Silent Money Page 21

  ‘I can tell. I’m sorry if it’s upset you, Roberta. I should have made it clearer when I explained the job to you. But I’ll make it up to you this weekend. Have you ever been deer-stalking?’

  ‘What? No, of course not.’

  ‘Then let’s go away for the weekend. I want you to put this unpleasant moment behind us. Let’s have a very nice weekend, another experience for you to enjoy. It’s the least I can do to make it up to you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll be good company at the moment. I’m still in shock about these invoices.’

  ‘Next weekend then. Look, close the gallery for the day, let’s do something more low key. Take the dogs for a walk, go for a meal afterwards. What do you say?’

  Michael made sure he was especially attentive to her for the rest of the week and took her off to his favourite place in the world, Glensporret House. A traditional Victorian shooting lodge, it was the perfect combination of Highland remoteness and pampered luxury, a sea of tartan and tweed jackets, festooned with stags’ heads.

  ‘It’s Brigadoon come to life,’ Roberta said when she saw it.

  He took her stalking the next day. They shot a stag together, and the intense thrill of the kill created a new type of intimacy between them. When they came back to their room, the atmosphere was ripe with expectancy.

  Roberta took a sip of wine to steady her nerves. ‘Michael,’ she said, ‘if we’re to continue seeing each other, I need to know what you do for a living. Really do, I mean.’

  ‘I was wondering why it took you so long.’ Michael smiled to reassure her, but felt strangely nervous, like a penitent beginning confession. ‘The first thing you need to know is I’m not a criminal,’ he began. ‘I don’t rob anyone; I don’t harm anyone. All I do is provide financial services to some people who, for whatever reason, have activities that operate outside of the normal banking systems.’

  He could see she was willing herself to accept what he was telling her. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘What sort of services?’

  ‘I take someone’s money, money that perhaps they’ve made a little … creatively, shall we say, and make it disappear for a while. And when it comes back, it is nice and respectable. Stocks and bonds, Treasury bills, certificates of deposit and the like, which my clients are free to spend as they like.’

  She frowned, but didn’t look shocked. ‘But that’s money laundering, isn’t it? It’s against the law.’

  Michael shrugged. ‘Technically it might be, I suppose. But whatever my clients do to make their money is no concern of mine. And it would carry on if I wasn’t there. I provide a service. I don’t get mixed up in any unpleasant business.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Michael, that sounds too smooth. How does this make you any less of a criminal than the thugs who do the dirty work to get the money?’

  He leant forward and looked her in the eye. This was the moment to convince her. ‘I think you’re missing the point. All I do is run a financial process that I sell to clients. Just like any other service business does. Is that so bad?’

  She gulped down a glass of wine. He topped it up.

  ‘But it’s illegal,’ she persisted. ‘If you get caught, you go to jail. And so do the people around you. Me, for example.’

  ‘Let me tell you a few of life’s realities,’ Michael replied. ‘They passed a law in America a few years ago. The Bank Secrecy Act, making banks responsible for reporting large cash transactions, for keeping records to show the authorities. Do you know what law we have like that here? No? Because we have nothing like that.’ He was in full flow now. If he kept talking, he might even convince himself it was all completely justified, morally and ethically. ‘You can walk into a bank with a suitcase full of cash, and they’ll be delighted to have your business, no questions asked. And you know why? It’s the establishment protecting itself. Politicians and coppers getting kickbacks. Businessmen not paying their taxes. Everyone’s at it, Roberta, I’m just better at it than most people.’

  She was quiet for a moment, picking at the room-service meal. ‘But if it’s that easy, that commonplace, why doesn’t everyone else do it?’ she eventually said. ‘How can you afford all this, doing something that simple?’

  ‘Because it’s only simple when it’s small. Take the suitcase of cash I mentioned. That only works when it’s not very often, or not very much. So, yes, a petty criminal can pay his ill-gotten gains into a secret bank account and hope he’ll get away with it. But when the police come looking, he’ll stand out like a sore thumb.’

  ‘How do you do it?’

  He told her about the smurfs and how he was setting up other businesses to make the operation bigger and better in future. He didn’t tell her about Mallards, not yet. Michael was trusting her with a lot of information; he’d take his time before revealing everything.

  ‘And that’s what the money was, the invoices I signed?’

  ‘Yes, it was. But it’s not something you ever need to worry about. As far as the outside world is concerned, you bring experience and glamour to Scotland’s top independent art gallery. You’ll never see or be involved in any other aspect of my business.’

  ‘Will you let me get out of this, Michael, as you promised? When I make it as an actress, I can quit as your … money launderer? Or even if I don’t, I can still get out?’

  ‘Of course. As we discussed before, our objectives at this moment are happily coinciding. The day you want to stop, when you don’t need any more help in becoming an actress, when you feel you want to go it alone in the world, then you can go.’

  It was a strange experience, for the first time describing and having to justify what his life entailed. But Michael guessed that after the initial shock, Roberta would understand.

  A fortnight later, Michael offered her a chance to move from her grotty Maryhill flat into the one with the surveillance room attached, which he’d had specially refurbished to make it into a high-class city pad. He knew he’d got her just where he wanted her. A gilded cage, somewhere she could go when he didn’t want her around, somewhere he could keep an eye on her if needs be.

  Roberta had solved one organisational problem – how to securely start up the Avalon Gallery – but there was another one coming to a head. Ron had not been happy with the Turnberry deal. And he was even less happy about being told that he wouldn’t be Michael’s right-hand man going forward.

  ‘We’ve built this together, Michael. We’re partners. Okay, you might be the brains of the operation, but you couldn’t have done this without me. It should be me running the new operation, not Eddie.’

  ‘He’s got the contacts all over the country; you haven’t. It’s nothing personal, it’s just the most efficient business model. In six months, I’ll be moving to the Mallards head office in Surrey; I can’t have you run one operation in Glasgow and Eddie run another in the rest of the country. It doesn’t make good business sense.’

  ‘What makes sense is working with who you know. I’ve proved I can run the smurfs in Glasgow. I could run them everywhere else as well.’

  ‘The smurfs are the past, Ron. Soon all the money will be moving through the Avalon companies.’

  Ron’s stony expression showed he didn’t agree.

  * * *

  Finally, Michael was ready to start putting clients’ money through the Mallards Glasgow store. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, it didn’t feel real when it began to happen. No hassles, no security problems – and no need to have any smurfs involved. Even Ron would see it was better.

  It was time to bundle the smurfs up with a bow and hand them over to Ivan. Michael booked a hotel suite for the meeting. There was a lot to get through, and he wanted no chance that their conversation could be overheard. Ivan brought along Dougie Stevenson, who was going to take over from Ron. A dour, characterless individual with the imagination of a clockwork toy. Dim Dougie. Once th
ings started to unravel, he wouldn’t have a clue how to deal with the situation.

  Michael handed Ivan the dossier with all the smurf contact details, a detailed document outlining how the transit process worked, and a list of dos and don’ts on setting up bank accounts. A complete manual on how to run a money-laundering operation, his life’s work. And the client list – the ones he didn’t care that Ivan knew about. Ron had already told the rest that he would be making changes to streamline the operation, and to be even more discreet than usual. All the problem customers, the ones who were more hassle than they were worth – those were the ones that Ivan would be getting.

  For all Ivan’s bluster, Michael could see he lacked the business sense of Dick and Eddie. The trappings of the handover, all the neatly typed and bound documents, the draft ledger accounts waiting to be filled in once he took over the operation – they all seriously impressed him. Detailed paperwork and codified process documents were not part of the typical armed robbery.

  ‘Way to go, Mikey, my lad,’ he said, flicking through the documents. ‘Very fucking professional. We’re dealing wi’ top drawer lads here, Dougie. See? More money to be made doing this in a week than all the post office stick-ups we could do in a month. Cracking wee job, you’ve done, Mikey. I cannae wait to get started. Doug, you go meet all they smurfs and introduce yourself as their new boss.’ He laughed. ‘Smurfs … What sort of doss cunt name is that? I’m no’ being a called a smurfmaster, that’s the first thing I’ll change. So, Mikey, what’s new for you now? What could be better than making all this money for nothing?’

  ‘I’ve tried your life, Ivan, and it’s not for me. I’m going straight, getting into a retail operation. All completely legit and above board. But you’ll understand if I don’t want to give you more details.’

  ‘I could take offence at that, but I’ll let it pass. Shows what a good mood I’m in. One final wee detail. I’ve got a bean counter to run the numbers side of things. He’s no’ invited to this meeting, doesn’t like the limelight. He’ll need to meet with your guy to sort all that stuff out.’

  ‘I’ll answer all his questions. I set up the operation, so I know all the details. All part of the service, Ivan.’

  Ivan started cracking his knuckles and then moved forward, his face an inch from Michael’s.

  ‘My guy meets your guy.’

  Michael had wanted to keep Jenkins away from the handover in case he panicked and told Ivan’s accountant all about the Mallards operation. He laughed, trying to sound unconcerned. ‘Believe me, Ivan, having to spend a few tedious hours with your accountant is not something I’m looking forward to. But I need my guy to do the books for my new business venture. He’s easily swayed, and I wouldn’t want you to turn on the charm offensive to get him to jump ship. Do me this one favour, will you please? Once your accountant says he’s comfortable with the detail, let me and my team go off and do our own thing.’

  Ivan’s nostrils were flaring now, his face reddening as he tried to keep his temper under control. It took a good twenty seconds before he was able to speak again. ‘You don’t need to worry, Mikey,’ he said, baring his teeth. ‘I promised I’d leave you alone and I’m a man of my word. And I’m happy to let you sail off into the sunset wi’ your new life. Just want to make sure my boys know all the clever stuff you’ve been doing. If my guy tells me you’ve given him all the answers, I’ll let you off wi’ your cheek.’

  Michael left the meeting and breathed a sigh of relief. He reckoned it would be a couple of months at most before the operation self-destructed; then, he might have an Ivan to deal with who really had lost his temper.

  In the meantime, he had Roberta. It was the first time since Charlotte that he was seeing a woman on a regular basis, and he was enjoying himself. He was keeping a close eye on her, making sure she wasn’t having second thoughts about the world she’d become part of. But he needn’t have worried. Apart from her friend Duncan, there was no one else she spent any time with.

  Occasionally, he would slip into the surveillance room to check what she was up to when he wasn’t around, listening on the headphones to her phone conversations or just watching as she moved about her flat, blissfully unaware of his presence. He couldn’t work out why he enjoyed the voyeuristic thrill so much until it dawned on him. He had his cage of finches at home. He could admire them for hours, relishing their beauty, taking care of them. Now he had his own human finch. The ultimate little plaything.

  Ron seemed to be finally accepting his new role in the organisation, and the hassles and stresses of the smurfs became a distant memory as Michael and Eddie set up the national operation. After Christmas, Michael promised himself, he’d move to Surrey and the full potential of the business would become a reality.

  It was going to be a great new year.

  1976

  chapter twenty-three

  Michael threw down the newspaper in disgust. Detective Sergeant Grant had been suspended from the force after being arrested for drink-driving. He could not believe Grant’s stupidity, throwing away his career by an act of such recklessness. And it could not have come at a worse time. With the smurf operation unravelling, Ivan was out for blood. Michael’s growing involvement with two of Britain’s top criminals left him feeling exposed. He needed someone on the inside.

  It was Eddie who suggested Detective Chief Inspector McDonald, known in the criminal fraternity as ‘The Gardener’ due to his habit of planting evidence on suspects he was investigating. His infamy had spread south of the border.

  ‘Why him?’ Michael asked. ‘If he hates criminals so much he plants evidence, why on earth would he agree to go on our payroll?’

  ‘Because he’s the biggest hypocrite in the whole Scottish police force, and lazy to boot. He plants evidence to make it easy to get convictions once he’s decided who the guilty party is. And then he basks in the glory from the press. Any top-level criminal knows he’ll take a bribe to get charges against them dropped on a technicality, but he doesn’t get involved in any street operation. He portrays himself as a family man to the press, a pillar of society, but he likes a bit of crumpet sent along to a hotel room when he gets someone off the hook. Crooked as hell, but likes to pretend he takes the moral high ground. You two are a match made in heaven.’

  Michael didn’t rise to it. ‘So, if this guy is as high-powered as you say he is, I need to be careful about approaching him. He sounds like a dangerous man to come to the attention of.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  Michael contacted his previous informer, now plain Mr Grant and looking at a bleak future as a security manager at a Govan shipyard. The chance of one final payout, Michael told him. Five grand to approach DCI McDonald to be an informant, another five if McDonald said yes. Michael’s name to be kept secret – only once they were sure McDonald was on board would he reveal himself.

  To the surprise of both, the approach was rebuffed. Michael was sure that Grant must have screwed up the approach, but Grant insisted otherwise. ‘McDonald is as bent a copper as they come,’ Grant told Michael when they met. ‘Trust me, I know. We’ve both been on the receiving end of the same payoffs over the years, that’s how I knew I could even have the conversation. I couldn’t believe it when he said no. Maybe he’s getting scared someone’s breathing down his neck, I don’t know. But he’s adamant. No means no.’

  ‘And you said nothing that could identify me? Think carefully. There’s a nasty smell about this.’

  ‘Definitely not. I described you as a white-collar criminal, looking for information, no heavy stuff. Just like you told me. There’s no way he should have said no – you’re just the sort of operation he’d feel comfortable with. Give me another name and I’ll try again. I need that five grand.’

  Michael went through some other names with Eddie. None had McDonald’s level of connections.

  ‘We need to get something on him,’ Michael sai
d. ‘Something to make him change his mind. Leave it with me, I’ll think of something.’

  The obvious answer was to set McDonald up using the surveillance room, but that would have meant getting Roberta to move out for a few weeks while he organised the sting with a hooker. It would raise Roberta’s suspicions, and in any case McDonald sounded like a savvier operator than Grant. There was a chance he would spot a honeytrap.

  Michael toyed with the idea of getting Roberta to move out in any case. If it weren’t for her usefulness in running the art gallery, Michael would have finished with the relationship by now. He had begun an affair with a woman who had started to come to openings at the gallery, an up-and-coming painter named Judy Allen. She was everything that Roberta was not: strong-willed, uncompromising, obdurate. Michael hinted at hanging one of her paintings in the gallery to get her to go to bed with him, an offer she emphatically rejected. Then two weeks later she took the initiative to have sex, but only because she said she found him interesting. She was her own woman, a worthy equal. He liked that. Roberta was now a business asset, nothing more.

  Michael had taken Judy to see Emmanuelle – the prelude to a night of passion. As he watched, he began to conceive the perfect sting for McDonald. In the film, Emmanuelle’s prospective lover decides to enjoy watching her having sex with other men, and arranges a boxing contest between two candidates to determine who would bed her. It gave Michael an idea. If he could get Roberta to seduce McDonald in the flat, there would be no need for her to move out, no need to pay a hooker and no chance that McDonald would suspect he was being played by a professional.

  That just left getting Roberta to agree. He called her up and arranged to take her to see Emmanuelle, and afterwards he casually mentioned the scene in the movie.

  ‘Remember where Mario talked the Thai boxers into fighting each other for the right to have sex with Emmanuelle while he watched? I’d like you to let me do that.’

  Roberta laughed. ‘Michael, stop it.’ Then she looked at him sideways. ‘Do what, exactly?’