CHAPTER SIX
Vic Dart wasn’t your bottom of the rung gangster; he had built up a fearsome reputation in and around the East End. He was definitely old school, respect had to be earned over time or if you managed to get on the wrong side of him, then pretty quickly.
He controlled an army of loyal followers and he knew the way to keep them sweet was to be generous in rewards. But he was no mug; his motto was kindness with discretion, too kind was seen as a weakness and a little flashy, too mean and you were going to have to spend most of your time recruiting.
Vic was in the backroom of the King George in Greenwich, he was busy getting fitted up for a new suit. He didn’t see the need to head to Saville Row, they should come to him; he paid them enough.
“Look Charlie, I know what I like, it’s got to look better than a Kiton but I’m not paying those kind of prices and I’m not flying a bloomin’ tailor in from Naples either.”
The flustered tailor was sweating and pandering around the fairly bulky frame of Vic, the product of many years of good living. He had the stockiness of a bare knuckle boxer and in his early days he had never lost a fight.
“As you wish Mr. Dart, “ came back the fussy reply.
“Just call me Vic will you Charlie for Christ’s sake, I’ve known you long enough to dispense with the yes sir, no sir crap.”
“Yes Mr. D ... Vic,” he added a little nervously. Vic always put the tailor on edge. He’d been manhandled a few times before for faulty measurements and lack of detail but when he was less stressed he produced some of the most pristine suits in the West End. He was a busy man but he always made time for Vic.
The backroom was closed off to all except scheduled visitors. Two burly men with more scars than skin sat at a table playing cards and vetting anyone that approached a little too closely.
The pub’s doors opened and in walked two scruffy looking druggies who shuffled into the bar and made their way over to them. The two henchmen stood up with that menacing stare that always accompanied doormen, it seemed that wherever they worked it was probably impossible to pass by unless you were pretty girls on the pull and the druggies definitely didn’t fit that bracket.
“You’re a little early fellas,” said Kelvin Hoiles, the ugliest bouncer. “Piss off and get yourself a pint, we’ll call you over when he’s good and ready.”
Hobbs rolled his eyes in defiance and pulled AJ back to order some lager. He suffered greatly from his temperament but he was no match for these two bruisers to give them lip even if he was on some inflated mission that should have earned him more respect.
“Who do they think they are AJ? This isn’t God we’re trying to get an audience with is it?” he carefully whispered over.
“Forget it Hobbs, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Vic. He’s looking after us right now, because of him we got to bang those two Charlie girls last night. We owe him big time for that.”
“Big time! it’s all about the big time, when’s our big time ever going to come?. I feel like I’m on handouts,” Hobbs said with a sigh but he knew where his bread was buttered … he just wanted more of the good times.
The rough looking barman served them a couple of pints and told them it was on Vic.
Hobbs picked up a little. “Cheers Mate.”
“I think it’s this Skunk AJ, it’s bringing me down a bit too much. You’re right, I’ve been thinking, we need to get away after all of this. Get a fresh start somewhere. Maybe Spain really is the place to be mate; at least the girls will cost my wallet less.”
“Spanish girls are easier to cop off with anyway Hobbsy.”
AJ smiled, he had been working on Hobbs over the last couple of days. They needed more than one good blowout, London was expensive.
The tailor, holding samples and tapes burst out of the backroom looking even more flustered than before. he was glad to get out of there and back to normality. He declined a drink as he passed the barman and hurried out the door.
AJ studied the man as he walked past, “Personal tailors, now that’s class Hobbs.”
Hobbs nodded and turned his head towards the bouncers at the door who were calling them over. He wondered to himself why they always look like they’re at a funeral.
Vic was pouring himself a large brandy from one of the numerous bottles the landlord had laid out for him,
“Boys, good to see you again, make yourselves comfortable. What have you two mugs been up to these last few days?”
Hobbs froze a little, was it a question or an observation ... he couldn’t tell.
“Sorry Mr. Dart, I don’t quite get you?”
Vic just glared at Hobbs as if he was some kind of idiot, “Simple enough question isn’t it, even my five year old granddaughter, Mille, bless her little socks, could answer that?”
“Nothing Mr. Dart, just been sitting around waiting for the next job is all.”
It was hard to work Vic out. Hobbs had decided it was best to act dumb, if he only called you a mug at least you hadn’t given too much away.
AJ suddenly piped up with a bit more confidence than Hobbs, “If I can speak Mr. Dart, we’ve been having a great time drinking and shagging some posh birds up in Bishopsgate on your expense Sir.”
Vic started laughing; he’d noticed that AJ, although younger than Hobbs, was a bit more clued up. He needed to learn proper manners though in front of his superiors and to know that you only speak when you are spoken too, but Vic let it go.
“You pair of mugs, god bless you, reminds me of myself when I was young and carefree. Anyhow, down to business,” Vic laid his glass down quite sharply.
Vic could turn from laughter to all seriousness in an instant. He had learned that stage trick over the years, it unnerved people.
Hobbs seemed to respect his friend a lot more for breaking the ice. Whatever the problem was he didn’t know or even wish to ask.
“Good break in, we got what we needed,” Vic continued, “Now onto your next job fellas.”
Vic stared at the two men before him, quite intensely. He was sizing them up for what lay ahead. Was it worth sending these two? I suppose it is he thought. The older one’s a bit clueless but has a good violent streak, the younger one’s got some porridge between his ears. They reminded him of Ren and Stimpy; his other granddaughter Scarlett watched it fanatically when he was over visiting, he chuckled to himself.
“This one’s a bit messy but I reckon your up for it. There’s some good money in it for you when you pull it off. All the … erm … what kind of girls you mentioned back there?”
“Charlie girls Mr. Dart,” said AJ, at least Vic had a sense of humour.
“Yeah, Charlie girls, nice one … all the Charlie girls you could want for a while. How’s your Scottish?”
Hobbs, more fearful than clueless really, shook his head, “Scottish Sir?” He gulped, Vic raised his arm and smacked him on the back of the head, Hobbs groaned and started rubbing it profusely.
“Jesus, you really are Stimpy aren’t you? I’ll ask bloody Ren instead,” Vic turned to AJ with a serious stare.
AJ tightened his lips, he was trying to laugh but he suppressed it, “Aye, our Scottish is great Mr. Dart, Ah Dinnae Ken!”
“Good answer, you’ll go far boy. I’m glad it is because you’re off to Edinburgh, ladies. Here’s the instructions and a couple of Ponys, now see yourself out the door and don’t let me down. I hate being disappointed.”
As Hobbs and AJ left the room Vic called back, “Good luck Stimpy,” and started laughing to himself.
Hobbs marched through the door in anger at his own weak display. He was meant to be there to impress but he was too much in awe of the man, it was a disability. He pushed past the henchmen but they hardly felt it.
Outside the Pub, Hobbs was ranting and started kicking some car doors and hitting the wall like a big child.
“Who does he think he is AJ? Swanning around with fitted suits and drinking brandy, with two big lumps outside the door.”
“Calm it Hobbs, don’t want to wake up the neighbourhood if you know what I mean”
For once he knew what AJ meant. he’d been humiliated before by the posh geezer in the black car down Island Gardens who literally threw the envelope at him before driving off. He didn’t care either way really as long as the money was good but he hated people stuck up their own back passages thinking they were better than him. He needed a lucky break … just like them … and eventually, he would be just like them. For now, he and AJ were pretty much street urchins in the grand scheme of things.
He stopped and studied his accomplice and saw that at least he had one follower. At least he wasn’t AJ he thought.
“Let’s get slaughtered and then tomorrow we’ll see what’s next for us. Och aye the Noo!” Hobbs suddenly hollered and they walked off laughing down the street.
Jack Mayes sat in his expansive office on the 36th floor of the bank. He had been fielding questions all morning about the current state of Harry’s health and the likely timescale for his recovery. Jack shared a close business relationship with Harry and although his colleagues thought he was a little bit over zealous and quite draconian, they still welcomed his foresight.
Jack had a razor sharp mind on the world of international finance. He sensed an announcement to investors was imminent as they were getting rather jittery; they all wanted to know about the financial status of the banks long term future. Of course, Harry was admired for his vision and careful handling of several hiccups throughout the bank’s history but they also knew Harry was fallible, just like any man, and they wanted leadership through this current crisis.
Jack made a call to Brian Prudden one of the bank’s key executives.
“Jack, any word on Harry’s condition?”
“Listen Brian, it’s too early to say how long he’s out but it’s not looking good. I’m assuming the helm at his wishes for the foreseeable future.”
“Excellent Jack, we need some stability to silence the critics. The FT carried an article today about Harry, did you see it?”
Jack smiled, it was all too easy. “I did, 'Man Overboard, Rowlandsons Bank Skipperless' was the title. A ludicrous headline but it was bound to get out. A lot of people must have seen the stretcher as it came racing through the doors. You know he’s a recognisable figure in these quarters. I’m glad I wasn’t here, the golf course was a more pleasant sight to bear.”
“Christ, you would think he had gotten swept over a wave and he couldn’t paddle back,” said Brian who genuinely had respect for the man.
“Well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about Brian. I need to gather the group of ten. I have something very important to tell you all, it’s also of the highest secrecy. A leak like this could send the bank into meltdown.”
Brian was speechless for a few seconds. Jack never did pull punches, he was a tough leader and he had a lot of respect for him … even if his methods were a little different to Harry’s .
“Ok, I don’t quite understand but we can’t talk about it on the phone, too risky. We’ll meet in the secure room, how does 3pm sound? It will give me enough time to rally the troops.”
“3pm sounds great, make sure it’s done discreetly. I need you to visit each of them in private and to tell no-one else, do you understand me?”
Brian was intrigued. It was a little bit cloak and dagger but so were Jack’s methods.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to get Harry over in time though?”
Jack sensed his delivery was spot on, “It’s about Harry but that’s all I’m divulging at this point.”
“Oh.” Was all Brian could say, he feared the worst but rang off quickly to spring into action.
Jack sat back and rested his head in his cupped hands. The best laid plans always carried the sweetest of outcomes. He brought his left arm back down to smell the fancy scent of his expensive aftershave. A new scent, a wisely selected gift, compliments to her fine taste.
Not too far away from the hustle of City life, sat Harry , pleasantly enjoying his rest for the first time. Not so long ago he had actively balked at the forced nature of the whole sorry business. He was chomping at the bit to come back but now he felt like it was for the best that he took it easy. He simply wasn’t used to it, for years he had woken up at 6am to take breakfast and catch up on any global developments on his laptop before heading into the office to start the day’s proceedings.
He had worked tirelessly for days on end to see his strategic decisions take hold and rarely relaxed. Taking time out to do other things meant retirement and he wasn’t dead yet.
Of course, the voices could reappear at anytime but he was ready for them, they didn’t belong to him, they would be exorcised before long and he would be back where he always belonged, steering his beloved company in any direction he saw fit.
Suzy had conjured up a lovely lunch of salad, olives and tuna steak drizzled with lemon, a nice start to the afternoon. He had refrained from calling Becky when Suzy was around and dictated his work through email. It wasn’t normally an issue but he found himself almost covering his own tracks. He felt a little ashamed and naughty the same; it was only harmless flirting but Suzy would throw a hissy fit if she knew.
Becky wrote back and told him that the conference hotel had been booked as well as the flights and that she had reserved rooms almost next to each other so she could keep an eye on him.
He had replied back a little bit quicker than usual that he was perfectly capable of looking after his own mental condition but who knows how he would cope after a few G&T’s. An open question and Becky took the meaning with a smile.
She was busy typing another witty retort when she felt a couple of hands clamp down upon her shoulders and begin to massage them.
A creepy voice followed the hands, “You look tense Becky, I think you may have been overworking. I can feel knots in your shoulders.”
It was Jack again. Becky felt instantly repulsed. He was always sneaking up on her when she least expected it. It was his manner more than anything; he seemed to pry into everything she did almost to obsession.
He leaned over her shoulder and brought her personal space down to a few bare millimeters. “I can see you’re writing to Harry, how is he coping with his forced rest?”
She snapped forward and wriggled free of his grip, “Do you mind Jack, it’s personal emails and I don’t appreciate you coming in unannounced!”
“My my, Becky, we are touchy today, you need to relax a little bit more. This whole Harry episode is getting to you. I know what’s best for you,” he sounded more snake than human.
She decided to play along, “Oh, so tell me what’s best for me Jack, for a minute there you sounded like the oracle?”
Jack didn’t seem to know, or maybe didn’t care about the boundaries around people. He stepped in a bit closer with a fixed, inquisitive look on his face.
She hated his arrogance.
“Well, Becky, I feel that your relationship with Harry is a little too close at times. As he’s away for a while, I thought it would give us a chance to get to know each other better.”
She quickly locked her computer and stared back at him, “Well you’ve never put it like that before Jack, what do you propose?” she said with a flirty smile.
“Well, I have a meeting at 3pm but afterwards I’ll be kicking back for the rest of the day. We could have dinner together. There’s a lovely Italian restaurant in Pimlico, and afterwards …”
“Afterwards?” she was dying to know the rest.
“We’re adults here Becky,” and he moved his hand to lightly touch her forearm. Definitely snakeskin she thought.
Becky studied his outstretched hand and turned back to him, “Well, that’s certainly a proposal Jack and like you say, we’re both adults.”
Jack winked back at her, “You cotton on quickly Becky.”
She managed to contain her feeling of nausea at the mere prospect of an evening with this man.
“It’s just that as a child my family took me to an Italian Restaurant and I had a coughing fit after choking on an olive. I can’t bring myself to even step foot inside the door of any Italian eatery”
She paused to allow him to take in the brush off, “And another thing, I’ve just remembered that I have something much more interesting to do. The quarterly audit has arrived on my desk and I fancied reading it before I took an early night, such a busy girl you see.”
Jack’s face fell in an instant. He wasn’t used to knockbacks; he never received them or probably always picked up the cheesiest of girls.
She pushed past him. “Must dash, you do understand, Harry will fire me if I don’t get my butt into gear.”
She walked quickly out of the office and headed off to get some fresh air.
“Bitch!” murmured Jack. It was all he could say.
It would have been nice to have tasted the pleasures of Becky for an evening but, hey ho, he had an even more important event to deal with. It would define his future if all of the pieces dropped into place.
He adjusted his tie. It was getting close to the meeting with all of the movers and shakers at 3pm. He strode out confidently. Whatever Becky said to him carried little weight but a few small chunks came off his mighty egotistical statue and fell to the ground.
He strode out her office and made his way to the 40th floor.
The lift doors opened and he was met with a beautiful atrium styled rooftop. As was always the case, only executives were allowed to enjoy the ambience of this fabulous 360 degree panorama of London.
In the middle of it, surrounded by palms, sat a fantastic looking boardroom table. Newcomers would think for a moment that they had stepped into the Sahara with the richly coloured walls, tall vases and luxurious carpets. Harry had designed it after a memorable business trip to Riyadh and used it frequently to hold key meetings and to impress guests during evening soirees, it was always a deal clincher.
The executives all sat round looking puzzled but intrigued. They loved a bit of industry gossip, if indeed it was that, and were waiting eagerly for his announcement.
Jack, being the stage actor that he was, decided to lap up the suspense before speaking and carefully shook the hand of each and every one of them. They all whispered for clues as he passed but he gave nothing away. All in good time, he thought.
Walking round to the head of the table, he made sure all the attendants who had been busy serving drinks and snacks had left and were out of earshot.
He now had a captive audience and it was time to deliver.
“Gentleman, I called you all here as a matter of urgency. I find this all rather distasteful but I hope that as you digest the truth of what I am about to say, you will decide that a swift resolution be called for and as we are all key players within this bank you will surely do so.”
He was reveling in the enormity of the occasion and drew up a document. Executives loved documents and one as mysterious as this meant they were all probably salivating at its possible contents.
“This is a medical document gentleman, and it contains the most damning conclusion, aimed at a certain man we all know and love.”
They knew exactly who it was intended for.
“It was written by Dr Hancox, Harry’s personal physician and it is extremely confidential. I can’t tell you how I came to be in its possession but nevertheless, I have it here and I will read an extract to you now.”
All of the executives eyed each other nervously. This was Harry, their good friend and mentor, they felt apprehension as to the wording in the document but they all sat upright to listen.
“Dr Hancox writes, and I quote, 'I am afraid to say that Harry’s condition has worsened and I honestly believe that he is now suffering from a severe form of schizophrenia. As time passes, and considering the severity of his late sister’s illness, being the same, I can only foresee a most awful outcome’.”
The silence was deafening. Not a single murmur was heard in the room.
Jack took another pause to allow them all to stomach his words, “’I have taken a blood sample and with modern day advancements in the detection of the illness, I can conclude that Harry will, within a short period of time, require full time mental health care to contain it. It could be weeks or months, I do not know but it is essential he receives treatment quickly’.”
Jack concluded the announcement and stood a few moments to let the news finally sink in.
This was indeed the King in the pack but he had yet another card yet to play.
The room was filled with tremendous noise; executives were either talking hurriedly amongst themselves or looking at Jack to see if he had anything extra to add.
He certainly had and with a call to silence he continued, “I don’t need to tell you all that we’re in the most turbulent period of this bank’s history. We’ve weathered the storm pretty well but the share price has fallen to its biggest low, lending had been restricted and our overall ratings have suffered. The press have had a field day with poor Harry’s attack and the rumour mills are working overtime.”
Georgia Mitchum, a glamorous executive who headed up the trading team spoke up first, “Its awful news, it really is for Harry, a great man. What do you propose we do? your standing in his shoes at the moment!”
He was indeed, they all knew that Harry had entrusted him with the day to day running of the bank while he was away. No one else dared to undertake the assignment for fear of failure. It was too precious an assignment that carried far too many risks.
Jack met her concerns head on, “Calm is what we need. Harry isn’t aware that he has the condition; he thinks it’s based on the accident and he’ll pull through soon enough. If word got out that he had this condition, god only knows what might befall this bank.”
Another man stood up and looked squarely at him, looking for guidance. “So Jack, what do you propose?”
What do YOU propose? It was all too easy, Jack thought. He’d delivered a great speech, could it get any better than this?
He sat down in the big leather armchair that Harry usually resided in when chairing meetings. It felt a good fit, it really did.
“Well, to all of you I propose that we should allow Harry to attend the conference on Thursday. Hopefully he won’t have any episodes; it’s too early to ask him to step down for the good of the bank as he hasn’t received the results yet from Dr Hancox. Harry will hear the findings from Dr Hancox while in attendance, we can’t do anymore. He cannot know that we know. If he did find out, our jobs and integrity would be at stake.”
Another executive suddenly sprang up, “So why the bloody hell did you tell us then Jack, why now?” There were nods of agreement in the room and whispers began circulating.
Jack called order with a stern shout, “Gentleman! For the sake of a smooth transition and to allay any fears of an investor backlash, I propose we all vote for Harry’s successor. It really pains me to deliver this news, he has been a great ambassador for this bank and my heart goes out to him.
Although it was a preliminary vote and couldn’t be carried straight away because of the secrecy, there was only one man in the room trusted to carry the bank forward and out of this crisis. Some thrust it upon the man, others grudgingly accepted the predicament but it was certainly unanimous.
Jack walked out of the room with a bigger ego than he came in with.
The next couple of days passed quite uneventful for Harry. He was looking forward to the conference and to making good use of his stature. It was uncommon for any Chairman of a bank to attend these events; they were usually reserved for sales directors and their minions but it did have the effect of impressing upon potential clients the personal service and attention they required; throughout all of his years in Banking, he had never lost his common touch.
Considering his condition he knew he had an escape route should he choose it and retire to his suite to sleep it off. Bob Austin, his top salesman, had insisted on attending for the second day to act as backup should he require rest and he had agreed to that and thanked him for his support.
What was curious to him as he paced around his study dictating memos and writing emails, was that there had been no voices whatsoever, no hint of his condition returning or static from any electrical items placed around him which usually preceded the cruel spouting of hatred. Helen had never mentioned any strange interference and he had never noticed any either.
He thought back to the nonsense the cabbie had been blithering on about regarding lightening strikes and electrical items blowing up. Maybe he watched too much television but strangely, he couldn’t rule it out however bizarre it sounded.
The pain in his head had also disappeared. Most days it was a dull pulsating feeling and he needed several paracetamol to help relieve it.
Harry had a tentative feeling that all was beginning to go well again; no episodes, no static and an attentive wife which was quite unlike her. She was mostly flitting about here and there with an independent streak that he put down to his neglect working too many hours at the bank, but she had indeed changed.
At least it gave them the opportunity to spend some more time together although Lord knows why she wanted to bundle him off to the Investor Conference. Exercise the dog? That was it, by being pushy, Suzy was making sure he didn’t rot away. There was method in her madness.
He walked into the lounge and took up residence in his comfy wide, low backed armchair to read the Financial Times. Suzy meanwhile was busy thumbing through several holiday brochures from Kuoni, Far East, Australasia and South Sea getaways. He knew an expensive trip for both of them was imminent. Suzy had the habit of rewarding herself for suffering, he knew she had spent a few days in fear of him and he felt his wallet was about to get a good hammering.
She was in a world of her own dreaming about tropical beaches, exciting Asian culture and the sheer romance of it all running along a deserted beach at moonlight with your beau at your side and dropping down into the sand to do what most couples did. She wondered if Jack was in anyway a workaholic like Harry. He was younger so he could be moulded. The possibilities were endless for the fun they could have.
Harry had already read the FT article the other day about his supposed fall into the sea paddling for dear life. He wondered who wrote such drivel. He noted the author, a Terry Lecomber, strange name, possibly French, they were known for their dramatisation. Good or bad, he decided that he would give the man a wide berth in future interviews; the reporter had already written him off as the living dead.
On this occasion the reporter wrote with zeal that the very same man was a delegate at the forthcoming conference and posed the question 'Rowlandson shipwrecked on a remote island, a new beginning or the inevitable end’. Harry thought how ridiculous it sounded and chuckled to himself, did the readers actually believe any of it? The man had obviously been recruited from the National Enquirer.
The study phone began to ring and Harry got up to answer it. No rest for the wicked he thought and picked up the clear line receiver, it was Jack. He hadn’t expected a call so late in the day.
“Harry, I just wanted to say good luck for the conference tomorrow.” For once Jack sounded quite earnest.
“Thanks Jack, although it’ll be a walk in the park as always.”
“I’m sure; I had a meeting with all the key executives to bring the message to you that we fully support your efforts despite your condition.”
Jack sounded like a news commentator watching the Apollo 13 about to make its rapid descent. It was only a conference for Christ’s sake!
Harry bit his tongue, “Thanks Jack, tell them I appreciate their sentiments but I feel great at the moment and I hope to bring in potential clients for the pipeline. I’ll be back soon.”
“I’m sure you will Harry. If you need anything for tomorrow let me know. I’ll keep at the helm until you return.”
Helms, boats, shipwrecks, what a fantastic nautical adventure it all sounded when in reality it was just a series of meetings. The banks monotonous rumbling didn’t even come close to the sensationalism that surrounded his illness. It was like a circus, Harry thought back to that classic 50’s film starring Kirk Douglas, “Ace in the Hole” he pondered whether they had portrayed him as the man trapped down the shaft.
“Give my regards to Suzy, I’ll take her out to lunch while your away to cheer her up. She must have had an awful time worrying about you Harry.”
At least he was right on that one. “Thanks Jack, she would like that. Suzy’s a beautiful woman so I would appreciate if you kept your hands to yourself,” he said with innocent humour.
Jack sniggered, “I’m practically a Mormon Harry, I have enough wives to worry about, I don’t need anymore.”
They wrapped up the conver