The End of the Web by George Sims

Author:George Sims [Sims, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781464208997
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press, Inc.
Published: 2017-07-25T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter XIII

The part of Georgian London known as Lincoln’s Inn has not been developed nor much tampered with in recent years. The picturesque main portion with its diapered brickwork and sharply pointed windows is there for all to see; those who look a little harder will discover the less ornate north-east corner, near Chancery Lane, where Robert Taylor’s Stone Buildings face a later block across a long court.

Strolling up Chancery Lane, Ed Buchanan found he had a few minutes to spare before his appointment with Alpha Security and walked through the unprepossessing passage beside No. 76a, which leads to the back of a fine arch set on the diagonal. Holborn was a part of London he knew reasonably well, and he had come through this knowledge by his habit of turning down little-used alley-ways.

Star Yard, the address given for Alpha Security’s offices, was another such by-way with a bollard set in the passage to make it usable by pedestrians only. Buchanan looked closely at the bollard, wondering whether it had been made from a cannon like those in Upper Thames Street by the side of All Hallows the Less. The Victorian urinal made of cast-iron in elaborate patterns with the royal arms in several panels was worthy of scrutiny too, but a pretty girl was hurrying down the alley and Buchanan did not want to appear like some kind of nut, so he took out the Alpha Security card and studied that instead.

Alpha Security, Bell House (Third Floor), Star Yard, Carey Street, London WC2. The address was engraved in large black letters and looked impressive. It seemed a good idea to locate such a business in an enclave of lawyers, and the firm’s prompt response to his phone-call had made a good impression. The girl who had answered had spoken in a strange accent that was hard to place, and with a quiet voice, but she had been firm about the time to call being ‘4.45 precisely’.

The name Alpha Security in gilt Roman letters took up little space on the black announcement-board in the entrance hall of Bell House. The names on the other floors were more long-winded, being firms of solicitors that went with the candlestick and sealing-wax, Chancery Court atmosphere of the area. The red rubber floor in the hall was polished enough to skate on in socks and smelt pleasantly of lavender.

There were two doors on the third floor, both bearing the firm’s name gilt-lettered in very small italic capitals. One was open and Buchanan walked through it at precisely 4.45 according to his watch and found himself in a small room containing a typist’s chromium desk and stool, and two chromium chairs with blue-green seats. The sea-green motif was also found in the highly polished rubber floor which had an embossed wave-like pattern. There were no pictures on the walls and nothing on the desk apart from a phone. The place had an aseptic atmosphere like that of a dentist’s surgery, and the clean scent of Eau-de-Cologne.

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