‘A spag bol is just fine, thanks. And a beer’.
‘Uh, huh. Thank you,’ said the waiter. He poured Eddie a glass of water, collected the menu that lay on the table, and removed unneeded cutlery. ‘I’ll instruct the kitchen staff to be quick’.
‘No rush,’ said Eddie. He watched the waiter stride away towards the kitchen, then fixed his eyes on the doorway at the front of the building. The man with the camera had entered and was being directed towards a little table near the toilets while scanning around the restaurant’s interior.
Enough of these stupid games.
Eddie beckoned at a passing waiter to come over. ‘There is a man over there in the yellow shirt,’ said Eddie.
‘Yes sir,’ replied the puzzled waiter.
‘Ask him to join me here, would you, please?’
‘My pleasure, sir’.
The waiter walked across the room to the man in the yellow shirt who was still scanning the room. The waiter pointed over towards Eddie, who raised his glass of water and waved. They were fifty feet apart, but the man’s disappointment at being rumbled was apparent. He rose to his feet, picked up his camera and ambled over to Eddie’s table before halting in front of the table, a disgruntled look on his face.
Eddie pushed the seat opposite him away with his foot and beckoned at the man to sit. ‘I figure you’re either a stalker or a copper, and as I ain’t famous I’m going for the latter,’ said Eddie as the man sat down. ‘I’m Eddie Lawson, but you already knew that. And you are?’ He held out his hand, but the man ignored it.
‘Detective Constable Philip Metcalf’.
‘Nice to meet you, D.C. Metcalf’. Eddie noticed the sweat patches under the man’s armpits. He turned to the waiter, who remained at the side of the table awaiting instructions. ‘A cold beer for Mr Metcalf, here. And whatever he wants for lunch’.
‘No food. Just a cola, thank you,’ the man said to the waiter.
‘So, I’m guessing you skipped the covert surveillance training at the Yard then, Philip?’ He chuckled.
‘What do you want Mr Lawson?’ asked the man in an impatient tone.
‘I’m just enjoying a lovely day here on holiday. I think it’s you that wants something. Why are you following me?’
The waiter arrived with Eddie’s beer and a glass of coke. Metcalf picked it up and took a long swig, his eyes flitting to the contents of the glass and then back on Eddie. He then placed his glass down and leaned back in his chair.
‘So, is that what you’re doing in Spain then? Having a holiday?’
‘And why would that be any business of yours?’
‘Because I think you are in Marbella is to join up with your brother’s crew,’ said Metcalf. ‘I’ve got of pictures of you two together. And the rest of that bunch of crooks. I was watching at the party the other night’. The man smiled, then took another swig of his coke.
‘Catching up with my brother ain’t no crime,’ said Eddie.
‘Helping him with illegal activities is’.
‘You are way off the mark, Metcalf,’ said Eddie.
‘I saw you earlier today. At Fallaci’s place in Benalmadena. I’m guessing you went there with your brother to put pressure on its proprietor? He owes one of Charlie’s crew, Bill Taylor, a lot of money I understand’. The English policeman was enjoying the exchange. ‘Were you aware that Señor Fallaci has served time for property fraud and embezzlement? Four years, I believe’.
‘I wasn’t. But we can’t hold that against the man, can we? He did his time, right?’ said Eddie.
The policeman leaned forward. ‘Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?’
‘Let’s do that,’ said Eddie while leaning forward himself.
The two men’s faces were now just a foot apart.
‘Time’s almost up for your brother and his merry band of villains,’ said Metcalf. ‘They’ve had their fun, but the winds are changing. Soon they’ll be back in England staring through steel bars with nothing but memories of their fancy villas and fast cars’.
Eddie sat back, looked at the people around them and then back to the policeman sat opposite him. ‘I don’t see what that has to do with me’.
‘Don’t take me for an idiot. Your brother wants you to join him in whatever he’s doing down here. I would advise you not to get involved’.
‘Charlie’s business is his business. I’m just passing through, so I’d appreciate it if you took that camera elsewhere. I ain’t done nothing wrong’.
‘Aside from some barroom brawls back in England, maybe not. Not yet. But if you stick around in Spain, you will. You all do your kind,’ said the policeman.
The smile disappeared from Eddie’s face. He placed his glass down. ‘And what, exactly, are “my kind”?’
‘Don’t play innocent with me. Your brother and his mates are bank robbers, violent criminals and who knows what else? Drug smuggling? Fraud? Money laundering? They are all crooks, the lot of them. I don’t know if you’ve crossed that line yet, Mr Lawson. But I’m warning you. If you stay here, you will. Mark my words. As sure as rain’.
‘It doesn’t look like it rains here much, detective constable’.
Metcalf placed his glass down. ‘You aren’t in their league. I don’t care what you’ve done until now, but if you stay down here, you’ll end up in the middle of their dirty business. Then I’ll come after you too. And being a Falklands vet will not help you then’.
Eddie’s face turned to stone. ‘You done yet? My meal will be here in a minute’.
The policeman remained where he sat. ‘You’ve got a wife and kid, right? Mary, isn’t it?’
‘I let that mention of the war go, Philip. But don’t go bringing up my family. We ain’t in England now’. Eddie’s clenched his fists under the table.
‘I can help you,’ said Metcalf. ‘And I can help your family. If you just give me something to work with’.
Eddie stood up and leaned toward the policeman. ‘You didn’t do your research, detective. My kind, we look after each other’. He glared at Metcalf, before relaxing back on the wooden seat. ‘Besides, there’s no extradition treaty. A British cop can’t arrest anybody down here’.
‘Not yet. But it won’t always be like that. Things are changing. Before too long the Spanish will step into line and then we’ll be able to nab all the criminals hiding out down here. You need to decide before it’s too late for you too’.
‘Uh-huh,’ muttered Eddie. He took a slow slurp from his beer. ‘From what I heard, you ain’t even a copper no more. What I heard was that you got yourself suspended. You lost your warrant card, didn’t you? All over some crazy crusade to finger my brother and his friends, and with no evidence’.
Metcalf looked down at the table. He was making little circles on the table in the condensation that had formed where his glass had been. ‘I got suspended, yes. But I’ll prove the Force wrong. As soon as I’ve brought your brother and his criminal associates to justice. I’ll get my job back, don’t you worry’.
Eddie leaned forward again. ‘I was told that your obsession with my brother cost you more than your job. You’re divorced now, right?’
Their eyes locked for several seconds, but then Metcalf downed the rest of his drink, stood up and picked up his camera.
‘Enjoy your spaghetti, Mr Lawson’.
Eddie watched Metcalf as he strode away. Charlie had seemed certain that the ex-policeman was of no concern, but something told Eddie he would be running into the man again very soon.
Chapter Eight
The Gentle Art Of Persuasion
Eddie wolfed down his food, paid - even though the waiter declined to take his money at first - and made his way back to his brother’s bar. When he went inside, he could see Charlie in the closed-off conservatory. He was in an animated state. The rest of the crew were all sitting at a table and there did not appear to be much eye contact between the men.
The door was locked. Eddie knocked and Roger strode across to open it.
Kenny and Mike remained sitting with, what Eddie thought, were sheepish looks on their faces. Bill rose from his wooden chair and moved to the edge of the room where he stood, staring into a white teacup.
Roger coughed to gain Charlie’s attention, then beckoned at Eddie to say something.
‘What’s up?’ asked Eddie.
‘It’s Charlie’s property project,’ said Bill. ‘Marbella council are threatening to cancel the planning permission if the financing isn’t in place by the end of the month’.
‘Ain’t got a million quid in your pocket have you, son?’ asked Mike.
‘C’mon lads, we’ve been through this,’ said Charlie. ‘We put up the capital now, get phase one underway and then other investors will come on board. As soon as they see things progressing, they’ll see the potential. It’s all about confidence’.
‘What if they don’t though Charlie?’ said Bill. ‘What if something else happens? This is Spain, for fuck’s sake. There’s always something else that needs sorting. More money to shell out, councillors to pay off. Strikes. Stuff goes missing all the time. If we put this money in then, we’d all have fuck all left’.
‘Bill’s got a fair point,’ said Roger. ‘You know I believe in this project, mate. And in you. Christ, I’ve already sunk half my money into businesses with you’.
‘And they was good investments, weren’t they?’ said Charlie.
‘Mostly,’ Roger replied. ‘But this one’s different. It’s much bigger. It’s a hell of a risk’.
‘With a big fuckin’ return,’ said Charlie.
‘Maybe,’ said Bill. ‘If it all goes like you say it will, Charlie. But who knows what can go wrong? And I don’t trust them bloody people you’ve been pitching it to, especially that fuckin’ Juan Fernandez. He’s a weasel, parading around town like he’s some kind of nobility’.
‘He’s as bent as us,’ said Mike.
‘It’s true. People like him, they’re like the flippin’ Spanish mafia,’ said Kenny. ‘I don’t trust ’em either, Charlie’.
‘There’s other sources of investment besides them lot,’ said Charlie.
‘Like what?’ asked Bill. ‘You said you didn’t want no other Brits onboard. It’s got to be clean money, you said’.
‘And I meant it,’ said Charlie. Look, I ain’t proposing we go to Ronnie and John Knight, or any of the other crews. We just need to get the project going, that’s all. Show some momentum. Then the banks will come in on it’.
‘You really think so?’ asked Roger. ‘From what I’ve heard, the Ortega family control the local banks’.
‘Then we don’t go for local banks. We get our arses up to Madrid. That’s where the real money is anyway,’ said Charlie. He looked at Kenny. ‘How about you, Ken?’
‘Thing is, if I put this money in I’m pretty much broke’.
‘Broke? What about the apartments you own?’ said Charlie. ‘And how many cars have you got? Four? Sell one of your Mercedes, for fuck’s sake?’ He put his hands on his hips and looked around the room. ‘Boys, I’ve already put nine hundred grand into this. That’s how confident I am. The plans are all in place. Construction would start almost straight away. We’d have phase one done inside a year’.
The crew exchanged uncertain glances between themselves.
Charlie turned his gaze towards Roger. ‘Listen, I know it’s a big ask. And, yes. The next year will be tough, but you all know we can’t last forever here on the cash from the last job. We will have spent most of it within a few years, anyway. This is our chance to earn some decent money, and legally. We do this, we’re set up for the next twenty years. No more paying off the local law. No more talk about doing another job. We could all sit back and relax in the sun and die of old age’.
‘Or skin cancer,’ said Roger.
‘Your liver will give up before that, you bleedin’ alkie,’ said Mike.
‘Better that than the clap,’ said Roger. ‘Which is how you’ll go’.
Charlie sat down on an empty seat and lit up a cigarette.
‘What do you reckon, Eddie?’ asked Mike.
‘Yeah, Eddie,’ said Roger. ‘You’ve got your head screwed on good. This is all fresh for you. Tell us what you think’.
‘I know nothing about property development,’ said Eddie.
‘Don’t think about it as money or property development. You’re a soldier. You understand tactics and strategy,’ said Roger. Eddie realised that they were all looking up at him at that point. Charlie placed a cigarette in his mouth and shot Eddie a pleading look, before dipping his head towards his zippo.
‘Well, it all sounds great,’ Eddie offered. ‘I mean, if it comes off, you’re all sorted. For a good few years, at least. Depends how many Ferraris you buy, I suppose’.
‘Or women,’ said Kenny. Bill and Roger laughed.
‘But?’ asked Mike, unsmiling.
‘Well, it’s this local family you all keep mentioning. I spoke to this guy today -’.
‘What guy?’ asked Charlie.
‘Just a bloke in a clothes shop. He said something about how things are changing for the Brits down here. And how the locals would take advantage’.
Bill slapped his palms down onto the table. ‘You see?’ he said. ‘It’s not just us saying this. Everyone’s thinking the same thing. That fuckin’ Ortega is just waiting to stitch us up. You know it’s the truth, Charlie. One of his cousins works at the town planning office, for fuck’s sake. I reckon it’s him that’s holding up the project right now. They’re just twisting the fucking knife’.
Charlie placed his cigarette down on a saucer and stood up. ‘Look, boys. I own the land. I’ve got planning approval -’.
‘Provisional approval,’ said Bill.
‘Approval subject to demonstrating sufficient funding is in place,’ said Charlie. ‘They’ve approved the architectural plans and all that stuff. Everything. It just all took longer than I thought, but -’.
‘Like everything in this piggin’ country,’ said Bill.
‘You can get on a plane back home if you want, Bill. See how that works out for you!’ said Charlie. ‘Can I continue? That okay with you?’ Bill looked away like a chastised dog and nodded.
‘So,’ Charlie continued. ‘I have all the permissions we need and the construction company can get going within a few weeks. Everything’s lined up. I’ve got fixed prices, contracts agreed, timelines, everything. We’ve just got to have some balls. Go all in. If we fund phase one ourselves, I can’t see how it can fail. Honestly, boys. I can’t. Yes, it would be more comfortable to have additional partners on board, but that’s not the case. We’ve just got to go for it. It’ll be better in the long run. More profit for us. Them not backing us now…it’s a flippin’ opportunity for us. It really is’. Charlie looked around the room at each of the crew members, one by one. ‘Mike’s already told me I can count on him. What about the rest of you?’
Bill was the first to speak. He puffed out his cheeks and put his glass down on the floor. ‘Okay, I’ll have a talk with Carol this evening,’ he said.
‘Just fuckin’ tell her, you wuss,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s your bleeding dosh. I don’t remember her being on the job with us’.
‘She’s my wife. I’ll never hear the end of it if I do this without tellin’ her,’ said Bill.
‘So we’re looking at a quarter of a mill each?’ asked Roger. ‘So what d’ya reckon, Bill. You in?’
Bill ran his hands through his greying hair and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I guess so. If I get that eighty grand back from Fallaci. Are you gonna go see him, like you said you would?’
Charlie glanced at Eddie. ‘Yeah. Don’t worry, me and Eddie went there this morning. It’s sorted. He’ll give you some this week, the rest next month’.
Bill relaxed in his chair. ‘That’s good
. That’s good. Thanks, Charlie. I was getting worried about that greasy wanker’.
‘No worries, Bill. So, can we count on you, too?’
‘Yeah, alright,’ said Bill.
Charlie turned his attention to Roger next.
‘Okay, yeah. Fuck it. I’m in too,’ said Roger.
‘Kenny?’ asked Charlie.
‘One for all, all for one, and all that’.
Charlie smiled. ‘Sweet. Thanks, boys. I know this is a big ask, but it’s gonna be better for us all in the long run. This way, we’re in control of the project. Fuck Ortega’.
‘Yeah, fuck that wanker,’ said Kenny.
‘Right, I don’t know about you fuckers,’ said Charlie. ‘But I need to go home and get ready for the party tonight. See you all there’.
Kenny, Bill and Roger got up and headed out of the room.
Charlie walked up to Mike, who remained leaning against the wall. ‘Phew, that was a tough one, mate’.
‘Yeah,’ said Mike without making eye contact.
Charlie frowned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now’.
‘It’s not that Charlie. I’m behind you. Always. You know that’.
‘Then what?’
Mike sighed and looked at Charlie. ‘I’m not sure I can raise that much money’.
‘What? But you said you had it last time we talked,’ said Charlie.
‘I know, I know. It’s just -’.
‘Just what?’ said Charlie. Mike looked at him with the look of a guilty child. ‘Veronica? It’s Veronica, ain’t it?’
Mike shook his head. ‘Not Veronica, no’.
‘Well what then?’ said Charlie. Eddie could see the veins pulsing at the side of his head.
‘It’s another bird. Raquel. I just bought her an apartment in Estepona. And a motor’.
Charlie put both hands on his head and shut his eyes. ‘For fuck’s sake, Mikey. How many fuckin’ tarts do you need? And why do you keep giving them all your poxy money? You’re a fuckin’ idiot.’
‘I know, Charlie, I know. I am. But listen. I’ve got a plan. Raquel, she knows this Moroccan geezer. He’s a big player over there. His family grow dope. Tonnes of it. They’ve got hillsides covered in the stuff, and -’.
Den of Snakes Page 8