‘We need loads of information about BCCI’s and other large accounts. We need your help to find a way to get these large companies send us a cheque so we can see how the cheque is printed and the exact signatures. Maybe you can have a think about how we do that. Names of payees. Dates when statements are sent. Cheque clearing routines. Detailed information about the bank’s daily routine. Also, some gen on staff and computers would be of interest.’
‘I see.’ Paul had foreseen something along these lines. This information would be vital for some form of bank fraud, but on a more massive scale than anything he’d been involved in.
Jeffrey said, ‘None of this will be traced back to you. It might be years before any of this information is put to use. And in the meantime we take care of the lovely Ann, your wife. The bank’s foreclosing on your house and she wouldn’t like bed and breakfast, would she? We’d offer her a flat in Majorca and two hundred fifty pounds a week in return for a little light work – nothing strenuous. And not illegal.’
‘Who’s behind all this?’ Paul was gaining confidence now he knew he had something they wanted. ‘How do you know so much about me? Who do you work for?’
‘We are mere intermediaries, self‑employed entrepreneurs, who are financed by our masters,’ Jeffrey put in. ‘Believe me, you don’t need to know any more.’
Paul felt a sudden tension in the air as Harold and Jeffrey awaited his reply. For a moment he had completely forgotten that he was in prison here and not at a business meeting. But did he have any option but to agree? Could he walk away from this proposition, as they had said, and still keep a cushy job and an easy life? Looking at the way Jeffrey clasped and unclasped his meaty hands, and the wide berth which the other inmates gave Harold, despite his charming manners and patrician looks, Paul sensed that to go against these men would only lead to more trouble.
What real choice was left to him?
His course was already decided.
‘How do I know,’ he said slowly, ‘that if I do as you say, your people – whoever they are – will keep their side of the bargain?’
‘Because you’ve already seen them in action,’ Harold assured him benevolently. ‘Like our good friend Aaron Nicholstein, we wouldn’t work for them if they didn’t keep their promises. You have a good think.’
* * *
A week later, Ann arrived for a visit. Paul had to broach the Mallorca proposal soon, but didn’t know how to begin.
‘You must have gone stark raving mad!’ she said, in disbelief when he’d finished. ‘After what we’ve both been through? No, Paul, I’m not getting involved. Keep me out of your sordid business deals!’ She pushed back her chair and walked off.
It was only at the end of the third visit that Ann, reduced to tears as she told him of her imminent homelessness after being forced to sell the house and forfeit the proceeds, reluctantly agreed to go to Mallorca and see the promised apartment. The next day her air ticket, hotel booking and £300 in cash arrived by courier.
Seeing his wife’s face on her next visit, some of Paul’s worries lifted. She had enjoyed the trip and was full of enthusiasm for the apartment, and appreciative of the kindness and courtesy shown by her guide in Mallorca, Sam O’Sullivan. Her attitude had altered so much that they were able to talk more freely.
‘I’m still worried about what they want you to tell them,’ she said. ‘It’ll obviously be used for illegal purposes...’
‘But no one will know I had anything to do with it. We’re already caught up in this, Ann. And we’ve lost so much... I can’t bear to think of you moving into some scruffy bedsit – not when there’s all this on offer.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘And what else can they do to me, after all – put me in prison?’
‘I’m scared, though,’ Ann said bleakly. ‘But – the flat was gorgeous and I loved Mallorca... Sam said I’d only need to do a few days work a week for his boss. I could cope so much better out there. Paul...’
And so he had swallowed the bait. His wife moved to Mallorca in April and Paul agreed to work for them – whoever they were. He was doing it for Ann, he told himself.
Maybe, one day, it would lead to his finding out who lay behind his downfall. That weighed more and more heavily on his mind and he’d made himself a solemn promise: they might have pulled him down but he was not completely out, not by a long chalk. He was going to make them sorry they had ever picked on him to be their fall guy. Sooner or later, he’d have his day with them.
CHAPTER TWO
_________________________
Mallorca, Thursday, 7th of May 1987
Only two police officers, one from Scotland Yard, the other in Denmark, knew more about Erick Elgberg than Sam O’Sullivan.
Sam had worked for Elgberg for ten years, the last few of them on Mallorca. This was surprising for a man who had never previously had a proper job.
Sam had been born on a small farm in Tipperary. He had never known his father and his mother died when he was sixteen. His two elder brothers wanted to make a living on the farm, which left Sam with no prospects in Ireland. He decided to try his luck in London.
After a few months of hand to mouth living, it became clear to him that his options were limited. He knew he had to take a permanent job, either as a mini cab or van driver or possibly a labourer, while trying to get an education of some sort. Or he could do favours for the characters he was regularly introduced to by his landlord.
He started doing odd jobs for small‑time villains. The income was good and the work suited him perfectly. He never asked what was in the various parcels he had to deliver and never opened any to find out. He was regarded by his employers as trustworthy and able to handle himself in a tight spot.
One day he was told to drive to Amsterdam to deliver a small parcel. He regarded it as a routine trip. After entering the port in Dover, he was asked by the police to park the car and go to a small office on the first floor inside the departure building.
A few minutes later he was arrested for handling stolen goods. The parcel contained jewellery. He did not tell the police the names of his employers or the destination of the parcel, guessing that a rival gang had informed the police.
He was advised by the duty solicitor in Dover to plead guilty, which he did. The magistrate, who understood that the case was not worth wasting time over, sentenced him a month later to six months imprisonment.
On the day of his release from Wormwood Scrubs, Sam was approached outside the prison by a bearded man wearing a flamboyant bow tie, who said someone wanted to offer him a permanent job.
The same afternoon he met his new employer in The Loose Box wine bar in Brompton Road, Knightsbridge. Sam liked Erick Elgberg right away and took the job, which he was told was a combination of chauffeur, minder and general handyman. Sam had never heard of Elgberg before they met and knew better than to ask who the bearded man was who had introduced them.
Erick was always courteous. When they were alone, they were on first name terms and Sam appreciated the fact that his employer always had time for him, listened to him and sometimes even took his advice. Erick gave him various books to read, from business textbooks to the latest best‑seller, and when Sam had finished they discussed the contents. Sam understood that this was his boss’s way of shaping him to fit into the organisation. Far from resenting this Sam was now Erick’s man and totally loyal to him.
Today he was on his way to pick up the new member of staff, Ann Dockett, and take her to Erick’s house. They had not as yet met and Ann’s mind was buzzing with questions about her new employment but when Sam did not say anything she felt she should do the same. He obviously preferred to avoid the topic of the coming interview, so they spoke about the island, the weather, London.
When they reached the small village of Punta Verger, he turned off the main road. A mile further on he turned again and drove along a dusty track. Ann felt increasingly nervous and wished she could arrive in a presentable
state and not covered in dust.
‘It’s not your usual sort of house,’ Sam explained at last. ‘It started life as a cave. It was built into the cliffs by some wealthy Germans who wanted to make it into a club, but they couldn’t get planning permission in the end. The place was up for sale for a long time before Mr Elgberg bought it and made it into what it is today. He spent millions on it.’ It’s quite unique.’
Gradually he lessened speed. ‘You can only properly see it from the sea, and even then you wouldn’t really notice it if it weren’t for the harbour and the yacht.’ He changed down into a lower gear and drove very slowly. The track had disappeared completely.
They had stopped at a barrier, beside which was a small wooden hut. A man waiting outside walked towards them.
Sam hung out of the window. ‘Hi there. How are you today?’
‘No better for seeing you, you Irish git,’ the man growled, peering into the car. Ann shrank back from the battered face thrust close to her. ‘Open the briefcase,’ he ordered. Ann obeyed.
‘I’ve got to deliver her to Mr Elgberg as fresh as a daisy,’ Sam warned.
The man grunted and raised the barrier while Sam revved the car and pulled away in a cloud of dust. He drove on until they reached a large carport, underneath which stood several cars.
‘We have to take a lift down to the house.’ He helped Ann out. She saw a small concrete building at the end of the carport. As they approached, a heavy metal door opened automatically and a uniformed security guard stepped out. They followed him inside the building which contained a desk and a bank of television screens.
The guard ordered Ann to open her briefcase. Fumbling with the locks, she again obeyed. It was empty except for a few pens, a writing pad and spare sunglasses. After a brief glance, the guard shrugged and went back behind the desk.
Placing a card the size of a credit card into a slot beside a door, Sam pressed his hand against a stainless steel plate above the slot. A light above the door flashed from red to green and the door to the lift slid open.
‘This place is worse than Fort Knox,’ he said, allowing Ann to go first. ‘Anything new in the security line and before you can blink it’s installed here. Now hold tight. It’s a fast ride.’
For a few seconds, Ann felt her stomach rise. Then the door slid silently open and she was completely blinded. Adjusting her sunglasses, she surveyed the scene.
In front of her was a large swimming pool surrounded by sun loungers and straw parasols. At one end was a well‑stocked bar and next to that a changing room and sauna. A barbecue area filled with plants in terracotta pots was to her right. On the horizon she could see the bobbing shapes of boats anchored in a harbour, and beyond them rose the majestic white shape of an ocean‑going yacht.
She became aware of pressure in the small of her back as Sam propelled her gently forwards. Turning her head she saw the facade of the house behind them, rising three floors and built into the cliff. Sliding windows stood open on the ground floor, revealing a sequence of rooms: a sitting room, a dining room to seat dozens, an open kitchen, a large conference room, a computer room where hazy figures worked at computer screens. The two floors above had long balconies and looked more private. She only dimly became aware of Sam asking if she wanted a drink.
‘Iced water would be lovely,’ she murmured. The cold glass pressed into her hand made her jump. ‘Oh, Sam, what a beautiful place!’
He grinned. ‘What did I tell you? Now wait here while I find Mr Elgberg.’
The name brought Ann back to reality. It was as if she had been building up to this meeting in the weeks she had been in Majorca, and now, when she should have been prepared, she was likely to make a fool of herself. This was when she would find out the price to be exacted for the support she and Paul had been promised.
In the conference room, a man in a white tracksuit rose from the table and exchanged a few words with Sam. He was tall and heavily built, but his movements were graceful. As he walked towards her, Ann could see he was very tanned and his fair hair bleached almost white by the sun. The jacket of his tracksuit was unzipped and he was not wearing any shoes.
‘Welcome,’ he said, holding out his hand, ‘I am Erick Elgberg. Please sit over here, in the shade, where you will be more comfortable. Sam, fetch Mrs Dockett something more interesting to drink. What would you like, Ann – if I may call you that? A cognac? A pina colada? Don’t be afraid to ask.’
Erick Elgberg spoke with a slight accent, possibly German or Dutch, which she found attractive, but his voice had an edge to it which commanded attention. Close up, Ann could see he was older than Paul, balding slightly, but distinguished and attractive.
‘Orange juice, please.’ Although she felt more like having a stiff whisky!
After bringing her the drink, and a small brandy for Erick Elgberg, Sam discreetly returned to the house. Ann watched him go with another pang of panic.
‘Is the flat to your liking?’ Elgberg seated himself opposite her.
‘Yes, it’s wonderful. I’m very grateful.’
‘The right surroundings are very important.’ He smiled. ‘This place is beautiful now, but my wife spent a lot of time and money getting it right. Perhaps it is a bit like a film set for a James Bond movie, but we like it. We work here, but it’s also home for many people, as you can see. We receive visitors from all over the world. In our business, clients do not always like staying in hotels.’ He stopped and sipped his drink. ‘By the way, I am Danish. Danes often live their lives with a gap between commonsense and their actions.’
Behind his friendly blue eyes Ann sensed a keen mind systematically registering everything about her. He was looking at her now, eyebrows raised, as if to force her to say something.
‘This is the most fantastic place I’ve ever seen,’ she said impulsively.
‘Glad you like it. Andrea – my wife – has a good eye for architecture and interior design.’
‘Will I be working here?’ Ann asked.
‘No. I have another suggestion, which I will explain later, when you have met my wife and got to know a bit more about what we do here.’
‘Sorry,’ Ann said hastily. ‘I’m quite willing to work anywhere you want me to.’
‘I will briefly explain what we are doing, so you can get an idea what it is all about.’ He took another leisurely sip of his drink, then leaned back in his chair. ‘This is the centre of an investment business which has developed over the last three years. We have twenty‑four‑hour computer links to Britain, Europe, Canada, Russia, Australia, Japan and the US. If you are wondering what is different about this business from any other bank or broking house, the answer is we invest only to obtain ultimate control of companies, thereby amalgamating them into our own group.’
All this went over Ann’s head, although she tried to look knowledgeable.
‘I’ll do my best to be useful,’ she said, wondering what help she could possibly give. ‘And speaking of help, I must thank you for everything you’ve done for Paul – my husband.’
‘We’re only too pleased to have been of some assistance.’ Erick had a calm, comforting manner and Ann felt more reassured that she would get on with him. ‘Your husband has been of great help to us also. However, it would be best if you don’t mention my name to anyone outside the organisation, or anything about this place. Your husband will know better than to ask you about it.’
Ann nodded.
‘It is a terrible experience you have been through.’
She nodded again.
‘Being in prison,’ he said slowly, ‘is sometimes not as bad as being the one left on the outside, having to survive. You must speak to Andrea about survival. She went through a similar experience some years ago which changed our lives very dramatically.’
Ann stared at him. Was he saying this to put her at her ease? Or had he himself been in prison – this distinguished‑looking man, exuding an air of power and authority? She felt a blush creep across her face a
s Erick sat back watching her, a faint smile on his lips.
Suddenly he leapt up. ‘Ah, here she is! Andrea, come and meet Mrs Ann Dockett.’
A slim woman was striding towards them wearing a red bikini, a matching tracksuit jacket hanging loosely over her shoulders, red clogs and dark sunglasses. Her hair was biscuit‑coloured, straight and loose, and her teeth, when she smiled, were small and white, like well‑matched pearls. As she held out one hand, she pushed her sunglasses up on the top of her head with the other.
‘How can you let our guest sit here and drink orange juice?’ she said to Erick, her accent similar to his but more pronounced. ‘I’ll get you a whisky, Ann. That is what you need when you are faced with a dragon like my husband.’ She fetched a large tumbler from the bar and gave it to Ann. ‘In a moment I will take you on a tour of the house and you can change into a swimsuit. We will swim together then have lunch.’
‘Fine by me,’ Erick said easily, leaning back in his chair. Either the whisky, or his remarks about prison, had made Ann feel totally relaxed.
She followed Andrea towards the house, thinking that here was a couple who would not let her or Paul down. If they did as they were instructed.
‘If you have any problems, do not hesitate to let me know and I will get Erick to sort them out,’ Andrea told her. ‘You can get hold of us any time through Sam.’
‘Thank you,’ Ann said gratefully. ‘Just knowing there’s someone I can turn to is a big help.’
‘From what I understand, the worst is over and it’s now just a question of letting the time pass.’ Andrea smiled. ‘Do you have a swimsuit with you?’ Ann shook her head. ‘Then we’d better find one for you.’
Inside, they walked through the dining and kitchen area which were decorated in Mallorcan style with white walls, wrought iron chairs around a glass topped table and bold coloured textiles. From a bright, spacious hall Andrea led the way up a wide staircase to the top floor where, outside a solid mahogany door, she pressed some figures into a keypad and put her hand on a steel plate, as Sam had done.
‘This floor is our private home,’ she said, walking into a hall which reflected light off‑white marble walls and floor. A gold framed mirror and a table containing a huge vase of red flowers were the only objects in the room.