East of the City (31 page)

‘Once again,’ the Ottoman barrister told me, ‘think carefully.' It occurred to me that I was about to be tied in with that photo somehow. My hands bunched into fists on my thighs. ‘Mr Collier, in what manner did you repay your father’s gambling debt of one hundred and five thousand pounds to Sebastian Ward?’

My mouth opened. A choked sound came up from my throat.

Batri was up on his feet, his hand slapped the lectern, he was making his point forcefully, but to me it was like someone had turned the volume down to zero. I was so shocked by the accusation that for a moment I couldn’t hear a thing.

My old man owed Sebastian how much? One hundred and five thousand pounds? It didn’t even cross my mind that it hadn’t happened. Big, bold Bob Russell had punted himself into an enormous hole, the Ottoman team had found it, and now they were going to shove me right in there and bury me alive. It felt like there was a giant arm wrapped around my chest, slowly squeezing.

When I came back to myself, the Ottoman barrister was saying to the judge, ‘If it were to calm my learned friend, I would be happy to withdraw the question for the time being and recommence after lunch.’

Batri tried to protest again, but the judge cut in, ‘Yes, I think that might be appropriate.’ Then the judge looked down at me, unsmiling. He warned me not to speak to anyone about my evidence during the adjournment.

‘All rise,’ said the clerk.

We rose. The judge got down from the bench and glanced at me over his shoulder as he disappeared out the back door. The clerk stepped around me like I had the pox.

Clive was whispering urgently with Batri, the Ottoman barristers were soaking up congratulations from their solicitors, and way down the back Max Ward was heading for the exit. Fielding got to his feet, tucking his shirt in and straightening his tie. He winked at me, and in that moment I really could have killed him.

'C
live!’

Wainwright looked over his shoulder as I chased after him down the pavement. I thought he was going to blow a fuse. I said his name again as I caught him up.

He kept walking. ‘I can’t speak to you, Ian.’

‘They’re stitching me up.’

‘Are you deaf?’

I grabbed his shoulder but he shrugged my hand off and walked faster. When we got round the corner he stuck his arm out and called, ‘Taxi!’

It drove right on by.

‘Clive, I swear to God, I never knew my old man owed Sebastian.’

He looked down the street, ignoring me.

‘I don’t even know it now. Their barrister just came out with it — I mean the whole thing, it could be bollocks.’

‘Sure,’ he said, he was steaming. ‘Bollocks. That number, a hundred and five grand. He just plucked it out of the air.’

‘Well, he could have.’

Clive swore and then stuck his arm out, signalling another taxi. It shot right past. When I asked him where he was going he looked up and down the street, arm at the ready, but there were no taxis in sight now. His arm dropped. Fixing me with a look, he spoke quietly.

‘I’m going to see my client, your boss. And I’m going to explain to him that nobody gives a monkey’s that Sebastian was screwing his daughter. I’m going to explain to him that Ottoman have found a much better candidate than Justine for a WardSure-Mortlake Group conspiracy theory.’

‘But it’s bullshit.’

His hand shot out, and this time the passing taxi stopped. He swung round and tapped me lightly on the chest. ‘I have to tell you, it didn’t sound like bullshit from where the judge was sitting.’ Flinging his briefcase into the taxi, he climbed in.

 I said through the open window, ‘I honestly had no idea.’

Clive looked out at me darkly, and he didn't have to say it, I could see it in his eyes. He wasn't sure that he believed me. The taxi accelerated away. I was left standing on the pavement staring after it, my career, my whole bloody life suddenly in freefall.

Clive was going to tell Allen, and Allen was going to think - what? That I’d had some private deal going with Sebastian? That I’d used Justine to get what I wanted, then used her again in court to shield myself? At very least he’d think that  I’d lied to him.

My old man dropped over a hundred grand to Sebastian, and I — Bob Collier’s son — I didn’t know about it? Christ, even Clive didn’t believe me. And the truth was, if I’d been in his shoes I don’t know that I would have believed me either.

Tubs, I thought suddenly, and I pulled out my mobile. At his home, no-one answered, and when I tried the Gallon the barman said he thought Tubs’d gone up town to see Nev.

‘At Nev's shop,’ he said.

I flagged down the next taxi and gave him directions to Nev’s betting shop over on the edge of the City. Just a short walk away from the office of the real-estate agent, Ms Kerry Anne Lammar.

Tubs would know, I was sure of that. Whatever was behind it, my old man couldn’t have dug himself into a hole that big without word getting round. And if he’d turned to anyone for help it would have been Tubs. I had to find out as much as I could before the Ottoman barrister got me back in this witness stand after lunch and nailed me to the floor.

By the time I reached the shop, I still hadn’t got through to Tubs on the mobile.

Be here, I thought, going in. It was almost like a prayer. Please Tubs, save my arse, and just be here.

He wasn’t, at least not in the front room. There were half a dozen blokes standing round looking from their form guides up to the screens, and a couple more placing bets. A voice droned on in the background, a horse race from up North. It was tatty in there, worn carpet and cheap veneer panelling, like a scene from the fifties. No wonder Nev couldn’t sell the place. His punters looked like a mixture of pensioners and the permanently unemployed.

At the counter, a woman with a blue rinse was taking bets. I told her I was looking for Tubs Laszlo. She looked me up and down, and asked me my name. Then she flicked a switch in front of her and said, ‘Ian Collier for Tubs.’ A punter came up to place a bet, she asked me to stand aside.

I went and sat down. Stood up. Took a turn round the room, then sat down again.

One hundred and five grand. Mum must have known too — why the hell hadn’t she told me? And at the back of my mind another question started to nag — why hadn’t Sebastian?

The blue-rinse lady finally directed me out back.

‘Twenty-three,’ Tubs said, ‘twenty-four, twenty-five.’ He picked up the pile of tenners he’d just finished counting, and stuck a rubber band round them. He slid the lot across the table to Nev, who made a note in his ledger.

‘Ian,’ Nev said, giving me a nod.

‘Nev.’ I closed the door behind me.

Tubs pulled a stack of fivers out of his bag, took off the rubber band then started counting again. ‘Got Fielding off your back yet?’

‘Tubs, can I have a word?’

He nodded to an empty chair by the table.

‘Private?’ I said.

He made a show of looking over his left shoulder, then his right, then he looked at me. Nev offered to leave. ‘Sit down,’ Tubs told me sternly. He gestured for Nev to stay put. ‘Nev’ll pop his clogs by Christmas. How much more private you want?'

Grinning, Nev reached over and pulled up a chair for me, so I sat. Tubs counted out the fivers as Nev watched him.

I said, ‘Was Sebastian betting on the dogs again lately?’

Tubs kept his eyes down, still counting. ‘Lately?’

‘Before Dad died.'

‘Could have been.’

‘This isn’t a joke, Tubs. I need to know.’

‘Now you need to know. Twelve years after you walk out on your old man, you need to know.’

‘That’s not how it was.’

He returned his attention to the money. ‘Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.’

‘I just came from the court. I was meant to be giving evidence on that plane deal. The one I told you Sebastian was involved in.’

‘We can do this later, Tubs,’ Nev said. It was Nev's shop and Nev' money, but Tubs just shook his head and kept counting.

I said, 'The lawyers on the other side are trying to make it look like I had a scam going with Sebastian.’

‘Twenty,’ Tubs finished. He bundled the notes and slid them across the table. Nev made another note in his ledger.

‘Are you hearing me, Tubs?’

‘Whaddaya want, Ian? Sebastian was a crook, I don’t need a buncha beaks to tell me that. And didn’t Sebastian set you up with your job? So maybe the beaks got the wrong end of the stick. Am I meant to fall off my chair in shock? Somethin’ like that?’

I said, ‘Did you tell Fielding that Sebastian opened the door for me at Lloyd’s?’

‘Listen—’

‘I did,’ Nev said.

Tubs reared up in surprise. I turned to face Nev, he looked awful. It wasn’t just the cancer. You could see in his eyes it was dawning on him that he’d really dropped me in it. ‘Fielding was down the Gallon, bein’ a bloody pain, askin’ about Sebastian. Shit, Ian, I’m sorry. You know, we just wanted shot of the bastard.’

‘So you told him.’

‘It didn’t seem important. It was from way back, the bloody dark ages.’

‘What else did you tell him?’

‘Nothin’.’ Nev put up his hands. ‘I swear.’

So, Nev had told Fielding. Fielding had told the Ottoman barristers. And they’d used it to skewer me. One small puzzle solved, but I was a long way from jumping for joy.

I glanced up at the clock. I was due back at the court in thirty minutes. 'That’s not my big worry. My main problem’s this other thing, if Sebastian was punting with the old man.’

Tubs reached into the bag and pulled out some twenties. He dropped them on the table, and started counting. I put my hand on the pile.

‘The other side’s lawyers are saying Dad was in the hole to Sebastian for a hundred and five grand.' Tubs didn’t say anything to that. He tried to pull the money out from under my hand, but I pressed down hard. ‘A hundred and five grand, Tubs.’ I looked from him to Nev, who dropped his eyes. ‘Now, why do I get the feeling I’m the only one surprised by that?’

Tubs said, ‘It’s over with.’

My hand clenched into a fist around the notes.

Nev said, ‘He should know,’ meaning me, and when Tubs heard that he just said, ‘The fuck he should.’

I faced Nev. ‘A hundred and five grand, right?’

‘Right,’ he said.

So the Ottoman lawyers knew what they were talking about. In thirty minutes’ time they were going to tear me apart. Tubs glared at Nev like he wanted to do him.

I said, ‘And nobody thought it was worth telling me? Tubs?’ I unclenched my hand. Some notes stuck to it, and I brushed them off. ‘In court they’re making out I paid Dad's debt by doing a favour for Sebastian. Like Dad put me up to it.’

Tubs pointed at me. ‘He never woulda done that. He never asked you for one single bloody penny.’

Nev said, ‘Come on, Tubs. Ian’s gotta explain that to the beaks, he needs the full SP.’

But instead of just telling me, Tubs mulled it over. I was bloody angry with him, but I couldn’t afford to do my block. What I needed right then was the full story. If I knew that, I might still have a chance of defending myself against the Ottoman barristers. A mighty slim chance.

Tubs clasped his pudgy hands together on the table. ‘In this court business, someone’s draggin’ your old man’s name through the mud?’

‘They’re lining up for it. This afternoon they’ll cut loose.’

‘Cunts,’ he said, and after a few seconds’ more thinking he made up his mind. ‘Sebastian showed up at the Gallon, I dunno, maybe eight or nine months ago. We hadn’t seen him for years. Comes in, drinks all round, acts like he’s just one of the lads. Only we know he’s loaded these days. And he knows we know he’s loaded. Between times we’ve gone nowhere, and he’s got rich with his insurance racket thing.' Tubs glanced at me, but I let it pass this time. After what I’d found out the past few days, racket didn’t seem such a bad description of Sebastian’s business. ‘Anyway, the usual, we’re talkin’ dog talk, and Sebastian gets sentimental, tells us the ponies aren’t a patch on the dogs for atmosphere — all the bollocks — next thing you know he’s showin’ up at the Stow.’

‘Punting?’ I asked.

‘Not with me,’ Nev said. ‘Not with anyone ’cept your old man.’ Nev got up and went to the safe in the back corner. He twiddled the knobs then pulled the door open. ‘We joked about it down the Gallon. Told Bob if he had a heart he’d share a rich bugger like Ward around, give us all a fair share.’

‘Big joke,’ Tubs said sadly. ‘After a bit Bob starts gettin’ in the red with Nev and a couple a others.’

Nev came back to the table. He picked up the counted bundles and started tossing them across the room into the safe. ‘Three grand with me,’ he said. ‘I think about the same with a couple more blokes down the Gallon.’

Tubs told me, ‘That wasn’t like your old man,’ but I knew that already.

I said, ‘But that’s just a few grand. How did that get to be over a hundred?'

They looked at one another. They still didn’t want to tell me.

I said, ‘I’ve got twenty-five minutes to get myself back to court.’

Nev went and crouched down by the safe and relocked it. Tubs spoke.

‘I only found out later, Ian. Sebastian wanted to bet on the tick. Your old man agreed.’ On the tick. No money changing hands up front. Credit. But a hundred and five grand?

Christ, how many bets is that?’

'Two.’

I stared at him.

He counted off two fingers. ‘Twenty five grand, the first one, double or nothing, makes fifty. Double or nothing again, that makes a hundred. Plus what he was into Sebastian for already.’

‘Dad went double or nothing on fifty grand?’

Tubs said defensively. ‘I only found out later.’

Nev piped up, ‘None of us knew what was goin’ on, Ian. It was like this private thing, just Bob and that prick.'

I couldn’t get my head round it, what they’d told me. Double or nothing on a fifty-grand bet, that wasn’t bookmaking, not at the dogs, and not when you lived in a Walthamstow semi. When you lived like that, fifty grand — double or nothing — was Russian roulette.

I screwed up my face. ‘Why?’ I said. ‘Why would Dad do that?’

Then a voice came over the speaker, that woman with the blue rinse out front. ‘Nev, those hamburger people are measuring things. Is that okay?’