We Promise Not to Tell

by Albert Able

  Charley was completely exonerated and was posthumously credited with courageously defending Max and the waitresses and so despatching the raiders was clearly an act of self-defence.

  True to his word to Max never re-opened the nightclub, preferring to concentrate on his new restaurant chain, which Naomi proudly named, though perhaps unsurprisingly ‘Max’s’

  “You see the club disco game is impossible to separate from the crime syndicates,” Max explained to me later “they will always control those kinds of outlet; just like I did,” he shrugged his shoulders “so even if the syndicates don’t directly own them, they will ensure that the owners or operators employ syndicate door men, which in turn ensures that only their drug peddlers have access.”

  Max was being unusually philosophical. “I’ve had a good run at it and was lucky enough to avoid being banged-up. I have a beautiful family and so from now on, it’s the straight and narrow for me.”

  I realised then how fortunate I had been to be on side with Max and it was on that basis that I decided not to re-let the Riverside Nightclub. At the same time and taking a leaf from Max’s book, I also closed down the ‘top floor’ Suite 409 at the Riverside Hotel which allowed me to initiated a refurbishment programme which would coincided with the introduction of the new computer system and the return of two beautifully refurbished rooms to the hotel’s inventory.

  I promoted Juan Cardinal as General Manager at the Riverside and Conchita took over Connie’s roll as Executive Housekeeper. I also made her promotion conditional on her retiring from the ‘extra services’ game. Conchita was delighted with the promotion and happily changed her ways.

  I learned later that it was her constant companionship with Louis had much more to do with her decision.

  I am delighted to say that they all remained with the company and are friends to this day.

  I carried on, as Development Director to the ‘International Hotel’ group but my workload was much less intensive as my influence through the revised procedures I had introduced, gradually produced the desired results throughout the rest of their European hotels.

  This meant that I now had more time to concentrate on my own hotel and to develop our dream of a large ‘Economy with Style’ budget hotel group and so it was that our lives entered into another exciting phase and my dear old friend Stan Richards, the former tramp, was about to play a major part in it all.

  In some ways Stan had been disappointed when Max ‘retired’ from his shady activities, because for Stan finding legal ways to account for Max’s various nefarious activities had been the challenge which led to his own salvation from a life on the street.

  The new challenge of setting up the accounting systems for the new restaurant chain for Max however, soon replaced any sentimental regrets.

  Chapter 18 - Marcus

  Oh how I remember celebrating with Connie, when we finally completed our first hotel and how we toasted the fact that somehow we had survived such a rather reckless and dangerous period in our lives that now, we would be able to concentrate on building a new and far less risky future.

  How naïve we were, as we confidently embarked on a series of events, which in many ways would make the early days, seem like nursery school.

  You need to remember that at that time we were still relatively raw recruits to the great world of commerce and whilst were fully aware of how to profitably manage someone else’s hotel; we were yet to learn that it is fundamentally different to managing your own and so we started by making some basic assumptions which proved to be costly.

  In the first instance when you are your own boss it’s also your own money and most importantly your risk. Secondly in addition to our ‘City Express’ hotel we had set ourselves a target of establishing the first of our budget ‘Highway Express’ hotels within reasonable distance from our London location in the first year.

  Our first error was buying the three old properties and trying to convert them into our unique ‘Economy With Style’ standard and although we completed City Express and were trading satisfactorily we were about to compound the error by starting on a second old property.

  Our second would be to confuse the potential clients by using different brand names; the second was easily remedied but our third and more dangerous mistake was converting the second old property instead of building to a modern efficient design. This error led us into our fourth and most dangerous mistake; funding the purchase of the second old property and then entering into a conversion programme, which, because of the nature of an old structure, you had no fixed cost control over the final outcome.

  The learning curve with financing these projects would prove to be steep and hair-raising.

  In spite of the regular visits to Dan Forrester at the bank for extra funds; which became more and more tense as time passed; fortunately the exchange of the usual ‘brown envelope’ with the agreed fee seemed to solve the problem but still the planned opening dates arrived and passed.

  Then disaster struck on the day we received a call from the bank requesting us to attend an urgent meeting with the senior lending manager.

  Hopeful of another reprieve and the extra funds requested to complete the conversion, we scurried round to the bank and were eventually ushered into the Managers office.

  Other than a cursory ‘Good Morning’ the po-faced man sitting behind the desk remained seated shuffling through the papers in front of him; there was no sign of Dan Forrester.

  ‘My name is Raines Bullock” The manager finally looked up at us “it is my job to review the bank’s commercial lending accounts and your loan has come to the top of the pile.” He avoided eye contact and only looked at the papers in the file as he spoke.

  For a brief moment I had a fleeting that that might still good news but I was soon to learn the bitter truth.

  “Regrettably we are not able to extend any more credit.” Raines Bullock looked up at us for the first time raising his eyebrows questioningly as he glared at us for a moment before returning his attention to the file.

  “But Dan Forrester has already agreed to cover the final payment for Highway Express.” I snapped indignantly. I couldn’t say that we had only recently slipped him another two thousand pounds for the privilege.

  “Mr Forrest is no longer with the bank.” Raines Bullock snapped back he still couldn’t look us in the face for more than a second or two. “The simple fact is that your project does not provide us with enough equity cover and with the interest rates accruing in leaps and bounds, our valuers consider you to be in a negative equity situation already.”

  Strangely he had not enquired how the project was progressing nor did he appear interested.

  “Lending more money therefore is not an option; rather I am instructed to advise you that you must now repay your loans with immediate effect.” He glanced up briefly.

  We were mortified by the sudden and apparently terminal finality of the bank’s decision.

  “I appreciate that this request will be a bit of a shock and disappointment to you and there is nothing personal in it I assure you. I am just carrying out the Bank’s instructions.” Raines Bullock tried a weak smile for the first time.

  Connie who had been sheepishly silent flew into a rage. “You sit there and tell us that our whole business is finished and call it ‘a bit of a disappointment’ you have no idea what you are talking about. You are a heartless bastard and I will pray that your soul rots in Hell. First however we’ll have to see what we can do about your job.” She jumped up. “Come on Marcus, there is nothing more I want to say to this miserable little worm.”

  Even more shocked by her out burst that the manager’s news; I stood up and obediently followed her out of the office and on to the street where Connie turned to me angrily.

  “Why did you let that little shit walk all over us?” She snapped.

  I didn’t know what to think. In some ways she was right of course and I wish I had been able to think of something constructive to say but I wa
s as if I were out of my depth and downing. It had all too much to take in, as my mind flashed through all the possible consequences of the bank’s decision.

  “All I know Connie is that we need to sit down quietly and calmly somewhere; otherwise we are going to get this all wrong.” I tried to be rational.

  “Quiet and calm!” She shouted at me “We are about to be put on the street and you ask me to be quiet and calm!”

  Connie huffed, turned and stomped off down the street; it the first and only time we had such an irrational argument.

  I knew I had to do something and as I collected my thoughts realised that the only thing to do was call Clifford Latham the ‘Money Broker’ who put me onto the bank in the first place.

  When I phoned Clifford had just learned about the demise of our ‘tame banker’ Dan Forrester. “Seems he got himself tangled with some really heavy duty crooks who took him to the cleaners.” Clifford explained. “The Bank are charging him with fraud and finding something new every day. Poor sod’s inside on remand; couldn’t find anyone to put up the fifty thousand pound bail!”

  I have to admit I did feel sorry for Dan Forrester but I was even more worried that the regular ‘brown paper lubricants’ we had paid remain secret or we might all be sweating it out in a prison cell with him.

  That night I started the nightmares again.

  The next day Connie had more or less calmed down and I telephoned our new bank manager Raines Bullock to apologise for her outburst hoping to arrange another meeting to resolve the situation.

  The conversation was polite but short “I fully understand,” he cooed smoothly “but you must also understand that the bank wants its money back and you have one month to repay in full!”

  I suppose I should have expected the reaction, none the less I responded indignantly “Of course I understand and I’m already making the necessary arrangements,” adding defiantly “my lawyer will contact you in due course. Good morning.” Only just managing to suppress my seething anger, I took a couple of deep breaths and deliberately replaced the receiver.

  A little later in the morning Clifford Latham telephoned as promised. “I must meet with you, I may have a solution.”

  Clifford was full of enthusiasm when we met. “Funny old world isn’t it, one scheme gets kicked into touch just as another drops into your lap!”

  Clifford Latham spent some time detailing his new ideas. There were two streams of funding. The first was the Government grant scheme, at that time very few hotels had en-suite rooms and the grant was intended to up-grade hotels to meet changing standards and the ‘Hotel refurbishing grant’ was made available to hotels in the Capital seeking to up grade their establishments.

  “The grant is not really intended for hotel development” Clifford pointed out “but I’m advised that with the right paperwork we can make a case for the refurbishing of your current properties.”

  Clifford slid a sheet of printed-paper across to me. “The application has to be endorsed by one of a list of approved assessors.”

  One name had a circle around it. “This particular person would be the one to use.” Clifford Latham winked and raised his eyebrows.

  “Do I detect another brown envelope situation?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Put it this way with the right paper trail there is a substantial sum of almost free money available.” He looked at me quizzically.

  It turned out that the application would have to be accompanied by audited accounts, a business plan and an assessment by one of the authorised adjudicators on the list. It transpired that for and agreed fee a certain Donald Sylvester was a very amenable adjudicator.

  “Even with the grant in place however we still have to find another investor” Clifford Latham smiled, he was enjoying himself “and I have the ear of a ‘Venture Capitalist’ willing to invest in the right hotel project” he pushed a glossy prospectus across the desk “Venture Capitalists are usually very greedy however this group are quite reasonable but they still look for around twenty-five percent of the equity.” Clifford pushed another sheet of printed-paper towards me.

  I looked at it briefly “Do we get the opportunity to buy their share back?”

  “Absolutely, it costs though but that is where they look to make their profit. The other thing to remember of course is that if all goes well and they like what you are doing, they are in a position to invest further funds into your expansion.”

  I was delighted in-spite of the fact that I was going to have to pay another bribe, I felt as though an impossible weight had been lifted from my shoulders and best of all I was going to be able to tell that smug little prick at the bank what he could do with the account.

  When I finished explaining it all to Connie later that afternoon, she also expressed her distaste of the bribery situation. “I wonder if we should ask Stan what he thinks, after all he is a Chartered Accountant and I’m sure he would want to help.”

  We had worked with Stan to create the original business plan and establish our accounting procedures for the internal controls for the hotel but strangely had never thought to consult him on the capital financing of the properties. “How come you always seem to have the brightest ideas?” I hugged her. “He may also have some ideas as to where we find the cash for the bribe because in this case we can’t simply add it to the loan?”

  The next morning I telephoned Max Harris to tell him our problem with the bank and ask him if it was okay to seek Stan’s advice. Stan was Max’s man now and I had no intention of upsetting Max.

  “Of course you can talk to Stan.” Max assured me. “I don’t own him you know.”

  I did know but I also knew Max’s attitude could have been very different had I not spoken to him first.

  “Anyway, is this something I can help with?” Max queried genuinely.

  “It may very well be but I would like to explore all the technical aspects of some funding ideas and then I will have another chat with you. Is that okay?”

  “Of course, just let me know how you get on.” Max assured me that he was ‘there for us’ whenever we wanted.

  Stan sat in silence as I detailed the current situation and the new funding idea put forward by Clifford Latham.

  When I finished he stroked his beard and scanned the papers on the desk. “Hm, hm,” mumbled a couple of times. “Made a bit of a balls of this lot my son, haven’t you?” He looked up in horror at Connie “Apologies my dear a slip of the tongue” he smiled cheekily. “In short” he continued waving a piece of paper “you have managed to buy three properties and convert them into ‘The City Express’ hotel and have bought another and all but completed it with only around forty thousand pounds of your own money?”

  I felt a bit like a naught schoolboy; I nodded slowly, unsure of weather Stan’s attitude was approved or disdain.

  “Bloody marvellous,” he eventually exclaimed and looked up at us in genuine admiration “but I can see where you have gone wrong, you see banks hate people like you, in-spite of the fact that it is people precisely like you who make the world go round and in turn feed those greedy bankers.”

  “So what should we do?” I asked hopefully.

  “I think I know but I will need some time to work out a proper re-capitalisation schedule and another business plan for you.” Stan sat back. “I’ll need a couple of days.”

  As Stan stood up Connie stepped forward and hugged him. “Oh thank you Stan” there were tears in her eyes “I thought we were about to loose everything.”

  “Hey steady there young lady,” Stan looked embarrassed, but gently embraced her in return “we’ll fix it don’t you worry young lady,” he patted her comfortingly “don’t you worry” he repeated, turned and left the office.

  Chapter 19 - Marcus

  We met again two days later at Stan’s own ‘office’ as he called it; which was in fact the dining room of his flat, allowing him to work around the clock if he wanted to; we knew that he certainly regularly worked in the middle of the night wh
en he was often denied sleep by the reoccurring memories of his long dead family.

  Stan hadn’t changed much in appearance since his decision to accept Max’s invitation to run his accounts and to leave his nomadic life on ‘the road’, he still had the flowing white ‘Father Christmas’ beard and hair though it was immaculately groomed these days and his clothing was infinitely smarter.

  As I entered the room I noticed his old pram wedged against the far wall discreetly covered with a plaid blanket. I had an instant vision of Stan pushing it along the riverbank and thought how things in life can so easily change and what strange little incidents are usually responsible.

  Stan invited us to sit and without preamble asked “Right now I have to tell you that I have already had a bit of a word with Max about all of this. I didn’t think you would mind,” he didn’t wait for a reply “so tell me, what do you think the bank do, if you don’t repay them on the required date?”

  “Foreclose I suppose?” I replied without giving much thought to my reply.

  “Hm,” Stan stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Okay so tell me something else, I always understood that you were going to build a great empire, of state of the art budget hotels?”

  “That’s the plan, why?” I wondered what he was leading up to.

  “It’s just that you have strapped yourself with a massive debt trying to convert these old buildings which and with respect, even when they are completed will still be old buildings” he raised his shoulders “and not the hotel of your dreams?”

  “You’re right of course but we believed this was the only economic way we could achieve our aims or at least start them off.”

  “Okay I understand that but I still think you are going down the wrong road. If you want purpose built budget hotel rooms, then that and nothing else, is what you should be aiming at.” Stan looked at me and smiled broadly. “If the bank wants to foreclose let them. I bet they’ll regret it,” he started writing some notes “let’s see, first of all they’ll have to either sell the unfinished site or complete it; agreed?” Stan looked at his notes. “Of course the other thing you could do is to file for bankruptcy, that way they loose control and we, that is Max could make a deal with the receiver to buy the project back at a knock down price.” Stan seemed pleased with himself.