booksnew/source/Full Proof/C15.txt

     He surfaced from a dream where pale, bloated fish swam lazily in an amber stream and he tried desperately to hook them out with his hands, but they slipped easily out of his grasp. The more he tried to catch them, the murkier and deeper the water became and he could feel the mud sucking at his feet, trying to drag him down.</p>
     <p>"Wake up Jack," Sandy shook him and the dream shattered into fragments, leaving him with nothing but confusing afterimages and a deep sense of unease.</p>
     <p>"Have you not been home yet?"</p>
     <p>He shook his head, rubbing sore eyes.</p>
     <p>"Your mother thinks you've been run over by a bus. From the looks of you, she's not far wrong. Better show up sometime before she starts to worry."</p>
     <p>He sat up, yawning. "What time is it?"</p>
     <p>"After twelve. The club was late finishing. Did you see the news?"</p>
     <p>"Yeah."</p>
     <p>"So you daft buggers really went and did it."</p>
     <p>"I told you we would."</p>
     <p>"I never really believed it until I saw it for real."</p>
     <p>"You told me to take the bull by the horns, make something of myself."</p>
     <p>Sandy gave him a sidelong look.</p>
     <p>"Don't you go putting the blame on me. There's a fine line between courage and foolishness and it's a damn shame it's not a high wall. You want a cup of tea?"</p>
     <p>"Sure. It's been a long day and a night."</p>
     <p>"So what's the next move?"</p>
     <p>"We have to wait until big Lars can get his act in gear. I'm back up town tomorrow, doing a bit of business. A few more days and then it's gone."</p>
     <p>"And after that?"</p>
     <p>"Not what people think. I need to speak to the boys up on Skye. Then we'll all  have to wait for the heat to die down."</p>
     <p>He kept seeing the after-images of the fish in the stream, pale eyed, slipping out of his grasp, and the images somehow superimposed themselves on the memory of the camera shot on the news. The feeling of unease stayed with him, stale and greasy.</p>
     <p>"They all think it went straight down the drain. That's what it said on the news. The whole town's having a laugh."</p>
     <p>"That's the plan. As long as they keep on believing  they pulled their own plug, then we're home and dry."</p>
     <p>"Dry, with a zillion gallons of whisky? Sure you are. Where is it now?"</p>
     <p>Jack tapped the side of his nose. "Need to know, Sandy. No offence, okay? I have to see a lawyer and a banker and a bunch of would-be tycoons."</p>
     <p>"Just you watch yourself. I told you there's too many people in on this. I said to keep it simple as possible."</p>
     <p>"Smash and grab is simple. I have to make sure they all look the other way."</p>
     <p>"You think it's a game of chess."</p>
     <p>"It <em>is</em> a game of chess. You have to keep four or five moves ahead. With this much moonshine, there's going to be a hell of a lot of interest, and that customs man Gilveray, he's not entirely daft."</p>
     <p>"He's a jobsworth, Jake, just a civil serpent.  He's well up his own arse. He's not the one I'd be wary around. Yon big highlander, Baxter, that's one who doesn't miss anything. I saw him along there at the bonded warehouse. He acts like a half daft big hick, but he's pin sharp."</p>
     <p>"There was always a chance they'd call in CID. I hoped it would stay in-house."</p>
     <p>"Now you're beginning to talk like one of the suits."</p>
     <p>"We better get used to that."</p>
     <p>"So what's the next move?"</p>
     <p>Jack knew he was going to be asked that a lot in the next couple of days. His job was to keep a lid on the rest of them, make sure they stayed quiet, make sure they stayed tight.</p>
     <p>"Hopefully the diversion worked. We just wait and see how the wind blows."</p>
     <p>The image of the dream came back to him and he shoved it away. In any plan as complex as this, you had to allow for a few things going wrong, or some people doing stupid things. He'd a big bone to pick with Donny Watson.</p>
     <p>"You just take care then."</p>
     <p>"I will. Oh, by the way, your popcorn idea worked a treat. That and your beer mash."</p>
     <p>"I'm glad I was some help. I just hope I haven't helped land you in the jail."</p>
     <p>"There's something else I'm hoping you can do for me."  Jack knew he should keep this for the cold light of morning. Waves of tiredness were washing over him in a tide.</p>
     <p>"What's that?"</p>
     <p>"I want you to become chairman."</p>
     <p>"Chairman of what?"</p>
     <p>"I'll tell you in the morning. And it will be legit. One thing though, how's your Italian?"</p>
     <p>"A bit rusty. I haven't needed it since my Nato days when we were running bootleg wine up to Germany, but I watch all the gangster movies. They're my refresher course. Why do you ask?"</p>
     <p>"I'll get you a tape. And I think we'll have to spruce you up in a good suit. Any preference?"</p>
     <p>"Remember what old Thoreau said." Sandy had eclectic reading tastes. "Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes. So what's all this about?" </p>
     <p>"Our Mr Sproat wants to meet the client. I need somebody respectable."</p>
     <p>"Thanks very much." Sandy shot his grandson a questioning look.</p>
     <p>"But I suppose I'll just have to settle for you."</p>
     <p>Kate called him in the morning and woke him out of a dreamless sleep. The sun was high, but hidden by  low cloud and the air, eddying through the open window, had a fresh, cleansed scent of blossom and dug earth.</p>
     <p>"What time is it?"</p>
     <p>"That depends on where you are."</p>
     <p>"Oh, it's you. Hi. What's happening?"</p>
     <p>"That's what I phoned you to ask. That was a bit of a brush-off the other night."</p>
     <p>"Yeah. Listen I'm sorry about that." He was coming awake now, grasping at reality. "I was kind of in the middle of things, you know?"</p>
     <p>"Middle of what, the North Sea?"</p>
     <p>"No,"  he fumbled for an answer. "There's been a hold up on that. The boat's not ready."</p>
     <p>"So I still have some time to talk you into seeing sense."</p>
     <p>He didn't have much time for anything. Everything was moving at light speed and he when he finally located his watch, he realised he had already wasted too many good hours of daylight. He stretched with one arm, getting the blood back into his muscles. At least he was rested.</p>
     <p>"When's the big demonstration. I want to be there. A gesture of solidarity."</p>
     <p>"What demonstration?"</p>
     <p>A hollow silence developed on the line. Finally she came back.</p>
     <p>"What do you mean <em>what demo</em>?"</p>
     <p>Damn! He could hear him talking himself into a corner. And who had given her the number?</p>
     <p>She over-rode the thought. "The one you wanted the posters for. I presume you still have some sort of social conscience, or did I just waste my time?"</p>
     <p>"No, not at all. The posters are brilliant. Absolutely perfect. I'll be talking to the Dunvegan boys later today." That much was true, if nothing else was, and nothing else <em>was</em>. He would have to get used to the deceit, but this was not the same game as chess. Lies were different from bluff. He didn't like lying to Kate, and if she ever found out about Margery Burns, well he'd be dead in the water with her, that was for sure.</p>
     <p>"Good. Maybe you can do me a favour."</p>
     <p>"Sure I will."</p>
     <p>"You haven't heard it yet."</p>
     <p>"You wouldn't ask if I couldn't do it."</p>
     <p>"That's very sweet of you to say. Okay, I need some money."</p>
     <p>His heart sank. He had been spending it like tomorrow was wiped off the calendar, and there was more spending, big spending to come. He knew he would have to drain the kitty dry over the next couple of days and squeeze the boys for more.</p>
     <p>"How much?"</p>
     <p>"About five grand to start with."</p>
     <p>He hesitated and she heard it. She laughed.</p>
     <p>"Oh don't worry, I'm not after your redundancy. I'm just collecting, and you can pass the hat round as well. We finally got the Charter group moving, and we got some free advice. The next stage won't be free."</p>
     <p>"What next stage?"</p>
     <p>"We have to raise a lot of money to slap an interdict on Sproat. Him <em>and</em> the council. We got a rough legal opinion at the citizen's advice office. They think we've got a case to interdict the  distillery, which prevents them filling in Bruce's harbour. After that, we would have to argue it in court, and that will take plenty."</p>
     <p>This time Jack smiled. His uncle and the boatmen had all the free time in the world, when he wasn't making beer and hooch and racing his pigeons. They had trawled through all the old records in the library and Jack had seen what they had turned up even before Charter 1315 had been anywhere near it. It had convinced him.</p>
     <p>"So if we raise the cash, we can get the buildings listed and stop Sproat. We prevent the council from giving him permission to demolish and dump. Just as long as we can fund it before they send the bulldozers in. It takes time, but an interdict could hold everything up long enough. If the developers think they're going to have a fight on their hands, it could make them back away."</p>
     <p>She was sharp. He'd already realised that. If Trading Estates realised there was any smell at all, they would pull out. Any whiff of fish about the deal, the money would dry up. Jack came fully awake. Another plan took root in his mind.</p>
     <p>"How can I help?"</p>
     <p>"We're having a fund-raiser. The Starlight Company are putting on a show. You can come and help backstage, move the flats."</p>
     <p>That was one promise he couldn't make. </p>
     <p>"Maybe," he extemporised. "When is it?"</p>
     <p>"Two weeks."</p>
     <p>It was well out of the question. "I'll see what I can do."</p>
     <p>She sensed his hesitation. "Sound enthusiastic, won't you? If we stop the demolition, we keep the distillery. Maybe we can find a buyer. And the dairy might be able to keep its lease. Jack, we're trying to do some good for the town."</p>
     <p>"Yeah." He closed his eyes. This was a no win, not with Kate. </p>
     <p>"Where are you?" She took him by surprise.</p>
     <p>"Out of town." He lied.</p>
     <p>"Can't say, or won't say? You're being evasive, Jack Lorne, and you're not very good at it."</p>
     <p>"No. I'm not really. I'm just kind of tied up at the moment."</p>
     <p>"Are you avoiding me?"</p>
     <p>"No, not at all."</p>
     <p>"Doesn't sound like it. Doesn't matter anyway, does it? It's not like we're joined at the hip. I just thought we were friends, that's all. You know, thick and thin?"</p>
     <p>"Of course we are." She was better at this than he was. He wondered how much of that she really meant, or if she was just pressing the right buttons. She was <em>good.</em></p>
     <p>"Doesn't sound as if you really mean that, but suit yourself. So, are you hooked up with Captain Lars and the <em>sveedish</em> bimbettes?"</p>
     <p>"He's agreed to take me on," Jack said, and that was true enough in its fashion.</p>
     <p>"So you're going through with this?" The disappointment took the strength out of her voice.</p>
     <p>"It's the only way."</p>
     <p>"When?"</p>
     <p>"Soon." He could tell her nothing. He couldn't speak to her, not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't trust himself to stop once he got started, and there were so many things he needed to get done.</p>
     <p><em><hr /></em></p>
     <p>Angus Baxter stood back from the rest. The environmental experts were taking samples of the water from the runnel, using plastic bottles as scoops. A couple of golfers had stopped by to watch the proceedings, sniffing the air as they slowed. Here the smell of malt whisky was thick on it. Jim Gilveray had already been down with his own scoop and ascertained that a substantial quantity of Her Majesty's excisable liquor had indeed disappeared down the drain.</p>
     <p>Two small boys paused in their treasure hunt in the marsh, legs black with mud. The big policeman lit up his pipe and blew out a plume of strong fumes. The health men finished their work, capped off the jars and stowed them in the boxes.</p>
     <p>"What about the fish?" Baxter asked.</p>
     <p>"First things first," the lead man said. He shouldered the bag and started off with his colleague.</p>
     <p>Baxter stood for a while, looking down into the runnel.</p>
     <p>"Funny that," he said.</p>
     <p>"What's that?" Gilveray saw his presence as an intrusion on his patch. Baxter didn't give a damn what he thought. He knew Gilveray was just a turnkey in a warehouse.</p>
     <p>"The fish," the policeman said, no elaboration.</p>
     <p>"Alcoholic poisoning probably."</p>
     <p>"No. I don't think that was it."</p>
     <p>Blair Bryden from the Gazette had a photographer with him. He and Baxter knew each other well.  "How do you mean?"</p>
     <p>"In fact I know for certain it wasn't alcohol poisoning."</p>
     <p>"Ethyl contamination," Gilveray said. "We're wasting our time here. My samples show high levels of ethyl compounds here. We're satisfied that it was a spill. I'm only interested in explaining the loss of revenue. I don't know about the environmental damage."</p>
     <p>"So what's the next move?"</p>
     <p>"A customs tribunal will decide if there is any duty payable and by whom. I imagine Sproat's insurance will cover his loss."</p>
     <p>"You would hope so," Baxter said, agreeably. "Such an awful waste, though."</p>
     <p>He turned away and called to the boys in the bog. "You there. Is that a fishing net?"</p>
     <p>One boy held up  a small net on a pole.</p>
     <p>"Aye."</p>
     <p>"Bring it here then."</p>
     <p>"Get lost."</p>
     <p>Baxter walked across the narrow fairway and stood at the brink. "If I have to come in and get that net, the pair of you will spend the weekend in the jail for trespassing and stealing golf club property." He reached in his pocket and drew out a shiny pair of handcuffs and held them up. He grinned widely.</p>
     <p>"I never knew you were the polis, mister."</p>
     <p>"Just bring the net and we'll say no more about it."</p>
     <p>He wiped the muddy cane with a tissue and went back to the runnel. Gilveray and Blair Bryden watched him get as close as possible, lean forward, and dig the net under the clear surface. A trail of muddy brown swirled down with the current.</p>
     <p>"I was an expert at this as a boy. You never forget." He  jerked his arm, scooped and brought it out of the water. Gilveray expected him to bring up one of the bigger fish that were caught where the streamlet narrowed. Instead, when the policeman turned, they saw he had two tiny silver fish wriggling slowly in the net.</p>
     <p>He beamed. "Still got the knack, eh? Once a fisherman, always a fisherman."</p>
     <p>"And what's the point of that?"</p>
     <p>"You'll observe that these fish are very much alive. Lethargic, maybe, but still going."</p>
     <p>Gilveray raised his eyebrows. "So what?"</p>
     <p>"So there's a noticeable discrepancy between these and the deceased down there."</p>
     <p>He winked at Bryden. "Maybe your man will want a picture of this?"</p>
     <p>The newspaper man nodded the go-ahead and Brian Deacon shot a couple of frames.</p>
     <p>"Maybe they're a bit wobbly. Might even have an awful hangover, who can say? But they're definitely not dead." He pointed down with the net. "Now why do you think that is?"</p>
     <p>"Maybe whisky affects some fish more than others," Bryden ventured.</p>
     <p>"Not at all. They all breathe in through their gills, all sorts of stour in that water." Baxter flicked his wrist and the two little fish shimmered through the air to make tiny splashes in the pool. He scooped up one of the dead floaters and brought it round for them all to see.</p>
     <p>"The big difference is that these fish were deceased before they got into the water."</p>
     <p>"That's amazing." Bryden was well impressed. "How can you tell?"</p>
     <p>"Elementary." Baxter's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. The sun was poking out  through the evaporating clouds and the fish were going off as the temperature rose. "These fish are the wrong species." He turned to Gilveray. "You should take up the fishing. It's good for the mind and calms the soul."</p>
     <p> Bryden could tell he was relishing this, spinning it pout.</p>
     <p>"It gives you time to reflect on the perfection of nature and the folly of jumping to conclusions. Now," he brought the net down and emptied it onto the short grass, "speaking of reflections, you'll notice how this fish throws back the sunlight. I'd call that iridescence, hm? All the colours of the rainbow."</p>
     <p>"Okay," Gilveray conceded. "You've got a bright shiny fish."</p>
     <p>"All those colours tell you that this fish is not native to these waters. It's not a brown trout, which is the best you could expect. In fact, there's only three places that you'll see a fish like this."</p>
     <p>"That really is amazing," the photographer whispered to Bryden. "He's like Cracker. He must really know his stuff."</p>
     <p>"So where would you find them?" Gilveray suckered himself.</p>
     <p>"The lakes of Canada for one. Marvellous fighters they are, rainbow trout. I went there fishing the lakes with a cousin of mine, and they were simply jumping out of the water and into the boat, there was that many of them."</p>
     <p>He turned and winked at Bryden again.</p>
     <p>"And the other places?"</p>
     <p>"You get them in fish farms these days. And then again you might look on the slab in Gallagher's fish shop window. They're six pounds a kilo. One thing's for sure."</p>
     <p>He held them all while he fished out his pipe again and got it stoked up.</p>
     <p>"Somebody planted these fish in the steam so they'd be found. They left them here to make folk think there had been a leak."</p>
     <p>"But there <em>was</em> a leak," Gilveray said. "The air's full of it, man."</p>
     <p>"I smell something. I'd even concede that it was whisky an' all."</p>
     <p>He blew out a long breath. </p>
     <p>"But if there had been twenty five thousand gallons down that trickle of water, then I'm sure even the wee fish would have died happy. So now, I'm afraid, this is a police investigation. Either somebody has taken off with a lot of the amber nectar, or some poor soul has the mother of all hangovers today."</p>
     <p>Baxter beamed, and the photographer caught it for the news.</p>
     <hr />
     <p>Sproat took his call right away. Margery Burns transferred him through and Jack could hear the strain in the other man's voice.</p>
     <p>"I hear you had a bit of a setback," he said.</p>
     <p>"Just an accident," Sproat said, trying to make it light. "It's a damned nuisance."</p>
     <p> "Four hundred barrels is more than a nuisance." He tempted Sproat out.</p>
     <p>"How did you know how much it was?"</p>
     <p>"You have to keep your ear to the ground," Jack said. "I hope you're well covered. I hear that the presentation  packs would have brought you in three million. That's good cash flow."</p>
     <p>"We're in talks today."</p>
     <p>"And my principals hope you've some stocks left."</p>
     <p>"Don't worry about that," Sproat said, too anxious. "We're  sorting that out now."</p>
     <p>"Good. We can refine figures and times, if you're still on."</p>
     <p>"Of course we are."</p>
     <p>"Okay, my principal is keen to do a deal."</p>
     <p>"Sooner the better," Sproat tried to keep his voice flat. </p>
     <p>"Oh, and we'll probably need to borrow transport." Jack threw it in casually.</p>
     <p>"That's not a problem."</p>
     <p>Sproat put the phone down and let out a sight of relief. A quick deal with Michael Gabriel's group could turn this around while the insurers argued over who was to blame for what and how much they would pay out. He'd have that jumped-up clerk Gilveray breathing down his neck, but that was always an occupational hazard.</p>
     <p>Jack sat back and cupped his chin in his hands. It was all chess now. Sproat was about to expose his queen. On the other board, big Lars was drawn right in to a corner. So far, so good, apart from that daft prick Donny. Margery Burns was proving worth the cost. Just a few more days and they'd be home and clear.</p>
     <p>He'd been up at the crack of dawn and in to the city. The marine assessor had been and gone and given  Lars the re-insurance documents which went straight into the bin.  Jack called a cab and took them up to Bath Street and into the lawyer's office. It was a straightforward deal. Lars needed more talking to, but when he was totally convinced he'd never get his hands on the whisky without a signature on the bottom of the agreement, his good business sense finally won out.</p>
     <p>They shook hands on the steps on a brightening morning. Jack winced and rescued his fingers.</p>
     <p>"So now you got half a Valkyrie," Lars said. "But only for a loan. I want my baby back."</p>
     <p>"You can have her," Jack said. "She's got the looks only a mother could love."</p>
     <p>The big man slapped him on the shoulder.</p>
     <p>"Anybody else says that and they finish up in the water, tied to the anchor."</p>
     <p>He left Lars to make his own way down to the dock and checked his pocket for cash. The kitty was running low now, but he had the top copy of the document in his pocket and enough company plastic to make a couple of big buys. He whistled up another taxi and  in five minutes he was down in the Italian Centre looking at the racks, before picking up a little android phone and a fine brushed-silver fountain pen.</p>
     <p> Rule number three from the ten steps to success. <em>You never get a second chance to make a good first impression.</em> Jack really had to put on the dog.</p>
     <p>In an hour he was just two minutes late for an appointment down on St Vincent Street where all the banks huddled cheek by jowl. </p>
     <p>The young banker took in the Armani and raised his eyebrows appreciatively. Jack accepted a weak tea and presented the company's credentials. He laid out his new passport on the walnut desktop, the incorporation papers, and details of planned trading, along with the heads of agreement Sproat had signed.</p>
     <p>"So what you want, Mr Gabriel, is a rolling letter of credit."</p>
     <p>"My company hopes to expand. We may have to make moves very quickly and credit will give us the flexibility." He was talking straight out of the manual now.</p>
     <p>"And how much credit would you require?"</p>
     <p>Jack held his breath for a moment. This might still be chess, but it was a big league game.</p>
     <p>"Half a million for now," he said, and bit down on the dainty little  chocolate biscuit.</p>
     <p>"You'll need security, of course." He delved into the shiny new case that smelled of well-worked leather, and brought out the documents.</p>
     <p>"We have a carried interest in a successful North Sea supply operation. Here's the assessor's valuation as of yesterday. As you'll see, my company has forty nine percent of  both the operation and the vessel. We plan to make more acquisitions and establish trading connections in this country and on the continent."</p>
     <p>By one in the afternoon, Jack Lorne had his letter of credit and a cash transfer into the company account, express clearance. The interest might have been fierce, but in all the lessons he'd learned on his course, one thing always held true. Money begets money. Even a promise of money was enough. That's how it worked, and he wished he'd known that years ago.</p>
     <p>Now he had what he needed for the next step, and as long as everybody held their nerve, as long as Margery Burns could do her job, and old Sandy Bruce could pull off a fast act, they'd all be on the final straight.</p>
     <p>And just as long as big Lars Hanson didn't ever find out his old whaling father's pride and joy had been hocked to the bank.</p>
     <p>Jack stood for a minute in the sun, almost paralysed with the enormity of it all. He caught sight of himself in a big dark plate glass window and for a moment he was completely taken aback.</p>
     <p>Three weeks ago he had been studying in the afternoons after driving round Levenford in a rattling milk-van, scraping to get his brother into university.</p>
     <p>The tall man who faced him, eyes hidden behind the designer dark glass was somebody else entirely. The brief-case caught the high rays of the sun as it burned off the thin clouds and the burnished reflection gleamed back at him.</p>
     <p>He held all the strings, and while he knew that any one of them could slip from his grasp and fray at the end, he knew he'd come this far and had to take it to its conclusion, come what may.</p>
     <p>Take your future in your own hands, old Sandy had said. Now it was there, in his own hands and everybody else's future besides. A shiver of excitement and anticipation  juddered down his back, and a trickle of sweat eased its way down his temple. He took the monogrammed handkerchief from his top pocket, looked at the embroidered letter <EM>G</EM> on the silk, and wiped the bead away.</p>
     <p>Across the road, a Starbucks coffee house was open and all of a sudden he needed either a strong coffee or a strong drink. He opted for an espresso. He'd have to be very sober from here on in. He paid the girl and couldn't miss the appreciative look as she took in the Armani gear. He gave her a big tip and a wide smile.</p>
     <p>Ten minutes later, armed with a letter of credit for half a million pounds, he was in the plush office of one of Glasgow's most successful corporate law firms.</p>
     <p>"I'd like to fund a legal action," he told Kerrigan Deane.</p>
     <p>
Chapter 15: Full Proof                                                                                                                                   Joe Donnelly




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