‘Gee.’ Jo thought for a moment. ‘Laura won’t like that, will she? The history of Silks is special to her, isn’t it?’
Michaela nodded. ‘I know. It isn’t going to be easy. Daniel’s something of a traditionalist, too.
However, I’m talking about the revitalisation of Ashworths, letting the general public, as well as the well-to-do for whom we have traditionally catered, see that we’re moving with the times. I believe it’s one way to get back some market share. I expect to have the scheme all worked out: costs, space, shopfitting, decor, stock, etc., as well as an advertising program from you to complement it, before I present it to the board. I’d like to do that in a month’s time. By the end of August at the latest.’ She looked at Jo. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think it’s brilliant.’ Jo confirmed her opinion with a wide grin. ‘I like the concept and it won’t be hard to sell. We’ll need to emphasise that the buying public knows that Ashworths isn’t lowering its standards, simply broadening our market base, and a growing percentage of 18s to 28s have a good disposable income. The teen and trendy women’s magazines will love the concept.’ She began to jot down ideas in the notebook she carried in one of her pockets. ‘How much more work do you have to do?’
‘I’ve an architect friend working on a floor plan, and a shopfitter is going to give me a quote on the internal work.’ She lowered her voice confidentially. ‘As you can imagine I’ve had to be very hush-hush about this. I don’t want anyone, especially the tight-fisted Neil, getting a sniff of the plan until all the costings are done.’
‘Yes, cost! Could be a problem, couldn’t it? The budget’s down, shareholders are grumbling. How will you get the board to loosen its purse-strings enough to get the project up and running?’
‘I think I can make them see the potential of it, and maybe Caroline, too, even though she has little retail experience. Also, Warren Tremayne’s a forward-thinking MD. I think he’ll go for it. Neil definitely won’t and Daniel — well, I’m not sure.’ She looked sideways at Jo and winked. ‘Maybe I should get you to soften him up for me.’
‘I’ll do no such thing.’ Jo’s expression was prim.
Michaela rolled her eyes. ‘Has he asked you out yet?’
‘No.’ Jo shook her head. ‘And will you stop the matchmaking. Please?’
Michaela thought she detected the merest note of disappointment from Jo that Daniel hadn’t made a move. She reassured her. ‘He will. He’s just waiting for the right moment.’
‘I am having dinner with Neil on Friday night, though,’ Jo confessed, and then laughed self consciously as Michaela made a face. ‘He wore me down until I said yes.’
‘He’ll bore you to death, you know,’ Michaela responded with a frown. Her cousin wasn’t the right man for Jo. Neil was too serious, too bland … too lacking in humour.
‘If he does, then I won’t go out with him again.’ Jo smiled. ‘Simple.’
‘He’ll keep hounding you, wait and see. He’s that kind of person.’ Michaela lost interest in her cousin and returned to the matter at hand. ‘So, you think this might work?’ She saw Jo nod. ‘Everything must be kept top secret till I’m ready to present it to the board. Okay?’
‘Sure. I’m only worried about one thing.’
Jo first studied the blueprint, then Michaela’s hand-drawn plans. ‘If Silks goes, where will we have lunch? It’s so convenient.’
Michaela chuckled. Jo was always thinking about food but, amazingly, she managed to stay model-slim. ‘I’m sure the store will want to retain a café to serve light meals. Or we could pop down to City Tatts. You’re still a member, aren’t you?’ Jo confirmed that she was. ‘They do a great smorgasbord lunch.’
Jo allowed herself to be convinced. ‘You’ve sold me.’
Michaela looked at her watch and sighed with frustration. There was still so much to tell Jo about her plan, but the half hour had sped by and further details would have to wait. ‘We’d better get up to the boardroom, the meeting starts in four minutes.’
The same people who’d been at the last meeting were in the boardroom, with the addition of Warren Tremayne and Caroline. The latter’s presence made Michaela’s lips tighten pettily — she hadn’t earned the right — but she was surprised yet, contrarily, pleased to see Leith. The thefts were an in-house matter that really didn’t concern Markham and Associates, even though they were the ones who had alerted them to the problem. She presumed Daniel had invited him as a matter of courtesy.
Today Neil chaired the meeting because he had done the report on what progress had been made. He sat at the head of the conference table, in her mother’s chair, puffed up with self-importance. Daniel sat on his left and Warren Tremayne on the right.
‘Thanks for your prompt attendance,’ Neil began pompously. ‘I’m pleased to report that since we last met, there have been no more thefts from the wharves or any of our stores, nationwide. During the month Boris and I carried out exhaustive investigations on in-house methods and procedures. We found a couple of sloppy areas and have tightened security.’
‘You mean in-house security?’ Leith ventured the question. Everyone knew he was referring to the incident in the basement in which Michaela had been injured.
‘I have put on four more security guards,’ Boris answered. ‘Procedures and inspections have been tightened and increased. We are getting a quote to install an in-house camera security system for the delivery dock, the basement, and the entrances and exits of the building. Security bars have been put on windows up to second-floor level. I spoke to a friend of mine in the industry, got his opinion. He thinks those improvements will bring Ashworths’ security up to state-of-the-art readiness.’
‘Very good, Boris,’ Daniel said, seemingly satisfied.
Jo looked at Neil. ‘Neil, what about security regarding product import and delivery?’
‘Boris, Daniel and myself have sifted through the in-house procedures with the relative departments.’ He cleared his throat with embarrassment. ‘Paperwork was a bit slack in that regard and anything up to maybe a dozen people had access to information about when imports were due. We’ve narrowed that down to four and, from now on, details will be kept under lock and key in my office. That should solve the problem of anyone stealing the shipping schedules.’
‘You know we order product up to six months in advance and know from that time when that product is scheduled to arrive,’ Michaela pointed out. ‘The thieves could already have enough information to keep them active for several months.’
‘There haven’t been any more thefts,’ Neil said patiently, as if speaking to a child. ‘Boris and I, after the work we’ve done, have concluded that the earlier thefts were more a case of casual theft rather than long-term, organised stealing from a company.’
‘Can you be sure of that?’ Michaela continued to prod.
‘No. That’s why we’ve tightened procedures. A thief would have to be very determined to get that information from now on,’ was Neil’s answer.
‘What about potential informants? Did you do a list of employees who could be suspect?’ Warren asked.
‘We narrowed the possibilities to eight,’ Boris responded. He opened a folder, took out a sheaf of papers and handed a copy to each person at the table. ‘Until recently these people had access to the shipping schedules. One person, Eric Carter, our chief storeman, was dismissed two weeks ago for minor theft. Eric was our most likely suspect. I checked him out and he doesn’t have a police record. I had a private detective monitor him for forty-eight hours, and he found nothing suspicious in his lifestyle. We think we’ve come to a dead end there.’
He checked the list again. ‘Mary McManus is number three on the list. She’s been causing trouble in the department where she works: pricing and cataloguing product for the shelves. The personnel manager advised that she seems dissatisfied with the way the company treats her, but we’ve had no official complaint from her or the union. She could be just a whinger who isn’t bro
wned off enough to resign, but likes to complain. There’s also an unsubstantiated rumour that she’s in financial trouble, which could make some dishonesty appealing. I’m having security keep a close watch on her.’
Michaela was studying Boris’ list. She knew every person named and agreed that they all had had access to the shipping schedules if they wanted to. But one more name should be added to the list. A certain person wasn’t going to like it, but she couldn’t care less. ‘What about Mark?’
Boris stared at her. ‘Mark who?’
‘Mark McRae. He’s worked here part-time for six months and finished up a week after Easter.’ She heard Neil’s sharp, indrawn breath and looked in his direction. ‘It gives me no pleasure to say it, Neil, but during his time here, Mark held a variety of positions. In accounts, clerical work on the dock, at the warehouse, in purchasing, etc. He could have …’
Neil’s face went white, then blood-red. ‘Michaela, you’re not serious. Your own cousin! How could you think such a thing?’
‘I’m sorry, Neil, but it has to be said. It’s no secret that Mark let his negative feelings about Ashworths be known. He’s criticised everything and everyone, from the MD down to counter staff. And, when he was younger, he got into a few scrapes …’
‘For God’s sake, stealing badges off cars in car yards and some petty shoplifting. He was only eighteen,’ Neil interjected angrily.
Michaela didn’t add that Mark might have another grudge against Ashworths, after being shown up at the Easter Sunday party to be a coward and a loser. She glanced at Caroline and read the same message in her eyes. Then her gaze roved up and down the table. A few people had begun to shift restlessly in their seats, uncomfortable with the family squabble. She wrapped it up quickly. ‘All I’m saying is that we should maintain an objectivity with regard to possible suspects. If someone suspected me,’ Michaela said, ‘I’d expect them to speak up, as I’m doing about Mark, even though we’re related.’
‘Michaela has a point,’ Leith put in quietly, ‘though it could be a long shot.’
Why wouldn’t she look at him, he wondered. Michaela usually made a point of having eye contact with him when they were in the same room, as if to prove to herself that his presence caused her no discomfort. After the afternoon at the police station, when they’d identified the mugger, he thought she had softened towards him. Now he wasn’t sure. She was certainly a hard woman to read, but that was one of the things he liked. She wasn’t predictable.
‘Oh, very well,’ Neil said grumpily, ‘but note my objections to Mark’s name being put on the list.’ He glared pointedly at Michaela, whose dark eyes stared straight back at him until his gaze skittered away. ‘Anyway, there haven’t been any more thefts and I believe, as does Boris, that with the new procedures in place, few would be bold enough to have a go at us.’
‘Let us hope so,’ Daniel said, adding, ‘if there are any more problems we have to bring in the police. Does everyone agree on that?’
Everyone did.
The meeting began to break up.
Today Leith made sure he didn’t get tangled up with anyone. He watched Michaela exit the room and followed soon after, catching up with her in the corridor as she walked towards the elevator. She appeared preoccupied, as if she had something on her mind. Could she be concerned about her mother?
‘Heard from Laura?’ He asked the question casually as he watched her push the button for the elevator.
‘We got a phone call from the Isle of Pines, while she was in port. She and Kitty are having a wonderful time. It’s the first real holiday Mum’s had for years, apart from the short trips she took to see Caroline and Fern.’
‘She’s well?’
‘I believe so.’
The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the cubicle. Michaela was going to the ground floor to check a new display in the shoe department. Shoes were her one fashion weakness. She loved them and had more pairs than she would ever decently use.
‘Would you be free Friday night?’
His bluntly asked question made Michaela look at him speculatively. Her stomach muscles tightened. Jo had been right, he was interested. Even so, the frankness of his invitation caught her unawares. He’d cleverly thrown the ball into her court, forcing her to make the next move. The sensible thing would be to say no straight out, but … she couldn’t. ‘I might be. Why?’
‘I’ve got tickets for The Royal, good seats I’m told, to see the play Sons of Cain. I thought you might join me and later we could have supper somewhere.’ Leith watched her expressive face; he couldn’t help it. He could see her weighing up the offer, parsing and analysing it from several angles. She’d have no trouble saying no if she didn’t want to go, of that he was sure. Her hesitation was a positive sign.
‘I’d planned to work late Friday night,’ she said matter-of-factly, hoping he wouldn’t detect the sudden, uncontrollable tremor in her voice. ‘But …’ She struggled internally, confused. Her head told her to say no, that she didn’t need the grief if they became emotionally entangled and it didn’t work out, but her heart said the opposite, fluttering and increasing its rate until she was slightly breathless. Her heart won over her head. ‘What time would we have to be at the theatre?’
‘We’d need to be there by 7.55 pm, I should think.’
‘That sounds okay. I’d like to go. We’ll meet at the theatre?’
‘I’ll pick you up here,’ he countered. ‘Seven-forty-five on the dot. We’ll walk down to the theatre: The Royal’s only a few blocks away.’
‘All right.’ She smiled, a touch nervously. ‘Thanks, Leith.’
The elevator door opened at the ground floor, and Michaela rushed out, knowing that he was going on to the basement. She made a point of not looking at him as the door closed but, once it did, she let out a long, held-in sigh.
It was madness! She should have said no. Something about Leith Danvers made her … extremely nervous and yet, it was like the old moth to the flame thing, something about him also fascinated her. Maybe it was just that she saw him as an unknown quantity. God, she didn’t need the distraction, definitely, not when she was trying to fine-tune her grand plan for Ashworths.
Lenny Kovacs, puffing on a cigarette, stood at the window of his living room as he watched a dark squall come in from the ocean and descend on Tamarama Beach. One thing he loved about the sea was its unpredictability, rather like the business he was in. Sometimes business was good, sometimes it was slow but, over several years, he had developed an amazing facility to turn a dollar or two, no matter how quiet things were. And now he was planning something quite juicy …
Dressed in a silk bathrobe, a mug of coffee in his hand, he studied the storm’s ferocity for maybe ten minutes, noting how the rain hit the window at a forty-five degree angle. Finishing his coffee, he went through to the bedroom to dress.
‘Mr Anonymous’, as he was known to many, was a plain-faced man under no illusion that he was a good sort. He was, however, proud of his physique and, though stocky, he worked out at the gym to keep fit, managing to look ten years younger than his thirty-eight years. This afternoon he was going into the city, so a business suit was called for. He liked to wear clothes that suited the occasion and when he ‘pretended’ to be a respectable businessman he wore an expensive dark three-piece suit, a white shirt and a conservative tie. When he prowled the more seedy areas of Sydney, the wharves, the inner west pubs he liked, the gaming houses and brothels, he dressed to blend with the types who frequented such places.
Donger, his right-hand man, shared his spacious, elevated four-bedroom home. His number one took care of the day-to-day running of the house, and organised the various groups’ work schedules. Lenny had worked hard to carve a diverse criminal business since his release from prison — he’d had five years in gaol to think his plans through. He had men, mostly teenagers, stealing cars, dissecting them for parts and sending the pieces to selected smash repair shops interstate. That netted a nice profit
. Another business was run by his burglary troupe. They concentrated on systematically burglarising homes in the more wealthy suburbs of Sydney and country towns within a one-hundred-kilometre radius of the city. Then there was his specialist group. They investigated, planned and selectively robbed jewellery and electronics stores, and he had another stand-over group whose job it was to extract protection fees from selected businesses around Kings Cross. For the depth and profitability of his enterprise Lenny was looked upon by those of a similar ilk with admiration, but by those who’d run foul of him with loathing and fear. Lenny Kovacs was a man to be feared.
If he wanted to, he could retire in an instant a wealthy man and not have to work again. However, scheming, organising, ferreting out suitable ‘work’ for his groups was his life’s blood. He was, in reality, like a modern-day Fagin from the musical Oliver, who relished and enjoyed all aspects of the life he led.
‘Er, Lenny, yer little mate’s on line two,’ Donger announced sarcastically from Lenny’s bedroom doorway.
Lenny picked up the bedroom extension. ‘Mate! How’s it going?’ At the same time he went to his wardrobe, stopped at the tie rack and fingered several silk ties, undecided which one to wear. ‘Yeah, I haven’t forgotten: 6.30, the lane behind Ashworths. I’ll be there.’
‘Lenny, it’s … not going to be easy … from now on,’ the voice on the other end of the line said haltingly.
Lenny gave a long-suffering sigh. He’d heard that before. ‘Yeah, mate. You know, you worry too much. Let me do the worrying.’
‘Okay. J-just so long as you know.’
‘Yeah, mate. I understand.’ Lenny hung up and shook his head. Pissant individual. His mate was scared shitless. He chuckled to himself as he continued dressing. Wait till he told him about the next Ashworths job. Mate would shit himself good and proper!
‘You’re kidding me, Lenny. You can’t be … You’re not!’ Anxiety was clearly defined in the man’s voice. He’d listened attentively for several minutes as Lenny outlined his plan.
‘Mate.’ Lenny peered at the man. The lane was so dimly lit that he couldn’t distinguish his informant’s features, but he heard and sensed the fear. Squib. He didn’t have half the balls his father had had, more’s the pity. ‘I tell you, everything’s worked out. Donger and Earl have it all organised. You’ve met Earl, he’s one of my specialists. Earl’s ex-army and knows how to plan a job down to the finest detail.’ Lenny chuckled as if highly amused. ‘And the beauty, mate, is they won’t be expecting it. Those bloody company execs of yours have been farting around tightening up security at Ashworths, and screwing down information on the shipping schedules, etc. It hasn’t crossed their stupid minds that they’re vulnerable elsewhere.’
52 Waratah Avenue Page 17
