The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5) (16 page)

              Petros stood and shook hands. “I might need it. Thank you for your time.”

***

Petros checked the address on James Eden’s card. He peered through the glass entrance doors and waited for them to open. A man pulled one side of the double door inwards. Petros grabbed the glass, entered and strolled to the VDU located in the centre of reception. He pressed the keys for James Eden and it displayed the firm’s name, floor, office number and whether the occupier was in or out. He was in luck. The lift sped to the fourteenth floor. He smiled as he noted the thirteenth floor as in many tall buildings was missing.

              A young buxom woman wearing a short black skirt, a purple blouse, with matching streaks in her blonde hair, looked up as he entered.

              “Petros Kyriades to see James Eden.”

              Her eyelids fluttered as she busied herself arranging different coloured folders into four piles “You don’t have an appointment.”

              “I know but I need to see him.”

              With a flicker of the lashes, she smiled, displaying two rows of dentist-white teeth. “Take a seat. I’ll let him know.”

              While waiting, he noticed her jotter was a mass of pencilled doodles. Cubes, squares and rectangles drawn while on the phone. He wondered what an analyst might make of them.

              The internal door opened. “Petros, you have news? Come into my parlour.”

              “Said the spider to the fly.”

              “Unlike the fly you have a choice,” said James as he sat in a real leather upholstered office chair. “Grab a pew.”

              Petros lifted a stainless steel chair and placed it in front of the glass desk. He removed the letter from his pocket. “Greece does not want to know. All I have to do is find the wreck.”

              James leant back in his chair, placed his thumbs behind his red braces, and pushed them in and out. “What you need to help find the wreck is a small boat equipped with preferably two side scan sonar outfits and a suitable ROV.”

              “Couldn’t agree more, if I knew what you’re talking about.”

              James held up his perfectly manicured soft hands. “I can advise on every aspect of salvage; who, what, where, and when. Sign my contract and off we jolly well go.”

              “I sign and you receive a thousand a day until?”

              James stood. “Until we recover whatever or prove it isn’t there.” He handed Petros his gold Parker fountain pen.

              “Three months and we renegotiate,” said Petros. “You collect ninety-thousand in monthly instalments.”

              James inserted a three-month clause into the standard contract and printed two new copies. “Carole, my secretary, can be one witness and I’ll grab someone from the next door office.”

              In less than ten minutes, the contract was signed and witnessed.

              “Carole, I need the original for my bank security box.”

              “Why?” asked Petros.

              “Just in case.”

              “What’s side scan sonar?” asked Petros.

              “Palermo, Sicily, Alfredo Abruzzi has a reasonable sized boat with excellent equipment. Side scan is your underwater eyes. If it can see it you can salvage. He’s not cheap but honest. I can contact him and make all the arrangements or you can do it yourself.”

              “I’m paying, so start earning.”

              “I’ve a ton of work to do. I’ll give you a bell tomorrow.”

***

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement as Petros strolled from Tower-Hill underground station to where Bear lived with Jocelyn. He pressed the doorbell and waited.

              Bear opened the door, beckoned Petros inside and strolled to the kitchen. “What brings you round this way?”

              He grinned at the selection of wedding magazines that littered the table. “Bedtime reading?”

              “A present from the wedding planner. He and Jocelyn are in discussion on how to spend as much money as possible.”

              “You didn’t have to ask the question. Now you pay the price.”

              “She can have whatever she wants but you didn’t come here to talk over my wedding.”

              “I’ve hired a salvage expert to help me discover the other
Gradisca
.”

              Bear frowned. “When you have a bee in your bonnet you’re a pain in the arse. Why don’t you let this one go? You don’t need it.” He held up his hand to stop Petros. “But you’ll do what you have to do and anything I say won’t stop you.”

              “I thought you might like to join me. No bad guys with guns. A nice sea cruise where you have nothing to do.”

              “Boats, you know how I feel about boats. Every time you and I are on one, we’re in deep shit. I’ll give this one a miss. You don’t really know where the wreck is. When you find it I’ll reconsider.”

              “Who’s going to watch my back?”

              “Amadou’s a good man. Give him a ring.”

              “I have to pay him.”

              “Big deal. You can afford it.”

              “It won’t be the same.”

              “PK, I’m fast approaching my sell-by-date. If you want me to sort out logistics I will but trouble finds you and I’m tired of ducking and diving.”

              “Okay, it’s a deal. You’re my logistics officer. Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to James Eden, a lawyer who knows everything there is to know about salvage. I’ll be happier with you working with him. He’s a bit of a wild card.”

              “Now what happens?”

              “I ring Amadou.”

***

The white transit van slowed and stopped ten metres in front of Miles Johnston as he strolled along Cable Street towards his office in Cannon Street Road. The passenger window lowered and a hand beckoned.

              The rear doors opened and one man wearing a dark grey suit fell in step alongside Miles. “Mr Johnston, Roly wants a word. You have two options, you get in the back of the van or I break your legs with a baseball bat.”

              Miles grimaced, returned to the van, and both men jumped into the rear. “You might as well kill me. I don’t have the money.”

              The good-looking blond-haired man chuckled. “If we kill you we don’t get the money but if we threaten to kill your wife that’s different.”

              Miles shook. The hostility of his response came as a shock. “You wouldn’t.”

              “Not our decision,” said the other man as he twirled the bat in his hands.

              They drove to Mile End Park, a quiet tree-lined avenue in the east end.

              “This way,” said the blond man, “Roly’s feeding the squirrels. He’s fond of wild life.”

              A dozen grey squirrels scampered around a man in his early sixties, dark weather-beaten complexion, wearing an olive green suit. He tossed the last of the nuts onto the grass, stood, and faced Miles with a frown. “Some people say they’re vermin but see how they have adapted to city life. A good example to us all. We have a problem, Miles, in that you owe me one-hundred-thousand pounds and I want my money.”

              Terror filled Miles’ eyes. “I don’t have it.”

              Roly’s eyes, devoid of any compassion, responded. “You have a nice house, take out a second mortgage or after a week your wife has an accident.”

              Roly and the blond man started to walk away.

              “What if I can lead you to more gold than you ever dreamed of,” shouted Miles.

              Roly stopped, turned and beckoned to Miles. “I run casinos and make more than enough to meet my needs. This gold, tell me more?”

              “At the bottom of the sea.”

              “And you expect me to believe this cock and bull story. Just remember I use people and then dump them when they’re of no further use. Time’s running out. One-hundred-thousand and the clock’s ticking.”

              “Give me a few days and I’ll discover its location.”

              Roly pondered his answer for a moment. “Get me the information and I might choose to let your wife live a little longer after my men have enjoyed her company. You never know, she might relish being humped by real men.”

              Miles shuddered at the thought. “I need time.”

              “Two days. Now fuck off before I change my mind.”

***

Miles checked the time as he entered his office. Eleven o’clock. He dumped his briefcase on his desk, sat, slumped forward and placed his head in his hands.

              He finished work early and returned to Starbucks. To his relief, the young man was there with his friends. Miles waited and again followed Mark. This time he caught him up further along the street.

              “Hi, I overheard you telling a story about a ship full of gold the other day. The way you imparted it sounded convincing.”

              Mark stopped and scrutinised this man for a moment. “Do I know you?”

              “Miles Johnston,” he held out his hand. “Venture Capitalist.” He saw the bemused look on Mark’s face. “I make money available for new projects, start ups and the like. Whoever discovered this gold will require someone like me to help with investments and of course, you could receive a substantial finder’s fee.”

              Mark’s eyes brightened. “Mark Antoni. How much?”

              Miles turned his head left and right. “I’d rather not talk in the street. Are you hungry?”

              “I fancy a Big Mac.”

              “I prefer more substantial food but MacDonald’s will do for a preliminary chat and to set out the ground rules.”

              Mark nodded as they set off along the street. Inside MacDonald’s,  Mark ordered two Big Macs with fries and two cokes.

              Miles paid and joined him at a table near the plate glass window. “My card with my work, home, mobile numbers and email address.”

              Mark gave it a glance and shoved it in his pocket. “What do you want to know?”

              “Keep your voice down. We don’t want half the world listening. I need to know the name, address and contact number of who discovered the gold. Can you give that to me now or can you get it?”

              With a mouthful of burger, Mark said, “Cash, up front.”

              Miles glanced over the top of his plastic cup as he sipped his coke. “Whatever you say. How about one hundred now and the same again once I verify your information?” From his wallet he removed two crisp fifty pound notes and slid them across the table.

              “I could take your money and do nothing.”

              “You could but then that’s a risk I take every day. Stay for the long run and you might possibly earn a few thousand or more.”

              “Same time tomorrow evening, in here and a double Big Mac ready and waiting. I’ll get you the information. Have the money.”

              “I’ll be here, make sure you are. You can finish your meal in peace.” Miles stood, frowned as Mark stuffed his mouth full.

Chapter Ten

James Eden, dressed in his bespoke pin-striped suit, slid out of his Lamborghini and strolled to the lift. He looked pleased with himself. A new day and a contract worth ninety thousand pounds. Once in his office he browsed through the morning’s mail tossing most of it in the bin. His mobile played Land of Hope and Glory. “Alfredo, on time to the second. I have a client who is looking for a world war two wreck to the south of Malta, interested?”

              “My friend, if your client has the money, I am interested.”

              “He has the money for side scan sonar and you’ll need an ROV, I suggest, for deep water usage.”

              “This equipment I have. When will your client arrive?”

              “Two days.”

              “I will be ready. Can I have a name?”

              “Petros Kyriades. He’s Cypriot but speaks English as his first language. A good man.”

              “Normal rates will apply if he pays in cash.”

              “You’re a rascal, Alfredo. He’ll have the money in American dollars. Ten thousand for one week all inclusive.”

              “These are difficult times my friend, but I agree.”

              “Do this and there might be more, so don’t let me down.” James ended the call and contacted Petros giving him the details.”