Perched on the window ledge of an eight-story brownstone, I sat quietly enjoying the view. Behind me were the Park and the Regent’s Hotel. At first, I thought about ripping off tourists staying there but that bothered me. Thousands of miles from home and to lose all your cash in a strange place would be terrifying. Who knew if they could afford it?
From the hotel’s rooftop, I had surveyed the skyline, seen the brownstone, one of several just across the Park, and occupied by a variety of businesses from a Chinese take out on the east corner to a whole floor for an import/export firm from China.
The one I was interested in was on the top floor; I’d watched men in suits, casual attire, gangsta bangers, and Goth wear go in, out in a curious stream that showed a deliberate lack of rhythm yet a monotonous frequency. All carrying backpacks, bags, or manila envelopes. When police drove by, their movements ceased.
My curiosity was tweaked and I’d climbed to the roof off another building careful to avoid the CCTVs on the street corners.
I spotted an open window, shimmied in. I was over 6’2” now, but thin, whippy. Cammy had asked me if I worked out and I’d laughed. My workouts consisted of climbing everything I could put my hands on. Lifting your own body weight by your hands alone tended to shape you and keep you that way. As does running along rooftops.
My shoulders had filled out, my arms and legs corded with muscles but you wouldn’t know it unless you saw me naked or grabbed me. I let no one do either.
I pulled at the crotch of my jeans. They bound me in climbing and my trainers had a tendency to slip on slate roofs, especially in areas that burned coal and coated the roofs with soot.
Once I had money, I would treat myself to some climbing gear. Rope, leggings, decent slippers. I hoped this place would provide the blunt to do so.
Inside, I moved through a warren of cubby hole offices with computer terminals all flickering and automatic programs running that were taking orders for cheap Chinese made trinkets---the stuff that used to say ‘made in Japan.’ toys, balls, hats, gadgets, all sold through catalog mail order and flea markets. One floor was a warehouse, stocked with boxes and the few I opened showed the cheap trash that sold for gag gifts and quick turnaround. Frogs that held wax chunks that melted with a light bulb, for God’s sake! I shook my head and replaced the lid.
The last floor was a series of large offices with all the latest mod conveniences behind serious locks and an alarm system. Since I was already inside, they didn’t register.
The biggest office had a huge flat screen TV on the wall, leather couches, recliners with end tables, a wet bar, refrigerator stocked with high end stouts, ales, Cristal Champagne, and bottled Perrier. Truffles. I popped a few into my mouth and nearly died from delight as the rich chocolate melted on my tongue. Scarfed up more, thought about taking ‘em all but they’d just melt in my pockets.
There was a funny looking art sculpture on the wall, flat and looked like a cross between hubcaps and pot lids. I moved it and there was a safe behind, recessed into the wall. A Martini/Weiss.
I can pick locks. I’d started as a kid playing in the cellars of my home in Cornwall, opening the big iron ones on the cell doors. Progressing to the padlocks and door locks on the barns and house. Even cars and trucks didn’t deter me. I had never tried a safe before and the dial on this one was not a numbered turn but a digital touch pad. Nine numbers, a million possibilities, more if the combination was more than four numbers.
I pushed 0-0-0-0 and to my utter surprise and satisfaction, the thing opened silently. Inside were stacks of Euros and a ledger. Some of the names I recognized, politicians and media darlings. Ticked by each name was a sum and a date. Contributions. Bribes. Sale of(,(. I was looking at someone’s blackmail and pay off ledger. There was only about 5000( in the stack and the last pay off date and amount equaled that. I pocketed the cash, stuffing it into my jacket and inside my shirt. It wasn’t much, no thicker than a deck of playing cards. Nothing else was in the safe and nothing else tempted me. Like I said before, cash didn’t ask for provenances or IDs.
I shut the safe, wiped off my fingerprints and went back over everything I might have touched and did the same.
Being dead, no one had kept my prints and I wasn’t in any database of Criminal Files. I preferred to keep it that way.
I exited the building the same way I’d climbed in. Spent an hour in an all night coffee house leaving in the morning on the first train back to school.
No one got off at the station; the Holiday wasn’t over for another day and it would be crowded with returning students. Some would come by rail, most would be driven back by their families or trustees or bodyguards. Arriving in limos, Mercedes or Range Rovers, the Head Master would be standing at the Grand Entrance to escort the sons of the very wealthy executives; imported Royalty and rock stars in, the teachers would fawn over English peers and the rest.
I would sneak down later for tea.