Jekyll & Hyde Inc.

“It’s a way out of jobs we hate,” said Oscar.

“And . . . we get to do some good,” said Daniel.

“All for one, and all against one!” said Nigel. “Let us venture forth into the night and stick it to the bad guys!”

“Right,” said Oscar. He cracked his knuckles again, and everyone winced.

The four of them ended up loitering casually on a street corner, in an area that had never even heard of gentrification. The bookshop was a shabby affair, the only window painted over in thick swirls so no one could see in. The sign above the window said simply Secondhand Bookshop.

“Not even a name?” said Paul. “They could have made an effort.”

Daniel looked up and down the street, checking out the long gloomy stretches punctuated by pools of lamplight. Like spotlights on an empty stage, and a play no one wanted to be in.

“Where is everybody?”

“It’s late,” said Paul.

“Not for Soho,” said Daniel. “There’s usually someone around, selling things they shouldn’t. And the odd punter looking to do something unwise.”

“Unless the local population knows something we don’t,” said Nigel.

“There’s no muscle guarding the door,” said Oscar.

“Try not to sound so disappointed,” said Paul. “Remember, Bear: unconscious people can’t answer questions.”

“They can’t give you any trouble either,” Oscar said reasonably.

They all took a moment, to check that the Tasers and batons they’d stowed about their persons were ready to hand.

“Ah, memories . . . ” said Oscar.

Daniel looked at him, but said nothing. Every plan of action needs someone like Oscar.

“Can’t help feeling we’d be better off with proper guns,” said Nigel.

“It’s just a backstreet chop shop,” said Paul. “A Taser will take down anyone, no matter how big they are. It’s very democratic.”

“How do we want to do this?” said Oscar.

“Keep it simple,” said Daniel. “Less to go wrong that way. We walk in, flash our IDs around, and arrest everything that moves. Oscar, you can flatten any muscle who objects, just to show we mean business. Then we tear the place apart until we find some useful paperwork . . . and perhaps even some computer records, if anyone’s been stupid enough to use an obvious password. Once we’re done we can just sit on everything, call the commissioner, and wait for backup.”

“Assuming everything goes smoothly,” said Nigel. “And we don’t have to lay down the law in an assertive fashion.”

“Best part,” said Oscar. He cracked his knuckles loudly, and everyone found a reason to look somewhere else.

“Paul, you can take the front door, with me,” said Daniel. “Nigel, Oscar: nip round the back. Just in case anyone rabbits.”

“Since when are you the commanding officer?” said Nigel.

“Do you have a better plan?” said Daniel.

“That’s not the point,” said Nigel.

“It sort of is,” said Paul.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” said Oscar.

He strode off, heading determinedly for the narrow alley beside the shop, and Nigel went after him.

“If you crack your knuckles one more time, Bear . . . ”

Paul grinned at Daniel. “It does feel good, to be doing something that matters.”

“This is what I joined up for,” said Daniel. “To be the man in the white hat, riding to the rescue. Do you think anyone in there is going to give us a hard time?”

“Why should they?” said Paul. “Makes more sense for them to just sit quietly, and wait for the firm’s lawyers to break them loose.”

“Then let’s go fight some monsters,” said Daniel.

“I take it back,” said Paul. “You’re not a Boy Scout, you’re a knight in shining armor.”

“Somebody has to be,” said Daniel.

Inside the shop, the walls were covered in shelves packed with cheap paperbacks, while a bored-looking teenage girl stood slumped over the counter, concentrating on her phone. A tall, gangling sort with spiky hair, a white T-shirt, and black leather trousers, she made a big thing out of ignoring the new arrivals while still being very aware of their presence. Daniel moved forward to confront her, while Paul drifted casually into position to block the way to the rear door. The receptionist looked up from her phone, her eyes quietly alert while her face gave nothing away.

“See anything you fancy, gents? Got some nice Agatha Christies.”

“We’re not here for books,” said Daniel.

“Didn’t think so. Do you have an appointment, gents?”

Daniel showed her his warrant card. She just sniffed.

“We’re paid up. You want anything special, your bosses will have to talk to my bosses. Not my department.”

“Cut the crap,” said Paul. “We’re shutting you down.”

The teenage girl stood up straight. It was hard to tell whether she looked more surprised, or outraged. “Like hell you are. I told you: we’re all paid up!”

“We heard you,” said Daniel. “We don’t care. You’re under arrest.”

She didn’t even try to bluff him, just bolted for the rear door. Paul was ready for that, but she lowered her shoulder and slammed right through him, sending him crashing into a bookshelf. She was already through the door and gone by the time he got his feet under him again. Daniel shook his head.

“You have spent far too long behind a desk.”