by Ellis Major
There was a collective groan. “Blighter’s made it,” the Duke sighed grimly. “Bugger!”
This conclusion appeared to be one at which George had also arrived. Though George was still some distance ahead of Hank’s contretemps the noise of the crash was hard to miss. He turned, crouched down and looked back. Shots were still coming from Hank’s companion, but they were way over his head, largely sheltered as he was by the dipping terrain.
George looked up at the distant assemblage of Land Rovers and, having used both hands to wave two fingers in their general direction, turned and trotted on towards the road.
“I’m going to have to move,” moaned Roddy. “Shit!”
“Well the fox sometimes gets away doesn’t it,” Charlie mumbled. After all, George didn’t know where he lived…
“But Charlie, dear, foxes can’t talk and don’t have nasty friends,” Cora pointed out.
Charlie looked glum. The whole thing was pretty miserable. One thing he’d always remembered his father saying was that if you’re going to do a job, do it properly.
The Duke still had his binoculars trained on George as if by doing so he could will him to die of a heart attack. “Twenty yards” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Then, a shot! It came from the rearmost Land Rover, and an astonished ejaculation emerged from the Duke, somewhere between a choke and a laugh, George went down and was still.
“Well I’m jiggered,” the Duke gasped. “Never seen anything like it. A head shot on a moving target at eight hundred yards.”
He turned. Lance was handing a battered, Second World War Lee Enfield rifle back to one of the elderly gamekeepers. The gamekeeper was not a man who smiled regularly. That much was obvious from the strange angles at which his wrinkles were creased. He was also shaking Lance’s hand vigorously.
“Lance?” Charlie muttered. “I suppose he was in the Army, but even so.”
“Well done Lance,” the Duke called out. “You’ve saved the house of Kirkness! You’ll never buy another bottle of Scotch as long as you live.” He strode over as an admiring crowd began to form.
Lance merely smiled faintly and muttered about how he couldn’t see a bastard drug dealer get away. Roddy went very pale when he heard those words, especially when the comment seemed so popular.
The Duke and Duchess were both gracious and very grateful. Even Cora was serious as the Duke, having shaken hands, cleared his throat and made his declaration.
“Lance Savage,” he announced. “Henceforth, the House of Kirkness is in your eternal debt. I and my Clan will answer your calls whenever and wherever they may come and no matter how often they may come. This is my oath and an oath I make on behalf of my entire Clan, bound as they are to me by their ties of blood and fealty. This day will never be forgotten so long as the Clan Kirkness shall exist.”
Such was the tone in which his words were delivered and such was the solemnity with which they were greeted by all the Duke’s people, especially Cora, who was nodding approvingly, her piercing blue eyes ablaze with some half mediaeval light, that Lance’s throwaway remark about a couple of cases of Scotch being all he wanted died in his throat.
Even if he had thought of one, Charlie wouldn’t have made a joke. He was glad it was done with and wanted to put the whole thing out of his mind. He could see this was a solemn moment, although the thought occurred to him that, with all his resources, the Duke would be a handy aristocrat to have at your beck and call. He wondered for a moment if Lance might end up working on the Estate in some capacity. He hoped not. It was only five minutes since Mary had gone.
~~
For some unaccountable reason, Roddy decided to fly back, rather than take a lift with Charlie and Lance. Geoff, however, was delighted to cadge a ride. The other option was the horsebox and Lady Boston departed at some absurdly early rural hour.
It hadn’t been seen as terribly politic to discuss what Roddy could do to replace his earnings from dealing. On the journey back Geoff mentioned a possible opportunity that his lawyer, of all people, had mentioned. Geoff had talked to this august personage, amongst others, once the decision was made to find a way for Roddy to clean up his life – or aspects of it at least.
“I was casting the net as wide as I could,” Geoff explained not a little sheepishly. “I was rather surprised to hear from him, although he wouldn’t tell me anything about it. It might be a waste of time for all of us. But he was most insistent that this was exactly the sort of business proposition that would suit my temperament and inclinations and, he thought, the type of people I mix with.”
Lance, behind the wheel, remained impassive but Charlie, although raising an eyebrow, welcomed the fact that an idea had come from somewhere. “It would be a shame to help out, and find all this effort was a complete waste of time,” he said. “And it was pretty sick to watch.”
“Not a complete waste of time,” Lance grunted. “There’s five less drug rats in the world.”
“Seeing all that and shooting one of them doesn’t knock you back does it,” Charlie wondered, very tentatively.
Lance shook his head. “Killing the enemy never worried me,” he said. “It wasn’t pretty what happened I know, Charlie, but you wanted to help Roddy sort these people out. Job done, right. Let’s take away some positives. We had some fun, I got to see the Duke again, you got to meet Cora - and he’s given me a fucking huge amount of Scotch.”
Charlie cast a look over his shoulder. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, although I do hope those boxes next to Geoff aren’t going to leave dents in the leather.”
Chapter 5 - Charlie Helps Out (Year 1 – August)
“How many cases did he give you in the end? I lost count.” Charlie was surveying part of Lance’s reward. Six cases of the Kirkness single malt were stacked up in the kitchen but Charlie knew there’d been more than that.
“Ten,” Lance told him. “And as soon as I’ve finished these I’m to e-mail him and he’ll have their truck drop off another case when they make the next London delivery.”
Charlie laughed. “Even you are going to take a while to work through a hundred and twenty bottles.”
“I’ll give a few cases to the Regiment. They taught me to shoot. Least I can do.”
“So were you a sniper then, in your previous life?”
“I was good enough to have been, but it’s not what officers do. I did a bit of it when a couple of ours got picked off but that was only temporary.”
“Say you hadn’t blown his head off. Do you think the Duke would really have let him get away?”
Lance nodded. “Very honourable man, the Duke. Whether some of his retainers would have been the same I don’t know. They were very cagey about it, for all they were pleased with me. I doubt if George would have made it, Charlie – there would have been too much at stake.”
“But best it was all done cleanly. Those Texans could have been worrying themselves silly all the way back to their oil wells.”
“Yes,” said Lance drily. “And we wouldn’t want them doing that.”
“It was all a bit heavy that oath business, though. I certainly felt he meant it.”
“I’m sure he did Charlie. I agree. I thought it was all a bit over the top when I was doing no more than what had to be done, but the traditions are all very different up there.”
“Hey,” Charlie laughed. “I’m sure he’s a useful guy to call on if you ever need to.” He waved a postcard. “Perhaps he could help out Rowena somehow.”
“I think the Duke had in mind some sort of cavalry charge rather than handing out cash, Charlie. You have cash, sunshine, even more than him for all I know. What’s the card? Is it from Mary and Georgie?”
“Yes. The light of love shows no sign of dimming and she says she’s written to Rowena to explain, so we might get a call.”
“For help or just a sympathetic ear?”
“I don’t know, Lance. I can offer both. So the only cloud on the horizon at the moment is getting Roddy
out of that stinking business.”
“Yeah. Still no idea what this person wants, the one Geoff is bringing along?”
Charlie grimaced. “Not a clue. Geoff wants us to hear it for ourselves.”
“He’s certainly in a hurry. We’ve only been back a couple of days.”
“The only impression I do get is that there’s some time pressure. What time’s the meeting Lance?”
“Fourteen hundred hours.”
“Right you are Captain.”
~~
Geoff had instructed Charlie to clear his dining room table so the meeting could be held around it. Geoff wanted to appear business-like whatever the proposal or the outcome. At about ten to two, Roddy arrived, no better informed than Charlie or Lance. Having concluded that Lance wasn’t going to blow his head off, break his neck or brain him with a bottle of Scotch, Roddy kept a safe distance and joined in the fruitless speculation until, bang on two, Geoff buzzed.
He ushered in a short, blonde woman and introduced her as Barbara Reading. She was smartly dressed in a dark trouser suit, with her hair pulled up behind her head. She had a cheerful, cheeky round face and, from what could be discerned beneath her business suit, looked to be shapely and attractive. She appeared to be in her late thirties.
“My lawyer wouldn’t tell me anything about it and nor would Barbara,” Geoff explained. “This may be a waste of time for all of us. But like I’ve told you lot, he swears it’s right up my street.”
“Unusually nice of him,” Roddy said. “You’re always saying he’s a snotty shit with a stick up his arse.”
It did occur to Charlie that Geoff’s lawyer might be playing some elaborate legal joke on his less than respected client – for whom he acted only out of fear of Geoff’s father. Barbara Reading, however, had the appearance of someone who might have something serious to say.
“Perhaps we could make a start,” he suggested. “If Barbara’s ready.”
Barbara nodded. “I am.” She had a highish, but not unpleasant, voice and an accent redolent of the easterly part of London via not much of an effort at self-improvement.
She smiled and handed round copies of a set of property particulars to which floor plans were attached.
Charlie squinted at the photograph. There was something vaguely familiar about it.
“This ‘ahse, 15 Dumbarton Row, is the proposed site of The Mayfair Academy of Modern Morals,” she announced.
“Of course,” Charlie exclaimed. “I know this place. It’s just around the corner.”
There were nods and grunts of recognition from his two companions.
“Been empty for years,” Charlie remarked.
“Exacterly,” Barbara confirmed. “It’s a free’old and the owners thought they were smarter than they are – bleedin’ developers!” The acid in her voice would have burned holes in Charlie’s table. “Like a lot of smallish free’olds in Mayfair, this has a mixed planning consent, part office, part residential. Usually, the top floor or two will be residential an’ the rest office, about 75:25 office to residential, but this is abaht 50:50. It’s also ‘Listed’. The developers thought they’d get permission to change it all to office, or at worst, a lot more office, but they didn’t look at the plans or use their bleedin’ brains. You can’t make any changes to the residential part an’ still comply with the ‘Listing’ so they’re buggered. No-one else ‘as been interested in takin’ it on, wiv the problems it ‘as, at the price they’ve bin asking.”
Barbara paused and glanced around her audience. Three sets of dazed eyes and slightly open mouths greeted her survey. The fourth guy seemed to be staring into another dimension. Was she wasting her time? Undaunted, she pressed on.
“However, I have found ‘aht that the developers are in trouble - I ‘appen to know someone at the bank - and we would get first dibbs.” She smiled thinly.
“The bank wants a quick sale to cover their security and if the developers don’t agree then the bank, wiv a little push from me, will whack ‘em into Administration or Liquidation and we can pick it up then. Got ter move fairly fast tho’.”
Much of what she had been saying was completely outside Charlie’s experience or comprehension, but he had got her general drift.
“So you can grab this place for a song?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed.
“How much, exactly?” Charlie felt this was a clever question to ask, although he hadn’t thought much about what he would do with the information once he had it.
She mentioned a figure and, although it meant nothing to Charlie, he felt that he’d showed considerable business acumen in asking once Roddy and Geoff reacted. They both gasped with surprise and wanted to be sure that they hadn’t misheard.
Barbara repeated the figure. “It’s a bleedin’ good price,” she told them. “Pardon my language, by the way.”
“And so.” Charlie thought he was getting the hang of this venture capital game. “You want to buy this place and turn it into a finishing school for girls.”
Barbara found this question highly amusing. She laughed out loud, a deep throaty cackle.
“Ner. Do I sahnd like a bleedin’ teacher?”
Charlie thought it politic not to respond directly and ummed a little. Possibly in a state school…
“Then what do you have in mind?” Geoff asked her. “I think Charlie assumed from the name you mentioned earlier that…”
“Just my little bit o’ fun. This will be a very select club for men of taste and discernment – in short an ‘orehouse, wiv a bar an’ a restront dahnstairs as a bit of a frunt.”
She took in the various expressions on the faces of those around the table. They were considerably less dazed, although the mouths were rather more open than before. Lance was frowning.
“Nah, we ‘ave to be careful ‘ow we dress it all up, because there are lots of legal issues in wot we’re talkin abaht ‘ere, but we’ve got enough rooms on the residential floors to use as exotic ‘boudoirs’. We can ‘ave the bar and restront on the grahnd floor, kitchens dahn in the basement an’ areas on the first floor for private functions, exotic dancin’, special shows an’ the like.”
Barbara paused and produced some further printed material from her smart executive briefcase.
“I’ve got profit forecasts, cash flows yer can look at an’ I’ve ‘ad someone knock up some visuals so yer can see what I’ve got in mind.”
She handed a copy to each of her prospective investors.
“Nah, yer need to ‘ear more abaht me, so yer know ‘oo yer gettin’ inter bed wiv, so ter speak.” She smiled and fixed her gaze on Geoff. “I’ve been on the game for the best part of twenny years. I’ve done ok, worked lots ‘o places, some not so far from ‘ere as a matter of fact. I know wot do or don’t work an’ it’s all abaht the feel of the place. A bloke feels ‘e’s in a knockin’ shop, the girls don’t speak English, it’s all rushed, ferget it. Yer need a nice feel, the girls are relaxed because they’re not screwin’ all the time and you can charge a bleedin’ fortune because you limit the supply. One fing I’ve learned is that the more ‘exclusive’ summink is, the more people will pay fer it. In the Academy, I reckon on the top two floors we need four reelly unusual, classy women, ‘oo might only work two or free nights, wiv just the one client a night. Then you ‘ave some other girls ‘oo are a bit cheaper, who work the private function rooms.”
She stood up.
“That’s it. Simple enuff. Nah, yer need to think abaht it fer a bit. I can keep the banker ‘appy fer a few days yet, but I want ter do this club so I need ter know soon, so I can chase up some uvver options if yer not inerested. I can run it all, train the girls, staff the bar an’ the restaurant, I just need to put the money together ter do it. I doan wanner borrow because if a bank gets wind of wot’s goin’ on it might pull its loan. I might need sum ‘elp with findin’ the top class ‘ores but that’s it. You lot could ‘elp wiv that I reckon. I’m fed up with not bein’ able to chose ‘oo I screw. Geoffre
y ‘ere told me yer a broad-minded lot lookin’ fer a chance to make a lotta bunce. This is it.”
She picked up her briefcase and walked around to stand next to Geoff.
“Nah, Geoffrey, I fink yer the man to test my bona fides. In the next ‘arf hour I’ll show yer wot standard the girls will reach once I’ve trained ‘em.”
Geoff spluttered. “Well I’m sure that...”
“Geoffrey, its nuffink personal, just to prove a point.” Barbara told him. “It’s business, but the idea is yer see how much pleasure business can give yer.” She laughed that same throaty laugh again. “Yer must ‘ave a spare room ‘ere, Charlie.”
“Er, yes,” muttered Charlie. “Second on the left.”
Geoff eyed Barbara and started to rise. “Well if you guys...” he began.
“We’ll freshen up the pot once you’ve finished,” Charlie told him.
~~~
Geoff had a rather dazed look in his eyes when he joined them once more.
“Tea, Geoff or something a bit stronger?” Charlie asked politely.
Geoff emitted a long sigh. “Tea’s fine Charlie.”
Charlie did the honours with the tea whilst Geoff stared into the middle distance. “Quite extraordinary,” he said, faintly.
“Geoff, it’s all very well for you to sit there sighing like some teenager whose broken his duck, but we need to consider the business proposition.” Roddy appeared quite piqued that Geoff had been selected in his place, and distinctly jealous of the outcome.
“I must have a word with Camilla,” Geoff murmured to himself, seemingly oblivious to Roddy’s words.
“Wakey, wakey,” Charlie cried. “What you and your fiancée want to discuss about beefing up the bonking is not exactly relevant. She might think you’re carrying business a bit far too.”
