The American Broker Read online

"Did you call earlier - about one hour ago?"

  "Yes...."

  "I said to Violet: 'That's John calling from England, you see if I'm not right.' That's crazy isn't it, John? Crazy... but great to hear your voice. You know it's...ah...two o'clock over here in downtown Santeno and all the good people are tucked up. All the bad people are fucked up!" Bob laughed. "Hey, what's new in your world, John? Violet says you got something going on. You thought this crazy son-of-a-bitch was mad. Well, you ain't seen nothin' yet. This world's a foul place for the likes of you an' me, John. I've been out of pocket for a while. Some folk from your Revenue Department were after my balls but what you ain't got you can't lose!" He carried on laughing. "Oh shit!" he remarked, joyfully, at his own humour. "What can I do for you?"

  Finally, Tyler got a word in. "Bob. Thought I'd call to see how things were with you," he started, weakly. "Now that Chris is free he wanted to try and patch things up with you and try and bring some good out of all the problems."

  "Fine. You just tell him to get his ass over here and Violet and me can find him a bed in this delightful littl' ol' pad of ours here. How's that little lady of yours? Sally, isn't it?"

  "She's OK, Bob.", then returning to the subject; "I don't know if he can get over to the States - can you get here?"

  "I'd love to see you all again - you know that, John," said Bob, "but a little bird tells me that I might still have a problem with your Revenue Department. You listen to me, John. All that shit we've been through for this programme. I've been blacked. I've been jailed. I've been livin' off a dime and no asshole's going to put me through that again. Everyone wants to get paid. 'Where's my commission?!' I'm telling you, John, I'm through with it. If anyone wants to know how to do these programmes they'd better put their money on the table. I'm not going to take any more of this shit. You tell Chris to get his ass on a plane and stop whining. I don't lie, John. Those shits in the banks - they lie - they steal - d'you hear that - steal their depositors' money. Every day, every night, every week, every goddam month. Day, night, day, night! You all think I can do these things yesterday! I don't know when the job will get done. I don't know if it's this Tuesday, next Tuesday or two years Tuesday. I'm not playing games or putting my ass on the line for anyone. Not you, not Chris, not Brian, not George, not Michaelis. I've got the paper, John. I've done it. Did you hear that? I - have - done - it!! You don't believe it, huh? You bet your sweet ass you don't. I have over twenty million dollars in transfer today, t-o-d-a-y, and no-one will get to it until I am ready and..."

  "Bloody hell, Bob!" shouted Tyler. It was vintage Bob, slowly working himself into a frenzy as his voice rose higher and higher. "All I wanted..."

  "John, you're a beautiful guy. You and Chris. You're both beautiful...I just shout at the world. What d'you expect at 2 am in the morning? Shit! You'd think I really was a crazy Jew if I didn't yell at you, wouldn't you?"

  "OK, Bob. OK. Take it easy or you'll burst a blood vessel. I'll try and get Chris to call. He's 'out of pocket', as you would say, at the moment.

  "John. I've got about twenty dollars to last the year out! If you can send me a ticket from one of those agencies you've got over there I can tie up with Chris anywhere. Zurich's best but put it into your computer and call me back."

  Tyler put the phone down and rubbed his left ear. It had been a while since the days when that sort of conversation had been an everyday occurrence and, even now, he felt totally confused. "The man's mad." was all he could say, shaking his head and wondering how he could get hold of Chris.

  Chapter X Plans

  He didn't have to wonder long. An Opel Monza pulled up outside. The doorbell rang.

  "Chris!" exclaimed Tyler, beaming from ear to ear. "Come on in, mate!"

  "No, John. Just grab a jacket; I've got a surprise for you."

  Tyler was used to Chris Austin's little dramas and was prepared to save his own for a while. He returned a few seconds later and jumped into Chris's car. "Thought you were going to sell this," he said.

  "Oh, I haven't had a chance yet. It's done 126000 now and still going strong. I'm sort of attached to it. Much better since I had the brakes done and the front shocks replaced!"

  "You can say that again - like riding in a boat, it was, that time we went up to London. God knows how you got it through the MOT! Anyway, what's all this surprise stuff?"

  "Well, John. You remember how we always said that we ought to get everyone together and try and work out a way of getting Bob to come clean...."

  "Yeah..."

  "Well that's what we're going to do. I got in touch with a few of the old crowd and, well, wait and see..."

  "What... Mike?"

  "Wait and see, John."

  "Paul?"

  "In a moment."

  "How about money?"

  They pulled up outside a pub. Chris left the engine running long enough for the electric windows to close, then switched off. He followed Tyler into the small country inn they had got to know very well in the past. "Smells the same as ever", laughed Tyler as they negotiated awkwardly the entrance doors and walked into the red carpeted lounge bar.

  "Mike! Hey, great to see you again!" called Tyler. A handsome Greek theatrically waved an arm towards a group sitting in the corner. "And Paul - what, you still in business?"

  "My business is always in business, John," said the gruff, grey-haired Pole as he stood up and grasped Tyler by the hand. Chris brought a couple of gins over the table and sat down. Michaelis Ziparis sat on his left and smiled gently. He sipped an orange juice. Looking as neat as ever, shirt and trousers pressed to perfection and with short, tidy hair even blacker, if anything, than several years earlier, he was still trying to get his own film into production and had never lost contact with Chris despite the extraordinary change in their fortunes. A direct, intelligent, lean man of considerable artistic talent, he had a personal score to settle with Robert Lindon that was nothing to do with money. He was a proud man and seldom made mistakes. But he had fallen for the American's promises and had never forgiven himself for the consequent downfall of Chris who had almost adoringly followed his advice.

  Next to Michaelis was Paul Livingstone, a large, noisy man of Polish origin in his late fifties. No one really knew what he did with his time. He owned some properties in London and rented them out, Robert Lindon being one of his tenants for a short while. He had lost little money to the American but he had spent a lot of time ferrying the man around and had always helped him whenever asked. He had responded to Chris's call immediately with: "About time, too, young man. If you'd listened to me long ago we could have finished the business before you got hurt." Not the brightest around, maybe, but solid and dependable and with no fear whatsoever. He maintained that he had killed, and could again, with his bare hands and did so with an ominous lack of feeling or conscience.

  Opposite Paul sat Brian Hawkins who looked up a little shamefacedly at Tyler. A chubby little man, only his bright blue eyes hinted that his age was actually fifteen years less than the sixty he looked. John Tyler looked at him and the smile sank. "So you're still around too - what's this fellow doing here, Chris?" Tyler didn't like Brian Hawkins.

  "Cool it, John," said Chris. "Brian's OK. He's done all he can to cover my involvement, backed me up and he's put up some cash for this exercise..."

  "What the hundred and fifty thousand he owes you?" asked Tyler, sarcastically. "Clever of you to wind up that warehouse of yours just before the receiver came, wasn't it?"

  "As a matter of fact, John, it was the only sensible thing I could do - for all our sakes. I would have been just another broken man. What's the use in that? Chris knows I have always accepted that I must repay the pension fund loan. He helped me in the past - we both misunderstood things - that man Bob is responsible for my losing everything else. You need some expertise and I've got some useful knowledge. If you don't want me...."

  "Hold it, Brian." interrupted Chris. "John, he's right - the others had the same feeling to start with, but we
're all in the same boat really. Brian just managed to hold out better than we did."

  "OK. OK. It's past now I suppose." said Tyler. "I just don't know what to believe any more."

  Brian Hawkins held out a hand and smiled at Tyler. Tyler wiped his hand on his jeans and reach out to shake the other.

  "Friends?" queried Hawkins.

  "You're a cunning old devil, Brian," said Tyler, "but I'll give it a go with you and see!"

  The other members of the strange association were Evelyn Bryant and Gill Chalmers. Evelyn Bryant was a youthful fifty-eight, fit and strong, a close friend of Chris for nearly ten years. Bryant was a natural survivor. A charming man who knew how to entertain and who loved women. He would fall in love at a glance and there was a common love of life that was a bond that had held Chris Austin and him together throughout, despite gaps of months between meetings in the past year or two. Tyler knew Bryant well and also guessed correctly that he had put up some cash - or, more accurately, had undertaken to meet such food and good wine expenses as he could get away with on his gold American Express card for subsequent reimbursement through his company. He had kept his new post as a partner in Pimlico Marketing a quiet secret and had been the only one of the old group to find any success in the aftermath of its collapse.

  Gill Chalmers was an unknown quantity to Tyler. He never trusted women - particularly Chris Austin's women - and, to date, had been pretty accurate in his judgement. Twenty-four, slim, dark straight hair and with a dark, Italian-looking complexion, Tyler's first impression was of a very attractive young lady. "Gill, you've heard about John. Well, meet the real thing!" said Chris. "John - Gill."

  "Hullo there Gill." Tyler didn't let impressions get to him, nodded towards her, and was about to take a sip of his drink when the girl spoke. Placing her black leather handbag on the table and folding the thin strap gently round it, she leaned over to Tyler, placing a slender hand on his arm. The unnoticeable pressure made his hand return to the table where his glass rested, still in his fingers. Tyler spotted the neat amethyst and diamond flower-shaped ring on her right hand.

  "Don't worry, John. I'm going. I just wanted to see if you were really as bad as Chris had made out!"

  An honest smile flashed across her face and her eyes shone. Glancing at Chris she got up. "I always said women should never be allowed in pubs!" joked Tyler, a touch uncertain of her relationship with Chris. Evelyn had stood up at the same time and kissed her on the cheek then she walked round to Chris. As she did so her dark blue dress moved as if some silent breeze had caught it and the long pleats shimmered in elongated 'S' shapes from the controlled light band under her breast down to the wilder movement at the hem. She leaned against Chris with both arms resting lazily on his shoulders, kissing him daintily on the lips twice. "Please take care - and listen to them this time. Remember 'I told you so'"

  "I..."

  She put a finger on his lips. He kissed it innocently then realised the inference and a faint smile turned into a rare proper smile. Chris tended to show emotion mainly just with his clear, blue eyes. They could, and had, entranced many a girl not initially attracted by his fairly ordinary appearance but one look would speak volumes, quite disconcertingly so, on many an occasion. At several other meetings in the past Chris would have been forced to divide his attention between the work in hand and the female company that his colleagues would have preferred to have been absent but that he had stubbornly insisted stayed. Evelyn, Tyler and Michaelis, in particular, were pleased to note that he seemed to have learned a little since then. Gill left with a wave to everyone and the six men were alone. Introductions and a notable farewell over, Chris got straight to the point.

  "Someone somewhere owes us half a million and a few favours. I don't propose to spend the rest of my life haunted by two hundred and eighty pensioners who think I've screwed up their retirement plans. Nor do I propose to carry on living on bread and water whilst someone in the States is sipping cocktails in the sun. Nobody's going to hand over any money, it would be naive to think that, but we can find out the truth. Where did it go? Who spent what? We can obtain statements and evidence enough to set the record straight. These buggers are alive and still bringing in money from somewhere. Why can't we have a share of their income? Some have got good brains and good contacts. Let's use them and maybe even make a few bob in the process. But, more than anything, they cannot be allowed merely to forget it ever happened. I don't know how we are going to do it and we'll need a team to plan everything. I must make one thing absolutely clear, though: last time I was Chairman or whatever and we got in a mess - this time I'll take a back seat and do as I'm told. I'll soon shout if I don't like it!"

  Chris had lost none of his verbal control. The tone of his voice was hard but not harsh. He conveyed the sense of frustration that everyone had felt and, above all, a determination not to sit back and let it go on. Despite his own admission of past failure - probably due just as much to others' inability to confront him on an issue successfully as due to his own waywardness - tended to enhance rather than to destroy the faith others had in him. He desperately needed results, though, and he would get none on his own. He needed people around him and a cause to fight for. The great injustice of Bob persuading him to hand over thousands of pounds of other people's money and then being totally unable to account for it and the reimbursement of his own excessive spending in the same period was the cause. He just needed the people. Tyler looked around.

  "Is it OK, here?"

  "No one can hear us and Mike's agreed to let us carry on this afternoon when he closes." said Evelyn.

  "Great." said Tyler. "Look, count me in on whatever you're doing - as long as that bastard is made to understand what he's done. I can't give you any money but you know I'll do whatever I can," he continued. "and I'd have gone after him a long time ago, myself.

  "We did, once or twice, John," said Chris, "and look where it got us. We were amateurs playing a professional game. We still are but there's a lot more in our favour now. We know that going cap in hand to Bob or his friends won't work. We know not to ask for outside help, either," he added ruefully. "We haven't got staff worrying in the office now, or police investigating every move we make..."

  "But we have got someone on our tails," interrupted Tyler, who went on to explain his extraordinary experience earlier in the day. The others listened in silence.

  "We had expected a move against Chris or, maybe, myself," said Michaelis seriously, "but, of course, we did knot know that you would also be so resourceful and go looking for trouble yourself, John."

  "We want them to believe that Chris is still staying in Newbury for a while. That's why Chris gave you the number. It's a house in Bancroft Road on that estate. The girl..." He jerked his head towards the door Gill Chalmers had gone out earlier, "... has rented it and is going to make it known that Chris is shacked up there with her. Chris has been around a few times and should have been noticed by now. And the way people like Collette Turner, June Franklin and Harry Gordon will gossip, he might as well put up a notice on the door saying 'here I am, come and get me'!"

  "Damn!" shouted Chris. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, John, I mean thanks for trying to find me and all that but we are going to have to be more careful with what we do with you now if you're not going to be put away for manslaughter or something. That would suit these guys that are after me down to the ground. Actually, I think the quicker we get ourselves sorted out and out of harm's way, the better."

  "Who do you think it is that's after you, Chris?" asked Evelyn.

  "I don't know, Evelyn. I used to joke about being done in but it looks pretty real from what John says. It just doesn't sound professional enough for any of the big boys - or someone protecting some information I don't even know I've got in the first place. It's a pretty chancy thing, taking pot shots at someone in the dark with the front of a car, for heaven's sake."

  "No." Michaelis had been staring at the ceiling while Chris was talking. "There's a group
- or maybe just someone - who wants to kill Chris or badly injure him - enough to shut him up for good. They find out where he's staying. They see that someone got run over a few weeks ago and try to do the same thing. That way they can stand a good chance of it being linked with the first one and no one will think that much more of it. Do it another way and they create a direct link to themselves one way or another. Doing a few others first makes sense, you know - and they will have another go soon."

  "You mean that someone else is going to get run down?" queried Brian Hawkins.

  "Yes." stated Michaelis.

  "Jesus!" exclaimed Brian.

  "What the hell else can we do?" Chris came in again. "If we go to the police and tell them then I'm still in danger John's right in the shit - they'll make certain of that. We've got to do something now and I reckon we leave them to play with themselves in Newbury and get the hell after Bob."

  "He's right," said Evelyn. "One false move and you're buggered John. If they're anything to do with the New York mob the police'll be on your doorstep as soon as any one of us contacts Bob or looks like making waves for anyone over there."

  "I'm not sure Bob has got that sort of connections," said Paul. "I know we all hate the man's guts and Chris fell into some pretty nasty people's hands last year but that was of his own making. Those people would have finished you off by now if they'd wanted to - and," turning to Michaelis, "they wouldn't put down a guy with a car or worry about impressions. Find you - bang - you're out! That's their style. No frigging around an estate at four in the morning for weeks." He had, with his chubby fist, thumped the table at the end of each sentence to emphasise the points.

  "Who else, Chris, has got a grudge against you?" asked Brian. "Enough to have a go but not smart enough to do it in other than the thick-headed way we're seeing."

  "...apart from June Franklin's husband and a few others I can think of!" joked Tyler.

  "Harry Gordon would be a lot happier if you were away," said Evelyn. "He called a while ago and tried to get me to take you to Greece. Scared stiff about his own skin, he was. With you out of the country he could happily blame you for everything and get away with it. Keith had a go at him as usual and reminded him that you had actually saved his bacon already by taking the rap for those dockers' pensions..."