Paul had booked a table and, although good food and wine was served, around the table they were all fairly quiet, impatient, wanting the preliminaries to be over and the announcements to get underway. Eventually the leader of the judging panel got to his feet and a gradual silence descended in the great hall. He was an eminent architect from Paris – himself holder of an RIBA gold medal for his work.
'Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me the greatest of pleasure to be the one to announce the winners of the competition for Edinburgh’s Old Town - Urban Re-development. As you are aware, over two hundred initial entries were received from all over the world and the panel selected ten to be developed in the second stage. These ten finalists have produced some exceptionally fine designs, which gave the judging panel a very difficult task.
However, a decision has been made – unanimous amongst us – with a winner that we believe will produce a magnificent new addition to Edinburgh's world reknowned architectural heritage. It is also fitting that the winner is an entry from a young Scottish Practice – CAT Architects from Edinburgh, together with KRS Developments.'
As all heads turned towards them, the group looked stunned and embarrassed, hardly believing that it could be true. Paul's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. A smile slowly began to spread over Joe's face and Liz looked like a scared rabbit.
Only Fraser reacted quickly. 'Yes!' he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and punching the air. The two students joined him; high fives and bouncing up and down happily. The hall echoed with the loud applause and several people got up to congratulate Paul and his team. It was well after midnight that a very happy group finally left the Chambers Street Museum and headed for their beds.
* * *
As was usual on Thursdays, Paul, Neil, Liz, and Fraser went to lunch at Raphael's, a small Italian restaurant close to the office. It had originally been the suggestion of George Henderson, the office manager and accountant, as a way of discussing company business without organizing separate meetings that would take up other parts of the day when they were busy, or had to attend other meetings or visit sites. They had also invited George and Joe who joined them ten minutes later.
'We've ordered a bottle of red, so there'll be enough for you as well,' said Paul, ' and we're all having the chorizo pasta – except you, George.'
Although the lunchtime meetings in Raphael's had been George's suggestion, it was a source of amusement to the others that he was ultra-traditional in his own food preferences, and he never ate anything that contained a hint of spice.
'That's okay. When we came in, Toni told me that he's got a special piece of salmon reserved for me, and the potatoes and broccoli are being steamed as we talk.'
'Toni's got a standing order in for salmon. He gets it from a poacher in West Linton, 'specially for you. That's what I heard – is that right, George?' laughed Neil.
'Did anyone else read about Davy Gunn in the Metro?' said Liz.
'Good old Davy!' sniggered Fraser.
'What's he been up to now?' smiled Paul, reaching for the bottle and filling the glasses.
Davy Gunn was a nineteen years old technician who had worked for the Practice on a short term contract the previous summer. He was renowned for his wild antics, and on a drunken night out with some of the staff during the Edinburgh Festival, he had tried to join a dance troupe on stage at the Assembly Rooms. The police had been called and Davy had spent the rest of the night in the cells.
'He's been nicked trying to rob a bookie's in Dalry.'
'No way!'
'Yeah, there's an piece on it on page four.'
'Stupid bugger!' said Neil, reaching for his glass of wine.
'Hardly surprises me,' said George sadly shaking his head.
'You know it always amazes me,' continued Neil, 'that people get sent to jail for such silly, trivial offences.'
'How do you mean?'
'Well – the prisons are full of guys who've got a long list of convictions for minor offences. If I was a criminal, I certainly wouldn't get caught for trying to steal from a shop or a bookie's. I'd work it out properly – spend a bit of time planning a really big job – do it once, and then keep my head down.'
'I must admit – that approach would make more sense to me, too,' smiled Paul. 'Perhaps Davy might spend a bit of time in Saughton thinking about it now, as well.'
Just then, the waiter arrived with plates of pasta, and further conversation was postponed for a while as they did justice to the food.
* * *
After a Christmas holiday, January, in the office, usually started slowly, but not this year. The first few weeks were an extremely busy time for the small Practice. Some of the usual workload that would have been done by Paul, Fraser and Joe had to be shared among the junior staff, and this was overseen by Neil and Liz. It left Paul and Fraser free to attend meetings with the Planning and Building Authorities, City councillors and KRS Developments, who had been closely involved with the CAT Architects competition entry from the outset, and had agreed to arrange the finance for the project.
Keith Sanderson, the owner and Managing Director of KRS Developments had known Fraser for several years. They had met while students at Strathclyde University. With Paul's help he assembled the other members of the Design Team – Quantity Surveyors, Structural and Civil Engineers, Mechanical and Electrical Engineers, and Landscape Architects and he quickly set about arranging their appointment documents.
At the same time, Joe developed the concept into a fine set of presentation drawings. He was assisted by Julia, a meticulous young architect with good organizational skills, while Bob Dixon, a very talented student, displayed his special abilities and knowledge of computer rendering packages to provide realistic images of the building complex from several viewpoints.
Ten weeks later – a record for the Practice – full Planning Permission was granted and, during the intervening period, Liz had interviewed and engaged additional staff to help with the next work stage – the detailed drawings for construction and the selection and specification of materials.
* * *
One evening, Joe walked into his flat, hung up his jacket on a hook in the hallway, and dropped his bag on the floor. He walked through the flat into the living room, and flopped onto a sofa beside a small dark-haired woman. It was half past eight and he'd worked since seven o'clock in the morning, with only a half hour break for a sandwich.
'Hiya Loopy,' she said, leaning over to kiss him.
'Geez, I'm knackered tonight, Sam,' he said to his small dark-eyed partner. 'But we got Planning Permission today and there were only one or two standard conditions – nothing that'll give us any problems.'
Samantha was a pretty but tiny woman. Joe had loved her from the moment that he had seen her in a karate tournament in Dundee four years earlier. She had been competing against a tall blonde girl from the Netherlands whose reach kept Sam at a distance, but eventually the persistent aggression and unstoppable spirit, that Sam had inherited from her Italian mother, wore down her opponent and the result of the contest had been a draw.
'That's great,' she smiled, 'but I'm hardly surprised, Joe. You've all been working round the clock since you won the job.'
He put his arms around her neck and kissed her. 'Okay, I'll try to let up a bit soon. But really, love, it's looking terrific and it's all been going so smoothly. Sometimes it feels a bit like we're canoeing down a river, the sun's out and the sky's blue, but round the corner, there's some rapids ahead and I start wondering when we're gonna hit the choppy water!'
Little did he realise that it was coming sooner than he thought.
* * *
Chapter 4 April
Fraser was already in the office seated at his computer when Paul arrived.
He smiled. 'Hi .... Was there a blue moon last night? It isn't often that you're in before me.'
'No ... Well, I've got a few things on my mind – stuff to sort out.'
'What's up, man? You look awful.'
'Tell the truth, Paul. I'm in a spot of bother, but keep it to yourself.'
'Eh?'
'You remember a while back … I had an accumulator come up at Musselburgh races?'
'Yeah. You looked smug for days, and went out looking at Audi's,' Paul laughed, shaking his head slowly.
'Aye, well, a week or so later, Keith said he was going to Carlo's and asked if I wanted to join him.'
'The casino?'
'Aye, bloody Carlo's bloody casino. Keith said that he'd been going there for a while. He said it has a great atmosphere, so I went along to take a look.'
'I didn't know that Keith went in for gambling.'
'He likes a bit of a flutter now and again like all of us. We did a bit of roulette and then some Blackjack. I did okay and ended up quite a bit better off than when we went in – but, I'm ... er ... I'm afraid things have gone downhill since then.'
'You mean you've lost a bit of money?'
'You could say that.'
'How much?'
'I'm down just over twenty.'
'Well, that's not too bad, man. I can lend you twenty quid if you're strapped.'
'Not twenty quid, Paul ... Twenty thousand!'
Paul's jaw dropped. 'Twenty thousand – you must be joking! How the hell could you lose that much?'
Fraser looked sheepish. 'It just happened gradually, Paul. My luck changed and I suppose I was hoping that it'd come back, and I'd win back my stake – but it never happened. Problem is, Carlo's started putting the squeeze on. Says I should get it from Laura or borrow it from her dad.'
Fraser's wife, Laura, was the daughter of Tom Shepherd, a self-made millionaire who owned several garden centres in southern Scotland and northern England.
'Is that possible?'
'No way! I haven't told Laura – she'd string me up by my balls! …. Besides, her dad would be even worse. I'd never hear the end of it.'
'So what are you going to do?'
'Not sure yet. I'll try to get Carlo to give me a bit more time, and then see if I can get a bank loan, or find another way to raise some cash.'
Paul shook his head. 'Well, for Christ's sake, Fraser, don't throw any more good money after bad. Cut out the gambling!'
* * *
Fraser McLeod was a likeable man. Strangers who met him immediately took to his friendly, amiable charm, but he could be changeable – quick-tempered and sometimes impatient with people who did not share his views. He was a very good designer, however – a lateral thinker, with a comprehensive knowledge of international architects and their works. Joe and Fraser had hit it off immediately – they admired the same individuals and shared similar tastes in buildings and the approach to design.
Fraser was thin faced, with unfashionably long hair, and a chain smoker who had found no-smoking legislation very difficult to deal with. His long fingers were stained with nicotine.
He stayed behind, working in the office until after midnight and, just before he left, he phoned Laura.
'Hi, sweetie. It's taking me a while to get this package finished, so I'll be a little while yet. Don't wait up for me. I'll try to creep into bed without waking you.'
A sleepy voice answered him. 'Don't be too long, honey – you know I miss you.'
'I know - I'll be as quick as I can.'
He got into his car and drove the Golf slowly round to Carlo's Casino in George Street. He walked up the steps and in through the double doors under the large portico. Carlo was standing in the main hall talking to a distinguished grey-haired man in evening dress. He saw Fraser come in through the door, caught his eye immediately, and nodded towards the offices at the back. He patted the arm of the man he'd been speaking to, then sauntered slowly between the tables towards Fraser, who was standing looking embarrassed. Carlo opened the door to one of the rooms, entered first and seated himself behind a large oak desk, leaving Fraser standing like a schoolboy in front of the headmaster.
Carlo, a small swarthy man, had been brought to Scotland by his father in 1970. They were immigrants from a poor suburb of Madrid, and the early years in Glasgow had been very tough for the 8 years old boy. Small for his age, he was initially picked on by local gang members but he survived by fighting savagely and got himself a reputation for never giving up, however many times he was knocked down.
'Like I said on the phone, Carlo,' began Fraser hurriedly, 'I'm getting the money together but I'm not there yet. I just need a bit more time.'
The Spaniard smiled and slowly shook his head. 'I'm a simple business man, McLeod. You've got to understand my position ... I can't let debts simply build up – I've got my reputation to consider … I let one person default – in no time there'll be others.'
Fraser sighed and said earnestly, 'I won't default – I give you my word. I'll pay you what I owe – just as soon as I have it together.'
'I know you will.' said the smaller man, still smiling with his mouth but his dark eyes were empty and cold.
* * *
Fraser left the Casino downcast and started walking slowly back towards his car. He was surprised by a big man who suddenly stepped out from the shadow of a shop doorway. He had a shaved head, and a pale scar that ran from his upper lip to his right ear.
'You've got to learn to pay your debts,' he said, 'and we're the boys to teach you.'
A second man came from behind and grabbed Fraser's arms. The one who had spoken took a quick step forward, and clutching Fraser by the lapels of his jacket butted him in the face, breaking his nose. It began to bleed profusely. A heavy punch smacked into his belly and he doubled up, gasping for air. The one pinioning his arms, let go, pushing him to the ground where he curled up trying to protect his head as vicious kicks crunched into his ribs and back.
'They say you're a fucking Architect,' one growled, pulling Fraser's right arm away from his face. He stood with one foot on his fore-arm and stamped down hard on the outstretched hand, shattering several bones.
'You've got two weeks, pal. After that it won't be us coming after you. Next time it'll be lads who get a hard-on giving real pain – young lads trying to get a reputation. You won't walk again, never mind draw stuff, mister fucking Architect. Going rate for a hit's only a couple of grand – so there won't be no shortage of offers.'
As soon as the attackers had gone, a small group gathered around Fraser who was lying in the gutter, groaning. A young woman phoned for an ambulance and Fraser was taken to the Accident and Emergency Department of Edinburgh's Royal Infirmary.
* * *
In the evening of the next day, Joe and Paul stood by Fraser's bedside. He was in a small room with a view overlooking the extensive car park. His hand and wrist were bandaged and immobilized, there was tape across his nose, and his eyes were bloodshot within dark sockets. He had been given a sedative and was finding it very difficult to keep his eyes open.
Paul looked concerned. 'That's pretty impressive bruising, you've got there, man. You're making a habit of getting into fights! It might take a wee while to go, but I reckon you'll probably regain your good looks, though. '
Fraser smiled weakly.
A woman stopped outside the door and furtively looked around and along the corridor before stepping into the room.
'How is he? Is he gonna be okay?'
She was slim, dark and beautiful, although she had a hunted look, glancing from one to the other, and there were shadows beneath her eyes.
'I saw what they did – it was two of M and M's guys.'
'You know who did it?' said Paul, his eyes widening. 'You've got to tell the police.'
'I not speaking to no cops.'
Fraser half-opened his eyes. 'Madalina, what are you doing here?'
'I saw them, Fraser – M and M's boys ... they was doing favour for Carlo.'
He groaned. 'I knew it. I guessed it was Carlo that had arranged it.'
'If you know who jumped you, you've got to get the police involved,' Paul said, stepping forward.
'I ... we can't do that,' said Fraser,
firmly. 'It could easily be Laura gets hurt next time ... I've got to get the money and pay Carlo. It's the only way this thing'll stop … but I've got to admit, I'm scared, Paul. These are nasty guys.'
'How come you know who they were?' asked Joe, turning to the young woman.
She shuffled her feet and looked at the ground, avoiding his eye contact. 'I seen them in the casino a couple of times'
'Madalina works there,' said Fraser. 'She's Keith's girlfriend.'
'Yeah. They come in sometimes. I glad you're okay, Fraser. I'll tell Keith, but I gotta go now though.'
She turned and went quickly over to the door, glancing both ways down the corridor before leaving.
'I didn't know Keith had a new girlfriend,' said Paul as he watched her leave. 'He certainly knows how to pick them, though.'
* * *
He lay back against the pillow feeling sorry for himself. In spite of the painkillers that he'd been administered, his ribs hurt when he took a deep breath or turned his position. Fraser was also expecting a visit from Laura and her father, and he had been racking his brains to try and think of a plausible reason why he had been attacked in George Street after midnight. A pretty young nurse came in, checked his temperature and asked him if there was anything else he wanted.
He winked at her and said, 'Not just at the moment, pet. I'm expecting my wife in a minute – but later maybe?'
She smiled and blushed.
He heard the booming voice of Tom Shepherd in the ward and hurriedly stuffed his mobile phone under the bedclothes.
'Here he is Laura. How are you feeling today, Fraser lad? They'd better be looking after you properly.'
Tom Shepherd was a self-made millionaire and didn't mind reminding people of the fact. A large, barrel-chested man, he had left school early and taken a job with an elderly landscape gardener. Between them they had grown the business, and when the old man retired, Tom extended the buildings, adding other retail franchises and a cafe to the growing and selling of plants. The formula worked and in the following years he had built new branches of his Garden Centres in other parts of Central Scotland.
Designer Crime Page 3
