Sun of the Sleepless by Patrick Horne Page A

profit. It was something that she had planned to do the following week but she needed to occupy herself to get her mind off the events of the morning and she considered that she might as well get on with sorting her stock.
    She had booted up her cherry red laptop and was busily engaged in scanning through her database of descriptions and digital images, also checking the internet for any interesting information that might improve the provenance of a book or clarify its rarity so that the price could be pushed up - anything that might be useful in catching a buyer's eye.
    She had decided to take some photographs of the stock that she had not fully catalogued yet and had set-up her display lectern in readiness, although she would have to wait for her digital camera to recharge before she could get on with that task.
    Gertrude resolved to haul at least one container up from Willem - the box in which she had deposited the job lot of stock she had invested in earlier in the week. Although she had made a cursory run through the assorted books and priced them according to her initial reactions, she knew that it would be both silly and lazy not to research each book properly before placing it for sale. First, though, she needed some more coffee.
    Rey had yet another cigarillo on the go when he saw a black Volkswagen turn slowly into the street on which he had stationed himself. He stood just over half way down, around twenty-five metres past the coffee-shop and leaning in the alcove of the entrance to a derelict shop which, like so many other shops in this particular area, had clearly been a victim of the recent economic recession.
    Even the promise of Christmas trade had not saved this aspiring business and curling posters of a closing down sale from the previous month adorned the glass frontage, giving him some cover behind which he could survey the area through the two perpendicular panes of corner glass.
    He followed the progress of the car as it slowly motored by the leafy designs sprouting across the softly lit window of the coffee-shop, easing to a stop as it reached his position. He ducked down and could see Frans at the wheel who raised his hand in acknowledgement and then swivelled round to look up and down the street before moving away again. Frans drove for a few metres and then executed a three-point turn to face back along the way he had just come, driving up to Rey before pulling into a convenient parking space on the same side of the road.
    Rey flicked his still smouldering cigarillo butt into the gutter and darted over to the VW, scurrying to the kerbside passenger door and jerking it open before quickly hopping into the pleasantly heated interior, the temperature accentuating the 'new-car' aroma.
    'It is bloody freezing out there!'
    Sliding sideways, Frans reached down behind Rey's backrest, pulling out a cardboard tray holding two take-out drinks cups from the foot-well of the rear passenger seat.
    'Just as well that I brought you a tea, eh? Three sugars and your beloved milk, just the way you like it. That will soon warm you up.'
    He handed over one cup and took the remaining coffee for himself, tossing the cardboard tray over his shoulder.
    'So what has been happening?'
    Rey clasped his hands about the tall cardboard cup, warming them up.
    'Not much, I'm pretty sure our boy is in there, I did a walk by and a kid matching his description was at a table at the front sitting with a couple of other guys but he moved into the back a few minutes ago. We just have to sit and wait for him to come out.'
    He glanced across at the dashboard clock.
    'He probably won't be much longer than a couple of hours.'
    Having browsed through a number of the titles that she had purchased as a 'job lot', Gertrude picked up the book entitled Dirigo Lux from the plastic container, grunting to herself as she lifted it at arms length and feeling her elbow take the strain. She placed the book onto the sofa next to her, her laptop balanced