A Servant of the Company

by Alan Cooke

  The accountant slumped in his chair was not a happy man but the situation was of his own making. He had made himself vulnerable and now someone from a Mafia type organisation had found him.

  ‘Yes, yes. I understand.’ He didn’t want to understand, if only the floor would open up and swallow him was his only wish. But he would do as the Organisation wanted, the risk to do otherwise was too great.

  Turning off his mobile phone he congratulated himself on his performance. ‘I bet the poor little bugger’s still quaking in his shoes.’ He laughed softly at the thought. ‘Well that was a good start wasn’t it?’ The contented grin gave the answer.

  The first item on his mental list was ticked off. The second he would deal with before his dinner date. While looking at the note he had written before leaving home, he recalled the day he had acquired the information which brought Mr. Arif Rahman into his sights. During a visit to view a commercial property which was up for sale, a chance overheard conversation had given him details of someone who might play an important role in his plans.

  The day had been hot and uncomfortable with the temperature in the low 80s. The visit had been a waste of time, the building was in a poor state of repair and not a viable proposition for the Company needs. Leaving the building he had noticed a pub nearby. He didn’t care for the type of establishment, but the thought of a cool drink overcame any doubts. It was lunchtime and the bar was very busy, there were no seats and the people standing were elbow to elbow. At one end of the bar meals were being prepared and a steady flow of laden plates were being ferried with difficulty to all areas of the pub. He had reached the bar after manoeuvring past groups of drinkers in deep conversation and eventually succeeded in ordering his drink. Moving away from the bar he had found himself hemmed in when the volume of people would not allow him to move anywhere else. ‘So be it,’ he thought. ‘This is where I make my last stand, at least until the glass is empty.’

  He was back to back with a man discussing a colleague at the factory where he worked. He gathered that the subject of the conversation was from a Bangladeshi family and was suffering racial abuse at the hands of a small group within the factory. He had thought the two men behind him were probably decent types, against victimisation but afraid to do anything about it. The noise from the customers had not affected his hearing which was finely tuned to the conversation. As the men continued, he soon learned that the victim’s name was Arif and that he lived in the Sideswell flats with his wife and two children. More information came when he heard one man say, ‘He should have known there might be trouble ahead when they put him in number thirteen.’

  He had finished his drink, reaching through the crowd he left his glass on a table already overflowing with plates and glasses, and eased his way out into the sunlight.

  A plan was already forming in his brain. There were times when chance conversations excited him and this was one of them. If Arif fitted his expectations, then the accountant would be faced with his first task of finding a rental property with living accommodation over it. With this in place the Company could set up headquarters. Although he had never seen Arif, a sixth sense told him that an opportunity was emerging, and this unhappy man could be part of it.

  Before leaving the area, he had called at the local council offices to check the electoral register and obtain the names of the residents at 13, Sideswell, he didn’t know whether it was Road, Flats, Gardens or whatever else, but the Register had soon filled in the blank spaces. Arif Rahman, 13, Sideswell Court. He’d got all he wanted for the moment. That day he had opened up a file on him. That had been months ago and he hoped that the situation had not changed. If this was the case, he would make contact and the first minute of conversation would hopefully confirm his judgement. If things progressed as he planned, Arif would operate a clearing house for all planned activities, some legal, but most criminal. The job would not be an intellectual challenge, but involve accepting and passing on unopened, all mail received. He would never meet anyone from the Organisation, any contact would be by mobile phone. Figuring that Arif Rahman would not be home from work until after five thirty p.m., he decided to leave the call until seven p.m. when he would probably have finished his meal and be in a relaxed state of mind. He wanted the job cleared up and in place.

  The time had passed too slowly for his liking, he needed to talk to Arif Rahman and have another piece of the jigsaw firmly in place. Keying in the number he waited, hoping that he still lived at the address and was in fact at home. Suddenly the ringing tone ceased and a female voice answered nervously. He detected the sign and replied with as much reassurance as he could.

  ‘Good evening, may I speak to Mr. Rahman please. My name is Crichton.’ The line was quiet for a few moments, and then came the question.

  ‘What is it about?’ The nervousness in her voice was immediately obvious to him.

  ‘Nothing to worry about. Our Company has a job which might interest him.’ Again the delay. He sensed her concern and didn’t want her to hang up.

  ‘Could I possibly have a word with Mr. Rahman?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’ll get him for you.’ The sound of the handset hitting a hard surface echoed in his ear.

  ‘Hello, this is Arif Rahman, can I help you?’

  ‘Mr. Rahman, my name is Crichton. I represent a large organisation and we will be opening an office in an area not far from your address. We heard of the problems you have endured at the factory and now feel that we are in a position to consider you for a job with us. Would you be interested in that sort of challenge?’

  Arif was in shock, this sort of thing had never happened to him before. Realising a response was required he quickly replied, ‘Yes Sir, the job does interest me and I would be pleased to hear more about it.’

  ‘The work involved would be to manage a mail receiving unit acting on behalf of several companies owned by our organisation. A good salary would be paid to the person selected for this vacancy. Free accommodation over the premises would be available. Our organisation does however require its employees at all levels to be honest, discreet and totally loyal. No excuses would be acceptable if any of these requirements are ignored. In the development of our businesses, absolute secrecy is necessary to keep us ahead of our competitors. Do you understand that?’

  Arif’s pulse was racing, could this be the opportunity he longed for. It had been a particularly awful day, but he hadn’t mentioned it to Sumi. When the problems had first started he had told her everything and she had been very upset, so after a while he told her things had improved and that there was nothing to worry about. Now he was being offered an escape route. He had tried many times to change his job, but realized that he had little to offer. Leaving school with only three GCSE’s, he had taken any work that paid him enough to help his mother feed him and have a little left over for Friday and Saturday night socializing. It was only when he met Sumi that he started to think of the future. She came from a similar background, and both set of parents knew each other, though not well. When they announced their engagement, it was their decision, not an arranged marriage. They were British and had different values from their parents. They did have however keep the Bangladeshi custom of respect for their elders.

  When they married, they had lived with each of their parents in turn until such time as the first child was born. It was then that they had been offered a council flat. They had been delighted until they saw it. Some of the nearby flats were boarded up, the passageways were covered in graffiti and there was litter everywhere. The Council had made an effort to clean the flat up after the previous tenants had disappeared, but the stale smell was sickening. They had stuck it out, improved the flat and made an effort to improve the area around it. Arif had finally got a job in the factory, the pay was not great but it was better than any other job he had been in. The down side became apparent when his jacket had been sprayed with the letters NF and this was soon followed by other forms of racial abuse. There were only a small number of people c
ausing the problem, but it made life very uncomfortable. Sumi had just given birth to their second child and he could not afford to lose his income so he stuck it out.

  ‘Yes Sir, I understand the need for confidentiality. Could I ask how you heard about me?’ Arif asked nervously.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that question but I do know that the Company has eyes and ears in many places and you were considered a good candidate. I have been asked to talk to you and check if you were ready to leave your present job.’

  Excitement mounted for Arif. ‘He’s going to offer me the job,’ he thought. ‘Slow down, slow down.’ Things were happening too quickly and he felt he had no control over anything at all, but his mouth opened and he said, ‘Yes Sir, I am.’

  ‘Well Arif, on behalf of the Organisation I welcome you. There will be nothing in writing, and the start date should be within the next few weeks so don’t hand your notice in yet. Our estates department is currently looking for the right property to take over, hence the delay. Once this has been located and the paperwork prepared, you will receive your instructions on joining us. I did make a note of your present income, but appear to have left it in the office. Would you remind me?’ He had no idea of the income, but needed to know so he could increase it a little. Rahman would be getting the flat without having to pay rent, council tax, heating and lighting bills, and this alone would have him desperate for the job.

  ‘With overtime it is just over twenty-seven thousand pounds a year, which is before tax.’ This organisation had information on him, and he was not going to risk inflating his pay with the hope of getting more and lose this unbelievable chance he had been offered.

  ‘I think we could go to thirty thousand Arif, but I must get confirmation of that from the Board of Directors. They will back me on this I’m sure, but I too am a servant of the Company and have to play by the rules. Your accommodation will of course be rent free.’ Time to wind up the conversation now, there was work to be done. ‘Just one more thing, we class all our people as self- employed, so you would have to pay your National Insurance contribution and organise income tax. We will of course give you advice on this and perhaps an allowance for the time you take to set it up. I will be in touch when my colleague has secured the right site for our office and of course your accommodation. Do you have any questions?’

  ‘No sir, I understand you will contact me when everything is in place. I will soon learn what I have to do and I won’t let you down.’

  ‘I’m sure you won’t Arif. Goodbye for now.’

  He must calm down before he spoke to Sumi. He replaced the handset and sat down still slightly bewildered by the phone call.

  Sumi came into the room and stood next to him. ‘Well, aren’t you going to tell me what that was all about?’ She moved closer putting her arm around his shoulder and eagerly awaited a response.

  He told her everything that had gone on, how posh his new boss had sounded, although he wasn’t the top man. They would now have to be patient until the next phone call.

  ‘It would have been better if you had everything in writing, wouldn’t it?’ She would have felt more secure if it was in black and white.

  ‘This is a big organisation with many competitors and they don’t want business information leaking to them.’ Although he sounded positive telling her this, he suddenly felt a little less confident inside. It was strange that such a firm would only deal with him over the phone. They had offered him a job without seeing him or asking for references. There was no firm start date, no place to work and no job description. There were questions in his mind, but try as he might, he could not come up with possible answers.

  ‘Don’t look so puzzled, you have done well convincing them that you are the right man for the job. I’m proud of you, and so are our children. Do you think you should tell your parents, or should we wait until you start.’ She did this as a warning not to say anything until he had actually started the job. It would be so disappointing if it fell through.

  ‘We won’t say anything to anybody. When everything is settled, then we can let them know I have a new job and we have a new home. Once I do get a start date, we will be able to go and see the flat. With the extra money we will have, you will be able to do all the things you have been admiring on those television programmes.

  Sumi spent at least an hour a day watching home improvement shows and in her mind knew just what she wanted. If Arif’s income had been more, she knew any improvement she made at number thirteen would be lost as soon as she looked out of the window. At the front, the striking feature was a burned out car, at the back to left and right, were old mattresses, and rubbish of every description. She would be saying her prayers tonight.

  He got up, turned, and held Sumi close. ‘With any luck this could change our lives, but we must be prepared in case things go wrong and the job doesn’t turn up.’ He didn’t want to disappoint her, but at the same time it would be too much of a blow if the company let him down. At this stage he could not convince himself that all would be well, his advice to Sumi would help soften the blow if it was necessary. Certain phrases had registered in his brain, ‘dire consequences’ and ‘penalties for staff that let the Company down’ were the strongest. The tone of the caller’s voice had for a brief moment been almost threatening, but the affability of the introduction had re-emerged a moment later. The pay and free accommodation had finally overcome any fear he may have felt at the time. He would not let the company down, there was too much to lose.

  He was convinced that Arif Rahman was the right man for the job and another tick could be made on his list. Now for the delightful Honor.

  Four hours later he headed for the train. Honor had still impressed him with her beauty, but had hardly paused for breath throughout the meal as she talked non-stop about her job. He decided item three on his list would receive a cross. There would be no invitation to Paris for Honor. He would have enjoyed a sexual dalliance, but not with High Court accompaniment.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Daylight came early and Carol Barcroft was already awake trying to convince herself that today would see the end of her worries. The problem remained crystal clear in her mind as she prepared for her first interview following over fifty job applications. She was sure her track record would impress any potential employer, if only she could get an opportunity to meet one. And now it was going to happen. She needed the job more than anything right now. The lingering dark cloud which had been on the horizon since she had become an unemployed statistic was now directly overhead. Without an income the probability she would lose her flat when the mortgage repayments could not be met was a constant reminder of her situation.

  After a light breakfast, she dressed in her best navy business suit and white blouse and carefully checked her appearance in the mirror. Her blonde hair cut in a bob curved gently at either side of her face and her slender figure confirmed that she was a very elegant young woman.

  Five years previously on graduation from University she had decided on the sort of company she wanted to work for, one where her Economics Degree would be useful. The area of business didn’t matter, keeping ahead of competitors and using the human resources available in a team effort to maximise profitability was the challenge she wanted. She had applied for several jobs, had offers from two and finally decided to accept the offer from a Builders’ Supply Company. She had researched the industry in advance and her presentation to the Managing Director had gone well. Two weeks later she had started work as a Management Trainee. With guidance from the Managing Director she quickly built up a sound knowledge of the business and had introduced innovative ideas which had helped increase profitability. Supplying building materials to an ever hungry industry might not have appealed to some of her University contemporaries but Carol’s personality and determination had helped the company achieve increased profits each year. Her enthusiasm and the way she introduced new ideas were duly rewarded with pay increases and profit related bonuses. With the rewa
rds she had been able to get on the housing ladder, buying a flat in an affluent area. It was really more than she could afford but her M.D. had indicated that there was a possibility of a directorship in the not too far distant future.

  Unfortunately at the end of her fourth year he had suffered a heart attack and after a six month absence had died. Carol had great respect for him and was saddened by his death, but was aware that the company must not let its competitors think that there was any easing in their determination to maintain its position in the market.

  The chairmanship passed to the nephew of the founder of the business who left the running of it to Carol. It had come as a terrible blow and complete surprise when he announced that the business was being wound up and being sold to a competitor. No new orders were to be placed.

  Presenting a positive plan for the future of the company had no effect on the chairman who advised that the decision was final. He no longer called her Carol, but Miss Barcroft. The new owners did not want any of the staff as they had their own. There was the minimum redundancy payment plus holiday pay which would not last long. She needed a new job, and quickly to avoid losing her home.

  Of all the jobs applied for, only R.L.G. (1948) Ltd. had offered an interview. The others either remained unanswered or were regrets. She was prepared for some rejections but this was soul destroying. The timing of her redundancy could not have been worse. The country was on the brink of a catastrophic recession.

  ‘You’ll do Carol,’ she said to herself and set off with time to spare for her interview. She was travelling by bus which stopped close to the flat and would take her to within three hundred yards of the hotel where the interviews were being held.

  Things were going well. The rain had stopped, and the sun was making an effort to break through the clouds. And the bus arrived on time. Ten minutes later she stepped off the bus which gave her twenty minutes to walk to the hotel, visit the toilet and be prepared for the interview.