Designer Crime

by Allen Whitehead

  And these days, Steven was the centre of her life away from the office. The twelve years old boy was a strong swimmer, with ambitions of swimming for his country, so she spent many hours driving him to competitions and early morning practice sessions.

  'We'll get by, Liz. When we set up we only had a bit of work, but more came in through the door, remember?'

  'I know, but it seemed that CAT had really started to take off. And don't forget, as George pointed out, we've spent a lot on the new office – the network server, new computers and furniture.'

  'I know … I was talking to George earlier, and that's what he said.'

  Just then Paul's phone rang. He crossed the room and picked it up. Liz sighed again, shrugged and reached out to the correspondence in the in-tray.

  * * *

  Lunchtime came and they sat around the table with glum faces.

  'I called Margaret at the bank, and we had a long heart to heart,' began George.

  'I guessed that you would,' nodded Paul.

  'She said that the bank are twisting her arm. The head office is prepared to leave the eighty grand overdraft limit in place for another two months, but then it'll be halved. In effect, we've got two months to come up with a minimum of forty thousand pounds or we're in trouble. That's in addition to our normal monthly overheads of around fifty thousand. If Cormacks were to pay us what we're owed, that would just about do it, but you can bet that Smythe won't be in any hurry to settle our invoice.'

  'I've already sent out all the fee notes on my jobs,' said Liz sadly.

  'We all have.'

  'I've made an enquiry with my Building Society about another mortgage,' Paul said with a grim face. 'They told me that, when we bought the new house, Jo and I borrowed right up to their limit. Since then we've also had a private loan to cover the building work we've done. I'm afraid we've got no alternative, we are going to have to face pulling the plug on the company – we can't go bankrupt.'

  'I'm not going to be able to borrow the money either,' said Neil. 'My younger brother, Hugh, has just set up a new IT company with a couple of his friends from university. I've just given him twenty thousand start-up cash, 'cos the banks thought they were too high a risk. It's a loan, not a gift, but it'll be some time before they're in a position to pay me back.'

  'Don't look at me!' Fraser exclaimed. 'If I'd been able to put my hands on that sort of money, I'd have been able to pay off the casino.'

  'I'm unable to pitch in, as well,' George said sadly. 'I would if I could, but I'm due to retire in a few years. I know that I wouldn't be considered a good risk by any reputable lender.'

  Paul looked grave. 'As I said, we've got to face it. In a couple of months we're likely to all be facing redundancy.'

  Management meetings included Associates and George as Financial Manager, but major policy decisions had to be taken by the four Directors, so Joe would normally keep silent on such a significant matter.

  This time, however, Joe looked up and spoke quietly. 'Not necessarily – I think I know how we could get hold of that sort of money.'

  They all turned to look at him.

  'I'd been thinking about something Neil said a few months ago ... Do you remember – we were talking about Davy Gunn trying to rob a bookies, and Neil said that he'd never do a petty crime – only one that was worthwhile.'

  'What? Are you saying we should rob a bank?' laughed Fraser.

  'No – Carlo's casino.'

  A stunned silence filled the room, before George coughed nervously. 'I'll pretend I didn't hear that.'

  'You're ... you're not serious?' asked Liz cautiously.

  'As a matter of fact I am ... Look – we've all agreed that Carlo's behind all of our problems. First Fraser getting hurt, then what happened to Keith. If it hadn't been for him, Seamus Cormack would never have known that Keith needed money quickly.'

  'You're damn right there, but, come on, man, we're not robbers, we're a bunch of architects … We haven't the slightest idea about something like that … er … How could we possibly go about it?' asked Neil, with a fierce glint in his eye.

  'We've got inside information. Julia's managed to get hold of Carlo's e-mail address and password.'

  'Julia? Our Julia! How the bloody hell did she do that?' gasped Paul.

  'Purely by accident – she was just being curious, Paul ... Messing around on her computer one lunchtime, a couple of weeks ago. She guessed it and happened to be right. He isn't a computer geek – pretty inept really.'

  'But what does it mean?'

  'I've logged on to it a few times – just to read what he's up to. I've not touched anything – just looked, but I've noticed he gets a fair bit of regular correspondence that doesn't look like standard business stuff. Reading between the lines, I think he's laundering money for someone.'

  'That wouldn't surprise me in the least,' said Fraser.

  'So he wouldn't want the cops to take a close look at his affairs,' Joe continued. 'In fact, he might not even report that he'd been robbed.'

  'No way! Come on now … be serious guys,' protested George, recognizing the flicker of interest being shown by Neil.

  'Joe – you're surprising me,' Paul said, looking round their faces. 'You really are serious ... I believe you've actually thought this through, haven't you? ... and you think we could do it?'

  'Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. No one would suspect us. None of us has ever been in trouble with the law. There's only Fraser who has ever even been to the casino. If we planned a raid carefully, it would come out of the blue – a total surprise.'

  'I can't believe we're having this conversation,' said Liz shaking her head with amazement.

  'No ... but it is food for thought,' Neil added.

  'But there must be security guards and CCTV? He won't just keep his cash in a sock under the bed,' Liz protested.

  'He doesn't,' said Joe. I've checked. He uses Forth Security Services to transport his ill-gotten gains to the bank. Weekends are the busiest time for the casino, so FSS come every Monday morning, around the same time.'

  'Security guards would deal with people like us easily. They are well trained in what to do if they are held up, and they make sure they have good communications with the police,' George Henderson commented, showing a little curiosity for the first time.

  'I'm not saying we should try to hold them up,' Joe said brightly, 'just delay them a bit, while we get a team to pretend to be FSS and then the casino will open the door for us.'

  The room went quiet again while they all weighed up what had been said.

  'FSS boys wear uniforms and helmets with face visors. No-one would be able to recognize who it was on CCTV,' Joe added.

  Again it would have been possible to hear a pin drop in the conference room.

  Liz broke the silence eventually. 'We couldn't possibly do it? … could we?'

  'You know, I think we could. I'm agreeing with Joe!' exclaimed Neil.

  'It would need some thinking about.'

  'Well … we're supposed to be good at planning,' Paul said. 'It's what we do. If the only other alternative is making everyone, including ourselves, redundant, I've got to say, the idea has some appeal to me, as well. And if we've exhausted all of the other possible ways of raising the cash to get us through, there's no harm in thinking about it. Let's make some plans, and work out a few options. Let's see if it is a stupid suggestion. Let's see just how feasible it really could be.'

  * * *

  The door to Carlo's office burst open and a young woman was propelled through the opening. She landed on her knees in front of his large mahogany desk, and was quickly followed into the room by Ross Shaw, one of the casino's two doormen. He was a big ungainly young man who had been a promising rugby player in his teens – some had tipped him as a possible international, but he had been banned by the Scottish Rugby Union for attacking a referee. The woman's thickly applied make-up was marred by streaks from tears running down her cheeks.

  'Kimberley,' said Carlo
softly, 'what have you been up to?'

  Ross looked pleased with himself. 'Caught her with some chips in her shoulder bag, boss.'

  'Oh, dear. We can't have that – that's stealing from the house – from me.'

  She began weeping and her bottom lip trembled. 'I wasn't really stealing from you Mr Gratz. A guy I know said he really fancied coming to the casino, but he's been out of work for a couple of years, and there's no way he could afford it. He's ... He's been getting so down just lately … I only wanted to let him have a wee shot at a table, to get him out of his depression ... It was only a few chips!'

  'Only a few chips! Don't give me that. What if he'd had a run of luck and won a few hundred? Would it have been stealing then?'

  The phone on the desk began to ring and Carlo reached automatically for it. 'Get her out of here, Ross. Give her a slap. Make her think twice about it next time she wants to treat some loser.'

  The big man grabbed hold of the woman by the hair and jerked her head back, spinning her round. Keeping hold of her hair, he punched her hard, full in the face, and blood began to trickle from her nose.

  'I didn't mean to,' sobbed the girl as she was dragged out of the room.

  He waited until the door had closed then pressed the speaker phone button. 'Carlo,' he said, leaning back against the soft black leather of his chair.

  'Carlo – it's Seamus. How are you this fine day?'

  'Hello Seamus – very good thanks, and how are you? We haven't seen you for a while'

  'I was just thinking that myself. I was thinking of paying you a visit this evening. I've got a work colleague who has recently helped me out and I'd like to give him a bit of a reward. So, I was considering bringing him along tonight, and I'd like to introduce you to him, so I would.'

  'I'd be very pleased to meet him, Seamus. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine – you know that.'

  'His name's Henry, Henry Smythe. You'll lay on one of your special welcomes?'

  'For you, Seamus, of course. How many in your party?'

  'Five – all men, you know?'

  'Absolutely. You can count on it. I'll look forward to seeing you all tonight.

  * * *

  Chapter 8 August

  The heatwave had lasted 10 days and it had helped the influx of visitors to the Edinburgh Festival grow to the biggest that had been known for years. The city buzzed with excitement and voices from every corner of the globe could be heard in the streets, where overworked waiters tried to deliver food to tables that overflowed from the bars and cafes on to the pavements.

  'Right guys – time for an update,' Paul said, closing the door and moving to open the window wider.

  'Well, I've been keeping a watch on movements at Forth Security's depot,' began Neil, and he opened a small black notebook. The pages were covered in his neat handwriting. 'They've got a garage and yard in Leith Docks and, on the last four Mondays, it's been the same van that has made the collection at the Casino, and at roughly the same time – always in the morning, around half past ten. There's two guys in the cab and another one or maybe two in the back. They stay in the back, though, and don't get out.'

  George Henderson was eager to make a contribution. 'From my observations and looking at their website, the vans that they use for these kind of collections are all very similar. They may have strengthened the body in some way but, to a casual observer, a large white Transit with FSS logos on it would look genuine. I've also had some false number plates made – the same registration as a white van I saw in Livingston, and I've been to Newcastle and bought the Pay as You Go mobile phones that you wanted. And when we are ready, I know where to hire a van in Glasgow.'

  'So far, FSS have always followed the same route as well,' Neil continued. 'They call at a betting shop in Leith Walk before going to the Casino and then, from there, they go down to the West End to two payday money-lender shops before heading to the bank. I'm currently working on where we could keep them held-up for a while.'

  Paul turned to Joe.

  'I've been monitoring Carlo's e-mail correspondence and I've followed the history back as far as last Christmas ... Most of it is trivial and pretty boring but, around the same time every month, there is an e-mail from someone called Frank Mannion. It reads like a business transaction but he doesn't actually spell anything out – talks about “consignments to be processed” and Carlo providing “the usual arrangements” for the employees.'

  'You think it could be money laundering?'

  'I'm pretty sure it is. I seem to remember that Madalina said to me that Carlo handles money for “M&M” and I think that Mannion could be one of those “Ms”. I think that we should aim to hit them on the Monday following the delivery of one of their consignments'

  'Good stuff, Joe. How about you, Fraser?'

  'Last weekend, I went to Manchester. I went to a shop that sells airguns, and bought some pistols, ' said Fraser, his eyes bright. 'They are replicas of genuine weapons – but they are lighter, made of plastic. They are made in bright colours, so that the cops don't mistake them for real guns and shoot an innocent person waving one around, but I reckon that if we spray paint them grey, Carlo and his boys will think they're real.'

  'But what if they aren't taken in?' asked George, frowning.

  'I've thought of that too – so I'm also making “coshes”. If they do decide to fight back, they'll have to be dealt with quick and hard – no hesitation. Those bouncers are big buggers. I once saw them beat up a drunk guy who was hassling one of croupiers.'

  Neil nodded, looking very serious. Paul turned to Julia who had joined them for the meeting. She was glancing around the table with an excited gleam in her eyes.

  'I've bought some dark grey boiler suits and motor cycle helmets. They look almost identical to the stuff that the FSS guys wear. With the visor pulled down and black boots and gloves, no-one would think that you weren't security staff.'

  'I, er … really don't feel very comfortable with you doing this Julia.' said Paul, quietly. 'It's not your fight. We could all get into trouble for what we're planning, you know.'

  The young woman flushed and her eyes angered. She answered fiercely. 'I'm the one who hacked Carlo's e-mails. And ever since I came here as a student, on my year out, I've been committed to the practice. I was really looking forward to working on the Old Town project with Joe, and I was gutted when it was taken from us. And I'm not blaming you for what you said, Paul. They backed you into a corner, knowing you'd not take it lying down.'

  'Yes but I only ...'

  'Carlo's been at the back of all of the troubles and if I can help to make him pay – I want to. I'm part of this team and I intend to pull my weight.'

  'Okay, we appreciate that ... but if...'

  'I'm in,' she said firmly, 'and I hadn't finished! I've also designed decals for the van – replicas of those on the FSS vans. They'll make ours look just like the real thing.' Embarrassed, she stopped abruptly, red-faced and breathing heavily.

  'Thanks, Julia,' Paul said, smiling at the determination on her face. 'Although we could all be charged with conspiracy, actually it will only be Neil, Joe and me who do the raid – so it's only us who will do anything really criminal. So it's me next then. I've been working on my laptop in the cafe across the road from the casino. They keep me topped up with coffee and pastries, and they think I'm writing a book – like JK Rowling. In fact, though, I've been logging all regular movements to and from Carlo's. There's nothing unusual to report – everyone keeps pretty much to a routine, even Carlo.'

  Liz looked uncomfortable. 'I'm afraid I haven't anything to contribute. You haven't given me any jobs to do, Paul,' she protested.

  'I know, Liz. We'll call on you if there's anything we need, but someone has to keep the Practice going and you're doing a great job – like you always do.'

  'Well, just so's you know.'

  'I do. Oh, and one last thing if that's all,' Paul replied, looking slowly round all of their faces. 'Everyone should start preparing
an alibi – just in case it goes pear-shaped and we get pulled in by the cops. And those of us not wearing overalls should organize clothing and simple disguise – specs, hats ... stuff that you can easily get rid of afterwards.'

  * * *

  It was a busy Friday evening in the casino and the main gaming hall was full. Carlo encouraged an “exclusive” reputation for his business, and most of the players at the tables were dressed expensively with a lot of jewellery and gold on display. The doors at the top of the stone steps were wide open, because it was a sultry evening, but Ross Shaw and Jonny McLean hovered nearby, ready to pounce on anyone they deemed to be undesirable. Ross looked uncomfortable in his evening suit and he fingered his bow tie because the wing collar on his shirt was a little too tight.

  Seamus and his party arrived around ten o'clock after they left a nearby restaurant.

  Carlo strolled towards them, a broad smile on his face. 'Seamus – it's been too long, my friend.'

  'Hello, Carlo,' said Seamus shaking his hand firmly. 'It's a lovely evening, to be sure. This's my son Pat, and Ron Davies who is my senior surveyor. And Dom Franklin – he's an architect who's working on a major project for us.'

  'I know Dominic well,' said Carlo, reaching out to shake his hand warmly. 'It's good to have you back with us again.'

  'And this is Henry Smythe … He's the one I mentioned to you on the phone.'

  'Good evening, Henry,' Carlo said, taking his elbow. 'Seamus said that you were a very valuable member of his team and he wants me to make sure that you to enjoy yourself.'

  He led the way between the tables.

  'Come through to the bar and let me buy you all a drink. Then we can discuss your pleasure for the evening. As you can see, we've various card games in progress, roulette and dice – lots of machines – in fact there's something for everybody …... And I've laid on a meal for you all, in one of my private rooms in the back, when you are ready.' He winked at Seamus. 'Some of the girls will be able to join you there.'