Read Doors Open for Free Online

recce, reporting back that there was no one loitering in the vicinity.

    ‘What about office windows?’ Chib had asked.

    ‘I checked.’

    ‘In one of the shops maybe, pretending to browse?’

    ‘I already said.’ Glenn had bristled. ‘If there’s anyone out there, they’re better than good.’

    ‘They don’t have to be better than good,’ Chib had snapped back. ‘Just better than you .’ Then he’d gone back to gnawing his bottom lip, the way he sometimes did when he was thinking. Until, having paid the bill, he’d come to a decision.

    ‘Okay then . . . the two of you can eff off.’

    ‘Boss?’ Johnno this time, trying to work out if he’d heard right.

    Chib didn’t say anything, but the way he saw it was, if it was the Angels or someone like them, they’d be more likely to make their move if he was alone. And if it was the cops . . . well, he wasn’t sure. But at least he’d know, one way or the other. It was a plan. It was something .

    The look on Glenn’s face, however, told him this didn’t mean it was necessarily better than nothing . . .

    Chib’s idea was to hit the shopping crowds on Princes Street. Cars weren’t allowed down there, so any tail would have to come after him on foot. He could then climb the steep flight of steps at the side of the Mound and head for the quieter streets of the Old Town, streets where anyone following on foot would be easy to spot.

    It was a plan.

    But not much better than nothing, as he soon learned. He’d told Glenn and Johnno to stay with the car, he would call them when he needed them. Then he’d headed down Frederick Street, crossing to the quieter side of Princes Street, the side with no shops. The Castle loomed above him. He could make out the tiny shapes of tourists as they leaned over the battlements. He hadn’t been inside the Castle for years; seemed to remember a school trip there, but he’d sneaked away after twenty minutes and headed into town. A couple of years back, he’d been cornered in a bar by someone he knew. The man had confided a carefully thought-out scheme to steal the Scottish Crown Jewels, but Chib had given him a slap across the jaw for his trouble.

    ‘Castle’s not just for tourists,’ he’d explained to the hapless drunk. ‘It’s a working bloody garrison. How you going to sneak the jewels past that lot, eh?’

    He crossed the foot of the Mound at the traffic lights and walked towards the steps. Kept stopping, casting glances back - no sign of anyone. Bloody hell, though . . . Peering up the incline, he realised just how steep the steps actually were. He wasn’t used to walking. The shoppers and tourists on Princes Street hadn’t helped his blood pressure. He’d broken into a sweat just dodging the buses as he crossed the road. What was the point of banning cars when the place just became a racetrack for taxi-cabs and double-deckers? He knew he couldn’t face climbing those steps, so stood his ground for a moment instead, weighing up alternatives. He could take a detour into Princes Street Gardens - couldn’t stomach the thought of Princes Street itself again. There was a big Greek-style building in front of him; two of them, actually, one behind the other. Art galleries: he knew that much. One of them, they’d wrapped its pillars last year to make them look like soup cans. Something to do with an exhibition. Chib remembered the three guys in the bar. He’d gone over to their table knowing a fifteen-second glare would put the frighteners on them, and it had. That catalogue they’d been perusing - full of paintings. Now here he was outside the National Gallery of Scotland. Yeah, why not? Sort of like a sign from above. Plus, if anyone followed him inside, he’d know for sure. As he walked up to the door, it was held open for him by one of the staff. Chib hesitated, hand in pocket.

    ‘How much?’ he asked.

    ‘No charge, sir,’ the guard answered. He even gave a little bow.

     
Ransome watched as