There was a way he could squeeze more money from the situation, but that would mean taking a risk. He took another gulp of whisky and reached for his phone. He tapped out the number from the business card Carolyn had given him. When Richards answered he sounded angry. ‘Who the fuck is this?’
‘You don’t know me Mr Richards but…’
‘If I don’t know you why the fuck are you calling this number?’ asked Richards.
‘I just want…’
‘Fuck what you want,’ snarled Richards. ‘This is my personal phone, you call me again and I’ll track you down and break your legs.’
Richards ended the call. Dunbar took the phone away from his ear and looked at it. ‘Nice,’ he muttered. He took another pull at his whisky, then tapped out an SMS. Two words. ‘Carolyn Castle.’
Ten seconds after he sent the message the phone rang. Dunbar grinned and let it ring for a while before taking the call. ‘Yes?’ he said.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘The name’s Maxwell Dunbar. And we need to talk.’
‘About what?’
‘You got my message. You know about what.’
‘And?’
‘She’s a client of mine,’ said Dunbar.
‘Is that right?’ said Richards.
‘That’s right.’
‘And what are you? Her lawyer?’
‘I’m a private detective,’ said Dunbar. ‘Look, we need to meet.’
‘I don’t think we do,’ said Richards.
‘We need to talk.’
‘About what?’
‘I don’t think you really want to do this over the phone, do you?’
There was a long pause. ‘Okay,’ said Richards eventually. ‘Give me your address and I’ll come around.’
‘To be honest, I’d prefer somewhere a bit more public,’ said Dunbar. ‘You’ve got a bit of a reputation. Where are you?’
‘Who the fuck do you think you are, asking me where I am? What’s it to you where I am?’
‘I was just trying to make your life a bit easier, that’s all,’ said Dunbar. ‘If you were in the club, I could come up West.’
‘You wanna come to the club?’
‘For fuck’s sake no. I’m not doing the lion’s den thing. But I can see you in Leicester Square.’
‘Can you be there in two hours?’
Dunbar looked at his watch. ‘Nah, I’ve got something on. But I can be there at eight. But I need you to be there on your own, okay?’
‘And how will I recognise you?’
‘I’ll recognise you,’ said Dunbar. There were two printed sheets on the coffee table next to the bottle of whisky. Information from the Police National Computer, including a head and shoulders photograph. ‘I want you to come on your own.’
‘Fuck that,’ said Richards. ‘I don’t know you from Adam.’
‘Well if you do bring someone, make sure they keep their distance. I don’t think you’d want anyone listening in on what I’ve got to tell you.’ Dunbar cut the connection and drained his glass. He smiled. So far, so good.
CHAPTER 44
Richards rode down in the private lift with Halpin. ‘So who is this guy, boss?’ asked Halpin. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat with the collar turned up. There was a clear plastic earpiece in his right ear that allowed him to hear what was being said by the security staff and there was a transceiver clipped to his belt.
‘Just some private eye,’ said Richards. ‘Once we’re outside keep an eye on me but keep your distance.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘He’s not going to try anything in Leicester Square on a Wednesday evening,’ said Richards. ‘Anyway I think he’s the one who’s scared.’
The lift stopped and the doors opened into the lobby of the building. Two doormen were standing there in black bomber jackets and matching earpieces. They nodded at Richards and Halpin as they stepped out.
‘All good, guys?’ asked Halpin.
‘Quiet so far,’ said the taller of the two doormen.
Halpin looked at his watch. It was only eight o’clock and the club usually didn’t start to get busy until midnight. ‘Early yet,’ said Halpin. He followed Richards through the reception area and out into Leicester Square. The square was packed with tourists and cinemagoers as Richards slowly threaded his way through to the centre. Halpin stayed at the entrance to the building, chewing gum as he kept his eyes on Richards.
Richards stopped and lit a cigar. Two middle-aged women in cheap coats glared at him and he grinned. ‘I’m outside, you sour-faced cows,’ he said. ‘If you don’t want second-hand smoke you can fuck off home.’
The two women looked away and hurried off.
‘Winning friends and influencing people, Mr Richards?’
Richards turned to look at an overweight balding man in a raincoat. ‘You’d think I was murdering their kids. You Maxwell?’
‘Max to the max,’ said Dunbar. ‘I wouldn’t mind one of them myself. What are they, Cuban?’
‘Hand-rolled on a dusky maiden’s thighs,’ said Richards, taking out his brown leather cigar case. He opened it and offered a cigar to Dunbar. Dunbar bit the end off and spat it to the floor while Richards took out a box of Swan Vestas and lit a match. ‘Never use a lighter,’ he said. ‘Ruins the taste.’
Dunbar drew on the cigar and then blew smoke contentedly. ‘No argument here,’ he said. ‘A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke. Who said that?’
‘Rudyard Kipling,’ said Richards.
‘Thought it was Winston Churchill.’
Richards shook his head. ‘Kipling.’
‘Well he does make exceedingly good cakes,’ said Dunbar. He took another long pull on his cigar.
‘What do you want, Maxwell?’ asked Richards.
‘It’s more about what you want,’ said Dunbar. ‘Carolyn Castle.’
‘Look, I’ve got a business to run, now tell me what the fuck you want or I’m off.’
Dunbar shrugged. ‘Here’s the thing, Warwick. She wants me to check you out, tell her what sort of person you are. And there’s two answers I can give her, right? There’s the real version and there’s the sanitized version.’
‘Sanitized version?’
‘Sure. Successful businessman and club owner. Supporter of charities. Good with kids and small animals.’
‘And the unsanitized version? What would that be?’
‘Gangster, drug dealer, extortionist.’
‘I’ve never been charged with anything,’ said Richards. ‘Never been convicted. Never even had a speeding ticket.’ He pulled on his cigar.
‘Only because you’re smarter than the average crim.’
Richards exhaled a cloud of bluish smoke. ‘Which raises the question, how do you know so much about what I might or might not have done? You had a sneaky peak at my PNC file, have you? Because I’m pretty sure that would be a breach of the Data Protection Act.’
Dunbar smiled and held up his hands. ‘Look, Warwick, I’m guessing that she has a thing about you but wants to check you out before taking it further. The job is worth a couple of hundred quid at most. But I figure it’s got to be worth more to you for me to give you a clean bill of health, right?’
‘You might be right.’
‘Of course I’m right. I mean, I don’t know if it’s the sex you’re after or if you want her to help boost your profile, but you’ve got a lot to gain by having Carolyn Castle on your arm. That’s got to be worth a few grand to you, hasn’t it? So it’s a win-win situation. You get the girl, I get a few grand.’
‘The alternative being that I don’t get the girl and you get a couple of hundred.’
‘Is she going to want to be seen with a gangster? That’s the question you have to ask yourself,’ said Dunbar. ‘No offence.’
Richards smiled thinly. ‘None taken. So two grand buys me a glowing report?’