Den of Snakes

by Damian Vargas

  ‘Very well, Mr Lawson. Thanks,’ said the security guard with a northern English accent. ‘Kenny said to go right up’. He nodded toward the open elevator door.

  ‘Thanks. Say hi to the wife for me,’ said Charlie as he walked past. He let Eddie enter, then pushed the button for the fifth floor and waited for the door to close. ‘Poor sod. He used to be miner back in England, but they laid him off. He couldn’t find no work. He works here in the day, then doing security in bars and nightclubs after. Does every hour under the sun but what he doesn’t know is that meanwhile, his bird’s out shagging everything in town. Right nymph, so I’ve been told’. He sniggered.

  ‘Maybe someone should tell him then?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Best he don’t find out if you ask me’. An electronic chime signalled their arrival at the fifth floor and the door opened. They were greeted by a dimly lit lobby and six dark blue wooden doors. ‘Right, let’s see what damage Mikey did,’ said Charlie. He walked over to one of the doors and knocked on it three times.

  ‘Who is it?’ said a young woman’s voice in a Mancunian accent.

  Charlie had a perplexed look on his face. ‘It’s Charlie,’ he said impatiently. They could hear a muffled conversation inside before the door opened partially. A short woman in her thirties stood glowering at them. Her bobbed hair was bleached blonde, but Eddie could see her brown roots. She was wearing an oversized Star Wars tee shirt featuring Han Solo and Chewbacca and pink flip-flops.

  ‘You gonna let us in, luv?’ said Charlie.

  ‘Kenny needs to rest. He doesn’t need any more trouble,’ she said.

  ‘We’re just here to talk, that’s all,’ said Charlie and pushed the door open.

  Kenny was lying on a black leather couch in the apartment’s living room. He was wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned, and blue cotton Y-fronts. More apparent was the sizeable padded bandage around his head and his right cheek. It failed to conceal the extent of the bruising to his face, and Eddie could see traces of iodine yellow on his skin.

  ‘Bloody hell, you look like you got hit by a train,’ said Charlie. Kenny swung his legs down and sat up, then reached for a packet of Benson and Hedges. Kenny remained silent. ‘Who’s the tart?’ said Charlie. He glanced over at that the woman who stood glaring back at him by the door with her arms crossed.

  ‘Her name’s Katie. She’s looking after me,’ said Kenny.

  ‘I’m sure she is,’ said Charlie. He nodded towards a black skirt and a pair of lacy red knickers that lay on the floor. He picked them up and held them out to the young woman. ‘Make yourself scarce, girl. The boys here need to talk in private’.

  She stomped towards him and seized her clothes out of his hand. ‘Five minutes. He needs to rest. The doctor said so,’ she said, then turned and walked to the bathroom.

  ‘I’ve got to admire your stamina, Ken,’ said Charlie. ‘A busted face and you still wanna get your end away. So what did the doctor say?’

  Kenny put his cigarette down into a silver-coloured ash tray. ‘I’ve got a broken cheek, is what he said. I’m going back in tonight to have an operation. They’re gonna put a metal plate in’.

  ‘Fuckin’ hell,’ said Charlie. ‘I didn’t realise it was that bad. Sorry, mate. Let me know if I can do anything, alright?’

  ‘You can get Mike to pay for the bastard operation, for one thing. It’s gonna cost a few grand’.

  ‘I’ll have a word with him’.

  ‘And I want a fuckin’ apology too’.

  Charlie’s face made it clear that he did not think that was likely, and he sat back in the sofa. ‘You did go back on a deal,’ he said.

  ‘What was I supposed to do? He was only gonna pay me eight grand for the boat. Ortega offered me fifteen,’ said Kenny.

  ‘Deals a deal, Ken,’ said Charlie. ‘But look, what happened, happened. We’ll sort out the medical fees. You just need to rest and recover. I need you back up and on your feet’.

  Kenny looked at him and Eddie. ‘You goin’ to the crew meeting?’ he asked.

  Charlie nodded. ‘Yeah, gonna try to talk ’em out of this nonsense about doin’ that job back in Blighty’.

  Kenny looked across at Eddie, who stood with his hands in his jeans pockets. ‘You going too, son?’ said Kenny to Eddie.

  ‘To the meeting? Nah,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I’m taking Eddie out after. He’s gonna hang around in the bar till I’m done. Why?’ said Charlie.

  ‘Well, I can’t go. And that’s a problem for you’.

  Charlie scratched his chin and looked at his brother. ‘You do have a point,’ he said.

  Kenny shuffled forward on the couch. ‘Can I ask a favour, Ed?’ he said.

  ‘What is it?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Go to the meeting. Be my proxy’.

  Eddie took his hands out of his pocket. ‘I dunno. I mean, I ain’t a part of your crew. I don’t think -’.

  ‘Nah, it’s easy. You just cast my vote. The boys will understand. We’ve done it before. Remember Charlie? When Roger had that funeral? Judy voted for him on that restaurant investment’.

  ‘She did, that’s right,’ said Charlie. ‘I’d forgotten about that’. He peered up at his brother. Kenny forced himself to his feet and walked over to a wooden bureau. He opened a drawer and took something out, then walked back over to Eddie. He held the item up for Eddie to see. It was an old brass bullet casing.

  ‘It’s how we vote,’ said Kenny. ‘We’ve got one each. We got our names engraved on them’.

  ‘You’re kidding me? You actually have bullet casings with your name on them?’ said Eddie.

  Charlie laughed. ‘I guess it’s a bit morbid when you put it that way,’ he said.

  ‘Take it,’ said Kenny. ‘Go to the meeting as my proxy. When they have the vote, just back your brother. That’s what I would do. It’s what I have always done’.

  Eddie stared at the old cartridge case. Kenny had made it sound easy, and he wanted to help his brother, but if Eddie had learned anything in the last few days, it was that being around this crew was rarely without drama. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head asking him to look after Charlie, to keep him on the straight and narrow. ‘I’d be betraying her if I didn’t support him now,’ he thought. All I have to do is drop a bullet case into a bag. Whatever happens is down to them. ‘Okay, if it helps,’ he said. He took the brass casing from Kenny’s outstretched hand.

  ‘Good lad,’ said the older man, smiling. Kenny turned to look at Charlie. ‘So, what d’ya reckon?’ Charlie sighed and sat forward.

  ‘Well it was Roger’s cousin’s idea, so he’s dead keen. That and I think his Judy has spent most of his money already’.

  ‘Robbing the bleeding bank of England wouldn’t cover her trips to Banús,’ said Kenny.

  ‘And Mike’s up for it clearly,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Look’s like it all rests on Bill, then’.

  ‘Looks that way,’ said Charlie. ‘But I had a word with him earlier, made him see sense. At least I think so’. He tapped Eddie on the arm. ‘C’mon then, Ed. Let’s get this over with. Take it easy, Ken’. He beckoned to Eddie to leave.

  Kenny sat back down onto the sofa. ‘Let me know how it goes’.

  The brothers left Kenny’s apartment and made their way back to Charlie’s car.

  ‘They’re not really gonna go for it, are they? This job? They ain’t that stupid, are they?’ said Eddie. ‘I mean, slipping back into England, hitting a bank or whatever it is, then getting back out again. That’s pretty fuckin’ nuts’.

  ‘That it is,’ said Charlie. ‘Especially when we’re so close to getting what we want here in Spain’.

  ‘Then tell ’em they can’t do it?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ said Charlie.

  ‘But you don’t have to get involved, even if they want to do it, right?’

  ‘I’d have to. We have this code. We discuss it, we vote. If the vote is to do it, we all do it.’
r />   ‘Your havin’ a laugh, right?’ said Eddie.

  Charlie shook his head. ‘It’s how we do things. Always have, always will. It’s got us through some serious shit over the years. We stick together. The moment we don’t, well, I hope that don’t never happen’.

  They arrived at the venue, the Hotel Fuerte, twenty minutes later. Charlie pulled the silver car into an empty parking space, turned off the ignition and looked up at the grandiose facade. He looked anxious.

  ‘Just tell them how it is,’ said Eddie. ‘Make them see sense’.

  Charlie looked at his brother. ‘Will you tell ’em too?’

  ‘Me?’ said Eddie. ‘Why would they listen to me? I’m not one of your crew’.

  ‘No, but they all saw what you did for Kenny last night. And you was a soldier, too. They respect that. Maybe you can help dissuade them. Will you try?’

  Eddie paused for a moment, his hand rubbing his temple. He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Alright,’ he responded finally. ‘But I doubt you’ll need my help. It’s you they follow. Just listening to all those stories last night showed me how tight a unit you all are’.

  ‘That was a long time ago. Things are different. We’ve all changed. It’s different now’. They watched as a small group of tourists walked past, then Charlie opened the door and said, ‘Let’s do this’.

  Chapter Twelve

  Democracy In Action

  Charlie and Eddie made their way under the lines of tall pine trees which concealed much of the hotel’s light salmon-coloured facade from the road, then walked towards the gold and dark glass entrance. Charlie eyed the surroundings in the manner of a nervous game animal on an African savannah.

  ‘So, have you booked a room for the meeting?’ said Eddie.

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Charlie. He pointed to the top of the building. ‘We’re going up there’. Eddie looked up to the hotel’s roofline. Someone was looking down at him. It looked like Mike.

  They entered into the lobby through the tinted glass doors. Eddie surveyed the interior. It was, without any doubt, a hotel for more discerning - and monied - guests than other nearby locations. There were no over-tanned British holidaymakers in replica football shirts and Hawaiian shorts to be seen in this establishment. A brass plaque on a column outside proclaimed that the Hotel Fuerte was first established in 1957 next to the ruins of an old fort from back when Marbella’s tourist industry was in its infancy. Some framed black and white photographs hung on the wall depicting the original, smaller building which had since morphed into the much-larger, present-day version.

  A grey-haired man in a sharp suit addressed them as they approached the reception desk. ‘Señor Lawson, it is good to see you again,’ he said.

  ‘And you too, Felix. How’s your family?’ said Charlie.

  ‘Very good, thank you. My grandson very much likes the Walkman you got him for his birthday. He is taking it everywhere he is going’.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said Charlie. ‘Are my associates here?’

  The man took a step nearer and quickly glanced around them. ‘They are waiting for you’. The man handed Charlie a small set of keys with a quick, practised movement. ‘Take all the time you need,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Mucho gracias,’ said Charlie and turned to Eddie. ‘The lift’s this way’.

  Eddie followed his brother to the elevators. Once inside, Charlie inserted a key into a hole in the lift’s panel, turned it and then pushed on a button marked ‘six’.

  ‘You have the entire roof to yourselves?’ asked Eddie.

  ‘We do. It’s safe from prying eyes and surveillance equipment up there. There’s nothing taller around, and the sounds of the air con units and passing seagulls would mask any audio bugs’.

  ‘Do you always meet here?’

  ‘We’ve used it for the last three years’.

  The lift came to a halt, and the doors opened. They found themselves in a small lobby area with a plain concrete floor, whitewashed cinderblock walls and two steel doors. One led to the elevator machinery room, the other to the large flat roof. Charlie opened the second and stepped out into the sunshine. Eddie saw Mike, Bill and Roger gathered around a table positioned between two sizeable air conditioning units. It was covered in a white tablecloth, and there was a plastic crate full of brown beer bottles. It looked like they were having a family picnic.

  As they approached, Bill picked up two bottles, removed the caps and held them out. ‘Afternoon gents’.

  Mike was leaning against a large section of air conditioning ductwork. ‘We don’t usually invite guests to these meetings,’ he said, staring at Eddie.

  ‘Ed’s standing in for Kenny who can’t be here on account of him needing to get his bleedin’ face fixed after last night’. Mike smirked. ‘He’s asked Eddie to be his proxy, just like that time when Roger couldn’t make it. Remember?’ He sat down at the table and addressed the rest of the group. ‘Right gents, let’s get this done’. The rest of the men pulled up a chair each and sat down.

  Eddie remained standing, unsure if he was supposed to be joining the discussion or not.

  ‘Sit down, son,’ said Mike. ‘You’re making me nervous’.

  ‘Right,’ said Charlie. ‘For Ed’s benefit, I’ll quickly explain the rules here’. He cleared his throat. ‘Firstly, anyone can raise an agenda topic for the meeting. Unless something has changed, there is only one item from Roger, which is regarding a proposed job back in England. Is that right, or are there any other topics for discussion, gents?’ He looked around the table and was greeted by a succession of shaking heads. ‘Okay, so as per the process that we use for these meetings, Roger will pitch the idea he has. We will discuss it for a maximum of an hour. Then we will vote. A simple majority will carry the vote, no abstentions’. He looked at Eddie. ‘Got all that, bruv?’ Eddie nodded.

  Charlie winked at him and smiled as he picked up two upturned glasses, placed them in the middle of the table, then reached for two paper napkins and a blue biro. He scribbled “YES” on one, and “NO” on the other, then placed one glass on top of each. ‘When we’re ready to vote, each man places his bullet case in the glass corresponding to their vote. Understood?’ This time a succession of nodding heads greeted him. ‘Alright Rog, the floor is yours’.

  Roger took a deep breath and leaned forward in his chair. ‘So, this comes from my cousin, Gary,’ said Roger. ‘He first told me about this about three months ago, but I didn’t bring it up before coz he hadn’t put enough work in at that point. I told him to come back to me when he had more to show. He’s done that now, and I gotta say, it looks well sweet’.

  ‘It fuckin’ does,’ said Mike, looking at Charlie.

  ‘I want to hear it from Roger, alright?’ said Charlie, his impatience clear to all. ‘So, what’s the target?’

  ‘It’s a United Security depot just outside Heathrow. This guy Gary knows has worked for them for ten years, but he’s fucked off with them. The bloke was supposed to be in line for a promotion, but they gave it to some kid instead. Now this geezer - Angus his name is - he ain’t a bad bloke, but he likes the pop a bit too much and he’s always turning up for work late. I wouldn’t give him a bloody promotion either, but that’s beside the point. So anyway, he’s drinking with Gary down the Windmill one night whinging about his job and starts talking about how easy it would be to rob the place. Says he’s got some “insider information” - givin’ it the big ‘un, Gary said. Like he’s a right proper villain. Gaz was humouring the bloke, but not really listening’.

  Roger took a swig from his beer bottle.

  ‘So there he is, waffling away,’ Roger continued. ‘Moaning how this depot is third rate and only handles small value stuff that wouldn’t be worth thinking about. Ten grand of cash, gems or whatever. Gaz is getting proper bored at this point and is about to grab his coat. But then, get this. The bloke mentions he’d seen some documents he wasn’t supposed to what said they are getting a shipment in that was much, much mo
re valuable’. Roger looked around the table, making sure that he had a captive audience.

  ‘What shipment?’ asked Bill.

  Roger gave him a cheeky smile. ‘It’s coming in on an overnight flight from South Africa,’ he said. ‘They’re not supposed to handle this stuff’. He stopped to take another drink.

  ‘What are we talking about? Foreign currency? Krugerrands?’ asked Charlie.

  Roger looked up. Eddie could see he was struggling to suppress a smile. ‘Diamonds,’ he replied. ‘About a thousand carats each time’.

  Bill wolf-whistled. Mike slammed his hand on the table. ‘Now, that’s what I’m talking about,’ he said.

  Charlie, however, sat back in his chair and shook his head. ‘Ain’t going to work, boys,’ he said. ‘It’s almost impossible to shift precious gems, you know that. De Boars have the supply all sewn up. Each diamond is unique. Any trader worth his salt would recognise them. Even if we could get people to work with us, and they’d have to cut them up and rework them before they could sell them. And that amount of stones, well, it’d take years to introduce those back into the market without raising suspicions’.

  ‘But that’s the beauty of this, Charlie,’ said Roger. ‘This is De Boars, and these are uncut conflict stones. They’re off the books. They are bringing them in all covert through some satellite company they control. De Boars import ‘em as industrial stones because the customs authorities don’t pay attention then but they find their way back into the jewellery market and they make a friggin’ fortune doing it’.

  ‘So how much would you be talking about?’ asked Eddie. Charlie gave him a stern look as if to say, ‘stop encouraging them’.

  ‘Gaz reckons about ten mill,’ said Roger.

  ‘Woah,’ said Bill. Eddie sat forward and put his forearms on the table.

  ‘Ten million? Fuck me. Is it doable?’ he said.

  Roger nodded. ‘I reckon it is,’ he said. ‘Gary’s been watching the place for three months now. He knows the shift patterns. He knows their vehicles, their names, what they look like and where they drink. Christ, he knows when they take a bleedin’ dump. Angus gave him the building layouts and walked him through the security protocols. You wouldn’t believe how basic they are. This place is just asking to be hit’.