The Boy Who Hugs Trees

by Dougie McHale

  Once everyone says their goodbyes, Adam decides to walk home. He lives only a few streets away and the walk will clear his head. When he first moved to Glasgow, he found the grey buildings intimidating, unwelcoming even; now they were just part of the landscape he moved through. A rain shower has just fallen, and is in the throes of dying out, when he crosses the street. The tarmac glistens in streetlights and headlamps as capacious light glows from the windows of shop fronts and bars. He is drawn to a small cafe bar and once inside orders an Americano (coffee.) He sits at a table next to the window, staring at his reflection and not for the first time, his solidity of purpose arouses a disconcerting thought that unsettles him. Ever since the interview, Adam has ruminated on the absence of Georgia’s husband. If he had been in a similar situation, given the gravity of their endeavour, he would have interrogated each interviewee as if his life depended on it. There would have been no sense of resignation, that work commitments would restrict his involvement. Yet, this was precisely the impression he received, even though there was no intention on Georgia’s part to convey this during their meeting. Also, Georgia’s frankness, concerning her preferred gender, has embroidered doubt on the fabric of his optimism that seems to fade from him with each passing day.

  Three young mothers huddle around a table, each with an infant strapped into a high chair, around them, their abandoned buggies sag with coats, shopping bags and toys, like desolate pack horses on a mountain trek. An old couple abandon their half drunk cups of tea and walk towards the door with lethargic, arthritic movements. Leaning on a carved walking stick, the man holds the door open for his wife, who negotiates the step onto the pavement with slow deliberate motions.

  Adam observes this spectrum of human life where joy, happiness, contentment, love, loss, heartache, even desolation will have shaped each milestone of each individual’s journey and it occurs to him that we are all passengers moving through time from one thought, one emotion and one destination to another.

  Chapter 5

  It’s all about the Money

  Stephen sits behind a large desk in his London office, its opulent surroundings reflecting his success. Two Apple screens face him and from a silver-framed photograph, Georgia and Dylan smile at him. Chris Hastings reclines on a black leather sofa, immaculately dressed in a made to measure Savoy Row three piece suit. A pallor crosses Stephen’s face, he shakes his head.

  ‘Look it’s come as a bit of a shock, I can see that and I should’ve consulted you way before now, but remember Stephen, this deal is just like any other, it’s all legitimate; the contracts, the land purchase, the planning permission, the contractors, it’s put together following every detail and letter of Majorcan law. You know how precise I am,’ Chris says, trying to put Stephen at ease.

  Stephen frowns. ‘But your moral compass obviously doesn’t subscribe to the letter of the law; it dances to the tune of a South American drug cartel.’

  Stephen stands and paces around the office. He walks towards the window and looks down onto the street below. It is a normal scene, one that has become familiar to him; buses, taxis, cars, faceless pedestrians, just another normal day. Yet, the revelation that Cesar Ramos, the businessman behind the Spanish investment side of the project, is a major player in the trafficking of drugs from South America, exploded any remnants of normality this day had offered.

  Cesar Ramos’ company is based in Madrid and Palma, specialising in golf, spa clubs and luxury homes developments in mainland Spain and the Balearic Islands.

  ‘Fuck, what’s going on Chris?’ Stephen cannot curtail his surprise and shock.

  ‘Look we’ve all been working on this project for months. Cesar was offering to go 50/50 on the whole project. His companies are legitimate, you know that Stephen. He counts politicians and bankers amongst his friends. In Cesar’s world he’s just expanding, all he is doing is gaining extra capital to finance his business deals for his legal companies.’ Chris tries to sound convincing.

  ‘Don’t kid yourself Chris. That kind of money is used for personal pleasure, houses, and cars, it feeds a certain lifestyle.’ Stephen scratches his chin.

  ‘So it comes with pleasurable benefits.’ A conspiratorial smile crosses Chris’ lips.

  ‘What’s there to smile about? I can’t believe you waited until now to tell me. What were you thinking?’

  ‘Look.’ Chris moves to the edge of his seat. ‘This is purely business, it’s what we do. The Majorcan project is soundproof. This doesn’t change a thing. We’ve invested time and money, signed the contract; legally it’s watertight.’

  This was not the first time Chris had revealed illegitimate business practice in the course of their partnership. Stephen had learned Chris was a shrewd vampire who sucked the blood from a deal, to gain a profit and by any means available to him. It was his currency and he was always looking for opportunities to expand the fortunes of Armstrong and Hastings. Chris took the risks, and to date, his business accolade had earned the company generous yearly profits. Over the years it had grown, as has their reputation, amongst the business community.

  Chris Hastings was the son of a prominent banker and educated at Oxford. He graduated with honours in Corporate Law, and although his father harboured ambitions for him to carve out a career in politics, Chris instead embraced the yuppie culture of the early nineties to its extreme. His reputation soon grew amongst the boardrooms and wine bars of the city. It was whilst he was recruited by Union Capital Markets, whose services included corporate finance, commercial, real estate, and banking, that he first met Stephen Armstrong, who worked in a senior role as a partner in the Corporate Real Estate Team. The team’s expertise centred on indirect real estate investment, such as onshore and offshore vehicles, tax-focused transactions, and disposals in real estate on a global basis. A friendship developed between them, based initially on their respect for each other’s work and then, their shared ambition to progress to the highest levels in their profession. When Tony Blair came to power, the volcanic explosion of wealth that followed, made Union Capital Market a major player and both Stephen and Chris were involved in the growth that made it a dynamic and innovative company.

  It was this success that fuelled their over inflated salaries and yearly January bonus. Chris soon rose to equal Stephen as a senior partner. They thrived in the culture of expectation; the adrenaline rush of a highly charged office environment was the nutrient they craved to succeed in the marketplace. By their natures, they both became restless, and developed the idea of starting their own business. The property market boom in London gave them the impetus to set up a property development company and their client base at Union Capital Market gave them access to potential affluent customers.

  Armstrong and Hastings specialised in luxury homes such as Mayfair, Chelsea, Knightsbridge, Belgravia, St John's Wood, Hyde Park, Notting Hill, Kensington and Holland Park. It also had interests in commercial investments, potential sites, new developments and international property. Their client list comprised of Russian oligarchs, Middle Eastern oil billionaires, American and British businessmen, and European bankers.

  From the beginning, they worked with their individual skills. Stephen managed international corporate finance, real estate, project management, creative vision, branding and the marketing, while Chris’ expertise involved acquisitions, development, and financial control.

  During this time, Stephen met Georgia, who was working for a leading firm of lawyers in Edinburgh. A quick courtship ensued and a year later they got married. Georgia continued to work in Edinburgh and they bought a townhouse in Stockbridge. She travelled to London on Fridays to spend the weekends at Stephen’s Chelsea flat or he would fly up to Edinburgh. Such an arrangement suited both their interests until Dylan’s birth a year later when Stephen spent most weekends in Edinburgh. Motherhood won the tug of war over her career and after her maternity leave, Georgia took a career break that became a permanent arrangement. Stephen’s earnings were such that they could sustain t
heir two homes, therefore such a decision did not predict financial hardship.

  ‘Come on Stephen, its business, we’ve bent the rules before, this is no different.’

  ‘It’s entirely different Chris. We could go to prison for a long time. Does that not scare you?’

  ‘But we’re not going to go to prison. There’s something else bothering you. You’ve been short tempered and a pain in the arse for weeks now.’

  ‘What, so you think that will make it all right.’ He scratched his chin. ‘It’s Georgia, this thing about getting Dylan a tutor and staying at the house in Corfu has been a pain in the arse. Opened a few old wounds actually, eventually, I gave into her. I could see how determined she was. I think it may be some kind of delayed grieving, a response to her mother’s illness, that she kept it from us for as long as she did. She’s had a hang up about it for years, never got over it really. Georgia has always blamed herself, she feels guilty that she didn’t do enough for her. This idea of going to the house may play a part in coming to terms with it all, a reconciliation if you like. And there’s this bloody tutor business, and now drug trafficking and Columbians at that, Jesus Christ Chris, they don’t fuck about, they kill people like flies.’

  ‘You’re making it sound like some Hollywood film.’

  Their business interests in Majorca involved the purchase of land, developing the building program and design and obtaining public approval. Months of investment with architects, engineers, and contractors coordinating the environmental, economic, physical and political aspects of the project, saw them gain government approval.

  ‘Come on Stephen, you met Cesar at the meetings with Phil in Madrid and Palma, he’s a sound guy.’

  Phil Douglas was Senior Negotiator in the company and the drive to extend their share in the lucrative international market is boosted by his fluent command of Italian and Spanish.

  ‘It was during my last visit to Palma, we were out having dinner when Cesar approached the subject and expanded on the details’.

  ‘What I don’t understand is why did he tell you? If he was looking for someone to become involved, someone he could trust, then why did he approach you?’ Stephen raises his eyebrows.

  ‘I’ll get to that,’ Chris says, dismissively. ‘After dinner, we went to his house, just outside Palma, I met his wife and kids all very domesticated; he even has a personal assistant, for Christ sake. Cesar proudly introduced me to the garage on the ground floor and his cars - an Aston Martin, Lamborghini, and Ferrari you wouldn’t get much change from a million and they’re just his toys, not the family cars. They’re shipped over from his main house in Madrid, like pets. Anyway, the next day we went to the marina and had lunch on his boat, and when I say boat, I mean it was almost a bloody ship. He was drip feeding me, priming me I suppose, with this opulent display of wealth and success. By most people’s standards, we run a successful business and our lifestyles reflect that, but this was a different level altogether.’

  ‘You’ve always had a taste for the extravagant. He must’ve known that was your week point.’

  ‘The contracts were just about to be signed when he explained he’d other business interests that had proved very profitable for little investment, unlike this project. Initially, I thought he was backing out of the project, but then he went into the detail of it. At first, I was scared shitless, I thought ‘this isn’t happening,’ but as he explained the actual mechanics of his operation, I found myself surrendering to his proposition.’

  ‘And what was his proposition?’ Stephen says dryly.

  ‘Well, if the material trappings were the fishing rod, this was the bait at the end of his hook and I was about to be caught. It runs like clockwork. You see once the cocoa farmers grow the crop it’s turned into crystallised cocaine and then from Columbia it’s moved into Venezuela by couriers who take the real risks, but there’s no short supply. Various members of the Venezuelan security forces are on the cartel's payroll as well; they make sure the drugs are trafficked across the border into Venezuela. From there, it’s transported to the Atlantic coast and moved along the Venezuelan border to a place called San Cristobal, then to Puerto Cabello, where the cocaine is moved onto container ships. Once they arrive at Galicia, in North West Spain, the cocaine is unloaded onto speedboats and moved to the Spanish mainland. It’s hidden in trucks, moved through Europe to Holland, where it’s subdivided into loads of 10 and 50 kilos and from Zeebrugge, the drugs land in Britain. The cocaine is subdivided into smaller amounts and cut with cheap drugs making it only 30% pure by the time it hits the streets of London, Birmingham, Manchester, and Glasgow. So get this, this is the beauty of it, from a value of £50,000, one kilo, sold in gramme bags can fetch up to £150,000.’

  Stephen sat in silence, an intent look crossing his face.

  ‘Their markets are well established in Britain, except Edinburgh, Cesar’s gateway to the rest of the country.’

  ‘I think I know where this is going.’

  ‘Cesar needs a foothold in Edinburgh. He needs someone he can trust to oversee that the supply meets the demand, the oil in the machine as it were. He has his foot soldiers in Edinburgh, the people who will sell the cocaine on the streets, but he now needs the generals to oversee and manage the process. We would earn 10% from each kilo sold. That’s seven and a half grand each. We could make tens of thousands a week.’

  ‘I can count,’ Stephen says, in a steely tone.

  ‘Look, if I didn’t agree to become involved, the whole project was fucked, he threatened to pull out. The contracts were on the table for Christ sake. What was I to do?’

  ‘So, he blackmailed you. You could’ve walked away, called his bluff even. Let’s be honest, you couldn’t resist that kind of money. Are you prepared to lose everything? You should’ve told me, Chris.’

  ‘Listen, I took the initiative, we’ve worked our balls off on this project. We’re expanding into a very profitable international market, and it’s only the start. Cesar’s keen to extend our partnership beyond this project, branching out to Portugal, Greece and the Balkans. Of all people, you know that fifty percent of bonuses paid out in the city are invested in overseas property. With our connections, we’re sitting on a potential gold mine.’

  ‘Hence the reason we’re involved in overseas development. What are you getting at Chris? Are you willing to gamble everything? What if he gets caught by the Spanish authorities? Without his company’s involvement, our project would sink and we’ve already taken sizeable deposits from very influential customers. As a company, we’d be fucked; we’d go down with him. No one would touch us.’

  ‘But that’s the beauty of it, he’s invisible, other people take the risks, only his counterparts in Columbia have contact with him. He vets the individuals, who run the operations in each city, and then contact is broken, and other people run the day-to-day operation supplying the manpower when the drugs reach Spain and the rest of Europe. It is set up so that he is untouchable.’

  ‘Ok, so tell me, what you have got us involved in?’ says Stephen warily.

  ‘There is a fertile supply of young professionals whose recreational pastime involves a night out fueled by drink and cocaine. It has become the ‘in’ thing: if you want to be seen with the ‘in’ crowd, it’s the trendy thing to do.’

  ‘So your target market can afford the goods.’

  ‘Precisely, they can more than afford it. There’s already a market, the glamorous middle classes. It’s rife at house parties and dinner parties. They take cocaine as if it’s a bottle of wine. I should know, I’ve been to a few. A lot of our clients are frequent users, especially here in London. We’re talking about bankers, lawyers, business people, male and female, and they think nothing of paying large amounts of money to get their fix at the weekend. We’ll just be the supplier of good times. Think about it Stephen. Even if you’re not in on it, I can do this on my own. I’m offering you an opportunity to make a lot of money and, if you’re not interested,’ He shrugs. ‘The
n that just means I take the full ten percent. It's good business for all of us, at the end of the day. We all get something out of it, the user, Cesar, me, you, even the little farmer that grows the crop.’

  ‘Well, as a partnership, I reckon we should be sharing that ten percent.’

  ‘I knew you’d see sense, Stephen.’

  ‘I don’t think sense comes into it Chris. It’s all about the money, it always has been.’

  Chapter 6

  Despondency Whispers

  He glances at the clock on the wall. The lecture is scheduled to last an hour. His class consists of a nurse, a speech and language therapists, a social worker, special education teachers, an educational psychologist and a parent of a child with autism. The lesson comprises of the three main psychological theories that propose to explain the behaviours of individuals with autism.

  ‘It’s important to remind ourselves what we covered in our last session before we move on. As you should know by now, autism is a lifelong, complex spectrum of disorders,

  with serious implications for the individual and often challenging to service providers.

  ‘Society’s awareness and knowledge of autism have increased considerably, along with research which has expanded our knowledge base on the influence of autism upon interpersonal, communicative, cognitive, imaginative, sensory, perceptual, physiological and behavioural processes.’ As he speaks, Adam walks around the room, as is his custom, delivering his words, like an actor, to his captive audience.

  He continues. ‘This has infused a developing

  understanding of the perceived causes of autism, advancing diagnostic tools and cultivated a growth of interventions and approaches.’

  He pauses as if gathering his thoughts and sits on the edge of his desk. ‘As everyone here should know, autism is a pervasive developmental disorder that inhibits an individual’s capacity to communicate, form relationships with others and react suitably in the environment. These individuals range from those with normal intelligence to those who lack any medium of communicating with others. Autism is regarded as a spectrum of disorders, enveloping a broad range of difficulties which led to the term Autistic spectrum disorders or ASD. Wing and Gould, suggested a “triad of impairment” that comprises difficulties in social interaction, social communication and social imagination, such as restricted and repetitive behaviours and interests, inflexibility of thought and of play.