Page 21 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
“Scale of rudeness? How old are you?” I replied, chuckling.
“Thirty-five. Sixteen years older than you,” he replied.
“An old man, then. And that’s about mid-scale. I can do better if you’d like me to.”
“You need anold manto keep you in check.”
“I don’tneedanyone,” I replied, and then started to walk ahead.
I was sure that I heard him say,we’ll see, but when I turned around, he just smirked at me. “Stop looking at my arse, as well,” I added.
“You can tell me to do a lot of things. Whether I’ll comply is another matter.”
I strode off, muttering under my breath, but loud enough so he knew I was doing it. His laughter echoed around the concrete chamber. Finally, we came to a landing and another door. I had to wait until he keyed in yet another code.
“Next time, can we just go in via the main entrance?”
He held the door wide and gestured with his arm for me to enter first. I stepped into an open plan office with one large corner office. The walls of which were all glass. It was a different floor than the one I’d been on before.This one was clearly his. In the corner, opposite the office, was a seating area. Plush leather sofas formed a square around a small coffee table. There were tables down one side of the room with mock ups of buildings, drawings, and it seemed to me to resemble a showroom of sorts, or a museum.
“Let me guess, another secret code,” I said, looking at the keypad next to his office door. “Although, if one wanted to break in, surely they’d just smash the window.”
“Two two zero seven.”
“Huh?”
“The code, two two zero seven. Not such a secret. As for the glass, if one wanted to smash those, it would take a small sized bomb.”
“Why the security, though? Genuine question, I didn’t see anything like that downstairs.”
“Because I value my privacy. I also don’t want people in and out of my office.”
“Except me?”
“Except you.”
He stood to one side, and I keyed in the code, the door unlocked, and I opened it. It was heavy, for sure, but hinged in such a way that it swung open effortlessly.
“Make yourself at home. There is coffee or water, and a bathroom in that corner. Take a look around.Those are some of our previous projects, they might interest you.”
“What exactly do you do?” I asked.
“Property development, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Sometimes I kill people. Being in property development is quite handy for disposing of bodies.” He smirked, and the skin around his eyes crinkled.
“Ha ha. I’ll grab a coffee. Do you want one?”
“Yes, please, black and strong.”
He walked around a solid oak, large desk and before he’d even sat, a monitor emerged from its hiding place within the desk. He slid open a drawer and removed a keyboard.
“Impressive,” I said, then left the room.
After spending about ten minutes trying to work the machine, I’d managed two mugs of black coffee. I took one back to his office. He was sitting with headphones on, the type with a mouthpiece, and typing. He typed way faster than I could have. I placed his coffee on the desk, and he looked up and smiled at me.
“Hold on, Jake,” he said. “See that desk there?” he pointed to one at the furthest end of the room. “On it is a mock-up of a club, my club. It needs a total overhaul inside. Want to take a look?”
