“I’m going to get my secretary to make an appointment on Monday. Can I mention your name? I’m a firm believer in the personal touch when I’m doing business.”
“Of course. Make sure you see Phillip Reid. He’s the top person with the private clients. How fortunate that we met tonight.” Tim had forgotten his bad mood.
“Isn’t it? I haven’t spent much time in the UK over the last four years – I’ve been living mainly in France, but I’ve decided now to spend more time on British soil. I miss the old place, really, although I can’t abide the weather,” Declan explained.
“Quite. It can be ghastly. Where in France?”
“St Tropez. Terribly obvious, I know, but I like the parties and the fun. It’s a playboy’s dream. I’ll still keep my place there, but probably split my time equally between there and here.” Declan laughed and Tim joined in. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’ll join you in a whisky, thank you,” Tim said. He saw Galloway as a good opportunity, and although he was pissed off with Clara for standing him up, maybe he could salvage something from the evening. He summoned the barman and Declan ordered the drinks.
“Certainly, Lord Galloway,” the barman said, which pleased Declan: it gave him more credibility.
“I’m not a member yet, and I need a club in London now that I intend to spend more time here. I thought I’d have a look at this one,” Declan said.
“Well, I can recommend it. As well as pleasant surroundings and good whisky, the food is excellent,” Tim replied.
“I must try it. I have to say, I like it so far.” Declan gave Tim his best upper-class chuckle.
“You’re an Old Etonian?” Tim asked.
“Yes. It was the first tie I found when dressing today, but I’m terribly old-school,” Declan laughed. “Were you at the old place?” He knew Tim hadn’t been but he seemed flattered to be asked.
“I went to a minor private school. You won’t have heard of it,” Tim said. Declan knew that he had been to a comprehensive like himself and also that it would be a mistake to press the issue so he left it.
“I hear the bank is going from strength to strength,” he said.
“We’re doing well, yes. Our management is excellent, as are our personnel.” Tim beamed with pride.
“So I’ve heard. My portfolio is vast, and I like to know it’s in safe hands, which is why I’m thinking about moving it.”
“Who’s it with at the moment?” Tim asked.
“I’d rather not say, but if all goes well I hope I shall move it to your bank. I feel it would be good to put my money in the hands of a British bank. So many Americans and Germans are taking over the financial institutions.”
“Quite,” Tim said. They sipped their drinks. Declan was just thinking about his next move when Tim spoke again. “I was supposed to meet a business contact here but he’s been unable to make it. Would you like to dine with me, Lord Galloway?”
He has no idea what he should call me, Declan thought. He almost expected Tim to bow.
“Please call me William, and I’d be delighted. I thought I’d have to rely on my own company this evening, which would have been dull.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Tim laughed. They were becoming a mutual-appreciation society. They had another drink, and made small-talk, then Tim asked to be shown to a table. They were led to a small dining room, all leather and velvet, and seated at what was obviously the best table.
“I recommend the veal,” Tim said, with authority.
“Sounds lovely. And what wine would you go for?” Just as Declan had predicted to himself Tim picked out the most expensive one. Declan insisted on having just a salad to start, blaming French cuisine for his waistline. Tim told him he had nothing to worry about. Declan was beginning to find him annoying, a good sign: the more he disliked a person, the easier it was to trap them. Declan played his part as arrogantly as he could. Tim tried desperately to match the arrogance. To any observer they both seemed absurd.
When the food and wine arrived they were still talking business: Declan had decided that if he could convince Tim of his interest in SFH, the rest of his task would be easier. After the wine, a good meal and brandy, he was sufficiently confident of Tim’s friendship to pounce. He reached into his pocket and switched on the video. He had only three hours, but his gut instinct told him it wouldn’t take that long. He sat up straight to ensure that the camera was at an angle to film Tim’s face. He was well practised in this and he was confident, in control of the camera. He knew how to sit and how to move so that he filmed whatever he needed to record.
“I’m so out of touch with the London scene. I don’t suppose you can recommend anywhere livelier?”
“What are you after?” Tim had drunk rather more than Declan – his red cheeks betrayed him – and he was falling nicely into the trap.
“I hope I’m not talking out of turn, but I’m looking to liven myself up. If you understand.” That was a gamble, but Declan knew Tim was drunk, that he used cocaine, and that he was impressed by the phoney title. There were times when Declan misjudged people and they clammed up as soon as he mentioned drugs, but he felt sure that wouldn’t happen now. Declan stared straight at Tim. Tim met his eyes.
“You mean Charlie?” Tim asked quietly as he sipped his second large brandy, ordered discreetly by Declan. He wasn’t yet betraying himself: he was being cautious.
“Yes. My old friend Charlie.” Declan laughed. A moment passed before Tim finally fell. “I can get you some. One phone call and I’ll have it delivered. Not just any old cocaine either, the best,” Tim boasted.
Declan smiled. “Is this your sideline?” he joked, marvelling at Tim’s loose tongue.
“Gosh, no. I only supply to good friends, if you get my meaning.” He sounded like a barrow-boy.
“How much can you get?”
“As much as you want, when you want, where you want.” He was now talking freely. “I’ve got some on me that you can sample.”
Declan almost jumped for joy – the man was even talking like a dealer. Tim passed a white package under the table and Declan got up to go to the cloakroom. Once there he didn’t take any but put it into his pocket as evidence. Declan glanced in the bathroom mirror and again struck his “Bond” pose. “Bingo,” he said to his reflection and winked at himself.
When he returned, Tim stood up. “I need to go to the bathroom.” He winked at Declan as he said it.
“Stupid drunk fool,” Declan said to himself, and called for the bill. He was a little disappointed that Tim had been so easy. He enjoyed the chase and had almost expected to have to cultivate a longer friendship before he got what he wanted.
Tim returned as he was paying the bill in cash. “I was going to buy dinner,” he said.
“It’s the least I can do. Anyway, I seem to have rather a lot of cash on me tonight. Can’t abide plastic,” Paying in cash was the only way Declan could safeguard his fake identity. He often felt he needed to explain it because most people used credit cards. “I guess I’m just an old-fashioned man at heart.”
“I agree,” Tim said, although Declan knew he was definitely a credit-card kind of man. Big gleaming platinum ones.
“Do you know any night clubs we can go on to from here?” Declan asked.
“Actually I know a special one. And why not? Let’s go.” Declan guessed the cocaine was kicking in because Tim was smiling like an idiot and behaving like an excited schoolboy.
As they made their way out, Tim felt proud and pleased with himself. William was obviously a man after his own heart. After all, the upper classes were renowned for their drug-taking. Not only was his lordship going to score him points at work but he would be good to have as a personal friend. He could imagine his wife’s face at the mention of a lord at one of their dinner-parties. It would increase his social standing no end. If he played his cards right and provided William with what he wanted, which Tim guessed was drugs and girls, then Tim would be the trusted confida
nt of a lord. He was glad now that Clara hadn’t turned up. William was far more valuable. And he could get sex anywhere.
***
The doorman hailed them a taxi and they both got in.
“Where is this place?” Declan asked.
“Soho, but it’s very private. Strictly members and guests only. I think you’ll like it. You can do what you want there. Oh, and the girls are for sale,” Tim added.
“Really? Drugs and prostitutes? It sounds just my type of place.” This was so easy. Declan loved people with huge egos; they invited his deception.
“Oh, yes. If you want any of the girls, let me know. I can arrange it easily.”
“Do you have anything to do with this club?”
“No, but I’m a good friend of the owner. I also have arrangements with several of the girls there. They come when I call. I meet them at a hotel in town – another discreet place. It’s tucked away just off Piccadilly. You can rent rooms by the hour, but it’s very respectable. Not like the fleapits shown on television. You only get a booking there if you know someone. Of course, any time you want one, just call me.” Tim was out of control. He seemed delighted to share all this information. Declan thought he was a huge liability for his bank, the way he spoke. And he was right: Tim often shared this information with other people – if only top clients and those he considered friends. He had already decided that William was his friend.
“Really? So you can arrange a call-girl for me?” Declan asked clearly.
“Not just one, if you get my drift. Any size, colour, age and so on. I have hotlines to all of them and, William, I would be delighted to share them with you.” Tim smiled straight into the tie cam.
They arrived at the club where, again, Tim was greeted as a regular. It was in a cellar, not noticeable from the street. Inside it was dimly lit, with plush sofas, a small bar and lots of men draped around half-naked women. Declan scanned his tie around the room. They went to a sofa. Tim had a word with the barman, and before their drinks arrived, two girls appeared wearing gold bikinis. One was tall, blonde with a perfect figure and relatively small boobs. The other was shorter with dark hair and huge ones. They drank champagne, the girls flirted and at some point took off their tops. Tim put some money into their bikini bottoms and told them to go and powder their noses.
“You see?” Tim said, visibly excited.
Declan wasn’t interested in clubs like this, perhaps because he was doing his job. He often wondered whether, if he was out socially, like Lord William Galloway, he would go for this scene. He imagined not.
“Amazing. How much are they?”
“Well, they’re not cheap but they aren’t your common hookers. If you look at the men around you, they’re bankers, lawyers, businessmen. Lots of respectable men come here.” All Declan could see was a number of middle-aged men with young girls. They didn’t look respectable. “But I can get you anyone for five hundred pounds an hour. They usually charge a grand, but as a regular user I get a discount. I’m going to disappear with the brunette in a minute and give you time to get acquainted with Sally. If you want her, talk to me first. I’ll do the negotiating.” Tim was so excited that Declan felt a bit queasy.
“So, you arrange this?” Declan asked, to be clear.
“I have an arrangement, yes: I put a lot of business their way, they repay me. I shouldn’t say this but I have clients and colleagues who use these girls – and the cocaine, some of them. I like to think of myself as a fixer.” Tim beamed with pride. Declan didn’t know why: he had just admitted he was a drug-dealing pimp.
“I see. It’s a great place.” Declan tried to sound excited. He was pleased that he would get a chance to speak to Sally. Although he knew these people weren’t kiss-and-tell types, he would get her to say something he could use. When he exposed it, this place would probably be closed down. The girls returned and Tim disappeared with the dark-haired one. Declan couldn’t see where he’d gone.
He smiled at Sally and poured her more champagne. “Where have they gone?” he asked.
“There’s a booth back there were you can go for privacy. Twenty minutes at a time. Would you like to go?” Sally said.
“Not yet. I’m still enjoying the view.” Declan looked at her breasts. She was very attractive, but he didn’t feel aroused. “So, do you know my good friend Tim?”
“Yes, he’s a regular. Tracy and me seem to be his favourites. We can go together if you want. It costs, but it’s worth it.” She sipped the champagne.
“I bet it is. Actually, Tim was saying that.”
“Oh, Tim loves us both together. If you need a recommendation I bet he’ll give you one.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I can see how exciting it would be.”
“So, you want to do it?”
“Maybe next time. I’ve had rather too much to drink this evening.”
Sally put her hand on his thigh. “As you’re a friend of Tim’s, he’ll arrange it for you whenever you want.”
“Really? Don’t tell me my old mate’s an organiser?” Having confirmation from the hooker as well as from Tim would be great for the story.
“Well, unofficially, yes. Actually, he sends so many men our way that we don’t charge him much at all,” Sally said.
“Really? Well, lucky Tim.”
“Yeah, if he gives us cocaine and we do him for free.” Declan couldn’t believe his luck. These high-class hookers were supposed to keep quiet.
“He provides you with cocaine for yourself and men for your trade?”
“Yes. He’s great. I’m only saying that because you’re a very attractive man. We’d like to do business with you.” Sally smiled seductively.
“Well, in that case you’ll be hearing from me again. As I said, unfortunately I’ve had too much to drink so I’ll have to go home. But I’ll be in touch. Via Tim. Will you tell him I’ve had to go and that I’ll call him?”
“Sure. See you soon.”
“Of course,” Declan said, as Sally got up and moved on to another man.
***
When he got back to his flat and inserted the DVD into his laptop computer Declan was shaking. As he watched the evening’s events unfold in front of him he realised he had a story here that even the lawyers could not fault. The tie cam had filmed everything he needed, and the sound was clear. Thank God for small video cameras. He made copies, and as he had begun to feel turned on by the story he was about to break, he went to the bedroom to wake his obliging girlfriend.
***
Tim was disappointed to find that William had left, but when Sally told him he was going to call, he felt better. Sally also told him that he’d been too drunk to perform, which was why he’d gone home, but he was definitely a punter for the future.
“Well done, darling. He’s a lord and could be good for all of us. Now, come to the booth with me and collect your reward.” Tim caressed Sally’s nipple as he led her to the booth. “At least I never let you down when I’m drunk,” he said, and pulled down his trousers to reveal a massive erection.
Chapter Thirty-five
Clara, Virginia and Ella were nervous wrecks. By Friday afternoon they were all tearing their hair out and getting in each other’s way.
“I need to go out,” Ella said.
“Where?” Clara asked.
“I don’t know. Anywhere.”
“You can’t leave us,” Clara snapped.
“For God’s sake, why do we need to spend all our time here together? I’m beginning to feel closed in,” Ella snarled.
“I know! We’ll all go out and buy Virginia some clothes.”
“But I don’t have any money,” Virginia said, looking scared.
“You’re about to get five thousand pounds. I’ll pay now and you can pay me back. At least it will give us something to do,” Clara insisted.
“But I don’t get the money unless this is a success,” Virginia protested.
“It will be,” Clara said sharply.
“Do we have to?” Ella groaned. She missed her own company.
“Yes.” Clara stamped her foot.
Ella thought she was such a child sometimes, but she didn’t feel up to arguing. “I’ll get my coat,” she said.
They left the flat unsure of where they were going. Virginia was wearing the outfit Clara had bought her – she resented her old clothes now. She had brought her old jeans and jumpers with her to Clara’s, but now that she had transformed herself, she couldn’t bring herself to wear them. Although terrified by the idea of Clara bossing her about, she wanted new clothes. For the first time ever, she was taking notice of her appearance. She had even mastered walking in heels.
“Let’s go to Harvey Nichols,” Clara suggested.
“Clara, can’t we go somewhere cheaper? I mean, I know I’ve got money coming but I need to live and pay rent,” Virginia pleaded.
Clara looked cross for a minute but then she smiled. “We’ll go to some high-street stores, then. Apparently some are quite good and they’re cheap. Cheap chic, I think they call it.” She hailed a taxi.
When they got out in Oxford Street Clara led them into Topshop.
“Wow,” Virginia said. She had never been in the store before.
‘my goodness! It’s amazing.” Clara had walked past it on numerous occasions but never gone inside.
“Isn’t it a bit teenagerish?” Ella said, as she looked at the other shoppers.
“Apparently not. I read in a magazine that it copies all the designer stuff and it’s really quite hip,” Clara replied. Ella shrugged and decided not to argue further.
Clara picked up cropped trousers, normal trousers, skirts, tops, and jackets, just about everything the store had to offer, while Virginia and Ella followed her around. Ella was weighed down with clothes, as was Virginia. They had to admit that Clara was a good shopper: she picked out the best garments and put together the best combinations. Even Virginia seemed happy with her choices. Eventually when they all had as much as they could carry, Clara led them to the changing rooms.
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