Dying to Live

Chapter 20 - Ben to the Rescue

I gazed at the contents of the case, mesmerised by bundles of hundred-dollar bills, each secured by an elastic band. A whole lot of Benjamin Franklins, if I'm not mistaken, were staring at me. I had no idea how much money there was but there was a helluva lot. Twenty grand sprung to mind, there was at least twenty grand.

I slammed the lid and caught my fingers. A second attempt got the briefcase closed and snibbed. I wasn't going to take any chances and count the money there. With my hat pulled well down over my face again, I made my way to the exit, head bowed.

"Yud. Yud," shouted a man from somewhere behind me.

Turning my head slightly, my peripheral vision picked up a man in uniform hurrying in my direction. Eyes back to the front, I increased my walking speed. Don't panic, stay calm.

"Yud. Yud," he shouted again. I didn't know what he was saying or whether he was saying it to me. Head down I walked on, picking up the pace again. I was nearly at the entrance, nearly outside, nearly back to James, when a strong hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me round. A uniformed Thai man stared into my face. He didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to work out I wasn't from these parts.

"English?"

"Yes," I said. "Is there a problem?"

"You must come with me."

"Why?" Shit, shit, shit. Should I make a run for it?

"Don't want to get police. Just want to talk."

"Who are you?" I asked, stalling for time.

"Station security. Please, come."

What could I do? Running didn't make sense, so I nodded and slotted in behind him as he led the way to dear knows where. We crossed the main plaza and through a door which he unlocked with a swipe card. There was a Thai notice on the door, I assumed it said something like 'Staff Only', or maybe it said, 'Deep Shit Coming Your Way'. Our footsteps echoed around the bleak concrete service corridors and were the only noise to be heard. We skipped up a couple of flight of stairs. The unfamiliar exercise or the stress had given my breathing a life of its own, and I was sweating. Fear gripped me and my stomach tightened, as if I'd just swallowed something the size of a watermelon. I knew I hadn't, because my dad had told me never to eat anything bigger than my head and I always listened to my dad.

My brain was a frantic mess as it tried to come up with a believable reason to have just picked up a briefcase containing twenty grand in US Dollars out of a left luggage locker. I couldn't think straight. Random ideas shot off in all directions. I'm not sure I could have remembered my own name if I'd been pressed for it.

"Through here," said the uniformed man, holding open a bright red door.

Inside the darkened room, banks of screens displayed black and white pictures of swarms of travellers zipping around the station. I was in the CCTV control room. Three other uniformed men stared at me as I came through the door.

BANG. The door slammed behind me and made me jump. A fresh wave of nausea swept over me. I closed my eyes tight hoping to overcome the panic which was making me tremble like a jelly in an earthquake.

"Sit," said the man who had led me there. "Watch."

One of the other men fingered a few buttons and CCTV footage appeared on the biggest screen in the room. It was me entering the station. I looked shifty with my hunched shoulders, bowed head and hat pulled down. Even my walk looked shifty. No wonder I'd drawn their attention. I watched as I made my way through the central plaza. The view switched as other cameras picked up my movement. There I was entering the locker area. I seemed to stand stock still in the entrance for ages, as if they'd paused the footage. Then I moved off in a sudden burst.