Page 61 of The Impossible Fortune (Thursday Murder Club Mysteries #5)
The metal cage is just large enough for two, and Ron and Connie are nose to nose in a dim, artificial light. They have started their slow descent, and the cage whirrs and whines around them.
The question for the gang was who would go down into The Compound with Connie, but Ron would accept no argument. He was going.
No one had liked it. Elizabeth had said, ‘Your plan is to travel in a small cage with a woman who has threatened to kill you, to an underground vault, whereupon you’ll retrieve a piece of paper worth a quarter of a billion pounds? That’s your grand plan.’
And, yep, that was his grand plan.
‘What shall we talk about?’ says Connie.
‘Who’s your favourite West Ham player?’ Ron asks.
‘Is this your small talk?’ says Connie.
‘Yep,’ says Ron. ‘Honed over many years.’
‘Maybe I will kill you,’ says Connie. ‘You have very fresh breath by the way.’
Ron nods. ‘You too. My favourite West Ham player’s Mark Noble. Who’s your favourite James Bond?’
‘That’s a better question,’ says Connie. ‘Pierce Brosnan. I’d climb that man like a tree.’
‘Agreed,’ says Ron. ‘Except the bit about the tree.’
The cage shudders. It would be a bad place to get trapped.
‘Talking of men I’d bang till they passed out,’ says Connie, ‘is your Jason still with that woman?’
‘He is,’ says Ron. ‘Might be serious.’
‘Shame,’ says Connie.
‘You’re not his type, Connie,’ says Ron, and Connie laughs.
‘I’d have made a good daughter-in-law to you, Ron,’ says Connie. ‘I’d have paid for the wedding and everything. Bogdan still dating Donna?’
‘Far as I know,’ says Ron.
‘Why are all the handsome men with great arms taken?’
‘Beats me,’ says Ron. ‘Can I ask you another question?’
‘Is it about West Brom?’
‘West Ham,’ says Ron.
‘Is it about West Ham?’
‘No,’ says Ron.
‘Ask away, I’m not going anywhere,’ says Connie, looking around her, then returning nose to nose.
‘What do you and Ibrahim talk about? You know, when you talk?’
The low light dims further, then flickers back to life. Connie thinks, then puffs her cheeks.
‘I don’t know,’ says Connie. ‘But I always feel better afterwards.’
‘Same,’ says Ron. ‘How does he do that?’
‘I think he likes people,’ says Connie. ‘That’s his secret.’
‘Even us,’ says Ron.
‘Even us,’ agrees Connie.
‘You wouldn’t really have killed me, would you?’ Ron asks.
‘Definitely,’ says Connie.
‘I’m half dead anyway these days,’ says Ron. His nose is suddenly an inch lower than Connie’s nose. ‘I can’t even stand on tiptoes any more.’
‘Who killed Holly, do you think?’ Connie asks.
‘Elizabeth thinks whoever did it will show themselves as soon as she’s got that piece of paper.’
‘Well …’ says Connie.
‘Yeah, well …’ says Ron.
Connie looks him in the eye. ‘You’re sure you want to do this?’
Ron thinks for a moment.
‘I’m sure,’ he says.
‘You can still back out,’ says Connie. ‘Get the scrap of paper, give it to Elizabeth, be the hero?’
‘Too late for all that,’ says Ron. ‘Much too late for all that.’
The cage reaches its destination. Through the thick diamond grille they see the shape of Bill Benson. Ron looks up at Connie.
‘Thank you. I know you don’t have to do this. Especially for me.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ says Connie. ‘I owe someone a good deed.’
Bill opens the grille.