Page 43 of The Scene of the Crime
‘Did he get the lockbox?’
‘You gave me the wrong numbers to unlock the safe.’
‘I saw De Klerk put those numbers in . . .’
‘Then he must have changed them.’
‘You better not be lying to me, Wheeler?’
‘Fortunately for you, and anticipating you might get the numbers wrong, I told my mate to take my tool bag with him. He forced the safe open before De Klerk appeared and started using him as a punching bag.’
‘Stop fucking about, Wheeler. Did he get the lockbox or not?’
‘Yes. I’ve got it here in front of me.’
‘If he was that good, he wouldn’t have disturbed De Klerk.’
‘It’s your fuck-ups that caused the problems, not his.’
‘Was your friend wearing a balaclava?’
‘Yes, he’s not an idiot, but there was another big fuck-up.’
‘Christ! What?’
‘De Klerk’s dead.’
‘What! Jesus Christ, you telling me he fucking killed him? Why did he do that?’
‘It was an accident. De Klerk ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. They struggled and went over, and De Klerk landed on the knife. He thinks it went straight through his heart.’
‘Then he can’t be certain he’s dead.’
‘He’s certain because De Klerk wasn’t breathing. There’s been nothing on the news about it, so his body must still be lying in the house.’
‘Dear God, what a fucking mess. De Klerk’s wife will probably find him when she gets home, and then it will be all over the media. The police will tear that house apart . . .’
‘They won’t find anything, so stop shitting yourself.’
‘Are there any other fuck-ups I need to know about?’
‘He used De Klerk’s Range Rover to make a quick getaway.’
‘He stole his fucking car? This just gets worse and worse. CCTV cameras could have picked him up.’
‘He’s not that stupid. He told me he kept his hoodie up and head down when he was driving.’
‘Where’s the car now?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s hidden away, and I’ll sort getting rid of it.’
‘Why didn’t he use his own car to do the job?’
‘Like me, he never does, in case it’s seen or picked up on camera. We always get an Uber to and from a break-in, but not door-to-door obviously.’
‘An Uber. I thought you were fucking professionals!’
‘Uber drivers never ask questions. If the police see a lone person sitting in the back, they automatically assume it’s a cab. If they stop the car, the driver will produce his licence and the plod will happily wave him on his way.’
