AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’d read somewhere that the land had once belonged to a horse rancher who’d bought it from the tribal council in 1922. Unfortunately, the market crash of 29 hit his interests hard and while drowning his sorrows, he managed to set fire to the main house while he was passed out inside it. In the years that followed, the ground remained unused until the Tribal council finally won their legal battle to have the land returned to them in 1994, when all traces of the main house’s gutted structure were gone.
Somehow untouched in the fire, the barn had survived, more or less, and the council had converted the rafters into an open plan studio flat. The ground level remained much as it had back in the good old days, a large, open space, with a row of stalls along the back wall. My land cruiser sat in the one on the end, undercover and in dire need of servicing. Behind it, the diesel generator coughed and sputtered like a smoker on fifty-a-day in its cupboard.
I avoided the stairs leading to the flat and circled the old rustic desk with a frayed dark green leather topper that took up the centre of the space to sit in the chair. Ritter remained standing. There wasn’t a second chair, and I didn’t intend to offer him one. Outside, the gorillas waited by the car. I ignored them and fixed my gaze on the small man.
“Right,” I barked. “So, first things fucking last, Mr Ritter, never come to my place unannounced again. You want to see me, you make an appointment like everyone else, got it?”
“Yes,” he nodded, his head bobbing in a way that made him look a bit like a penguin.
Having established that one important fact, I relaxed back into my chair and steepled my fingers together. “So, what’s this business?”
“Well, you see Mr Greystoke… err,” he seemed torn between relief and nervousness. “I’m not quite sure how to say this, this isn’t exactly the sort of thing I’m accustomed to.”
Feeling the tale-tale throbbing of a headache starting, I resist the urge to massage my temples, already regretting the decision to hear him out. “Well, just start from the beginning, Mr Ritter, and see where that goes. You’ll probably find it gets easier as you go on.”
“Well, it’s just that it’s been months now, and they haven’t paid me back, not a cent. I can’t wait any longer.”
“You owe money?” I ask, my interest peaked. This guy certainly didn’t look the sort that shopped at Good Will and Oxfam. Unless they’d opened up a branch on Savile Row in the last month and the story hadn’t broken yet.
He paled at the suggestion. “No, it’s my partner. He’s very displeased. It wasn’t his money, you understand, but he says that outstanding debts owed to our consortium, even if it’s only on paper, are bad for business. He thinks it makes him look weak, by association.”
A partner?
The idea intrigued me.
Sounded like Mr Ritter had wanted to swim with the big boys but instead found himself in the shark tank and was just managing to hold his head above water.
“So why come to me? You’ve got lawyers. Let the courts handle this.”
“That would take too long,” he spluttered, sweat misting his forehead. “Please, Mr Greystoke. I need the money back by Friday evening, before the banks close.”
I checked my watch. It was Monday, a little after nine in the morning. Not a lot of time then. Difficult, but not impossible. There was a clunk outside, and my eyes darted to the door. The minders must have got bored because they’d started fishing around inside the SUV. “Well, what about your two friends out there? They’re big lads. They should be able to handle this for you.”
“Oh No, Mark and Luke, no, no, no, that wouldn’t do at all. I’m a well-known man, Mr Greystoke. I have friends, business associates, and they know their faces. If something went wrong and word got out, it would all come back to me. Any hint of violence or criminal activity would ruin me.”
I resisted the impulse to ask which one was Luke and which was Mark. They looked pretty much identical to me. With their broad barrel builds and sloping temples, Donkey and King suited them much better.
“But you do want your money, right?” My headache was growing, and this time I couldn’t help but rub my temples. Never mind minders, this guy needed a fucking nanny.
“I need it, Mr Greystoke, by Friday.” And the look on his face was so desperate, I thought he might drop to one knee and start kissing my arse.
“Very well, just write down their names and addresses, the amounts they owe, and how long for.” I pulled out a pad of writing paper and a pen from the desk draw, slapped them down on the topper and slid them over to him.
He did so, in a scribble so quick it was only just legible, then slid it back to me. “There, please, Mr Greystoke, I can’t wait any longer.”
I looked them over. Three names. All relatively local, not considerable sums, though the amount for number three meant he might be a problem. That one would definitely need some convincing, maybe a bit of arm twisting… or breaking.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t go that far, but you never knew.
I looked Ritter in the eye, letting him know I was deadly serious. “I’ll get you your money, Mr Ritter, don’t worry, but this isn’t a charity. My fee is fifteen percent, plus expenses, understand?”
“Of course, don’t worry, you’ll have it. Just hurry, please.”
I nodded in understanding.
And with that, we were done. He turned and hurried out of the barn, back to the SUV.
I watched them drive away from my chair until the Suburban was out of sight. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Unlocking the screen with my fingerprint, it came alive to show a camera’s live feed. It was motion-sensitive, one of several I’d rigged up all around the ground. The SUV moved into screen and two symbols appeared at the bottom, red circles with the legend BOOM.
