Silent Money Page 17

  ‘What makes him so special that he needs checking up on?’ he asked Michael, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘Just a random check, that’s all. What’s the concern?’

  ‘Me and wee Jake go back a long way. If there’s anything I should know about him, tell me. You don’t usually get into this detail at these meetings. So, Michael?’

  ‘So, nothing,’ Michael replied. ‘There’s nothing you need to know about him. Sounds like you know him well enough already. Eric, what’s the status on his account?’

  Jenkins rifled through the papers in his briefcase. ‘I wasn’t expecting to go into this, but … ah, yes, here!’ He produced a sheaf of papers with a flourish. ‘We’re holding almost fifteen thousand pounds of his money in his transit account. He’s not made any withdrawals since he started using our services. Probably one of the safest clients we’ve got.’

  ‘Good, good,’ Michael said, giving Jenkins a crisp nod. ‘Sorry for that distraction, but I was just curious. Let’s get on with what we’re here for. Ron, how are the smurfs behaving themselves?’

  Ron went through the rest of the meeting eyeing Michael with barely concealed distrust. As he was leaving, he brought up the question of Strachan again.

  ‘Michael, you don’t ask questions without a reason. What’s with the sudden interest in Jake Strachan?’

  ‘I told you, random check,’ Michael replied. Jenkins was busying himself on the other side of the room and Michael dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I like to make sure that Eric’s on top of things by asking him a few unexpected questions from time to time. That’s all.’

  Ron raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe I should ask you a few unexpected questions from time to time too. To check nothing is going on I should know about.’

  ‘Ron, there’s never anything going on that you should know about that I don’t tell you,’ Michael replied. He called over to Jenkins. ‘Eric, leave me that copy of the client report, would you? Some bedtime reading.’ He ignored Ron’s probing gaze as he left.

  A week later Strachan was caught red-handed. Ron turned up at Michael’s house that evening, apoplectic with anger.

  ‘You knew, didn’t you? Jake Strachan was caught bang to rights today, stitched up at a robbery. You knew it was going to happen and you did nothing to stop it.’

  ‘Calm down, Ron,’ Michael replied. He paused for a long second. ‘Strachan’s arrest was on the news this evening. Even if I did know about him being under suspicion, there was nothing I could have done about it. Losing a client is less important than taking the risk of questions being asked how Strachan would have known to cancel the job.’

  ‘I could have found a way to save his skin without raising any suspicions. Five years, he’s going to get – he’s still on probation from his last spell inside. He’s got a family, for fuck’s sake. I asked you directly about him and you lied to me.’

  ‘Saving Strachan’s skin would have been an act of weakness, Ron. We run a business, not a safety blanket for criminals who can’t look after themselves. If you want to talk about this, we can do it in the morning, in the office. I don’t take kindly to you coming to my home to confront me.’

  Ron continued to rant and Michael continued to stonewall every fresh tirade. He told himself that Ron was letting sentiment get in the way of business logic. But deep down, there was another thought, festering away and giving him the delicious taste of revenge. Ron had killed off the only relationship Michael had ever cared about; now, Michael’s inaction has cost one of Ron’s closest friend’s his liberty. There was a degree of poetic justice in that, but his feeling of satisfaction spurred on another thought. It might be time, he told himself, to deal with Ron himself.

  Simply firing him was too risky. The way to deal with Ron was to increase the operation massively in scale without his involvement, reducing him to a small cog in the machine that could be distanced from the core of the operation; any role he did retain being insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It would mean extending nationwide. If he could be this successful north of the border, Michael told himself, the potential for expansion throughout the UK was unimaginable. But for that, he needed Kenny McGowan’s help again.

  Michael invited McGowan round, gave him a tour of the house. The gun and sword collection now stretched the full length of the hallway walls and McGowan particularly liked the bird room, a large, octagonal salon painted in subtle shades of white, with a large Victorian birdcage in the centre, full of multicoloured finches. McGowan stared at them, fascinated by their beauty, and it occurred to Michael that there was something about caged birds that struck a chord with ex-cons. Even the hardest of hard men had a soft side.

  Michael cooked McGowan a steak, flambéed in cognac, and endured his acerbic teasing about what a ponce he was, doing the cooking. He told McGowan he found it relaxing; also, that McGowan should feel honoured – mostly he cooked only for himself. Michael topped up McGowan’s glass with the best Chateau Petrus and sipped tonic water himself throughout the meal.

  ‘Don’t anybody tell me crime doesn’t pay,’ said McGowan, chuckling as he looked around the room. ‘You’ve come a long way from sprinkling fairy dust over Ron’s Taxis to make all his problems disappear.’

  ‘Worked hard for it, Kenny,’ Michael replied. ‘And I’m not a criminal in the real sense of the word. I provide a service, that’s all.’

  ‘If that’s what you think, I’ll no’ burst your bubble,’ McGowan replied. ‘So, you’ve got plans to move south with your operation? You’ll no’ be the first to head off in search of glory from this wee country of ours.’

  ‘I’d like to find partners who have the connections to the sort of clients who use our services. They have to be savvy and discreet at the same time. My plan is to have the operation based around a single entity that I can use to move money about as quickly as possible. Ideally, something big enough to cover the entire country.’

  ‘There are a couple of gangsters that I allegedly had some dealings with, in the dark days of my youth, you understand. Dick and Eddie. I’ll no’ tell you their second names until I check if they’re interested. Dick’s semi-retired now, lives in a villa in Spain with a lass half his age. He’d be your man for the business idea if you can come up with the right sort of proposition. And there’s nobody who knows the criminal underworld better than Eddie. He fences jewellery, only high-end stuff. If any of the big boys get their hands on something they have difficulty shifting themselves, they go to him. He must have contacts in every corner of the land.’

  With the help of McGowan, and another big donation to his charity, a poolside meeting at Dick’s villa in Spain was arranged. Michael went alone, making sure that Ron had no inkling of what was going on. Dick introduced him to Eddie, who’d arrived on an earlier flight. They couldn’t have been more different. Dick enjoyed the good life, his face as leathery as a crocodile after years of Mediterranean sun. Eddie had all the charm of a dead halibut, with zero small talk, and announced he was going to find some shade until the meeting began.

  Dick took Michael on a tour of his sprawling, white-walled villa, perched on a hillside overlooking the high-rise hotels of Marbella. He introduced Michael to Sharon: big hair, back-combed to within an inch of its life, skin-tight metallic leggings and lime-green tube top. ‘Michael’s visiting us from Glasgow,’ he told her. ‘Ever been to Glasgow, love?’

  ‘Never been to Scotland,’ she replied, standing next to Dick with her arm on his shoulder. Michael thought of Sid James and Barbara Windsor and tried not to smile. ‘Take me there one day, will you, Dick? We can go looking for the Loch Ness monster.’

  Dick patted her on her behind to send her on her way.

  ‘Love it here,’ he told Michael. ‘Everyone’s happy. Back in Blighty, every second person is a miserable fucker, walking about with a face tripping them. Like Eddie here.’

  Michael glanced over to Eddie. He was
sitting bolt upright on a wooden high-backed chair, staring into space, like a robot switched to Off. Dick walked over to the pool, the mosaic of a large-bosomed mermaid shimmering through the crystal-clear water.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse Eddie,’ Dick said. ‘Gets tense when he comes out here. The heat doesn’t agree with him, and he hates the food. I served him calamari the last time he was here, told him it was chicken. He had a hissy fit when he found out the truth.’

  Michael took a sip of his tonic water and changed the subject. ‘So, you’re in the furniture business now, I hear. Doing well?’

  Dick laughed. ‘Haven’t a clue. It’s not the furniture that pays for all of this; it’s what’s inside it. It’s how Los Zetas move things about. Heard of them?’

  ‘Em … a little.’ Michael felt the need to impress.

  Dick stared at him, waiting for him to admit his ignorance. Thirty seconds passed. Finally, Eddie’s shout broke the silence. ‘Are you two ready to start this meeting? This heat’s like having a hairdryer in me kisser. I want out of here.’

  ‘Los Zetas. The Spanish mafia,’ Dick said as they walked over to join Eddie. ‘But you knew that already.’ There was a glint in his eye. ‘Bring lots of white powder over to Europe, from their dago cousins in South America. Need someone to forward it on to grateful customers in countries where the sun don’t shine so much. I handle England. Hence my interest in furniture. Big stuff, furniture. Lots of drawers.’

  They sat down next to Eddie, who’d already finished off the carafe of water on the table.

  ‘So, Mr Mitchell. Let’s hear your proposition. You’ve got an impressive little operation going on up in Glasgow. You’re a man whose reputation precedes him.’

  ‘As you say, we’ve been introduced to each other by a mutual friend, so I know we can all be open with each other here,’ Michael began. ‘I plan to buy a national furniture chain, Mallards. They’re up for sale and although they only have twelve branches, these are located in all the main cities we’d want to operate in. Dick, you have the business partners in Spain who would supply Mallards with their furniture. That will give us an invoicing point overseas that will allow me to expatriate my clients’ money. Eddie, you’ve got contacts in every corner of the UK. You’d be in charge of putting in place someone in every city to do the same job as I’ve done in Glasgow. Our clients’ cash would be mixed in with that of the stores in all the main cities, and for every one pound of real furniture invoiced from Spain, another twenty would look like it was being paid to the Spanish manufacturer. In reality, it would be syphoned through a number of offshore accounts before being paid back to our clients. Dick, from what you told me earlier, your partners will be happy supplying us with invoices in pesetas so we can move money offshore and then back to our clients’ holding accounts. You get a second revenue stream from shipping furniture to the UK, without doing any more work. I’ve done the numbers. At the end of the first year, we could be looking at a million in laundering fees.’

  Now that they were talking business, it was Eddie who made the running. He was a stickler for details, wanting to know the exact amount of revenue going through the current Glasgow operation, who Michael had running it, how it all worked. The grilling was intense, but also structured and methodical. Michael found himself relishing the challenge of being able to answer Eddie’s questions, to show how well he ran his business. After dealing with the oafish Ivan, Michael found it stimulating to be challenged by someone who was as meticulous in his planning as he was, just as clear in his thinking, every question as sharp and precise as a scalpel’s edge.

  When it came to agreeing how the proceeds should be split, Eddie left the negotiation to Dick, as if getting involved in mercenary haggling was beneath his dignity. Dick’s contribution was in marked contrast to Eddie’s interrogation, the discussion rambling, circuitous, taking forever to reach the obvious conclusion that the profits should be split evenly between the three of them. Michael felt this split was being overly generous to Dick; his part of the operation seemed to involved little effort. If it hadn’t been for McGowan’s parting words, that Dick had hidden strengths and should be part of the operation at all costs, Michael would have been tempted to cut him out of the full deal until he could see that he was worth it. But this was a new world for him, and until he knew more it was best to listen to the voice of experience.

  By the end of his trip, the plan was agreed. Eddie would be installed as the head of all UK operations, except Ron’s patch which would be the whole of Scotland. If he didn’t like it, tough. The two Mallards stores in Glasgow and Edinburgh would test out the new operation before they rolled it out nationally.

  A follow-up meeting in Glasgow was arranged in three months to check on progress. It looked like Michael’s growth was unstoppable.

  chapter eighteen

  In the meantime, there was Ivan to contend with again. Smurfs were still being intimidated by his goons. Stupid, petty acts of violence, dark threats of more to come if they kept smurfing. Rumours were spreading that the police were on to them. It was all combining to make some smurfs reluctant to keep going.

  ‘Why the hell is he doing it?’ Ron gritted his teeth in exasperation. ‘This must be costing him money as well. What does he get out of it? I could understand someone trying to rob the smurfs of the money they’re handling, but he’s victimising them for the sake of it.’

  ‘He’s trying to send me a message that he won’t go away, that he’ll be a thorn in my side until I agree to let him control the business. And he’s smart, that’s why he’s not stealing the money. He doesn’t want to anger the other bosses. This way, it’s my problem, not theirs. He’s going to keep nipping away at us until I give him what he wants.’

  ‘So, what about shutting up shop again, getting the others to lean on him? It worked a dream last time.’

  ‘Sadly, it’s not an option anymore. I talked to Jenkins about it. I’ve got too many overheads now to stop the money coming in.’

  It was frustrating. Michael needed the smurf operation to stay in place for six months, a year at the most, then all his clients’ business could be moved through Mallards and the other shell businesses. But with every day that Ivan’s intimidation went on, there was more chance that one of the smurfs might decide they’d had enough and run to the police for protection, or that Ivan’s tactics would lead to someone uncovering the operation.

  Now, more than ever, he needed as much cash coming into the business as possible. The Mallards deal was coming to a head, but it was a big number he had to pay out to buy a national furniture chain. A bank loan was out of the question, too much scrutiny. No rich girlfriend this time. He needed every penny from the operation to make Mallards happen as soon as possible. Ivan’s little war of attrition had come at the worst possible time.

  ‘I can’t increase the money going through the Avalon businesses more than I already have,’ Michael told Ron. ‘I don’t want to jeopardise these operations by making them look suspicious. They’re the future. I want to get out of smurfing. I don’t have a choice. I’m going to meet with Ivan and find out what it takes to get him off our backs.’

  ‘You know what his answer will be. He wants the operation for himself. He’s already told you that.’

  ‘Then we need to give it to him,’ Michael replied. Ron looked shocked. ‘Don’t worry; I’m not talking about you and me coming under his control. I’m on the verge of a big deal that will give us all the capacity we need, without the smurfs. But it could be months before it’s finalised, even longer before it’s fully up and running. I need to buy time with Ivan. After that, he can do what he likes with the smurfs. I won’t care. Let him have the operation if he wants it.’

  ‘This is news to me. And this brave new world you’re heading into. Am I part of it?’

  ‘Of course, Ron. The business is going to change and grow, but you’ll be a part of it for as long as you want
to be.’ Michael kept his face expressionless. ‘We started it together.’

  ‘Then what are these big plans you have? Shouldn’t I be involved? You said no secrets, remember?’

  ‘No secrets, Ron. Once I’ve got things finalised, I’ll let you know. Once I’ve got things finalised. You get word to Ivan that I want to meet him, and concentrate on holding the smurfs together for a few more months. Recruit as few new ones as possible. Leave sorting out Ivan and the future to me. And beef up the protection for the smurfs so there are not so many sitting ducks.’

  Ron looked less than happy. ‘If we’re going to hire some muscle, let’s use it to give Ivan a taste of his own medicine. That’s the only language a psycho like him understands.’

  ‘No, I don’t want to do anything to antagonise him. You focus on keeping the smurfs safe. We leave him alone. Is that clear?’

  ‘I’ve said it before, Michael. You lead too sheltered a life.’ Ron’s voice was edged with anger. ‘This business you’ve chosen isn’t about sitting in a glitzy office with a ledger and a slide rule, doing some fancy tricks moving money around. It isn’t about trying to do gentlemanly deals, especially with the likes of Crazy Ivan. The real business is getting your hands dirty, out there on the streets, where you don’t go. Where I’m going to be thought of as a ponce if I don’t give Ivan a kicking. Not hiding under the table, getting babysitters for the smurfs.’

  Michael kept his voice calm. ‘We deal with this the way I want to deal with it. When I’m ready to tell you why, you’ll see the reason. If you don’t want to do that, you can go back to running Ron’s Taxis. There are plenty of others out there who would be all too happy to step into your shoes.’

  Ron left, slamming the door behind him. Michael was concerned. Ron was not going to like the new operation and could easily become incensed. And incensed people do stupid things. Maybe not as stupid as Crazy Ivan, but still with the potential to be disruptive. Ron would have to be made to understand that he needed Michael more than Michael needed him.