The Merchant' Coin PART 6 Mrs. T parked up at the kerb. “Let’s get this over with then,” Stewart said, popping open the car door to climb out. “Wait,” said Mrs. T, wriggling about in the drivers seat searching for her high-heels. “C’mon, Mrs. T.” Snatching them from the back seat, she quickly slipped them on, walking around the bonnet to meet Stewart. The man in the blue trench coat had already spotted them from the reaction on his Stewart's dad’s face. Stewart and Mrs. T walked across the Square. A jazz band played endlessly in the background. The attacker stood in silence. Stewart felt the man’s piercing blue eyes studying him as they approached. He looked younger than Stewart expected, in his mid twenty’s perhaps. His eyes however, looked older and more experienced than they should for a man of his age. He felt the blood pumping in his veins as he approached. Stewart stopped and his dad pulled them both into a quick embrace. “It’s good to see you both.” The man in the dark blue trench coat turned to face Stewart. “The Blueprint please, Stewart,” he said in a light European accent as he held out a black, leather-gloved hand. Stewart stared at him, narrowing his eyes. Mrs. Turnbell nudged Stewart with her elbow and with a sigh, Stewart handed it over. The man checked it before slipping the flimsy piece of paper inside the pocket of his trench coat. “You can have this back.” The man said, handing Professor Wilson back his cell phone. Mrs. Turnbell looked to the Professor. “Would you care to explain to your son and I what the hell is going on? Why did the Art Director attack us?” David Wilson raised his brow in surprise, “He really attacked you?” “Yeah. You warned me Dad, remember. How did you even know?” “I didn’t warn you, he did.” David motioned to the stranger in the blue trench coat, who was already walking away with the blueprint “…whoever he was, he attacked the Director at the gallery. I hid the Blueprint and tried to lead him away from it.” “Fat load of good that did,” muttered Mrs. T. David gave Mrs. Turnbell’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and took keys to the SUV. “C’mon, we’re getting soaked.” Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me, don’t cha! Stewart quickly patted himself down. Finding the cell phone in his left jacket pocket, the name Ashley flashed on the screen. “Ash, you’re not going to believe what happened-” “Stewart! What the hell is going on?” Mrs. Turnbell and his father began walking back to the SUV. “What do you mean?” Stewart said, meeting eyes with a policeman across the other side of the Square. “You’re all over the twelve o’clock news, Stewart. They’re saying you and Mrs. T attacked the Art Director and stole a painting! The Police have a manhunt out looking for you.” “What? That’s not how it happened.” Stewart felt his heart begin to race as the policeman began talking into his radio. “Oh god, gotta go! I’ll call you later. Love you,” he said, hanging up.