle.

  ‘Package? Now? I’m afraid there’s been … OK. Sure. I’ll come outside now.’

  She heard Losberne replace the phone and reach into his pocket. There was a jangle of keys, more footsteps and then a click as he unlocked the front door and stepped outside onto the street.

  Red wasted no time. She sprang up and ran across the gallery to the stairs, taking them three at a time. Dodge’s text message said that she was to go to the upstairs bathroom.

  She crossed a mirrored bedroom with a shagpile carpet, entered a compact white bathroom and ran to the porthole window, catching sight of the silhouette of a body, clinging to the drainpipe and a hand reaching out towards her in the rain.

  She flipped open the window and squeezed her hand through the gap but was unable to rotate her arm. She felt her elbow graze against the brick as she strained to get her hand further to meet the outstretched hand outside. She heard a grunt from the drainpipe as the climber strained to reach her. His position was precarious, perched on a wet wall fifteen feet above a row of sharp metal railings.

  She turned, and edged her bottom into the sink. It gave her an extra six inches’ reach. She felt the key fob touch her fingertips and then, when she had it, pulled her hand away slowly so as not to risk dropping it.

  With the fob in her hand Red ran back to the top of the stairwell and crouched there, trying to see if Losberne had returned to his office.

  ‘I wouldn’t use that loo for a bit,’ she said from the top of the stairs but no one answered. She came down the stairwell fast and stopped, peering out through the doorway at Losberne who was talking into his mobile. He looked agitated and kept turning round and peering back through the glass into the gallery.

  Then the doors of the van across the street opened and Dodge came out carrying a box in his arms. She watched as Losberne lowered his mobile momentarily and then began shouting at Dodge.

  It was all Red needed. She burst across the gallery and skidded to a halt on her knees at the foot of the server stack, then ducked beneath the desk to bind the scanner to the new key fob. There was a beep and then it was in her hand, pressed tight up against the electronic reader on the server that opened with a click, allowing her in, taking out a second conventional hard drive that she fire-wired into the main drive in the stack.

  One thousand … two thousand … three thousand … She counted silently, listening as the door opened then slammed shut as Losberne stormed back into the gallery towards his office and she waited, listening to his footsteps before standing up and dashing in the direction of the ground floor toilet, straightening her dress as she ran.

  Losberne must have heard something because he spun round on his heels, puce faced, and glared at her.

  ‘I wouldn’t go in there for a bit if I were you,’ Red said, feeling the hard drive in her hand.

  ‘The cleaners will be in first thing,’ Losberne replied, coolly observing her suspiciously from the doorway.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he went on, ‘I didn’t mean to leave you alone in here just now but I had some joker on the telephone. But since I did, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a moment.’

  She watched as he buzzed the intercom by the door to his office.

  ‘Could you come up here please, Brittles?’

  She stood open-mouthed, her head scrambling as the steel bolts that held the strong room door fast slid undone and heavy footsteps came marching along the rear wall of the gallery’s main space towards Losberne’s office. Brittles had an emotionless oblong face and long arms that extended ape-like by his sides. She watched him lift his hands, his movements robotic, like Frankenstein’s monster as he stepped closer looking to place his hands on her shoulders and pin her to the spot.

  ‘Search her,’ Losberne said, standing back, his arms folded as Brittles lumbered over to Red lifting his own arms to indicate that he was about to frisk her.

  ‘If this is the way you treat your interns, you can stuff your work experience up your arse …’ she said, pushing past Brittles and flouncing out across the main gallery to stand fuming by the front door with her phone to her ear.

  ‘Yes, the police please. I’m being held against my will. That’s right, the Losberne gallery. I think I’ve been drugged … yes by a pervert!’ she spoke urgently into the mouthpiece.

  Brittles followed her to the door, looking anxiously at Losberne who, preferring to have as little to do with the police as possible, motioned to his hulk to let her out.

  * * *

  Sikes was stood outside the van, shielded by the rear doors which were open. He watched as Red strode away from the gallery and Losberne stepped out after her, waving his security guard back into the gallery as he strode off in pursuit.

  ‘Now!’ he said, slamming the van doors shut and screeching across the road to pick her up.

  32

  Fagin was sat in the kitchen peeling potatoes when they got back. He was in his dressing gown and he wiped his hands on it before greeting each of them in turn, holding them at arm’s length to admire them before pulling them close and kissing them on both cheeks.

  Twist was the last to be kissed. Fagin’s breath smelt of pickled cabbage and tuică, and when he pulled back from the clinch he held onto Twist’s head, turning it to show it to each of the others.

  ‘Have I ever been wrong? he asked them. ‘Did I ever pick a dud?’

  ‘Flattery won’t cut it,’ said Dodge, holding his palm out, ‘respect me!’

  Twist watched Fagin’s smile curdle as his hands reached into the pockets of his dressing gown. He winced as he pulled out a fat red bundle and began peeling off fifty pound notes.

  ‘You did well today but phase two begins tomorrow. Until then, you’ve earned yourselves a night off.’

  He peeled ten fifties from the wad and handed them to Dodge.

  ‘Go out and have some fun,’ he said, handing the same amount to each of them in turn.

  ‘Yay! Here we go,’ said Batesy.

  ‘But not too much fun. I need you back here at six a.m. clean and sober.’

  ‘Six!?’ Dodge complained.

  ‘We’ve got to be ready to move the minute the call comes through. I’ll stay tuned to Losberne,’ Fagin said, ‘so don’t worry your pretty little heads about it.’

  ‘What if he’s into heavy phone sex? You could be in for a steamy night, boss!’ Batesy said, laughing as Dodge grabbed him and Twist by the arms and started pulling them both with him towards for the door.

  ‘You’re coming with us, Twist. It’s time we got you laid,’ Dodge said.

  Twist didn’t fight him. He knew it was pointless to resist but he saw an opportunity and he took it, turning to catch Red’s eye, thinking maybe, just maybe …

  ‘You coming, Red?’ he asked.

  ‘We got plans,’ Sikes said.

  Twist felt Dodge yank him hard, like he was sending him a message as Sikes
walked past them and put his arm round Red.

  ‘You did good, girl,’ he said, kissing her long and hard on the lips.

  Twist didn’t need to see any more. He let go of his grip on the door frame and let Dodge pull him out into the corridor where, out of sight of the others, Dodge pushed him against the wall and gave him a quick slap round the face before placing his finger on the tip of Twist’s nose.

  ‘Come on, Twist,’ he said, pressing the finger harder, until Twist’s nose flattened. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  * * *

  The party was like a bad dream. Nothing made any sense. It was in a basement lit by fake electric candles. A hellish subterranean hole in which two unlikely tribes were fighting for control, engaged in a form of highly ritualised combat. On one side of the room there were breakdancing drag queens and on the other Japanese body-poppers who kept calling one another out onto the floor to dance off, mano a mano. Dodge and Batesy had of course become wrapped up init, starting out as would-be compères but soon finding themselves cut off in no-man’s land, back to back, taking all comers. It was hysterical, the stuff of nightmares.

  There were chequered red and white tablecloths on the tables that hugged the walls forming an arena-like dance floor, and there were people at the tables drinking carafes of Bulgarian wine sealed with silver foil. The wine had a bitter chemical aftertaste and Twist was onto his second bottle when Dodge sat down and put two warm pints of Stella on the table, pushing one at him until he picked it up and started to drink.

  ‘We all love her,’ Dodge said, ‘but it’s like Fagin says, we’re family. It’s my fault. No, really. I’m sorry. I should have given you the heads-up before you got ideas.’

  He pushed his pint against Twist’s but Twist didn’t move.

  ‘Come and have a dance, mate. You’ll feel better. Plenty of other chicks out there … well, one or two. Look at ’em, gorgeous. You’re spoilt for choice,’ Dodge cajoled, trying to avoid eye contact with a six foot three unnatural blonde in a leopard-skin leotard who had been stalking him all night.

  ‘I’m better off on my own,’ Twist said.

  ‘You’re better off with cash in your pocket, a roof over your head and dinner on the table. Don’t go pissing in the soup.’

  Twist took a long drink from his pint and smiled, watching Batesy do a double backflip and crash-land in the arms of the leopard woman.

  ‘Why do you think Red came after you in the first place? Do you think you’ve got the Lynx effect or something?’ Dodge asked, staring at Twist who didn’t respond.

  ‘Well it was FBoss who sent her. He needed you in. That’s why. Not coz she fancied you. Come on! Wake up. You’ve got to see that,’ Dodge went on, chewing his bottom lip.

  ‘Fuck off,’ Twist said.

  ‘Time to grow up,’ Dodge said, standing up and shaking his head.

  Twist looked at the pint, then picked it up and downed it, watching over the rim as Dodge reached Batesy who was being systematically ripped apart by a pair of Japanese death droids. He stood up, walked up the stairs and began to climb wearily up to the first floor where there was a kind of chill-out room and a balcony overlooking the city.

  It was already late. Past three and there weren’t many lights on in the Square Mile. He tipped back the bottle of gut-rot wine and was just about to tell himself it was the last one when a hand reached out and took it off him. He looked to his right but the thief had vanished so he spun one eighty and saw that Red had painted her fingernails a different colour on each hand. The ones on her right hand pink as she tipped up the wine and took a long, hard swig.

  ‘How did I guess you’d be up here?’ she said.

  Twist reached out and took the bottle back from her, turning away and resuming his position, leaning on the railing, looking out at the city.

  ‘Are you running errands for FBoss again or is it Bill this time?’ he said without looking back.

  ‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘How was I to know you had feelings?’

  ‘Wasn’t it obvious?’ Twist said, turning to confront her.

  ‘Do you know the difference between a man and a boy, Oliver?’ she said, staring him straight in the eyes. ‘A man tells you what he wants, looks you in the eye, stands up for it. A boy? He’s gonna sit there with a faraway look in his eye, hoping Father Christmas brings him what he’s dreaming of.’

  ‘So what are you doing here?’ Twist asked, watching as she stared straight back at him.

  ‘I came to tell you something. When I was in with Losberne, showing him your stuff, he was into it. And I’m not just saying that. You must have heard him talking, right. When you were in the van. He really thought it was good.’

  ‘I missed that bit,’ Twist said.

  ‘Why?’ Red replied.

  ‘Because I was up a drainpipe handing you the right key fob. Besides, he thought it was your work. Not mine.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So he was just trying to fuck you.’

  ‘No, Oliver,’ she said, flatly, telling it straight. ‘I’ve been around a lot of blokes. When he put his hand on my knee, I thought I was going to puke … but it wasn’t just that. I could tell he was really surprised when I showed him the photos of your stuff on the walls. I mean it. He was shocked. At how good it was.’

  Twist felt himself torn. His mind telling him to ignore her, that she had been sent again, by Fagin, to check on him, while his heart felt like it was swelling, working harder, pumping arterial blood to places in him that had never been touched before.

  ‘You played it so cool in there …’ he said, watching Red glow, ‘you always do.’

  ‘I’m with Bill, Oliver.’

  Twist watched her turn and lean against the railing, reaching out to the wine and taking a good long drink. He had nothing to say to that apart from the truth. And that was that he’d never been in love with anyone before her and that he had absolutely no idea how he was going to tell her or survive without her if she rejected him.

  ‘Yeah, I got the message,’ he said, ‘but I never imagined you with a guy like him, that’s all. He’s cool, sure. He’s just so … old.’

  ‘He’s twenty-eight!’

  ‘Yeah. Ancient.’

  Red gave him a long hard look.

  ‘You know what it’s like when you’re a kid? Anything a grown-up promises – social worker, foster parent – don’t mean shit. It’s all just talk.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Well Bill’s not like that. He’s there for me. He says something, he does it. Like, there’s this dance school in Berlin. Soon as this job’s out of the way, he’s gonna pay for me to …’

  ‘So that’s why you’re with him?’ Twist shot back.

  ‘Fuck off!’

  Twist watched as she turned to go.

  ‘And if he ever … wasn’t there …’

  ‘Stop it, Oliver!’

  He watched as she turned at the top of the stairs but she was smiling. Not angry or upset like he thought she would be. She walked back to him.

  ‘If Bill wasn’t in my life, I’d be out dancing every night. He’s hopeless …’

  He watched her turn back to the stairs and the dance floor below.

  ‘Come on, we’re wasting time …’

  ‘What happened to his leg?’

  ‘He used to run, too. Taught me everything I know. Got cocky one day …’

  ‘I thought you wanted to be a dancer?’

  ‘Yeah, but Bill said …’

  He watched the smile fade from her lips.

  ‘We agreed, running first. Just till we get ahead. Then it’s gonna be dance dance dance. Ain’t no stopping us now though …’

  Downstairs the breakdancing had turned ugly. One of the robots had been groped by one of the drag queens and the two sides were facing one another across the packed dance floor. Twist watched as Red wove her way through them into the heart of the impending clash. She started to move and immediately the two factions gave her space as she slid into
the rhythm, drawing all eyes to her.

  He watched her see something in the crowd and start to laugh. It was Dodge and Batesy. Dodge was breakdancing like a drag queen and Batesy had become a death droid. A circle had formed around them which she forced her way into, spinning again, weaving a circle around them like a sorceress keeping demons at bay.

  Twist watched the three of them moving around one another. They looked good together. Batesy chopping at Dodge who was gyrating with his hand on his hip unimpressed, while Red spun faster, beckoning Twist to come to them, to let his mind go and to simply dance and forget about everything for just one night.

  It may have been an hour but it could have been three that he danced with them until the crowd had thinned out on the dance floor and Dodge was telling him about an after-hours place that kept the music going all the next day, forgetting what Fagin had told him about the six a.m. curfew. But Twist was watching Red, who kept looking at him, giving nothing away, not rejecting or inviting him, just neutral, her intentions unknown.

  ‘You up for it?’ Batesy said, lurching in at them, Twist’s heart falling as Red shook her head.

  ‘Nah, I need to cool down,’ she said, turning to Twist, ‘but you should go …’

  33

  Twist didn’t know how it happened. One minute he was outside with Dodge and Batesy who were fighting a rearguard action against drag queens all trying to pile into the same mini cab to the after-party in Bow, the next he was running after Red who had bet him a hundred she could get up onto the roof of an apartment made of mirrored glass about half a mile away before he could.

  It was clear and cold and the stars were out. He was faster than her on the flat but he wasn’t thinking straight. His tendency was still to go round obstacles whereas she would go over them and shout ‘cheat’ down at him as he ran, until the challenge changed and was less a race and more like the game they had played the first day of training. She led and he tried to follow.

  Two steps up onto the roof of a Range Rover, three onto the brick gatepost of a cemetery and four down into the graveyard, full tilt over tombstones like they were hurdles in a steeplechase until she slowed, veering to the right on the path, running up an eight-foot church wall and pulling herself up onto it, looking down, no helping hand for Twist as he tried and failed to follow.