5:30am, the boy had arrived 30 minutes ago, pushing his way between two loose boards that were supposed to keep people out of the former department store, a layer of old flyers flapped as he pushed his way in with a large black holdall, wearing a hooded jacket and jeans.
He emerged ten minutes later without the bag, wearing a dirty beige rain mac, the sort that flashers made famous in pursuit of their jollies, and a drab pair of dark corduroy trousers, that were thin and faded at the knees. He settled himself down, making a nest out of a grubby door mat, some flattened cardboard and the sign warning that vagrants will be forcibly removed, he placed a dish out in front of him, and then dropped some coins into it and bowed his head.
I looked at my watch, a faint green glow from the radium hands showed 6:30am, The investigation unit had been sitting on the old store for two months, after a tip that the kingpin had his boys making like it was Amsterdam. This was my second week, and the incident book was empty of incidents. I flicked the blinds to one side and peered over at the boy, the city was waking up, the electric glow from the concrete jungle was starting to fade as the natural light lit the smog and the grime.
A few hundred people had already passed by, rushing for the train that was always late and full, some had tossed coins into his dish, but most of them continued on without so much of a sideways glance.
Street people were part of societies grime, it was rare that anyone noticed them; instead of wealth they were gifted a natural camouflage that came from living on the streets.
I let the blind fall back into place and wandered in to the kitchen, the kettle roared ferociously, steam billowed out of the spout, and cooled in a damp gravity defying puddle under the kitchen cabinet. I made a strong black coffee in a chipped mug with a picture of daisy duck on the side, and fished two pieces of well done but not burnt toast out from the toaster, I slathered them with butter and marmalade, and then crosscut each piece into a triangle, and stacked them up on a plate. The kitchen clock eased itself to 07:00am
Back in the front room, I set my coffee and toast down on the coffee table, and checked my watch – 07:05am, I took a piece of toast off the top of the pile and went back to the window, and eased the blind to the side. I stood watching the boy for 15 minutes, chewing on the sweet sticky toast as I stared out across the road.
I moved back into the sitting room and flopped down in a broken arm chair by the coffee table, it sagged under my weight, sucking my butt into a hammock of foam-less material. I ate the rest of the toast, and picked up the coffee up, the initial pleasant coffee aroma had been replaced by an fetid smell, as if I had drawn the water from the toilet. I braved a sip, it tasted as bad as it smelled - I put the mug back on the table, and pushed it away so that I couldn't smell it.
Back at the window, my watch ticked by 07:45am, I watched the boy make his first count of the money. Judging by the length of time he spent counting it, he had obviously had a good morning. He carefully pocketed all but a few coins which he left in the dish, and resumed his position in the former stores doorway.
My cell phone burst into life at 8:00am, 'Station' displayed in the caller ID.
I grabbed it and took the call, “Garrick here” I half listened to the chief waffle on for 15 minutes, before ending the call, I was being redeployed.
I heaved myself out of the chair, and shuffled into the kitchen. I poured the rancid coffee down the drain and washed up the plate and cup, I dried the puddle on the counter where gravity had pulled the impossible puddle. I went back into the front room and packed my gear up, checked I had everything before turning off the lights and pulling the back door shut behind me.
I walked from my surveillance post across the street up to the boy, he only looked up at me when murky daylight reflecting off my badge flashed across his face. Though his face remained emotionless, his eyes spoke to our familiarity.
“You alright?” I asked, he didn't answer.
“Look, I'm finished on this place, but my relief will be here soon” I looked at my watch, “they'll be here at 10:00am.”
“and...” the boy said.
“and you've got an hour”
“and what if I want to stay because this place makes me money”
“Then you become part of the official record, this will become something else, they will spy on you, log your movements, beat you down and arrest you, because unlike you and I, they're not your friend!”
“why do care now?”
“I never stopped caring son, I never stopped!”