Paul Finch - Stolen

‘Go along with it, Frank? You make it sound like they have a choice.’

‘Bill, you put this outfit together on the understanding everyone would have a certain degree of autonomy. We all sit at the same boardroom table, we all have the same ambition, but it’s always been the case that each one of these guys is a gaffer in his own right, too.’

Pentecost affected a puzzled expression. ‘Are you lecturing me about something I invented?’

‘What I’m trying to say is they’re loyal. But that we can’t take that loyalty for granted.’

Pentecost headed for the door in the frosted glass wall partitioning the boardroom from his own office. He went through, leaving the door open for McCracken to follow.

The Chairman’s office, or the Head Office as it was usually referred to, wasn’t used a great deal, hence it existed in a permanent near-pristine state, its blocks of shelving lined with books, mostly legal and business tomes (which, from time to time, Pentecost actually read), but everything else hinting more at luxury: it had a plush carpet, expensive artwork on its wood-panelled walls, a seventy-inch hi-def television, a row of carved Italian chairs and, in the very centre, dominating everything, a huge, leather-topped desk with a neat stack of phoney paperwork at one end and a desktop computer at the other.

Pentecost strode to the drinks cabinet in the corner, where he filled two large tumblers with ice cubes and poured malt whisky from a crystal decanter.

‘You know what I’m talking about, Bill,’ McCracken said from the doorway. ‘Lennie could close the entire Port of Liverpool to us. So how would Terry Underwood bring in his knock-off Italian dresses and shoes? You think the Camorra would be happy to put business on hold for as long as it takes us to buy another port? What about the Triads when it comes to knock-off tech from China? Aside from that, we get a cut of everything that comes through the docks. The merchants are happy to pay, the shipping lines are happy to pay – anything for a smooth operation. And when we don’t get it, we steal it. What happens if all that dries up? And how would it impact on the narcotraffic? Toni would need to find a completely new way to import his product. Most likely, he’d go off and do his own thing. That’d be half our most lucrative operations down the toilet at the same time. Plus, if Lennie and Toni walk, it’ll cost us the streets … we’ll lose our eyes, our ears, our noses. Meanwhile, Nicky and his vice girls are worth ten million to us each year alone. What if that cashflow dries up too?’

‘And when will all this happen, do you think?’ The Chairman offered McCracken his drink.

‘I’m not saying it will.’ McCracken took the glass. ‘I’ve not heard a sniff of rebel talk. But it could happen. That’s just common sense, isn’t it? And look, Bill … I wouldn’t be saying all this if me and you didn’t go right back. You’ve got my firm promise, my solemn guarantee that whatever happens, I’ll stand with you. You know you can always rely on me. But if it was two of us against the rest …’

Pentecost regarded him coolly. ‘You seriously think I haven’t considered this possibility, Frank? You think I haven’t got contingency plans?’

On reflection, McCracken didn’t think that for one minute, and had a fairly good idea what any such plans would entail. Bill Pentecost was nothing if not a forward thinker, especially where supporters whose loyalty might be suspect were concerned. For all the Crew’s underbosses knew, any one of them could be sleeping in a house that might, at the touch of a match, become an escape-proof crematorium, or driving cars that could blow themselves to smithereens at the flick of a switch.

‘We just don’t want a civil war,’ McCracken said, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. ‘Not with everything else that’s happening. Let the lads keep the skim. It helps them to pay their soldiers and runners in cash. And it gives them a bit extra to play with.’

‘I think that’s the real issue, don’t you, Frank?’ The Chairman sipped his malt. ‘A bit of personal belt-tightening never goes down well.’

‘Why should they do that? They’ve earned these extras.’

‘They’ll be earning nothing if these foreign nuisances continue to encroach on our territory.’

‘I’m not pretending that isn’t an issue, Bill. But why take it out on the lads?’

‘Because the lads, as you call them, are not pulling their weight.’

McCracken pointed at the window. ‘The enemy’s out there, not in here.’

‘The enemy won’t meet us in open battle. Instead, he strikes us here, there, everywhere … whenever we aren’t looking. But we need to be looking, Frank. That’s my point. We need to be. All of us. If my own captains can’t do that, the men who take a fortune out of this company every year for their own private pleasures, what fucking use are they?’

‘Bill, come on … you know as well as I do that this is no straightforward war. Like you say, it’s slow encroachment … and it’s happening everywhere. It’s the way things are, it’s a new age of crime …’

‘And we don’t have a role any more. Is that what you’re saying?’

McCracken placed his whisky on the desk; he hadn’t touched a drop so far.

‘We need to negotiate,’ he said. ‘It won’t be difficult. Look … the Russians, the Mexicans, whoever it happens to be, they don’t want a major scrap any more than we do.’

‘So we should accept slavery?’

‘No … but how about an equal partnership? Look, Frank … this is happening the world over. Yeah, there are occasional flare-ups, but most firms are finding out that if they’re prepared to sit down at the table and talk with these guys, deals can be done.’

‘There’s a problem, though, Frank.’ Pentecost seated himself behind his desk. ‘You see, the Crew only exists as an entity if we’re considered to be rule-makers, not rule-takers. And to be honest, I’m surprised I have to remind you of this.’

‘How can we maintain that if we fall out among ourselves?’

‘We won’t be falling out among ourselves.’

‘Maybe not.’

‘ Definitely not.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because we took a vote on it.’

‘That vote was coerced.’

Pentecost’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Really?’

‘Okay, maybe not coerced. But the lads are all going home now, where they’ll sit and have a good think about it … and in a short while they’ll be steaming.’

Pentecost pondered this.

‘Come on, Bill,’ McCracken coaxed him. ‘You know this. You don’t need me to say it.’

‘If that’s the case, the only conclusion can be that even more stick is required.’

‘Bill … are you not listening to me?’

‘Frank … I think it’s you who’s not really listening to me. The way I see things, the lads have already had plenty carrot. A bit of stick too, I’ll admit. But evidently not nearly enough.’

McCracken couldn’t say anything else, and he didn’t really need to. His disbelieving expression said it all.

‘Your concern is noted.’ The Chairman sat back in his swivel-chair, fingers steepled. ‘And I’ve absolutely no doubt that should any of our … lads come to you with any kind of complaint, much less a scheme of any sort, you’ll report it to me forthwith.’

‘Yeah.’ McCracken gave a small shrug. ‘Sure.’

‘I’m so glad.’ Pentecost smiled, and because it was something he did rarely and was so unpractised at, it looked more than a little deranged. ‘Your loyalty to the company is most welcome … even if it’s only to be expected.’