Designer Crime

by Allen Whitehead

  'What's it going to mean for us?'

  'I don't know, Joe, we'll have to wait and see ... but I can't see it as welcome news.'

  When Keith rejoined them a few minutes later, he immediately launched into talking about the Six Nations rugby competition, that had taken place a few weeks previously. It was obvious that he wanted to change the subject on to something other than Cormack Construction.

  * * *

  KRS Developments occupied the first and second floors of a modernised Georgian building in Edinburgh's Lawnmarket, and Seamus Cormack was already in the reception area when they arrived. He was a stocky man, strongly built from his early days in the construction industry, but now carrying a little too much fat.

  His father, an ambitious bricklayer from Northern Ireland, had started Cormack Construction in the 1950's, and Seamus had worked alongside the men for several years, doing everything from digging excavations to plastering walls, “to harden him up”, before his father had enough confidence in him to let him join in the management of the company. When his father had died of a heart attack in 1987, Seamus became Chairman of the company and it had expanded rapidly under his control. There were three men with him, all wearing grey suits.

  'Hello there, Keith,' he smiled. 'It's a fine morning – so it is. Have you met my colleagues? John Young – Construction manager, Ron Davies – Quantity Surveyor and Pat, my son, I think you know.'

  They all shook hands and Keith opened the door to a large conference room. Typical of Edinburgh's town houses, it had an ornate plastered ceiling and large marble fireplace, although the table, that filled most of the room, was a smooth modern stainless steel model with an ash veneered top and electrical connections for laptops. A huge pair of sliding sash windows overlooked the Lawnmarket. They took seats around the table, while Keith arranged for coffee to be brought.

  Seamus who had seated himself at the head of the table began immediately. 'I'm very happy to meet you this morning, Paul. We haven't had the opportunity to work with CAT Architects before, but around town you've got a very good reputation, so you have. Perhaps you and your colleague can talk us through the drawings?'

  Keith plugged in a laptop and drawings of the development were projected on to a large plasma screen above the fireplace. Paul and Joe spent the next half hour explaining the scheme in detail, and Seamus and his Construction Manager asked a lot of searching questions.

  'Well, thanks for that,' smiled Seamus. 'It's pretty clear that you boys have put a lot of work into the design. It really is a very interesting project and one that we are looking forward to taking forward. John here is champing at the bit and we're confident that, after a robust value engineering exercise, we'll be able to inject some commercial reality and bring a viable scheme to the market.'

  'The development that we've just described has been fully costed, said Paul coolly. 'We've had input from real estate agents on current rental values, and I can assure you that as it stands it is commercially viable ... That's so, isn't it Keith?'

  Sanderson nodded but his eyes were fixed firmly on a spot in the centre of the table, and he didn't look up.

  Seamus smiled resignedly. 'Don't get me wrong, Paul. I'm sure that you've done your homework ... but Cormacks have lots of experience and some really good contacts. It never does any harm to step back and take a fresh look at things ... As I've said we're getting really excited by the possibilities, so thanks again for taking us through the drawings, Paul and, er, Joe – is it? I'll be getting in touch soon, to arrange another meeting with all of your team. Me and the boys have got a few things to finalize with Keith here though, so once again thanks for your time – we'll get together again, as soon as.'

  * * *

  Joe and Paul walked down the High Street. It was a cold, but fine day and even though the summer was still a long way off, the voices around them came from all over the world. Edinburgh is a magnet for tourists throughout the whole of the year.

  'Now what the fuck was that all about!' Joe exclaimed suddenly. 'What's “robust value engineering” and “injecting commercial reality”?'

  'It means stripping out all of the interesting bits, specifying poor quality materials, and cramming a lot more floor area into the building's footprint – just so that Cormacks can grab a bigger slice of profit.'

  'You reckon?'

  'Absolutely. That's what they're good at.'

  'What do you think it means for us?'

  'I'm not sure. We're going to have to fight bloody hard to keep the scheme's integrity. I do know that and I don't think we can expect a lot of support from Keith.'

  'No, he's really had the wind taken out of his sails. I've never seen him so subdued.'

  They turned the corner and headed towards the Balmoral Hotel, into a cold northerly breeze.

  'What did you make of Cormack's boys, then Paul?'

  'Seamus is a tough little Irishman, but what you see is what you get. He's worked hard to build up his business and wants to make some more money. I don't really blame him for that. I wouldn't trust his son though – he looks pretty sneaky to me.'

  'Yeah, he keeps quiet when his dad's about, but I've heard that he likes to throw his weight around when he's not.'

  'The QS was typical of number crunchers – his only aim will be to cheapen the scheme as far as he can. He's one who knows the cost of everything and the value of nothing ... I can't say that I took to John Young either – too puffed up with his own self-importance, and he affects that terrible transatlantic accent.'

  'I know.' Joe laughed. 'When he introduced himself to me, he said he was 'Jan Yang' – I wondered if his dad was Chinese!'

  * * *

  Chapter 6 June

  Over the next few weeks CAT Architects found their worst fears proving to be correct. Fraser had returned to work and he joined Paul and Joe at Design Team meetings but, even with the help of another person, they increasingly found that decisions, that had been made during the Design Development stage, were being questioned, and they had to review and justify everything that they thought had been settled.

  Paul worked tirelessly to prepare for the meetings, trying to anticipate what the next target for cost savings might be, obtaining his own quotations so that they could defend any suggestion that the original scheme was extravagant.

  Seamus didn't attend all of the meetings, as he was frequently away from Scotland on company business, and so “Jan Yang” took the leading role, enthusiastically supported by Pat Cormack and Ron Davies. Young was a man who loved the sound of his own voice. He was arrogant and talked excessively, but whenever he proposed a major design change – usually with a flourish – he would find that the architects had already considered the suggestion and were able to explain, with sound reasons, why it was not a good idea.

  One morning in June, however, a Range Rover arrived at the offices of KRS Developments, and Seamus got out, accompanied by a small, skinny man with wire-rimmed spectacles and a “comb-over” plastered to his head.

  'This is Henry Smythe from the London office,' said Seamus. 'He was in charge of the Abbeygate Development and before that Waterside in Bristol. He's got a huge amount of hands-on experience of city centre projects, so I'm bringing him on-board to give us the benefit of his know-how.'

  Pat Cormack glowered and “Jan Yang” looked dismayed.

  Smythe shook hands with Paul and his colleagues and moved to sit at the head of the table beside Seamus.

  'Oh, yes, and I've asked a friend of mine to join us as well. You might know him, Paul – Dominic Franklin.'

  The three from CAT Architects did know him. Dominic was head of Dominic Franklin Associates, a firm of Edinburgh architects that specialized in large commercial projects.

  'We've been appointed to provide the architectural services for this project,' snapped Paul. 'We don't need any help from DFA.'

  'No, no, Paul, don't get on your high horse,' Seamus said, waving away the objection. 'He won't be treading on your toes. Cormack Construction
have decided to take a lease on the top two floors of the main office building when it's ready – for a our new Headquarters. We want Dominic to design the fit-out of the shell for us. You're going to be working with other space planners as well, no doubt, when we get more pre-lets.'

  'Oh, I see. Yeah, there will be other designers involved, but not until later on I would have thought.'

  'You're right there, Paul, but I didn't see any harm in Dominic sitting in – just as an observer – in our meeting this morning.'

  Right on cue, Dominic Franklin was heard arriving in reception, and he was shown into the conference room.

  He was tall and thin with an aquiline nose and long wavy dark hair that he frequently had to push back out of his eyes. He was wearing an expensive navy pinstripe suit and a white sea island cotton shirt together with a pale blue silk tie. Paul looked disapprovingly at him, but didn't reply to Seamus.

  'Grab yourself a seat, Dominic,' said Seamus. 'We were just about to start.'

  'Yes,' began Paul. 'We'll begin by running through the matters arising from the last meeting. Are there....'

  'No, we won't,' interrupted the new-comer Smythe. 'I've been looking through the design drawings and the cost report, and some major changes are needed – because the figures don't stack up!'

  Paul frowned. 'I don't understand what you mean?'

  Smythe shook his head slowly and gave a condescending little smile, as if he were talking to a child.

  'I said – the figures for the development don't stack up, and changes need to be made – and the sooner the better.'

  Keith Sanderson leaned forward. 'The costs have been carefully worked out and checked by my people several times. You know – I'm confident that there are no errors in the report.'

  'I didn't ask for your opinion,' Smythe said sharply, turning on him. ' What I said was, we don't think that the development will generate sufficient margin. Changes are required, whether you like it or not – and the sooner you realise it the better.'

  'Our development has been widely admired and welcomed by the city ...... and' Keith protested.

  'Are you deaf?' said Smythe standing up. 'It's not your development any longer! As I understand it, Cormack Construction now have fifty five percent of it, don't they? You can just keep quiet and maybe we can make some progress ... As I was saying, changes are going to have to be made to increase the lettable area of the offices, and also we need to look at the amount of on-site parking and tighten up on the circulation areas.'

  Keith Sanderson went bright red with embarrassment, stared down at the table, pursed his lips and didn't say another word.

  'And another thing,' Smythe said, warming to his theme. 'It isn't very convenient coming into the city centre here for meetings. There's nowhere nearby to park, so in future we'll hold the meetings in Cormack's office.'

  The room fell silent as the dust settled and Paul looked across the table at Joe, who raised his eyebrows.

  'Henry, Ron and me have been working on a revised brief,' said Seamus. 'It's not quite ready, but it'll be finished over the weekend, so we'd like your team to meet up with us next week, Paul. How does Tuesday at nine sharp suit?'

  Paul nodded.

  'In the meantime, Dominic can tell you what his initial thoughts are on the fit-out for the new offices.'

  * * *

  'I simply can't believe what I saw back there. Keith just sat still and let Smythe talk to him like that!' Fraser exclaimed, as they headed back to the office in a taxi.

  'He was sand-bagged by an expert,' observed Paul. 'It was carefully planned in advance, before they arrived. It's pretty clear that Pat Cormack and Jan Yang haven't been delivering fast enough for Seamus, so he brought in a “hit-man”. Skinny little Smythe's job today was to pull the rug out from under Keith's feet, and take him out of the decision making.'

  'Well, he certainly managed that. Who'll be next?'

  'I wouldn't be surprised if Jan Yang gets a sideways promotion. He won't want to stand for playing second fiddle to Smythe.'

  'Well, I'd drink to that,' said Joe. 'He won't be much of a loss. I'll be pretty happy to see him getting shafted by someone else for a change.'

  'I don't give a flying fuck about him either!' said Fraser who had been appalled by the savage treatment of his friend, 'but Keith looked dumbstruck ... like someone had kicked him in the balls. He should have punched Smythe's lights out!'

  'Yeah, that would have been more fun. I wonder how it's going to affect us, Paul?' asked Joe.

  Paul stroked his chin and looked out of the window as the taxi headed down Leith Walk. 'I don't know.' he said quietly. 'I really haven't a clue. We might find out more next week when they tell us what changes they want ... I can't say that I feel good about it though. We know we've got a good scheme – it won the competition and so we've got to fight hard for it. It'll be a new game from now on, though. Keith loved the development and was on our side but, with him out of the picture, it's going to be a bloody uphill struggle.'

  * * *

  A white car headed east, travelling fast along the dual carriageway. It was a dry, mild and clear night with a crescent moon fringed by thin cloud over the Lammermuir hills. It was two o'clock in the early morning and only a handful of cars were on the road.

  The Audi began to accelerate, slowly at first, then quicker and the engine began to roar as the number on the speedometer passed 100mph.

  Suddenly, as the car was approaching a bridge over the road, it veered sharply to the left, and hit the start of the traffic barrier where it ramped down into the ground. It slid halfway up the barrier to the deafening sound of screaming metal, flipped over in mid-air, and crashed back down on to the carriageway on its roof rolling over and over, strewing fragments of the stricken vehicle along a sixty metres length of road.

  * * *

  The weather had been poor in May with two weeks of cloud, mist and drizzle and the first week of June had not been a great improvement. June 10th, however, was a beautiful calm and sunny day with only a warm gentle breeze to ruffle Joe's fair hair as he ambled into the office. He had left his jacket at home and had his leather messenger bag slung casually over his shoulder.

  'Bad news, Joe,' said Alison in a husky whisper.

  'Why, what's up?'

  'Keith's dead ... Keith Sanderson.'

  'What?'

  'He's killed himself. He crashed his car on the A1. The police aren't saying anything but people in his office think it might have been suicide. There was no-one with him though, and no other vehicles were involved.'

  'What? No way! .... Oh, man, that's awful. Are the others in?'

  'Paul's downstairs with Liz. She's taking it badly. Fraser isn't in yet, but Laura says he's on his way.'

  Joe ran down the stairs and found Paul with his arm around the shoulders of a tearful Liz.

  'Why would Keith do that? It doesn't make sense. He might have felt bad about having to sell shares in the development – but he'd paid off the casino. So why? Why! Nothing's so bad that you kill yourself – is it Paul?'

  'Pride, Liz.' said Joe.

  Paul nodded in agreement. 'He was badly humiliated in his own office yesterday – by Cormacks, and he'll have hated himself for allowing that to happen.'

  They explained to her what had taken place in the boardroom of KRS Developments, the day before, and Liz stared at them in amazement.

  'It sounds more like, what's his name – Michael Douglas in an American movie, than a building firm in Edinburgh!'

  'You're absolutely right,' said Joe. 'I wouldn't have believed it myself, but I was there.'

  'I saw the wreckage on my way in,' Paul said softly, 'at the side of the road.'

  'Keith's car?'

  'Yeah. It was near Tranent. What was left of it … a white Audi TT – terrible mess – but I didn't think for a minute that it was Keith's.'

  'Dear God!'

  'It's tragic.'

  'Tragic – it's criminal!' spat Paul. 'I hope that little shite S
mythe feels proud of himself.'

  'Do you think Keith's death will affect the development?' Liz asked.

  'I shouldn't think so, at least not for long.' replied Paul. 'He started KRS Developments, but there are three other directors apart from him. One of them will take over Keith's role. It seems it was about to get smaller in any case. I reckon that Cormacks will have a clear field to take over, now.'

  Just then, Fraser rushed in slightly out of breath, wild-eyed. He saw the look on their faces. 'You've heard, then?'

  They all nodded.

  'I couldn't believe it when I got the phone call. Keith's secretary says the police have told her that there's nothing suspicious about it – he could have just fallen asleep at the wheel – so it's going to be written up in the report as an accident. But it wasn't – I know it wasn't! To say it was ... is a fucking load of shit!' Tears welled in his eyes and he shook his head before continuing. 'They say there'll be an investigation to check that there wasn't any failure of the car ...... but they didn't seem to think it would be likely …. Oh, and to test him for drink and drugs, of course.'

  'Well, they'll have to do that.'

  'So does she think the funeral could be soon then?'

  'Yeah – unless they find a mechanical failure or something. She thinks it'll be arranged for next Thursday. He's going to be cremated. I can't believe it – he's my best friend – or he was yesterday. Oh, fucking hell, Keith – why did you have to do that!'

  Liz walked over to him and put her arms around him. He leaned into her shoulder and fought back the tears.

  'It's been a terrible shock for everyone.'

  'I know – Keith's secretary could hardly speak – she's all over the place too.'

  * * *

  Keith Sanderson's funeral took place the following week, and all of the senior staff of CAT Architects were there. Also present were a few members of the Sanderson family, some business associates and staff from his office. They assembled at the funeral parlour, where there was a short service, and afterwards numbers were already starting to dwindle by the time the cars were ready to leave for the crematorium.