[b]Hatton Garden 2:20 PM[/b] Charlie glanced around the jewelry store while they waited for the manager. Five minutes earlier he and Bobby had walked in and told the pleasant salesgirl that they were in search of lovely pearl necklaces for their wives. “I can help you out with that,” she said with a smile. “We’re looking for sapphire pearls,” Bobby said softly. The salesgirl’s smile dampened a bit. Her flirty charm disappeared. She still seemed to be as gregarious and sociable as before, but now there was an edge to it. Whatever these two men wanted, she was out a sale. “Let me get the manager,” she had said before disappearing behind the counter. “What do you think, Bob?” Charlie asked once she was gone. He was inspecting a diamond pendant necklace and matching earrings. “Something your bird would like?” “Too flashy,” he said. “Too expensive. And she’s not a bird, Charlie.” Charlie chuckled and kept looking over more of the jewels. They’d been on his mind lately thanks to the job. In reality, they were nothing but little rocks and trinkets that someone said was valuable a long time ago. An entire industry had been built to sell these shiny rocks. Hell, entire wars had been fought over them. And now Charlie and Bobby were both on the shortlist to be the next two people to over the glittery stones. “What do you do with it, Bobby?” asked Charlie. “Your share of the scores? Don’t say you spend it all on yourself, because judging by your shoes we both know that’s a damn lie.” “It goes… to a good cause,” said Bobby. “Something more important than myself.” “More important than yourself?” Charlie laughed. “No such thing, lad. Donating to a good cause is a money pit, Bob. The more you give them, the more they want. There’s alway someone in need of this or that or the other. And always a few quid here or there will make it right. Until they need more. And nothing ever gets fixed. Except you. They fix your excess money problem real quick.” “It’s a cold way of looking at things.” “World’s a cold place,” Charlie shrugged. “Always has been. You know that better than some.” “It’s true,” said Bobby. “But that’s why we must help where we can. It makes all the difference.” Charlie made the a wanking motion with his right hand, breaking Bobby out into a fit of laughter. “Gentlemen,” a balding man in a three-piece-suit announced as he entered from the back. There was a confused smile on his face. “I understand you wish to talk business?” “Indeed we do,” said Charlie. “Then follow me please.” “Say nothing,” Charlie whispered into Bobby’s ear. “But look as mean as hell.” --- [b]Putney 2:30 PM[/b] Freddy fed coins into the payphone and dialed the number. He cradled it against his ear and waited as it rang. He was down the corner from Debbie’s flat, lying to her that he was getting more smokes from the corner store. Well, he thought as he found is almost empty pack in his pocket, maybe more of a half-truth than a lie. “Yes, I’d like to book a flight to Rome for tonight.” “I’m sorry, sir,” the travel agent said in a voice that had no hint of remorse in it. “All flights for tonight to Rome are completely booked. Best I can do you is a flight at eleven tonight to Paris where after a layover for a few hours, you’d be in Rome by tomorrow morning at six.” “Yeah, sure,” said Freddy. “Let’s do that.” “How many tickets?” “One,” he said with an instinctive look back towards Deb’s flat. “Just one. First class if possible.” "Return trip or one-way?" "One way, please." “Sure thing. You’ll need a passport.” “I got one.” “Name on the reservation?” “Edward Robinson.” “Okay, Mr. Robinson. Will you put it on a charge card now, or pay at the desk.” “Pay at the desk.” “Very well,” the travel agent reeled off the airfare. It was pricey, but by this time tonight it would be a drop in the bucket for Freddy. “Make sure you arrive at the Air-France desk no later than thirty minutes before boarding.” “Will do. Thank you for your help.” Freddy ended the call and stepped out of the booth. He started towards the corner store, unaware that his phone conversation had been witnessed. From her second floor window of her flat, Debbie had witnessed Freddy on the phone. It was curious. She had a telephone here. Why had he used the one outside? Suspicion began to gnaw at her. She stepped away from the window and started to look through the small bedroom for Freddy’s things.