Witness - [44]

That’s when Zak had the idea. He bought some rissoles, the ones you could eat hot or cold, and asked the woman on the till when they closed. She pointed to a big black and white notice on the wall behind her. ‘Eight till eight,’ she said. ‘Eleven till four on Sunday.’

Outside he sat on a low wall and shared the food with Bess.

The warehouse stood on a plot of its own, an old chain-link fence, broken here and there, surrounding it. There was a drainpipe at the back corner of the building, the corner nearest to him. Across the way was a block of flats and at the other side some other small industrial units. Nothing too close. It wouldn’t be easy – but man, it’d be worth it!

Zak and Bess got in through one of the gaps in the fence. Zak had been begging on Deansgate and raised enough money to buy a little headlamp, like a miner’s light but LED, and a lump hammer from the discount hardware shop in the precinct. Then they’d waited: half an hour in the café, another in the park. Now Value-Mart was deserted, all locked up.

Zak told Bess to lie down by the loading bay. She was out of sight of anyone driving past and it gave her a bit of shelter. ‘Won’t be long,’ he told her, patted her back, ‘good girl.’ She licked his face.

The windows on the block of flats were lit up looking like an advent calendar. Curtains and blinds closed against the night. The industrial estate slumbered in the shadows between street lights, their blue-white glow like the colour from a telly. The drainpipe was a doddle but the climb up the roof from there was treacherous. The galvanized metal was slick with condensation, hard to get a grab on, the undulations on the surface not deep enough for purchase and his bad wrist throbbed with the strain. Zak slipped, slid back, his guts churning. He rammed his feet into the guttering to brake, praying it would hold. Sweat broke out all over his body, chilling quickly.

He decided it would be easier to try going up the very edge of the roof to the apex of the gable, then along the top. He shredded his fingers getting up there but he didn’t fall, then he sat astride the roof and shuffled along until he reached the skylights. He’d counted when he was in the store, reckoned the third one would be best. He positioned himself close to it and looked down. The light of his lamp shone back at him, blinding stars in the glass.

One thing he didn’t know was how the alarm was rigged. Breaking the glass might set it off, some places had sensors for vibration, others only alarmed the entry points, the doors. But even if he was unlucky, Zak reckoned he’d have maybe fifteen minutes before the police showed. Time to fill his bags and get away.

Zak pulled the lump hammer from his pocket and settled its weight in his hand. He gripped the shaft and swung the head down hard on the centre of the pane. There was a ringing noise and the glass crazed a little. No alarm sounded. He hit again, the same spot, and the glass fractured more, lines running here and there, the surface turning white. Three more strikes and the glass had buckled and split, one end peeling down into the maw of the building. Zak used his right heel to hit at the lower end of the frame and the rest of the glass came loose and fell. It made less noise than he’d expected.

Zak peered into the hole. The beams of his headlamp picked up the pile of rugs directly below and the glint of glass on the floor at the side. Zak smiled. He leaned in and flung the lump hammer out to the left, heard it clang against the shelving. He swung his legs round until they were dangling in space. He leaned to his left and bent over to grip the top edge of the broken frame. Then he shifted forward, let go with his hands and dropped, felt the plunge of falling and landed with a whoomp on the dusty rugs. Winded but satisfied he lay looking up, seeing little, only what the thin beams of his lamp picked out. He coughed a bit then clambered down off the pile of rugs.

Waggling his head about to scan as much as he could, he made his way along the central aisle to the front of the store where the public entrance was. There were light switches in the corner there and Zak tried one, then the rest, and filled the place with the blaze of fluorescents.

He had a big laundry bag folded in each pocket. He got them out and set about filling them. Whisky in those cardboard tubes, vodka too. Fruitcakes, some frozen lamb that Midge might like, batteries, a socket set, an electric drill, DVD players and a couple of digital cameras. Dried food for Bess. They didn’t sell fags which was a pity.

He picked up a set of earrings and a matching locket for his mam. Put that in. And a trench coat and a fleece for himself.

When the bags were full he went to get the big ladders.

They were padlocked to a ring in the wall, in the storage area.

He couldn’t believe it! He went to find the lump hammer and came back. He smashed at the padlock again and again and the hammer just bounced off. Then he went for the ring in the wall, battering the brickwork around it, cursing and nearly bawling with frustration. Then the shaft of the hammer split and the head flew off. Useless.