Deep Shelter Read Online Free Page A

quick enough to hide her blush.
    “See you tomorrow. Bright and early to catch the library robbers.”
    He left, amused by a faint regret. Then his phone buzzed, and all thoughts evaporated: On way , three kisses.
    Jemma with a J, as she’d introduced herself in the custody suite. Someone who was all future. His chat-up line: “You take three grams of cocaine on a political protest? How much fun is it meant to be?” Third date, three kisses. Time to put a plan into action.
    He visited the florist’s by Belsize Park station and bought a bunch of carnations with cream petals and crimson edges. The Co-op only had birthday candles, but they were better than nothing. He bought a box of twenty. He bought new batteries for the Maglite, paid ten pence for an extra-large shopping bag to hide it all in. He went into the Haverstock Arms and ordered two glasses of cava, drank them, placed the glasses in the bag with the torch and flowers.
    Jemma with a J was twenty-two years old: a student of art, a tequila girl and a political protestor. Three noble ways to pass the time. She’d love it. She’d get to know him a little better. And it would save him the embarrassment of explaining his current living arrangements. So far he had visited the club where she worked a couple of times, paid for one dinner together, then last weekend she invited him to some free drinks at a gallery launch. Still no bed time. She’d asked for a glimpse of his life, perhaps in that misguided belief that police detectives roll with some kind of glamour. Other than the glamour they make for themselves. He was going to show her his art.

4
    JEMMA WAS WAITING OUTSIDE BELSIZE PARK tube station, dressed for heat: cut-off shorts, vest top and sandals, large shades pinning down long black hair. They kissed and he forgot a lot of potential complications.
    “What’s in the bag?” she asked.
    “A surprise.”
    “Grab a coffee?”
    They sat for a moment in the Costa with the shelter turret at its back, talked about their days, the bank robbers he’d caught, criminal empires brought down; then her work, sleazy men in the club, an art piece she was making with Lego and broken glass. She had wry mascaraed eyes and a smile that gave the lie to them, excitable, too young for him.
    “Jemma, are you up for an adventure?”
    “Yes.”
    “I want to show you something.”
    Belsey took her hand. They left the coffee shop and turned into the alleyway beside it. He led her towards the shelter. She looked at Belsey, puzzled.
    “What is it?”
    “A space ship.” He directed her to the cut fence and the chair, still in place beneath the window. “Are you OK climbing through?”
    “Sure.” She shifted her handbag around and climbed in, making it look easy. “What the hell is this?” she asked from inside.
    “This is where I live,” Belsey said. He dropped down beside her.
    “You’re joking.”
    “I’m joking.” He gave her the Maglite and pointed towards the stairs. “Lift’s out of order.”
    “What’s down there?”
    “Monsters.”
    She led them down.
    “Are we allowed to be in here?”
    “Of course. That’s why they keep it clean and well lit.”
    They stepped over the corrugated panel labelled No Entry and he directed her to the warden’s post.
    “Go in and close your eyes,” Belsey instructed. She did as she was told. He followed. He lit three birthday candles, used their wax to stick them to the warden’s table, arranged the flowers in the empty bottle and set the champagne flutes up next to a fresh one.
    “OK, you can open them.”
    “Oh my God.” She laughed. “What the fuck, Nick? Whose birthday is it?”
    “Ours. We’ve known each other precisely forty-two days.”
    “Do I blow them out and make a wish?”
    “You blow them out, I make a wish. You have to see if you can feel what it is.”
    She punched him in the chest. He sat down and poured the drinks while she explored. The benzylpiperazine was working. He felt electric.
    “Is