Taffin on Balance Page 5

  Glennan sits forward, sets his empty glass down, trying to distance himself from the revolver on the table. ‘Please remember I am a public figure – a target for local discontent. Someone is trying to put the spotlight on me – I mentioned the stolen car on my property...’

  ‘Planted, of course – but you don’t know who by.’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘I could make an educated guess.’

  ‘Really? That would surprise me. I wouldn’t doubt you keep yourself well-informed where the big picture’s concerned, but detailed local knowledge – that’s something else again...’

  ‘There’s a man called Taffin.’

  Glennan takes a moment to absorb this. ‘There is, now you mention it. Something of a celebrity in the area. Of course – there was a movie, wasn’t there.’

  ‘The man emerges as a hero.’

  ‘Just a local wide boy. Why do you mention him?’

  ‘The area, as you put it, is familiar to me.’

  ‘I didn’t realize.’

  ‘By chance it was the scene of my first commercial opportunity when I arrived in this country. We all need luck when we start out. I had the good fortune to work for a man named Arch Sprawley. He taught me how to build and expand and think without constraints. He was my mentor and his patronage at a crucial time has stood me in good stead. The company he built up foundered and he died a broken man. This bastard Taffin was responsible for his downfall.’

  ‘Are you saying Taffin put him out of business?’

  ‘If you mean, was he responsible for Sprawley’s early death, the answer is yes.’

  ‘So you think this man’s going to be a problem.’

  ‘I don’t expect him to get the opportunity. When you face intimidation, from him or anyone else who stands in the way, close your mind to it – you can afford that luxury. You understand? Good – you know as much as you need to. Get to work.’

  Glennan is still phrasing a response when the room comes alive, the door closes and Frey-Morton has gone.

  The revolver that didn’t exist has vanished too.

  A RUSTLE OF RAIN stirs the trees around the forecourt at Muscle Motors.

  Two men and two women stand in the open. Ed Pentecost puts a protective arm round Julia’s shoulders. She doesn’t mind getting wet; not much bothers Julia.

  Rick Bishop and Kath Brewer wander to the shelter of a sycamore and prop themselves against the elderly Dodge Charger.

  From the office doorway, Charlotte looks down the rough track leading to the road and nudges Taffin’s elbow: ‘This’ll be him.’

  Taffin, hands in pockets, watches as a white Range Rover powers up the lane and stops a few inches short of the Dodge. The driver addresses Rick Bishop through his open window.

  ‘Didn’t expect a reception committee.’

  Kath answers him: ‘Nobody here but us chickens.’

  ‘I meant them.’ Eric McDermott nods towards the office doorway.

  ‘That’s the Boss and the other Boss.’

  ‘Good enough.’ McDermott gets out, breathes the fresh, damp air and beckons Ed and Julia to join him. ‘We’re not bothered about the Boss, or the other Boss. You’re the people I came to speak to – and I see you both have charming partners.’ He acknowledges the women with a nod. ‘Can I assume you’ve done some thinking?’

  ‘We have.’ Ed glances at Julia to include her in any agreement. We’re impressed by your offer.’

  ‘Does that go for you too?’

  Rick nods. ‘Very impressed.’

  ‘No problems with management?’ McDermott indicates the distant figures of Taffin and Charlotte in the doorway.

  Ed allows a momentary pause. ‘They just want what’s best for us.’

  ‘That’s good news, lads. When can you start?’

  ‘You haven’t said where these cars are.’

  ‘They’re all in one place, you’ll be happy to hear. It’s a collection housed on a farm estate not far from Northampton. We can provide accommodation close by if you don’t fancy the commute, but I expect you’ll be wanting to move up there in due course.’

  ‘In due course?’ Rick Bishop studies his fingernails. ‘That sounds permanent. How long’s this job going to take?’

  ‘There’s a lot of work waiting for you,’ McDermott tells him, ‘and more when that’s done. This is an open ended deal – I’m tempted to say a job for life – or at least as long as the classic car market stays healthy.’

  Ed moves to stand beside McDermott, arms folded. ‘Who’s paying us?’

  ‘As manager of the collection, you’ll be dealing with me.’

  ‘Not your money though, is it?’

  ‘OK, listen up.’ McDermott gathers the four of them in with a gesture. ‘The collection is worth many millions and maintaining it is going to be an ongoing expense like you wouldn’t believe. I’m talking about a clean, dry, temperature-controlled environment, specialist materials, ultra-violet lighting, museum conditions – because that’s what this project is all about. We’ll be building a museum of automotive classics. You’re damn right it’s not my money.’

  ‘So whose is it?’

  ‘A finance-based company. There’s a board of directors somewhere, a load of boring accountants, but they won’t be in our way.’ McDermott holds a hand out to Julia and Kath. ‘We haven’t been introduced.’

  In the doorway, Charlotte murmurs in Taffin’s ear: ‘Ooooh, he’s a slimey one. Do you know him?’

  ‘I ain’t seen him before.’

  ‘Looks like a librarian... or a scoutmaster.’

  ‘He ain’t either of those, girl.’

  ‘Who’s he working for, I wonder.’ Charlotte gazes across the forecourt at the group gathered round McDermott.

  ‘That’s what we’re aiming to find out. Time to put our word in.’

  Taffin takes his time strolling over to the group, not making eye contact with McDermott until he’s close enough to speak softly.

  ‘You’re hiring my lads, then.’

  ‘No hard feelings, I hope.’ McDermott pauses, watchful in spite of the quiet manner. ‘They’ve got the skills – I’m in the market.’

  ‘Are you a wealthy man, Mister McDermott?’

  ‘I represent wealth.’

  ‘Get this clear then, my lads are the best.’

  ‘That’s the conclusion I came to.’

  ‘What makes you think they’re for sale?’

  ‘They seem happy enough with my offer.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘What can I say?’ McDermott keeps his face neutral. ‘It’s their choice – I’m doing business with them, not you.’

  Dark glasses study the man for a moment, then turn slowly to Ed and Rick.

  ‘You want to work for this clown?’

  Julia feels Ed’s arm tighten across her shoulders. Ed says, ‘That’s what we’ve decided.’

  ‘And you?’ Taffin’s blank stare settles on Rick.

  ‘Same. You pay us fair but we’ve had a better offer.’

  Charlotte has moved up to stand by Taffin, sweeping Rick and Ed with her fuck you face. ‘Ever heard of loyalty?’

  ‘Forget it, girl.’ Taffin takes a leisurely pace towards Ed and Rick. ‘Be clear about this – you two are finished. Don’t come whining back to me if it don’t work out. When you leave this forecourt you’re gone for good.’

  It’s raining harder now but no one seems to notice. Taffin turns his back and walks away towards the workshop.

  SEVEN

  ‘HE’S NOT HERE.’ Charlotte’s normally easy manner seems strained.

  ‘Up at the garage?’

  ‘No, I’ve just been there.’

  ‘We was supposed to go for a drink. Where’s
he got to?’ Mo Taffin’s benign pudding face reflects Charlotte’s concern.

  ‘You tell me. I haven’t seen him for three days. He hasn’t been home and I haven’t heard a word. It’s not like him.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. He ain’t left a note at the workshop?’

  ‘Not a dickey-bird.’

  ‘What about his lads – Ed and Rick?’

  ‘Gone. They left.’

  ‘You’re joking.’ Mo stares at her as he struggles to take this in. ‘They can’t leave. They’ve been with him since... well, they’ve always been around.’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. What happened?’

  ‘I wish I could tell you, Maurice. There’s some weird stuff going on, that’s all I know.’ Charlotte hangs in the doorway of the house in Mitres Well Lane where she and Taffin have lived for... ten years? – where Taffin has lived most of his life.

  And all this time, Mo and Shirley have lived next door, separated from them by the width of a few bricks.

  ‘He didn’t give you no clue?’ Mo is having trouble reading Charlotte’s mood. He shifts his stance, unwilling to walk away with uncertainty in the air. ‘Something ain’t right – you can tell me anything, you know.’

  ‘I trust you, Maurice – we’re almost family – but all I can do is be patient and see what turns up.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Mo fumbles in a pocket for his pipe and matches. ‘I ain’t got my brother’s brains, anyone’ll tell you that. All I know is a bit of country craft, how to clean a shotgun and how to keep a pipe lit...’

  ‘Yeah,’ Charlotte tries a smile, ‘He says a match will light anywhere for you, even in a howling gale, because you spend half your life in the open. It’s one of the things he admires about you.’

  ‘...and I know when there’s something people ain’t telling me.’ Mo strikes a match and nurses the pipe’s bowl with the flame. ‘Me and Shirley are just through the wall when you want us.’

  OPEN COUNTRY as far as you can see in every direction. A building that might once have been an imposing manor house stands among barns and outbuildings on rough, neglected ground. A faded sign saying Linklater Farm hangs on the fence.

  A white Range Rover and two motor cycles pull up beside a large mobile home inside the enclosure. Three men and two women leave their vehicles and stretch their limbs.

  ‘This is the best we can do for you for the moment.’ Eric McDermott throws open the door of the mobile home releasing a waft of damp blankets and old sweat. ‘It sleeps four in comfort with a certain amount of privacy. ‘We’ll be able to move you into the main building when it’s been fixed up.’

  Ed Pentecost casts a critical eye over the surroundings. ‘What’s wrong with the main building?’

  ‘You wouldn’t like it in its present condition. This is much better in the short term.’

  ‘We’re not squeamish.’ Julia eases her rucksack off her shoulders and looks to Kath for confirmation. ‘What is this place? The house looks like something out of a horror movie.’

  ‘Some toff’s country estate originally.’ McDermott is full of fresh air bonhomie. ‘It’s got all the space we’re going to need for a world class museum and no shortage of parking space, as you can see. This place is going to be jumping by the time we’ve finished.’

  ‘In the meantime, we live in a caravan.’ Ed runs a hand over the bodywork and peers inside.

  ‘The ladies don’t seem to mind.’ McDermott rubs his hands – eager host and master of ceremonies. ‘Let’s get you installed.’

  Rick turns to survey the main building. ‘That place is empty, you say?’

  ‘Locked up. It’s definitely unsafe – half the joists and floorboards are rotten.’

  ‘So who does it belong to now?’

  ‘There’s an owner around somewhere – an old man, product of Old Money, if you know what I mean – and none too bright from generations of inbreeding.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Bob Sherman. The motor collection was in his family, put together by one of his relatives who had the money and the enthusiasm to do it. Old Bob didn’t know what he was sitting on ’till we came along.’

  ‘When do we get to see the collection?’ Ed chucks his and Julia’s packs into the caravan.

  ‘Right now. Meet me in that barn over there when you’re settled in. I’ll go and open it up.’

  He marches off towards the cluster of outbuildings surrounding the main house. Ed turns to Rick.

  ‘If my guess is right, we’re about to be shown a pile of old crap.’

  Rick shrugs. ‘Maybe it’ll be just like those pictures.’

  ‘Yeah? I’ll give you ten to one against.’

  ‘What d’you want to do then?’

  ‘I guess we just work with what there is and see what happens.’

  ‘Not a lot of choice, is there?’ Julia climbs into the caravan and looks around. ‘I hope you boys know what you’re getting us into.’

  ‘Not really.’ Ed follows her in. ‘Never lived at close quarters with Rick, so I can’t answer for his personal hygiene.’

  ‘I’ll make sure he behaves.’ Kath makes a face and inspects the sleeping arrangements – bunks at each end, each compartment separated by a folding partition. ‘I hope we’re not going to hear you going at it hammer and tongs all night.’

  ‘We’re quiet as mice,’ says Julia, fitting a lens to her camera. ‘Let’s go and see this load of old wrecks you’re going to restore.’

  The four of them make their way across the rough ground to the largest outbuilding. McDermott is standing in the entrance, sweeping them in with a gesture. Strip lights on low-slung beams reveal what they’ve come to see and for a moment no one says a word.

  The first impression is that some giant child has tossed rusted, neglected toys at random over the floor. In every recess of the barn, steel wings curve over corroded wheels; headlamps droop from once-proud grilles; elegant bodies, some with running boards, others streamlined like tin fish, lie rotting in harsh-cut shadows, all in paintless, cobweb monotone.

  McDermott watches their reaction in silence.

  Ed Pentecost makes a slow, thoughtful tour of the nearest specimens – an SS Jaguar beside a Ford Thunderbird parked nose to nose with something he doesn’t recognize. He turns to McDermott.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘You won’t have seen one of those before. That’s a Kaiser Darrin – great American flop from the fifties. Worth serious money now.’

  ‘And this?’ Ed pauses by a sleek monster, part concealed in shadow.

  ‘That’s a Facel Vega. This particular car was once owned by Mel Kinnear – you know who he is?’

  ‘Mel Kinnear –’ Kath moves up for a closer look at the car – ‘he’s an old rock star. Lead guitar with Lucifer’s Oven-Glove. My brother’s into 70s heavy metal bands. That’s got to be worth a fortune.’

  ‘You get the idea?’ McDermott smiles benignly.

  ‘Fucking hell...’ Rick Bishop looks around, dazed.

  ‘That’s one way of putting it.’ McDermott turns to Julia. ‘First, I’ll take that camera off you.’

  ‘You will not.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be in safe keeping.’

  ‘No way. That’s a state of the art Olympus and it stays where I can see it.’

  ‘I’ll have to insist.’

  ‘You won’t be insisting on anything.’ Ed speaks quietly without looking at McDermott.’

  ‘Alright, but no cameras in here – in fact no photographs anywhere on this property. Security is crucial and you need to respect that.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Julia lowers her camera. ‘You just had to ask.’

  Kath says, ‘We’ve all got smart phones anyway. You want to t
ake those off us?’

  ‘Like I say, security is of the utmost importance. We can’t afford for any record of this collection to get out until we’re good and ready – you understand?’

  ‘Sure, we understand.’ Ed remarks. ‘No photos. You’ll just have to trust us.’

  ‘Right –’ McDermott is back in team-leader mode. ‘Next, we make a list of everything you need and I’ll get it delivered in the morning. Tools, compressors, cleaning materials, abrasives, primers, masking and grinding equipment, compounds, paints, polishes – anything you’re likely to need or think you might need in the future. When we’ve done that, you can give me your orders for dinner and I’ll get it sent to the caravan. Then I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.’

  EIGHT

  NIGHT. Julia sits up and moves the blind aside to look out the window by her bunk. Ed has stopped snoring and she senses that he is awake.

  ‘I don’t like Eric.’ She speaks softly. A snort from Ed tells her he hears.

  ‘I don’t either.’

  ‘I don’t trust him. You don’t demand somebody’s camera unless you’ve got something to hide.’

  ‘That’s been gnawing at you. I could tell.’

  ‘He just demanded it, like he has the right to order me around – like some fucking Nazi.’

  ‘He’s no saint, that’s for sure.’

  ‘And I’ll tell you something else –’ she shakes Ed’s shoulder – ‘there’s someone in that house. There’s a light in the top window.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Ed props himself on an elbow to look past her. ‘Where?’

  ‘It’s gone out. I saw it though.’

  Ed sits up. ‘What’s the time? – bloody hell Julia, it’s twenty to three. Go back to sleep.’

  ‘I’m not tired. This place spooks me. There was definitely a light.’

  ‘You’re not tired? I’m awake now and I’ve just thought of a way to take your mind off it.’

  ‘Get off...’ She resists, but without conviction. He takes her suppressed giggle as submission and for a moment the cramped space is filled with the rustle of coverings thrown aside.