by S FEATES
''I like to know who I'm dealing with Steve, don't take it personally it's just business. I've been doing this a long time and the reason I've been successful is because I am professional about it.'' He was completely matter of fact about his reasoning.
''Just wasn't expecting it. But I don't have a problem with it and it doesn't change anything.'' It was a lesson learned.
''Glad to hear it. Well, I will see you Sunday Steve. Take care.'' With that he ended the call.
Straight to the point. I would have to watch myself, if this was the way Howard Saltman operated I couldn't take anything for granted.
I had made a bit of an effort and put the Focus through the carwash. It was the least I could do if I was offloading it on Kev. After the visit to the Romanian car washing service I drove straight to Southend. I would miss the old Ford as she had served me well but I was going up market and she no longer fit my new image.
Kev was in his office when I pulled up outside, I parked up and went in. On my way in I passed a beautiful looking Audi Quattro, must be the one I thought to myself. It was.
''Hi Steve, still interested then.'' Kev was all smiles at the prospect of a sale.
''Absolutely, if that's the car in question out there.'' I said pointing over my shoulder.
''Certainly is,'' he stood up and looked out the window, ''lovely motor, one owner from new. 2009, 3 litre TDI SE saloon Quattro 4 door.......''
''Ok, you can cut the sales bullshit,'' I interrupted him, ''tell me the truth, is it stolen, has it come via a breakers yard and have you clocked the mileage yet? Oh, and how much, bearing in mind I am going to be paying cash and I am willing to throw in the old Focus as a sweetener.''
''Truth is the car was my Dad's, he left it to me in his Will.'' Kev said looking rather sombre.
I vaguely knew Kev's Dad, met him once years ago. He was a career criminal and rumour had it he was involved in the Brink's-Mat bullion heist in 1983 when twenty six million quid's worth of gold bullion was stolen at Heathrow, but he was never convicted.
''Kev, your Dad ain't dead!.... Is he?'' I wasn't sure.
Kev laughed. ''No he ain't. He's just been sent down for a ten year stretch for holding up a sub-post office, silly bastard. He appeared on Crimewatch a couple of months back and someone recognised his ugly mug and grassed him up. He's seventy nine, he won't survive a couple of years in stir now, not with his dodgy ticker, so I thought I would collect my inheritance now.''
I was not surprised by Kev's attitude, my own Dad had been a criminal all his life too and I knew the affect it had on families. There was always the worry of a knock on the door in the middle of the night and the Old Bill taking Dad away. Criminal life was selfish, wives and kids they all suffered while the old man was away at her Majesty's pleasure. Trouble was he didn't give a shit!
''Well when you put it like that it seems a shame to let it rust away. Sure you don't want it? Surely there must be a few good memories associated with the motor, as it was your Dad's car.''
''No, We never went anywhere in it. He was hardly ever home so fuck him, it's yours if you want it.''
''How much?''
''Well it's worth about eight or nine grand but as your paying cash and lumbering me with that piece of shit I will take six.'' He held out his greasy hand to seal the deal.
''Piece of shit! That car has been good to me. It has never let me down and has proven itself as a getaway car several times, so it must be reliable.'' How I kept a straight face I don't know.
Kev's own face was a mixture of confusion and horror, ''getaway car! I can't have that on my forecourt what if the filth recognise it, I'll end up sharing a cell with me old man.'' He saw the grin on my face mid rant, '' you prat, I thought you was fucking serious!''
I grabbed his hand and shook it before he changed his mind. ''It's a deal.'' I put the Focus keys in his other hand and sat down in his chair. ''Stick the kettle on mate, talking about money gives me a thirst!''
I had taken plenty of cash with me so I had paid Kev and done the paperwork, the car was all mine. It was metallic silver with light grey leather upholstery, it had been well looked after. The mileage was reasonable and there was a genuine service history. The Audi was a lovely car to drive, purred like a kitten and had plenty of poke. I gave it some stick down the A127 just to see what it could do, eased off the accelerator at a ton. Like Derek said, not even a speeding ticket and I didn't want one now. I had the car, now to lead the lifestyle to match.
I was back at home when I got the call from Tony Nolan.
''Hello Steve, it's Tony. I've been hearing good things about you on the grapevine. I'm not alone either. An associate of mine would like you to do a job for him. Now, I've assured him you're good and more to the point discreet and reliable. He will contact you with the details, don't let him or me down. He's a good man.''
This was just what I wanted. ''It's a given Tony. How's the Casino business treating you?''
''Love it me old son, it's a licence to print money!'' he said with a laugh, ''it's the best move I ever made and it's all legitimate too.''
''You deserve it Tony.'' I lied. He was still as bent as a two bob watch and always would be. ''What's this blokes name?''
''Bob Chadwick, he and I go way back. I will leave it to him to explain the details, the least I know the better. It will be worth a fair bit to him, if you get my drift. I have to go, I'm interviewing a new croupier in half an hour, lovely girl and if she plays her cards right I will give her the job.'' With that he was gone.
I didn't have to wait long before I got the call from Chadwick.
''Hello Mr Chadwick, I've been expecting your call.''
A well spoken man answered. ''Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr Black. Anthony has been singing your praises and he said you would solve a problem on my behalf.''
''Problem solving is something I specialise in Mr Chadwick, can you be more specific?'' This man was not of the criminal fraternity I decided. He sounded nervous, I hoped it wouldn't be a problem down the line.
''I will have the details hand delivered to you in the morning, I have your address. The problem is rather urgent and I am willing to pay you your going rate plus fifty percent on top for expediting the matter.''
''I can assure you, you will not be disappointed in my services, satisfaction guaranteed is one of the codes I live by and my reputation proves it. I look forward to receiving the package.''
''Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you. Goodbye Mr Black.''
I was intrigued, Chadwick didn't sound like the sort of man who had people topped on a regular basis, in fact it all sounded very alien to him. This could either be very easy or it could prove to be a major complication.
11
Around nine thirty the next morning there was a knock at my door. I opened the door to a middle aged man smartly dressed standing there holding a large manila envelope. The man introduced himself as Mr Chadwick's chauffeur and said he had been instructed to hand deliver the envelope, as he spoke he handed it to me. Shutting the door I tore open the envelope as I was walking to the kitchen. I laid the contents out on the table and surveyed what had been inside. There were several photos, A4 reports and a covering letter from Chadwick. The letter explained that he was the victim of a blackmail attempt by a man named as Danny Fisher. Fisher was demanding money not to reveal the facts that he was a cocaine addict and that he had been propositioning women at a private club. The letter also said that the reports contained details about Fisher and everything I needed to know to complete the task. I looked over the reports and came to the conclusion that Derek Williams had compiled them, I decided to call him to validate Bob Chadwick was who he claimed to be.
''Hello Derek,'' I said when he picked up, ''sorry to call you but I am just checking out a new client and I believe you may be able to verify him for me.''
''No problem Steve if I can I will, who is the mysterious client?'' He was happy to help it would seem.
''The name
I have is Bob Chadwick and from the look of the reports he sent me, he is a client of yours too.''
''Ah, yes. Sir Robert Chadwick QC. Yes he is a client but that is as far as I am going with that. If he has hired your services then I would proceed, he is genuine and what's more money is no object.''
Williams was not prepared to discuss his client's business which I totally respected. ''Thanks for the affirmation Derek, how much do I owe you?''
''Don't worry about it Steve, I will knock it off the next job you do for me.'' He replied with a laugh.
''Sounds fair. Right I must get on, thanks again and goodbye.'' I rang off.
A Knight of the Realm no less and a QC to boot. I was mixing with the fucking nobility now, Jesus! I was slightly intimidated by this new information, I could be getting in over my head. I had visions of official secrets and MI5 involvement and getting locked in the Tower for treason, then reality kicked in and I studied the documents. Two of the photos were of the same man, Danny Fisher. There were other photographs that showed Sir Robert buying what appeared to be drugs from Fisher and a few that had him in compromising positions with a woman. The reports said that Fisher was thirty six years old and single, he was a commodities trader at the London Stock Exchange. He had worked at the LSE for twelve years and had been making small fortunes for his clients as well as himself. That was until the financial crisis of 2008 when he lost his own money along with a number of clients. Although he just about managed to retain his job he had to start again as far as his own finances were concerned. The loss of his nest egg had dire consequences on his everyday life, he started drinking heavily and although he was already a recreational drug user he soon became a heavy cocaine user. The combination of drinking and drugs kept him poor. He lost his luxury apartment at Docklands and ended up in a small apartment near the Elephant and Castle.
Fisher was a member of a private members club called Eden. No longer being able to afford the fees, he managed to retain his membership only because the owner was a very good friend of his. Eden was blessed with a membership of the highest order, Politicians, Judges and stars of stage and screen were all on the members list. The club had a reputation for discretion and what happened within the club walls stayed within those walls. The club had a small casino as well as a bar and lounge. The membership was also open to women and they were well represented by the elite as well as a few escorts who made a small fortune from some of the clientele. There were rooms that could be rented by members should they wish to stay the night. Fisher was a regular visitor to the club where he would occasionally sell drugs on the side without the knowledge of the management, although they had their suspicions. Fisher was popular with the clientele and so his dealing was tolerated for the time being.
Jackie decided to jump up on the table, he was hungry and wanted me to drop everything to feed him. The ice blue eyes fixed me with a stare that said ignore me at your peril. I complied and opened a tin of cat food. While he was busy devouring his dinner I returned to the job in hand, it was fascinating.
Lady Chadwick was no fool, she knew of her husband's drug addiction and also about his dalliances with women, she had argued enough about it with him in the past. She was old school and very loyal, her husband's reputation was all she cared about, that and the fact that their three grown up daughters didn't know what their father was like. They adored him and she wanted it to remain that way. When the blackmail started she gave her husband an ultimatum, deal with it and quickly or face the consequences. That was why I was now studying the reports in front of me.
Fisher, due to his heavy drinking and drug use which now included Heroin, soon became a liability and he lost his job at the LSE. It was this situation and a lack of income that led him to start blackmailing Sir Robert. He was even losing the goodwill of the owner of Eden and was on a last warning about his behaviour there.
Sir Robert had resigned his membership at the Eden and remained in hiding at the family home. He had already made three substantial payments to Fisher but every time he did the price went up. The Chadwick's were a very wealthy family so money was no object but the principal was everything. The extortion had to stop.
I had a five day window to complete the job, I was meeting Howard on Sunday so I wanted it out of the way before then. I had Fisher's address and so I made the decision to rent a room somewhere nearby so I could get a feel for the area and watch his movements for a couple of days so I could form a plan.
Sylvie was happy to look after Jackie again, this time I would be away longer I told her and she didn't ask any questions. She was good as gold that way. She did say that the usual rates applied and she would expect payment in full. I would have to be up to it when I returned as she could be insatiable.
Fisher lived in Princess Street, just round the corner from Elephant and Castle tube station. I found a seedy hotel in Oswin Street, it was the kind of hotel where most of the clientele booked rooms by the hour. The landlady was a miserable old bag who smoked cigarettes like they were going out of fashion, she was watching TV when I entered the hotel lobby. She wanted cash for the room, in advance and said that she didn't care what I did in it as long as I left it clean when I checked out. She asked for no ID when I gave her my name as Garry James, just threw the key across the desk and went back to watching the TV. The room number was thirteen. My lucky number.
The room was everything you expected it to be, small and damp, a single bed with a worn, dusty pink bedspread that had several stains of unknown origin on it, although you wouldn't need three guesses as to what caused them. The window didn't open and the light in the toilet didn't work. The carpet was filthy and your feet stuck to it in certain places. The room next door was obviously occupied judging by the Morse code being franticly tapped out by the headboard banging on my wall and the theatrical moaning suggested that the payee was getting more than his pound of flesh. I would have to give the hotel just the one star when I wrote my review on Tripadvisor later.
The Elephant was undergoing re-development, the old shopping centre had been bought by a development company and was earmarked for demolition, Most of the old housing was due the same fate soon and, please God, so would this dive of a hotel. In fact the whole area was becoming gentrified, more affluent residents were gradually buying up the houses and renovating them. Not entirely a bad outcome. The Elephant was also home to a large Latin American population and amongst these people was the supplier who Fisher bought his illicit drugs from to sell on.
I left the grotty hotel and took a stroll around the streets. There were many students amongst the local people due to the London College of Communication being close by. I could easily lose myself amongst the throng which gave me the perfect cover to observe the comings and goings of Fisher. I located the building which housed his flat, as luck would have it there was a small cafe opposite and I went in for a coffee and sandwich. I didn't have to wait long before I noticed Fisher leaving home. Downing the coffee I paid quickly and hurried off after him. He had a simple routine I was to find out, first stop a newsagents where he bought cigarettes and a newspaper. From there he went into a pub, the Printers Arms, and he stayed there for three hours drinking, reading and smoking. Occasionally a person would sit at his table and have a few words and during this exchange Fisher would slide something under the folded newspaper over to the person who would then get up and leave. Dealing obviously. When he'd had enough Fisher would go back home until late evening when he would either go to the Eden or back to the pub. The routine I observed over the next two days was like clockwork.
I had no chance of getting to Fisher inside Eden and the pub was too public, my best bet was to go to his flat and pose as a punter looking to score. I deduced that around eleven in the morning was the best time, catch him when he was still recovering from the previous nights excesses. The only drawback to what I had planned was the fact that I had never had any dealings with drugs, never dabbled even as a younger man, not even smoked a joint. I planned to somehow inj
ect Fisher with an overdose of Heroin. I, of course, had seen movies with junkies depicted in them and new all about the cooking in a spoon and using a rubber strap or belt to tie off the arm, finding a vein and injecting the drug then release the strap. What I didn't know was how much was a dose and how much was a sufficient dose to overdose and kill him. I looked on the internet and found that you needed to mix the powder with water and either lemon juice or citric acid before heating, you don't see that in the movies, and the dosage was between five and twenty milligrams for a first time user while an established user would require several hundred milligrams a day. I assumed that was not all in one hit. The lethal dose was anywhere between seventy five and six hundred milligrams. What the fuck was a milligram? How accurate any of this information was I could only hope and trust it was right. The only other possible worry was that it stated that death could take between several minutes and several hours. I was taking a serious risk with this and I was concerned, but I was in too deep now and time was running short. This was no time to be second guessing what I was doing.
I made my move the next morning and walked the short distance to Fisher's flat. The second floor flat was one of two on the same floor, I knocked loudly on the door and waited. No answer. I knew he was in as I had seen him enter late last night and I knew he never rose early so I knocked again louder. This time I heard shuffling feet and the door opened a crack, the security chain was on.
''What do you want?'' a bleary, red rimmed, eye stared through the gap.
''I wish to buy some cocaine.'' I put on my poshest hooray Henry voice hoping that he would be taken in.
''Are you fucking nuts? I have no idea what you're talking about, you've got me confused with someone else mate, now fuck off!'' He tried to shut the door.
''Sir Robert Chadwick assured me that you were the man to go to if I wanted a large supply?'' I held a large wad of notes in my hand as I spoke so he could see it. The change in him was dramatic.