by D J Harrison
*
The Dropbox files hold everything I asked for, detailed accounts of the first four years of the Stretford contract, including a list of employees and their remuneration. The basic rates of pay at Security Group are similar to ours, but they have sickness entitlement, pension contributions, holiday pay, travel allowances and subsistence payments. We don’t bother with things like that. The lads get paid when they work and not when they don’t.
When I allow for their higher establishment costs and overheads, the numbers show that we are easily twenty per cent cheaper than they are. No wonder Jim Almond is so anxious to persuade me not to compete with him. All that talk about how he had us put on the tender list was total bullshit. I bet he spent a lot of time and effort trying to get us excluded. The fact that he failed shows me that Stretford are more interested in saving money than protecting the status quo. Times are tough for everyone and local authorities are having as bad a time financially as anyone else. My sadness and anxiety over the Toby situation recedes slightly as a feeling of genuine opportunity takes hold. We might be in with a good chance of this business after all.
Carefully, I compare Emma’s estimates with my purloined data. She has been very thorough. I can’t see anything missing and she has made only one or two minor assumptions that I disagree with. It all boils down to a few simple numbers. Security Group’s costs are at least three million pounds a year. On top of this they need to make a profit of at least ten per cent, three hundred thousand pounds. Using our own men, using Emma’s figures, our equivalent price would be two and a half million. So far so good. Unfortunately, the terms of the tender require that any employees transferring to a new contractor do so with protected terms and conditions. This means that I will be saddled with the same wages as SG.
In practice, I expect everyone to transfer over to us. SG won’t want to keep them. They will have no work for them. I’ll be glad to have personnel that already know the work, having been doing it for several years, so there’s good and bad on that requirement, but mainly good as far as I am concerned. I don’t want to have to recruit sixty men and train them from scratch. To be honest, I couldn’t do it. So adding in the extra labour costs, I’d have to increase our bid to about three million. Still, it’s probably cheaper than SG and we make a decent profit.
There’s another snag that hits me. More than half of GOD Security’s workforce will be on the better pay and conditions inherited with the contract. If we’re successful, I have to allow for the extra costs I’ll inevitably need to apply to my existing workforce. This makes it very tight; if I’m going to succeed I’m going to have to take some big risks, including an assumption that we hit the ground running with no teething problems.
My initial optimism dulls. I push away my laptop and return to brooding about Toby. I am desperate, unhappy, unloved, unappreciated and dog-tired. Even so I sleep only fitfully, waking frequently from visions of being stalked in the dark by men with knives and evil intent.
9
‘Tell Mrs Mather I can’t get involved. I’m sorry, Mick, I’ve done my best. There’s a chance the police will charge me with assault and kidnap, so I can’t risk any of you going round there either. We would all be in a lot of trouble.’
Mick perches glumly in Gary’s favourite spot, my desk groans at the excess strain.
‘Those bastards need teaching a lesson. They can’t waltz into our country and do as they please. They stole her flat, threw her out and nobody seems to care.’
‘It’s what they’re doing in there that sickens me most, Mick. I know it’s tough on Mrs Mather but she can get another flat, even if it takes time. Meanwhile, there’re little girls being sexually exploited. The police and Social Services are running scared. These Bulgarians are a cunning lot. They’re obviously well practised.’
‘I don’t get it,’ Mick sighs. ‘How come they didn’t just round up the lot of them and send them back where they came from?’
‘Listen, Mick, by the time they went to the flat all they would have found was Mum, Dad and two daughters. All nice as pie, place cleaned up, innocent smiles all round. Paperwork all in order, European Union citizens, every right to stay here. Nobody seems able to do anything about it.’
‘I can,’ Mick says. ‘I don’t care about any of that stuff. I never voted for the EU in the first place. If I went to their country and threw my weight about they’d be sure to take a dim view and they wouldn’t be put off by any EU legislation. I’ll sort them out, nothing to do with you or the firm, personal-like. I promised the poor lady in any case.’
‘No, please Mick, leave it for both our sakes. Bashing a few heads won’t help, you’d only get into real trouble and what for? The guys you hit wouldn’t be worth the bother. Even if you threw them out, another lot could easily turn up the next day.’
I can see by his face that he’s determined. ‘Let me make this clear, I understand your anger and I’m angry too. I’m even more upset than you are, I saw with my own eyes what was happening in there. I spoke to those little girls. Believe me, if I thought it would help in the least I would have sent the whole team round there long ago. Don’t do it, Mick, I’d hate to lose you, I rely on you, you know that.’
‘I can look after myself,’ Mick mutters.
‘I didn’t mean that. Let me spell it out. If you or anyone else from GOD Security goes anywhere near that flat you are out, fired, sacked, finished. That’s it. I can’t make it clearer.’
Mick stands up and leaves without reply. I hope he sees I’m serious and I hope even more that he keeps away. Without his help this job would become almost impossible. There’s no-one else I trust like I trust him.
Jim Almond appears at the doorway to my office. It’s a shock. The head of our fiercest competitor allowed to wander around freely.
‘Ah, Jim,’ I compose myself quickly.
‘Here.’ He puts an envelope on my desk. ‘It’s all filled in. All you need to do is put in your company details and sign it. If you want to do that now, I’ll make sure it gets there with ours, before the twelve o’clock deadline tomorrow.’
I smile outwardly and wince inwardly. Nice try.
‘Oh that,’ I say. ‘Forgot all about it. Tomorrow you say? Okay, leave it with me.’
‘It’ll take five minutes, that’s all,’ he tries again. ‘I’ll wait while you sign it, best to get it out of the way, you being so busy. I know what it’s like.’
‘Don’t worry, Jim, I won’t forget.’
I am dying to look inside the envelope to see what price he wants me to bid, but if I do that I’ll have no excuse for not signing it. He might also detect from the look on my face that I’m going to go back on my promise and put in a competitive bid. It’s a fair bet that he already suspects as much, but I’d rather keep him guessing anyway. I ignore him and the document long enough for the atmosphere to become uncomfortable and force him to leave. As soon as I see him drive away I telephone O’Brian. He agrees to meet me at his house.
*
As I negotiate the long winding drive, I remember the first time I visited O’Brian’s house. Then I had been trapped in the rain by his huge Rottweiler while knocking on the wrong door. It was only later that I learned that my discomfiture had been observed on camera by the security guard. Gary and the rest of the lads were in stitches when it was replayed to them. Now I realise that O’Brian’s appearance out of the rain, carrying a pet duck, had been carefully choreographed to put me at a disadvantage.
I was there to reject his original money-laundering proposal. Now I’m here to put a new, improved version forward for his consideration. The back door of the huge mansion is unlocked, the dog securely tethered, and I enter the kitchen unscathed and dry this time.
O’Brian is awkwardly making tea. He looks up. ‘She’s shopping in town with her mother, so she is.’ He carries the drinks to the table and waves me to sit. He pushes a white mug towards me with a giant yellow OBC logo. Underneath written in bold green letters is Friends of the Environment.
I have no idea what that means, nor do I intend asking.
‘How are you, Jenny?’ he asks.
‘Been better, still can’t get to see enough of little Toby.’
‘Ah that’s a shame, he’ll be missing his mum, so he will.’
‘How’s business?’ I ask.
‘Hard. Harder than usual. There’s no margin in the job at all now. I’m barely keeping my head above water. The construction industry is in big trouble, people going bust on us all the time.’
‘But the cash payments have increased.’
‘Ah yes, thank God, that’s the only thing that’s keeping us going.’
‘I don’t understand how you can afford to take out big lumps of cash from the business, especially now when as you say times are hard.’
He gives me a withering look as if I’m encroaching on dangerous ground. When he says nothing for a good three or four minutes, which feel like an hour, I have to break the silence.
‘I don’t mean to pry into your affairs, Peter. I have to understand more about the cash. Now you’re bringing more and more, it’s getting impossible to deal with safely.’
He keeps on staring at me, so I carry on. ‘If I’m to handle more cash I need to expand the business. There’s a big job for Stretford we’re up for. The tender’s due in tomorrow. Before I put in a bid, I need to know how long you’re going to be needing me.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry. The cash side is doing okay. We only need to up our present arrangement a touch, buy a new caravan site or some such, it’ll be fine.’
‘There are no more on the market at present. Anyway, I’m reluctant to add another one. That might be pushing it too far. No. This Stretford job might be the answer. It’s five years, so I need a commitment for that length of time and for at least as much money as we’re doing now.’
‘Things have picked up lately, I have no reason to suppose it won’t continue.’
‘Look, Peter, if I get the Stretford job it will have to be subsidised by the caravan contracts and your cash. If the cash stops, GOD Security will go to the wall, I’ll be risking the whole business.’
‘How would that work then, with the Stretford contract?’
‘It’ll more than double the size of the business. It gives me a lot more scope for introducing cash and paying you back. More plant and equipment hire, more van hire, that sort of thing. But if I do this, if I take this risk, I need you to underwrite its profitability. If I start losing money on the contract, I’ll have to use your cash to prop it up. You have to agree to that, otherwise I can’t put the business on the line like this.’
‘There’s no use getting a loss-making contract. That’s only a waste of money. No good for either of us.’
‘It’s not my intention to lose money, but if we’re to win it I’m going to have to price it very tight.’
‘Show me the figures then,’ he says.
I spread the papers out on the table. One of them lies in a wet patch which makes the ink run.
‘This is the covering price I was given by Security Group. They want me to bid three million, seven hundred and fifty-seven thousand.’
‘Who else is in for it?’
‘Three more, but I’m pretty sure that SG have made a similar arrangement with them. I’m certain they’ll all do what SG ask them to, and make sure their bids are considerably higher than SG’s.’
‘And how does that price compare with what you can do it for?’
I show him all the information, including the printouts provided by SG’s accountants.
‘How did you get hold of all this?’ O’Brian is clearly impressed by my thoroughness. The warmth is starting to return to his voice.
‘Oh, us accountants have our ways,’ I smile.
‘My bloody accountants better not be giving out my secrets like this.’ He looks thoughtful. ‘I hope not, anyway. Maybe we should check them out?’
‘What, ask them?’
‘Not me asking them, you. See if you can’t garner some nice titbits about O’Brian Construction. What do you say, worth a try just for peace of mind’s sake?’
‘What if I get the info, what then?’
‘Then I’ll confront the beggars, that’s what I’ll do. Heads will roll. I’ll show them they can’t mess me about.’ He has the look of a man beginning to enjoy himself. ‘What about the Stretford contract, what do you reckon you can do it for?’
‘About three million.’
‘Have you allowed for TUPE in that?’
‘TUPE?’
‘Transfer of Undertakings Regulations. It means that you have to take on the men already doing the job at protected pay and conditions.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve even allowed for having to bring our existing workforce up to the same standard.’
‘Good girl.’ His enthusiasm is enough to prevent him sounding at all patronising. ‘If SG’s costs are already three million, they won’t want to do it for less than ten per cent profit. A big group like that might look for a fifteen per cent rate of return, but that would be greedy. Unless they were sure of being covered. Interesting.’
‘What do you think then, three million should get it?’
‘If you think that their guy trusts you, you put in a couple of hundred thousand more and still get it. Three one, maybe three point two.’
‘Thanks, Peter, but before I do I really need you to tell me where the cash comes from.’
He looks hurt, as if I’m doubting his integrity and trustworthiness, but his eyes still have a sparkle.
‘Look, it’s very sensitive.’ He looks around his kitchen. I’m certain he is doing this purely for effect. ‘The cash is coming from the building jobs, usually residential. New houses, big ones, or refurbishments of old property, like this.’ He waves an arm. ‘A lot of the clients like to pay cash so we do them a deal. Invoice them for half, which they pay to show everything is above board, the rest in cash which I give to you.’
‘Why don’t you just invoice the whole lot, put the cash element through your business?’
‘No can do. The client would get investigated, we would have to say who we got it from. Clients don’t want that. Our way, they get to use cash that’s getting harder and harder to spend. Word has got around. We’re getting more and more work on this basis.’
‘So these clients, they have cash they don’t want anyone to find out about?’
‘That’s right. A bit like you and me really,’ he smiles.
10
The plump, balding man sits opposite Stephen. He wears a frayed, blue, pin-striped suit with a waistcoat that barely meets in the middle.
‘This is Anthony, I’ve asked him for advice regarding your custody application. He has kindly agreed to provide it.’
Anthony smiles a thin smile as if indicating what a great privilege I’m receiving.
‘Ah yes, Anthony is the barrister you told me about.’
‘Actually he’s a judge, sits in the family court a great deal, very experienced in your sort of case.’
My heart takes a skip. A judge! For a moment I wonder if this is some highly questionable tactic on Stephen’s part, a clandestine meeting with the judge before he hears my case.
‘So Anthony will be hearing my case then?’
‘No, that would be improper,’ Stephen quickly answers. ‘Anthony has reviewed the case notes I sent to him, in the unlikely event that the case were listed before him, he couldn’t hear it. No, he’s here on your behalf to tell you his opinion on the likely outcome, there’s nobody better than him to do that.’
I feel uncomfortable and bewildered. What am I supposed to do or say? Stephen keeps addressing him as Anthony, is that what I should call him or does it have to be your honour? I don’t like it. Stephen should have warned me, briefed me in advance.
‘Okay,’ I say, ‘what chance do I have of getting custody of my child?’
‘Given the circumstances you can now demonstrate that you have a steady job, a good income and a genuine desire
to be a mother to your son. All these positives weigh heavily in your favour. The courts recognise the importance of the child’s relationship with his mother.’
‘So I’ve got a good chance then?’
Anthony, his honour or however I should refer to him looks mildly offended as if I’m interrupting a much longer speech.
‘As I say, there are positives, good positives,’ he continues without answering my question. ‘There are also other factors that the court needs to consider. Unfortunately one of these is character. Your record has not been exemplary. The fact that you served a prison term is no good reason for denying you custody of your son. It does however raise issues of fitness, which the other side will make great play of. They may claim that you have a violent streak and that your record attests to that. They may even suggest that this may put your son at risk.’
‘That’s not true, I’ve never hit Toby, I never would.’ I’m on my feet shaking with frustration. ‘How dare anyone suggest such a thing?’
‘I understand the reasons for your outburst, Mrs Parker, quite understandable, not something that would be looked kindly upon in court however.’ He fixes me with a look and I subside into my chair. ‘As I was saying, you must be prepared for a thorough examination of your character and your criminal record if your ex-husband is going to resist the application.’
I open my mouth to speak and then stop myself, realising that he’s not engaging in a conversation with me, rather delivering a judgement that he’s already reached. Anything I say or do will have no effect on the outcome. I feel like an admonished child.
‘Although your character as a mother can be brought into question and important evidence can be presented which attests to your previous offending, I don’t consider this to be compelling. On the one hand, you were imprisoned for money-laundering offences, while in prison you were convicted of grievous bodily harm and there have been two subsequent occasions when you have exhibited violent behaviour. One of these was in the hospital, where you had to be restrained, the other in open court.
