by D J Harrison
Her beaming smile gives me all the answer I need.
25
Yvonne’s home is a modest semi in a quiet cul-de-sac. I park awkwardly, half on the pavement, car canted at an angle so that my door is hard to push open and slams shut violently, narrowly missing my leg. Two men are sitting at her kitchen table. One of them I recognise as the burly foreman from the big shed. The other is a small, pinched man who looks well past retirement age, despite his thick head of black hair.
‘Where’s your driver?’ Yvonne asks.
‘It’s his night off,’ I tell her. This isn’t strictly true. I’ve finally persuaded Monty to do something useful rather than accompany me everywhere. The lack of any obvious threat over the previous two weeks probably helped, but I also promised him a couple of hundred in cash as an incentive. Tonight he’s staking out Trafford Trailers for me. There’s no question in my mind that there’s a people-trafficking business centred there, that they’re modifying trailers for smuggling and that deliveries of illegal aliens are a frequent occurrence. I told Monty about Kat, Lottie’s sister; how she disappeared and how I suspect she’s been abducted by just such a gang. I also told him about the brothel at Mrs Mather’s flat, the encounter that led to my damaged ear and how I suspect they’re all connected to the attempts on my life.
Monty’s job is to find out more without my having to put myself at risk again. My job is to try to keep us all from financial ruin.
‘You already met Stefan who manages the Midgeland operations. I really don’t know what I’d do without him,’ Yvonne says, touching him protectively on the arm. ‘And this is Barry Whitmarsh, my consultant.’
‘Hi, Stefan,’ I say, ‘thanks for coming.’ He makes brief eye contact then looks away. Either he’s generally unhappy or has taken a dislike to me. Either way, he sits there with a glum look on his face, as if he’d rather be just about anywhere else. I turn to the less threatening figure of Barry Whitmarsh. ‘What sort of consultant are you, Barry?’
‘I do all the planning and permitting for Yvonne,’ Barry answers. The awful job he’s done with the planning permission is the reason that Yvonne was forced to sell. I feel like pointing that out, but decide it would serve no purpose. I’m determined to find another consultant, though.
I pull the calculations I’ve done out of my bag and hand copies to each of them. ‘This is what I want to discuss. On my reckoning, we’re losing money, a lot of money if we take into account the great big pile of rubbish we’ve accumulated. Somebody explain to me why I’m wrong, please?’
Their heads go down over the paperwork. Stefan is the first to emerge. I fasten my attention on him.
‘So, Stefan, what’s wrong with my calculations?’
‘You obviously don’t know the first thing about waste. What you have down here is all wrong.’
‘Good,’ I say. ‘Enlighten me please.’
‘We can get rid of the pile easy enough. It’s just the site we used to go to has had to close temporarily.’
‘Explain, please.’
‘We used to put it through the trommel and send out the fines, the fine material, as soil to a farm in Horwich. Now the Environment Agency has caught on and we’re looking for somewhere else.’
‘Who’s looking?’
Stefan turns and gestures towards Barry.
‘It’s not as easy as it was.’ Barry explains. I doubt anything was ever easy for the hapless Barry.
‘So we don’t have an outlet for the fines, and if we put them on our own site we have to pay landfill tax, which makes the whole operation a waste of money?’
‘Things have been tightened up,’ Barry says. ‘There’s been a lot of prosecutions, people aren’t so eager to take the stuff any more.’
‘There’s another problem,’ Stefan says. ‘We’re not able to take out the stuff for recycling either.’
‘No,’ Yvonne continues. ‘It’s the lads who do the sorting, They’re not getting any income, so they’re not coming into work.’
‘I don’t get you,’ I say.
‘They changed the rules on metal recycling,’ she explains. ‘The lads can’t get cash from the metals they take out. It all has to be done with proper accounts now. We can’t afford to pay them what they were getting from the scrap.’
‘Not once we’ve taken tax from it,’ Stefan says.
‘Let me get this straight,’ I say. ‘Our business depends on being able to sieve half the crap out to make soil that isn’t taxable and on cash receipts from the metal, which has also been stopped. Am I right?’
‘Yes.’ Yvonne says with her head in her hands now.
‘Okay, I hear what you’re saying. But I’d really like to talk to some other operators, get the full picture if I can.’ Stefan is being defensive and patronising, and I don’t trust a word he’s saying. As for Barry, he’s an apologist who takes Yvonne’s money and delivers nothing in return.
‘The biggest round here is Walker Waste,’ Yvonne says. ‘I could arrange for you to meet Arnold Rushmore, I’ve known him a long time.’
26
‘Message from Popov,’ Monty announces as he settles into the driving seat, making adjustments to compensate for our different body characteristics. The seat goes back, mirrors are twisted, the steering wheel is lowered and when he’s comfortable, we set off.
‘He’s taken another ten for storage and security expenses. He says if you want there to be any left you need to be moving it on very soon.’
My heart goes heavy. There’s a terrible risk of being caught red-handed with the cash but I know I’ll have to do that very soon.
‘Where to?’ Monty asks as he turns out on to the road and heads for the M61.
‘Salford,’ I say. ‘Don’t use the M60 at this time in the morning. Go down to the A580 and then through Monton.’ It’s good to be living in gentle Lancashire but it can be a pain getting back to where I need to be at this time in the morning.
‘Okay, you’re the boss.’
‘What did you find out last night at Trafford Trailers?’ I ask.
‘I watched a delivery. One big truck came in and a minibus came out full of people, just as you described.’
‘Did they see you?’
‘I doubt it. I’ve learned how to keep my head down.’
‘Good, it’s just that every time I go to Trafford Trailers someone turns up to kill me soon after. I don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you?’
‘Probably not, especially as you have a habit of walking in through the front gate and announcing your arrival to the security guard.’
‘I told him not to say anything.’
‘I don’t think he’s taking any notice of you, Jenny. He gets his orders elsewhere.’
‘So then what did you do, go home for a cup of cocoa and an early night?’
‘Not before they offered me a job.’
‘Oh.’ A sudden thrill tingles through my body. This guy’s really good.
‘I followed the minibus, watched it unload, then saw a man I recognised. He’s in the same line of business, ex-military. I made myself known, we had a chat.’
‘What did he tell you?’
‘He’s working for a Bulgarian gang who supply young girls to the sex industry. They’re hiring all the muscle they can find.’
‘Why?’
‘He tells me there’s an Albanian mob who have been muscling in on their business. There’s a bit of a war going on, though he’s seen no sign of it.’
‘Albanians, Bulgarians, what’s going on, Monty? How come we suddenly have all these mafia types battling each other?’
‘It’s the way of the world, Jenny. The crime follows the money. It may not feel like it, but we’re the ones who have the money. The girls they bring across come willingly for the most part. It’s just that they don’t always fully realise what they’re getting into.’
I remember all too well the horrible conditions I encountered in Ukraine. How desperate the young girls there were to make a bet
ter life for themselves.
‘What about me, do you know why they don’t like me?’
‘Not for sure, but if they think you’re mixed up with the Albanians, that would account for it.’
‘So can’t you tell your friend I’m not?’
‘He’s not my friend. Only someone I know. It’s not likely to be any use telling him anything. Even if he believed me I doubt if it would make any difference.’
‘Then you’ll have to find out who’s in charge and go and tell them.’
Monty looks none too pleased with the suggestion. His face is hard, the gentle demeanour disappears.
‘Not part of the service I’m afraid, Jenny. You’re going to have to talk to Popov about something like that. There’s all kinds of difficulties and complications involved. Those guys get very shirty if they think you’re interfering in their affairs.’
‘You don’t have to remind me, Monty. They’ve been very shirty with me, if that’s what you call sending men with guns to kill me.’
‘I’m sorry, Jenny. You can’t even be sure that was the Bulgarians. It’s a tough one.’
‘But one we have to sort out, preferably before I’m shot.’
27
‘I want to talk to Charles Smith. He promised me you would help.’ I’m getting nowhere with Sandy Slater. All he’s interested in is getting Fergus’ money.
‘That won’t be possible,’ Slater shrugs. ‘I’m your contact and that’s not my department.’
‘Part of the deal is that you would help me find Kat, Lottie’s sister. It was made quite clear: I was promised that if I help you, then you will find Kat.’
‘Even if he did say that, which I doubt, he had no authority to do so. In any event, the way this works is that you help us first, do the job you agreed to do, nail O’Brian and Lafferty.’
‘But I’ve got good information about the traffickers, where they operate, who they are. They’re trying to kill me, I know it’s them. You have to protect me, I’m no use to you dead.’
‘I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ Slater says. He’s fobbing me off again, he’s not interested in Kat, people trafficking, Bulgarians or Albanians. Nor does he give a damn what happens to me.
‘Have you set up the meeting with Lafferty?’ Slater continues.
‘He’s away until next week,’ I say.
‘Then what day next week?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Look, Jenny, this is serious. I’m warning you that none of this looks good for you. The way you are behaving it’s as if you’re being un-cooperative. That you have something to hide yourself. All I want from you is a simple phone call to Lafferty, but you keep coming up with excuses. It’s going to look like you’re protecting him, the way you’re carrying on.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ I say.
‘Then make it simple, Jenny, ring him. Tell him you need cash, persuade him to bring it himself. That’s all. No big conspiracy, no elaborate story.’
‘What if he says he won’t do it?’
‘You’ll have to make him do it, for your own sake. Otherwise it’s you who’s going to be in trouble. We already have enough on you to put you in prison for a long time.’
I can feel the blood rushing to my face. How dare this nasty little minion threaten me? I want to scream, tell him to leave me alone, that I’ve had enough of his ugly ideas and invite him to do his worst. The heat builds up in my abdomen. I’m sweating and uncomfortable. I breathe deep and long. Steady myself, connect to the floor through my feet. Feel the ground supporting me.
‘Find Kat,’ I say. ‘I’ll do your dirty work on Lafferty. There’s no one else he’ll trust. You need to keep me motivated. Threats don’t do that, Sandy. Maybe you’re used to working this way, but it won’t wash with me. Pass on the information to somebody who is interested and competent. Get those Bulgarians off my case.’
His face is stony, his posture defensive. I wonder if I’m being too rational, too reasonable with him. The old Jenny would have gone at him with screams and flailing fists, caught up in uncontrollable emotion at the unfairness of it all. Now I know myself better, I’ve experience of much worse challenges than the obnoxious Slater. He’s only doing his job, he’s not interested in anything else and he couldn’t care less whether or not I end up in jail with Lafferty. Though I’ve a feeling he’d prefer it that way, he’s such an insidious little creep. I have to admit he’s right in one respect, though. There’s only one way out of all this and it’s going to be a difficult path to tread safely.
28
In contrast to Yvonne’s Midgeland Brickworks site, there is no tell-tale smear of brown mud to guide me as I turn down the long, immaculate concrete access road. Every twenty metres or so we have to negotiate a massive speed bump; the first one Monty tried at a reasonable speed, but he slows down to a crawl after the spine- and teeth-tingling experience. In fairness each hump is striped black and white and there are warning signs announcing their presence, but even so their vicious nature is inadequately described.
Had we been in a normal sized car I doubt it would have survived the encounter. At least I get to smile at Monty’s discomfiture at spoiling an otherwise perfect driving record. As we crawl along I wonder why I’m bothering to visit another tip. There’s enough for me to concern myself about without trying to save Yvonne’s business. It would be easier to call it a mistake, return what’s left of Lafferty’s money to him, tell O’Brian it didn’t work out, concentrate on the traffickers, finding Kat, staying alive. Instead I’m doing all this and I can only put it down to Yvonne and my compulsion to assist unfortunate females.
The whole road ends at a vast concreted area. Huge sheds surround it in an L-shape. A low office building sits between two weighbridges and everywhere seems neat and tidy. Even the heaps on the concrete slab are arranged symmetrically. Inside the door marked Reception, a matronly lady looks up from Hello magazine.
‘I’m here for a meeting with Arnold Rushmore,’ I say.
‘Sign in the book, love.’ She smiles. ‘I’ll tell Arnie you’re here.’
A wagon pulls up alongside her window. She slides it open and exchanges paperwork and friendly banter with the driver. Behind me a man enters, bearing a layer of mud that extends to his eyebrows.
‘She’s after Arnie,’ the lady shouts. The man makes some noises in his throat that might or might not be words. I follow him outside, more by instinct than instruction, as he swings open a door further down the building and ushers me in. In stark contrast the man who greets me is dressed for a formal dinner rather than a landfill site. Dark suit, waistcoat, blazing white shirt, starched collar, perfectly aligned tie. A bit of a shock considering the surroundings.
‘You must be Jenny.’ He takes my outstretched hand, holds on to it, covers it with his left hand and looks me in the eyes. ‘Yvonne said you’re a little cracker, she’s not wrong.’ His eyes flash kindness and humour. I’m surprised how good I feel. He’s early fifties, maybe older, it’s hard to tell. He looks so fit and energetic yet at the same time he’s grizzled and ancient. Anyone else greeting me like this and I’d slap him, maybe not literally but definitely figuratively. Arnold isn’t leery at all. He’s genuine, honest and looks like fun to be with. All this from one look and a handshake. I may be making wild assumptions here but I don’t think so.
He holds the back of a chair while I sit down, and then rings through for cups of tea.
‘You know Yvonne then?’ I say.
‘Oh yes but it’s her late husband Pete, I knew him well. We were skip drivers together at Progressive Waste, thirty-odd years ago. Nice lad Pete. It’s a pity when someone dies so young.’
‘What happened?’
‘His heart, had a massive attack, died on the spot. Left poor Yvonne with young kids and a business to run. She’s done well considering.’
‘You know I’ve bought the business?’
‘She said. We’ve looked at it ourselves a few times, it’d fit us nicel
y. We’ve never competed, always left her customers alone, wouldn’t have been right.’
‘So why didn’t you buy it?’ I ask.
‘Planning, too short, you must know that.’ Arnold looks at me as if worried he might have offended me.
‘Yes, I know about the planning. I bought it for the land, the long-term development potential.’
‘You should get the planning extended,’ Arnold says.
‘How, I didn’t think that was possible?’
‘It’s not easy, but it’s surely worth a try.’
‘If that’s the case, why doesn’t Yvonne do it?’
‘Money. A planning appeal will set you back at least a hundred grand. Yvonne couldn’t risk losing.’
‘So I could put up a hundred grand and get another ten years, say?’
‘Or twenty even.’
‘But what chance do I have?’
‘I’d say you would have a good chance, but you’d be better asking an expert.’
‘Do you have anyone in mind?’
‘Yes I do. You can borrow my consultant if you want.’
‘Yvonne already has a consultant, Barry Whitmarsh; do you know him?’
‘He used to work for the council. I’ve had dealings with him then.’
‘He says we’ve no chance of extending the life of the tip.’
‘He wouldn’t want to upset his mates in the planning department,’ Arnie says. ‘If you’re going to succeed, you’ll have to fight them, take them to a public enquiry.’
I can feel myself getting frustrated and angry with Mr Whitmarsh. If what Arnie says is true, he’s advised Yvonne to capitulate without a fight just to make his own life easier.
‘I might just do that, thanks. But I came to ask you about the recycling business. I’m new, I’ve no idea what a successful operation needs. All I know is that Midgeland is struggling.’
‘Life’s a struggle.’ Arnold raises his eyebrows and smiles.
29
I never realised the café inside Tesco’s is such a busy place. Hordes of people, mainly women dragging small children, converge on the cafeteria-style servery to have their plates piled with honest, but lowest common denominator food. I settle for an undeniably satisfactory latte, and sit with my back to the wall watching the entrance as intently as I can between distractions caused by small children detached from parental care. Even so, I am once again surprised by O’Brian’s sudden presence. He draws up his plastic chair next to mine and announces he’ll have whatever it is I’m having. I look at the queue and wonder if we have time for all that palaver.
