The Night the Rich Men Burned (12 page)

MacArthur’s nodding. He likes that Potty is talking about wiping this boy out. Not holding him down or setting him back. Getting rid. Clean out the filth; don’t just shove it out of the way. Never mind that Stamford’s always been a good boy. Never mind the personal insult delivered. The real issue is that people know Patterson had one of MacArthur’s men put in hospital. Gave him a real kicking. MacArthur has to be seen to do something about it. If he lets this pass, everyone thinks they can get away with it. Come up with some flimsy excuse and start kicking lumps out of people working for him. Be seen to be weak once, and vultures will circle. Besides, whose fault is all this? Not Stamford’s, that’s for damn sure. It’s the bookies’ fault. If you have a guy with big debts, you refuse to let him keep gambling. Common sense. If they were too scared to refuse Stamford, whose fault is that? Theirs again, you’ll find. MacArthur won’t pay a price for another man’s cowardice.

‘What’s the plan?’ MacArthur’s asking.

‘Well, he has a group of guys around him that are tough. Take them away and there’s nothing left. I want to pick off the most important ones. Not all of them need to be attacked. One or two will be bought. If I’m sure of anything, I’m sure that there are always one or two that can be bought.’

MacArthur’s smiling. Here’s a man that shares his vision of the business, his understanding. Buy the people you can. Remove the ones you can’t. There have been so many times in the past when that strategy has worked. Almost none when it hasn’t. You just have to pick the right targets for each option. The key is making sure you don’t miss anyone out. Either buy or remove them all.

‘I want to start working on them right away. Pick away at it until he’s good and exposed. Then I can get rid of him,’ Potty’s saying.

‘You know I’d be more than happy to help you with that, Ronald. All the manpower you need.’

That’s what Potty came here to hear. This was never about funding. Potty will have to pay for anything that costs money. But manpower is another matter. MacArthur has far more of that than Potty. He has people better equipped to do the kind of work that needs to be done. This is a union. An agreement that they will now work together to destroy Billy Patterson.

Potty is smiling by the time he gets back into his car. The rest of the conversation with MacArthur was small talk. Bullshit. Two men of experience, chewing the cud. Remembering a few old stories about the good old days. This is a good day too. This is a day when he can start to stamp on Billy Patterson. Reinforce his position at the top of the collecting tree. A sloppy mistake. Thinking that they could target Stamford like that. Real sloppy. The kind of mistake that costs you your business.

4

They haven’t had a happy conversation since the Stamford incident. Patterson thinks Bavidge went too far. He’s right, of course. Bavidge knows it. He wasn’t going to go that far. Stamford was actually trying. He was failing, but he was trying. He hadn’t gone running to MacArthur this time. He was trying to put some money together. Working hard to solve his own problem. Trying to pay the debt, or at least some of it.

But Stamford’s an addict. Can’t stop gambling. He called Bavidge up, told him he had seven grand to put towards the debt. Bavidge was positive. Made it clear he still wanted the other thirteen, but seven was a decent start. Tried to sound encouraging. Said they would meet the following day. A handover. They met. Stamford had three grand. He’d gone gambling with the seven he’d accumulated. Thought he could double it, maybe more. Thought he could cover the twenty grand with a bit of luck. Lost four. Bavidge called him on it, told him what a moron he was. The meeting turned brutal. Two nasty men and a poisonous atmosphere made for an inevitable conclusion. Stamford learned how nasty Bavidge is capable of being.

Stupid thing is, if Stamford had called and said he had three grand, Bavidge would have settled for that. He doesn’t expect a moron like Stamford to come up with every penny in one go. He should be getting it faster than he is, but he was trying. That was as much as Bavidge ever expected. It was the sheer stupidity of it. Throwing good money down the hole that sucked your wallet dry last time. That’s what made him lose his temper.

He’s into the little poker room, Patterson sitting at the table. Bavidge sitting opposite him. These have been awkward conversations lately. Patterson trying not to imply that Bavidge has gotten them into a shitload of trouble, when they both know he has.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ Patterson’s saying as an opener.

Bavidge is grimacing, because he thinks this is going to be about Stamford. Patterson’s smiling a little in response to the grimace. This isn’t about Bavidge’s mistake. This is about Patterson’s.

‘Jim Holmes,’ he’s saying. Sitting back and waiting for the reaction.

‘Already?’ Bavidge is leaning back in his chair. Not going to make any more of an issue of it than that. The boss makes a mistake, you don’t rub his nose in it. Even if you saw the mistake coming. Besides, Patterson’s been determinedly gentle with him over the Stamford beating. He’s earned the right to the occasional mistake of his own.

‘Already. Spent last night going through a few figures. He’s been skimming a few per cent for a few weeks. In the last two weeks he’s gone from about 5 per cent to around 20. He must know I’m going to spot it.’

‘Does he have protection?’ Meaning has he already organized to go work for someone else? Is this sabotage rather than stupidity?

‘None that I’ve been able to spot. If he’s gone to someone, then he’s keeping quiet about it.’

‘Doubt it,’ Bavidge is saying quietly. ‘Who would take the bastard?’

‘Exactly. Which makes me think he might be about to do a runner. I don’t think working for me has turned out to be everything he thought it would. Thought he could come here and be some big shot. I haven’t let him have any important jobs. Gutter work. I think he might be ready to bolt. I mean, he ain’t going to jump to skimming 20 per cent of my money without me knowing. Even he has to see that. He must have a foot out the door already.’

Bavidge is nodding. This is something that has to be done fast. ‘Can we get the money back?’

‘If it’s in the house, great,’ Patterson’s saying with a shrug. ‘Doesn’t matter too much. He was taking 20 per cent of small jobs. Only took about a grand and a half. I’m not going to turn the city upside down looking for it. But I want a message sent. A real message.’

Patterson’s messages are dark. Even by the standards of the inky-black collection industry. Might just be the most brutal part of the criminal industry, and he might just be the most brutal person in it. The most brutal person of influence, anyway. There are plenty of dickheads setting up shitty little operations, going too far and being shut down inside a few months. They don’t count. Short term. Of the people that count, Patterson goes closest to the edge with his punishments. Bavidge is his favoured means of delivering those messages.

‘It’ll need to be done tonight,’ Bavidge is saying. Then grimacing.

‘Something wrong?’

‘I have a date tonight. Shit, forgot about her.’

‘Serious?’ Asked with a hint of hope in Patterson’s voice.

‘Nah,’ Bavidge is saying, shaking his head. ‘Not really. She’s shacked up with some driver for Peter Jamieson. Nice, though.’

Patterson’s nodding. It’s good that Bavidge has someone in his life, but it doesn’t seem to be cheering him up much. Never does. He only ever goes in for relationships that he knows won’t work. Never wants something that might matter to him. Depressing is what it is. Making his own life more miserable than it needs to be. He’s never going to stop being a man to worry about.

Time might come, Patterson’s thinking, when he’ll need to interfere. Get involved in his friend’s private affairs. If this girl is worth the effort, he might just have a word with the driver. After all, couldn’t be hard to chase a driver away. Nah, works for Jamieson. Fine, set Bavidge up with someone else. Someone that can settle him down, make him happy. Not sure that’s possible.

‘Can you let her down gently?’

Bavidge is shrugging. ‘I can let her down. I think she’s getting used to it. I’ll get this done tonight, before he has a chance to get out. I’ll make sure it’s very clear. He still at the same address?’

‘He is.’

‘Okay. Anything else?’

‘No, that’s it.’

A brief shake of the hand, and Patterson’s watching Bavidge leave. He will do something about him. Has to. Wouldn’t be much of a friend if he didn’t. He needs to get away from his work. Patterson won’t sack him. Too good to be sacked. Force him to take a holiday. That might be a start. Probably wouldn’t work. A holiday wouldn’t be enough to make him happy-go-lucky. Often thought about having a conversation about him, but how weird would that be? You don’t sit down with a guy like Alan Bavidge and talk about feelings. Talk about the fact that he seems to be a bit depressed. If he doesn’t laugh in your face, he’d punch you in it. He’d be right to, as well. If someone started that conversation with Patterson, it would be a short conversation.

5

Treading carefully, because he doesn’t know this guy. Heard about him, never met him. Glass found out where his little office was, dropped by. Seems like a decent enough guy. They all do though, don’t they. They want you to borrow money from them. They’re selling, not you. There are plenty of people you can borrow money from, so they all have to be nice until they have their claws into you. That’s when the reassuring smile fades.

Jefferson’s looking across the desk at him. Another man trying to feel big behind his desk. Or trying to make the other person feel small. That might be it. Trying to make Glass feel that he’s dealing with someone so much bigger than himself. Impress him. Make him more agreeable to the terms he’s about to be offered.

But it’s not the office that makes people feel small. The office isn’t capable. Basic, would be the word. Small room, small desk. Everything a little scuffed and worn. Stacks of paper, an old computer monitor on the side of the desk. Gloomy, too. There’s a window, but the dirty glass seems to be more than the sunlight can cope with.

Jefferson isn’t intimidating either. But then, we’ve already established that he’s not trying to be. A man in his early forties, casually dressed. Smiling at Glass and treating him with exaggerated respect. He’s not intimidating, but he knows what is. He knows that there’s nothing so terrifying as money. Being without it is scary. Trying to find ways of acquiring it is demoralizing. And Jefferson has it. Sitting there behind his cheap desk, in his unimpressive office. He has what they want, and that intimidates them all.

‘I really don’t need much,’ Glass is saying. He’s been trying for nonchalant since he got here. Like this whole thing is all rather beneath him. Just because you haven’t done it before, doesn’t make it beneath you. ‘Don’t need it for long either. A few days.’

‘You sound like the perfect customer,’ Jefferson’s smiling. Jocular, false. Doesn’t mean it. The perfect customer is one who can’t pay back in the short term. Then you get them long term. Build up the debt. But you say the right thing. Let them think this is only going to last days. ‘How much are you looking for, Alex?’ First names. Always first names. Try and make it sound like you’re already their mate.

‘Five hundred,’ Glass is saying with a shrug. Still going for nonchalant. It comes across as a little bit dumb this time. You should know with certainty how much you need to borrow. If you’ve arrived at a point in your life where you need to use someone like Jefferson then you should know exactly.

‘Five hundred then,’ Jefferson’s nodding. ‘How long will you need to pay it back?’

This time the shrug is genuinely uncertain. Glass is trying to work out how long he can ask for. How long it would take him to come up with that kind of money. How long would it normally take to put together five hundred quid? Not long if you’re Peterkinney. Much longer if you’re Glass.

‘A month. Maybe two.’ Did he make five hundred quid in the last month? Just about. Five hundred with the interest rate he’ll pay here? Nope, not quite.

Jefferson’s looking at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Shall we split it and call it six weeks?’

‘Yeah, yeah, six weeks.’

‘Do you have a job? A source of income, so that I can be sure you’ll be able to repay?’

‘Oh yeah, I have a job,’ Glass is saying. Confident this time. He does have a job. A sort of job. He’s thinking about his work for Marty. Occasional, and becoming more occasional as time passes. The more he thinks about it, the less of a job it feels. ‘It’s not always reliable, you know. Sometimes loads of work, sometimes hardly any. That’s why I’ve been caught short.’

Jefferson’s nodding. ‘Sure. Not a problem. Cash flow, I understand. Just reassuring to know you have a source of income. I’m not prying.’ Always so reasonable. ‘Now the interest rate may seem rather high,’ he’s saying. Try to work out how smart the person borrowing is. If they’re sharp, they know your rates are a fucking disgrace to decency. They will hate you for charging such an amount and they will become difficult. They’ll justify their failure to repay because of it. If they’re not too bright, you can convince them it’s the best deal they’ll ever get. They’ll take it, be thankful and make every effort to repay. This boy’s been around. Might not be too clever, but knows enough about the business to know he’s not getting a great deal. ‘It’s about as good as you’ll get from someone like me. And you have to remember, the 6,000 per cent is annual. You don’t need to worry about annual. You’re only borrowing for six weeks.’

Glass is nodding. He knows he’ll get screwed on the deal. He knows he’ll end up paying back more than he should. Or working it off somehow. But that’s six weeks away. This is now, and now is Ella. Now is a night out at her favourite club. Now is proving to her that he can give her what she wants.

She’ll be out of the flat by now. Off with some guy, probably. Getting her own money. She always manages to get some. She’s always very careful to make sure that she doesn’t mention clients. That she doesn’t let him hear anything that would upset him. But she goes to these parties and he knows what happens there. And some afternoons she goes out. Doesn’t say where she’s going. Comes back with money. He knows.