'Leila's an artist. A sculptor. Relax and sit down,' said Slimcop.
'You seem to like birds,' I said.
'Fascinating creatures. Did you ever see that Hitchcock film . . . The Birds?'
'No.'
'Flocks of birds attack families who are on holiday.'
'Wow!'
While we were chatting, Tom and Tess were running and jumping into the swimming pool, that was in the centre of the back garden.
'Come and join us Jack,' shouted Tess.
'Don't have any trunks,' I called.
'I'll lend you some . . . Let's talk first,' said Stanley.
Leila got up and came back soon afterwards with a drawing pad. She moved her chair to a spot where she could have full sight of my profile and started sketching.
'Don't take any notice of me,' she said.
'They're South Africans, aren't they,' I said, getting up to fetch a ball that Tom had thrown in our direction.
'Please sit down Jack. Don't move,' insisted Leila. 'The family immigrated here a year ago. They now live in Salisbury. Know many South Africans?'
'Only one. He was a friend of my Dad. I met him years ago. He was a prospector. Searched for gold, diamonds . . . that sort of stuff.'
'I know a few geologists. What's his name?' asked Stan.
'Fred Carrender.'
'Heard of him. The South African mining community is small. Everyone knows each other,' said Stan.
Leila stopped drawing and looked up: 'Maybe he's a friend of Ivor. Tess, Tom come here, please.'
They grabbed their towels and ran to us.
'Did your Grandpa have a friend called Fred Carrender?'
'Yes, he used to come to our house sometimes,' said Tom.
'Brought lots of chocolate,' grinned Tess.
'You know Fred Carrender?' I asked amazed.
'Their grandfather's also a geologist,' said Stan.
'Grandpa's going to be here in a few days. We're going to Scotland,' said Tom excitedly.
'We have some cousins there. We're going to ride horses and walk in the Highlands,' said Tess.
'Then the Edinburgh festival and back to school,' said Leila.
Their faces dropped.
'Life always turns up with something interesting, Jack. Time for a celebration,' said Leila cheerfully. 'Perhaps you can meet Ivor and find out more about your Dad's friend.'
She went inside and a little later came out with some biscuits, beers and cold drinks. 'Want a beer, Jack?'
'Thanks,' I said, and quickly downed a bottle of Castle, a South African lager.
The children went off to change and Leila sat down again to etch me.
'I'll show you my drawing of Ivor later,' she said. 'He's a good friend. Helped us when we were down.'
I didn't want to tell the Slimcops everything, but it just came out. It felt safe there. They were so open and friendly. I told them about Dad's letter, how he had saved Fred Carrender from drowning and that Fred had given Dad the OilFinder and MineDeep shares. How I sneaked out of Bridlington and kept the shares away from Mark Baton, the liquidator. I didn't tell them about Sandy. As far as I was concerned, she was history.
'Do you know how much your Dad owed his creditors?' asked Stan.
'Not sure. I think that Baton said it was around £25,000,' I said.
'I think Jim Wardle's right. Your Dad gave you his shares before he died,' said Stan thoughtfully. 'It doesn't belong to the insolvent estate, but that Baton sounds nasty. He could make your life uncomfortable.'
'Remember when we went under. The liquidators grabbed most for themselves,' said Leila bitterly. 'Get some legal advice, Jack.'
'I've got a better idea,' said Stan. 'Let's get shot of him. I'll settle your Dad's debts through my lawyer.'
His generosity was astounding. I didn't know what to say.
'You don't have to do that,' I stammered.
'The creditors will be happy. All they want is their money. My lawyer will act on behalf of an anonymous benefactor,' said Stan.
'What about Baton? He'll want to get his hands on it.'
'No way. My lawyer will obtain the list of creditors and pay them directly.'
'Mrs Derby. We owed her a lot of rent. She's a good woman,' I blurted out.
'Mrs Derby will be first on the list,' laughed Stan.
He was pacing up and down, walking up towards the swimming pool and back again. He seemed to be remembering something that had happened to him; possibly when he lost all his money.
'What if Baton wants more?' I asked.
'Baton will get a fee for his services,' said Slimcop.
'The lowest possible fee,' said Leila, clenching her teeth. 'We were insolvent once, Jack. We know what it's like. Liquidators scavenging, grabbing most for themselves.'
'Did Jim tell you that I'm giving you some money, Jack?'
'Yes . . . No need . . . You're doing more than . . .'
'You did me a good turn Jack . . . You helped me make my mind up. I've made a lot of money out of those gold shares. Will fifty thousand do?'
'You're already settling my Dad’s debts . . . That’s more than enough.'
'Fifty thousand pounds it is. What will you do with the money, Jack?'
'Not sure. Maybe I'll buy more shares.'
'Investing is a good idea. But so is education. What about finishing school and going to university?'
'I'll think about it. I'll see how I do in my GCSEs.'
'You get your results mid-August don't you?' said Leila. 'How do you think you've done?'
'Not sure. No point in guessing,' I said, thinking to myself that I would be lucky to get a few Cs.
* * *
I borrowed swimming trunks from Stan. They were too big for me, but I tied them as tight as I could. The pool seemed to be heated, as it was much warmer than the ponds on the Heath and the Lido at Gospel Oak. I had never swum in a private pool before, so I had to get used to it. With only a few strokes I was at the other side, turned and was back again. I must have done twenty or thirty lengths, but I reckon that I probably swam only three hundred metres. Pity Jazz wasn't around. He would have jumped in.
The pool was in the middle of a lawn that sloped down towards a fence about two and a half metres high. I climbed out and dried myself in the bright early evening sun and looked around me. Since the house and the pool were about midway up a hill, there was a good view below. To the left of the pool, which was eastwards, I could see a line of cars on the main road heading uphill towards the village. Further east were the green trees of the Heath. Southwards, through a heat haze, I managed to spot the dome of St Paul's, some five or six miles away. The pool and lawn dominated the garden. On the borders of the lawn were a variety of bushes and shrubs and multi-coloured flowers ranging from dahlias and marigolds to geraniums and fuschias. Sculptures of birds were placed in corners of the garden. They were elevated above large Grecian pots that were overrun by creepers. Nearby there was a large brass sculpture of a young boy with a ball in his right hand. I went up to it and when I was about to gently feel the clean-cut nose, I heard the voice of Tess.
'You mustn't touch him. He's their son.'
'Sorry . . . I didn't mean to,' I said. 'I just got carried away.'
'Beautiful, isn't he!' said Tess. 'He died two years ago, but they never talk about him.'
'What was his name?'
'Sean. He was twenty four. '
I turned around and observed the Slimcops on the patio. They seemed lonely, sitting there in front of their luxurious home.
'He must have been born when they were fairly old,' I said.
Tess had sat down on the lawn and was weeding out yellow dandelions and putting them in a neat bunch. 'Are there any other children?'
'No, he was the only one. Don't say anything,' she said, turning towards Leila, who was coming towards us.
'You seem to enjoy art Jack,' Leila said, putting her hand on Tess' shoulder. Tess presented the bunch of dandelions with a curtsy. We laughed.
'I've tried to paint, but I'm not very good. Mum used to take me to galleries. She liked Constable,' I said, pointing in the direction of the churchyard. 'Saw his tombstone. I didn't know that he lived here.'
'Hampstead used to be full of artists and writers, but bankers and brokers have moved in. It's now too expensive.'
'You're pretty good,' I said shyly, glancing at the sculptures. Leila smiled cautiously. She was obviously used to flattery, unsure whether it was genuine.
'Come let's go and eat. Do you like vegetarian food, Jack?'
* * *
I was no vegetarian, but I enjoyed the pitta bread, olives, hummus, mixed salad and cold pasta with green, red and yellow peppers. I could see that Tom and Tess hated the food and just nibbled the pitta. After supper, Stan took me to his study, which was at the end of the house. We walked along a wide hallway with walls made of thick reinforced glass, through which you could see the garden and the lights of London in the distance. The study had a wide window overlooking the garden, a bookshelf on one wall, an assortment of photographs and a charcoal etching of a blackbird on the other. Stan sat down behind a clear, clean, modern glass desk. On it were his laptop, several files stacked neatly on top of each other and a picture of him, Leila and Sean.
Stan clicked the laptop and glanced at the Reuters and Bloomberg sites. Gold and gold shares were up again. I was glad that I hadn't sold.
'We're doing well aren't we?' Stan said without any emotion in his voice. 'When are you going to take profits?'
'Not sure. I think I'll let my profits run.'
'I've learnt from experience that it's better to get out of gold shares when they're rising,' said Stan. 'They're volatile. When the market turns, their prices fall fast.'
'Have you started to sell?'
'I'm not greedy, so I've begun to take profits. I sold a few shares yesterday and I will sell some more next week. If I were you, I would do the same.'
'I'm expecting the gold price to go up a lot more. According to James Manson's book, it's natural for people to take profits. But the market can outsmart them. Gold and gold shares could go up a lot further than people think.'
'James Manson, the actor! I met him when I was a broker. A gentleman. Used to telex orders from all over the world. Well I never. I thought that his book was out of print.'
'I bought it in the Hampstead Community Centre,' I said. 'Why did you become interested in gold?'
'Something was happening. Moscow Narodsky was selling millions of ounces, but the gold price wasn't falling. In normal circumstances the price would have slumped,' said Stan. 'Then I met you. You showed me that there were enough buyers willing to buy the Russian gold. If the bank stopped selling, the price would rise.'
As soon as he mentioned Moscow Narodsky, I became nervous and wanted to leave.
'I think I better go now,' I said with a lame excuse. 'I have to take my dog for a walk.'
Stan was studying my reaction closely. I bit my lip, hoping that I hadn't given myself away. It was too late. I could see that he thought I was involved in some way.
'What do you know about Moscow Narodsky?' asked Stan.
'Nothing,' I lied, trying to bolt for the door. 'Thanks for today. I'll go and say goodbye to Leila and the children.'
Stan grabbed my arm. Despite his age he was pretty strong.
'When I talked about Moscow Narodsky at the broker last week, you ran out,' he said. 'You took my newspaper didn't you?'
'Don't remember . . . I wanted to read about the cricket match.'
'You're a bad liar, boy. Better tell the truth,' said Stan, opening the middle drawer of his desk and pulling out a plastic folder with newspaper clippings. He took them out and put them on the desk. They were all about Moscow Narodsky. Stan went to the door and closed it. He then slowly flicked through the clippings.
'Why do you have all those articles about Moscow Narodsky?' I asked, trying to calm down.
'Russia is one of the world's biggest gold producers. The country has some big gold mines and refineries that melt the gold into bars. Moscow Narodsky is one of the Russian banks that stores the bars. It sells them on the London and Zurich gold markets.'
Stan picked out a few articles and laid them on the desk. They were about the murders of Boris Yapolovitch and the journalist, Marcia Mirikover. There was another article, which I hadn't read before. Paul Zibler, manager of Moscow Narodsky's Zurich branch, had had an accident. He was walking in the Alps and had fallen down a ravine. The Swiss police were investigating. I freaked.
'Coincidental, isn't it,' said Stan, reading and glancing at my reaction. I was trying to be as relaxed as possible, but I was shaking.
'Did you meet any of these people? Yapolovitch? Mirikover?' asked Stan softly.
I was silent. Stan half laughed to himself: 'Of course! Let me guess where you come in.'
He pushed an article in front of me and I felt his eyes on me as I read: 'Police are still looking for a youth who could be an important witness. He reported the Yapolovitch murder and then disappeared.'
'Now if I were the witness, what would I do?' Stan asked rhetorically without expecting me to answer. 'I could give myself up, but then I could be putting myself in danger. On the other hand I could run away and hope that all this will blow over.'
'What would you do if you were the witness, Jack?'
'I'm not sure. Do you think that Swiss banker was murdered as well?' I asked in a feeble attempt to change the subject. Stan laughed grimly.
'The Russian mafia is sending out a clear message. Accidents will happen to anyone who messes with them. Now if I were the witness, I would try and work out if they could convict these people. To do that the British and Swiss police would need co-operation from the Russian authorities. They would have to extradite the gangsters. Do you think that would happen Jack?'
'How should I know?'
'No chance. Perhaps it is a good idea that the witness should leave London. Let the storm blow over. Allow time to take its course and memories fade.'
He neatly collected all the clippings, put them in the folder and back into his drawer. The sharp shrewd look was replaced by a soft kindly smile. I knew I could trust him. He put his hand on my shoulder and we walked to the living room. Leila was playing scrabble with the twins. They were on a cream oblong sofa in the large living room with its wall of windows overlooking the illuminated garden. Numerous paintings and etchings were on its walls. There were a variety of smallish black and copper sculptures in the corners. Persian carpets covered the wooden floors.
'You guys had better start packing. Your grandpa is coming tomorrow,' Leila said as she shut the scrabble board while Tess counted the scores.
'I'm first, you second, Leila. Tom, last,' said Tess proudly.
'Too good for me, Tess. Tom you should read more. It will help your spelling,' said Leila.
'Would you like Jack to go on holiday with you?' asked Stan.
'Great!' shouted Tom. Tess nodded her head eagerly.
Both Leila and I were taken by surprise.
'Go to Scotland with Ivor Ensworth. Isn't it up to him?' asked Leila.
'We'll persuade him,' said Stan.
'Can I take my dog with me?' I asked.
'We'll see,' said Leila.
For the first time since Dad died I was really happy. I had been welcomed into a family. Would soon meet a guy who knew Fred, the man who unwittingly had changed my life.
10 - THE LOCH
A few days later I was on my way to Scotland with Ivor Ensworth, Tom and Tess. Before we left, Leila took me shopping. She bought me some jeans, shirts, shoes, a jacket and the first suit that fitted me. A hairdresser gave me a spiky gel haircut. I looked in a shop mirror and seemed a bit older, maybe a bit taller.
Only one thing made me sad. I had to leave Jazz with Martha. Ivor didn't want to take the dog on the overnight journey from London.
We arrived in Scotland early in the morning and Ivor hired a car. About an hour later we were in our stone gr
ey cottage in Crieff, a small Scottish town about twenty miles north of Perth.
Ivor was in his late seventies. He was medium height and stocky and had white hair and a red face. After years of prospecting and heavy work, his arms were thick. His hands were rough and his nails were broken from all the digging and sampling of minerals in the African outback.
During the train journey, I asked him about Fred Carrender.
'He's quite a lot younger than me, but we're good friends. Used to meet him sometimes when we were prospecting,' said Ivor. 'It can get lonely out there. Got to know him quite well. Told me that he had almost drowned.'
'He was sailing with my father.'
'Yes, Stan told me that Fred knew your Dad. They were caught in a storm off the east coast of Africa. The boat capsized and they clung on to the side of the boat. It was a battle to keep afloat.'
'Fred said that your Dad kept him going for almost twenty four hours. Had a great sense of humour. Told jokes and stories. They were terrified of sharks, but the hull was so slippery, they couldn't climb on. A fishing boat rescued them early the next morning.'
'Dad told me that they were in Mombasa.'
'You must go to Kenya sometime. Fascinating place. Fred's quite an adventurer, but he's never gone sailing again. When I first met him, he was broke. Then he struck it lucky. Discovered a rich diamond deposit in the Congo. From then onwards he never looked back.'
'It's because of Fred that I'm here,' I said.
'Stan told me that he gave your Dad OilFinder and MineDeep shares. Fred's a good guy. Always helps friends who help him.'
'Certainly did me a good turn,' I said.
'Carrender managed the diamond mine in the Congo for a time, but was soon bored,' Ivor went on. 'He's like me. Prospecting's our life. For months at a time, we leave our families and wander in south, west and east Africa, looking for diamonds, precious and base metals. I was going through a rough patch when I met him and he gave me luck.'
'How much luck?'
'We struck gold and found platinum and copper deposits in Namibia, southern Africa. Sold our claims to the Namibian government and South African mining companies.'
Trader Jack -The Story of Jack Miner (The Story of Jack Miner Series) Page 9