The Laundryman Version 2

Turbulent, is what I would call my relationship with my fifteen-year long partner Lucy. In fact, that’s not a wholesome description at all, certainly not sufficient. In total despair at one time, I picked up a thesaurus and looked up ‘Turbulent’ and found a whole range of worthy explanations, surprisingly all, or at least most started with a letter ‘T’, which is too much of a coincidence for my liking. An omen. Must admit left me somewhat concerned until I remembered that for fifteen years we had put up with this situation and on no occasion have we decided enough was enough and parted our separate ways. Well, it wouldn’t be a quiet departure methinks. Anyway, I love her company immensely and even if she doesn’t concur, she enjoys a salubrious life style and plenty of spending money. If she had squirreled some away and accumulated a hefty nest egg, which she could easily have, there must be an inkling of liking for me there, I hope. Maybe a comfort zone. Who in hell would put up with her tantrums. There it is again, the letter ‘T’.  Let me summarize what I discovered in this learned volume…… TURBULENT……. Tetchy, Tempestuous, Testy, Truculent, Touchy, Tigerish, Tumultuous,……… there could have been more but why stir up a hornets nest. That seemed enough.

I arrived home early morning from a wild stag do. The taxi driver, my regular, poured me out, assisted me to the bank of lifts, chose my private one, loaded me in and pressed the go button. I don’t remember the lift doors opening but I was awakened by the determined recorded voice repeating ‘You have arrived at number 1, penthouse apartment. Please alight.’ I recognised it wasn’t Lucy immediately. She would have kicked me out or probably speared me with a six-inch stiletto heel. Kicking would have damaged her Jimmy Choo’s.  The thought of it brought me to my senses or at least the memory of the past pain. I gained entry by somehow entering the correct digits and even remembered to press my thumb against the security pad to check my prints.

There was no point in causing an immediate conflagration by entering our main bedroom and possibly waking our dear Lucy, so instead I crept into my dressing room, disrobed and had a long shower. Much revived, with a fluffy white towel around my midriff, I quietly opened the door of the guest bedroom suite, turned to close it quietly and switched on the light.  Wow! And double wow!! The sight that hit me, curiously expunged my hangover and I was suddenly as sober as a judge.  

“Hello lovely,” I said as a gorgeous brunette pulled up the duvet to cover her ample breasts, as Lucy ducked fully under her side of the duvet. Looking directly into those lovely brown eyes, highly dilated in surprise, I tapped my left wrist where my Rolex should have been and said, or more correctly commanded, “I give you two minutes to dress and leave,” pointedly tapping my wrist. I left, returning to my dressing room, only to hear the door slam and the lock turn.

I gave them a full two minutes according to the antique clock on the mantle piece in the hall. I rattled the door and got a shout of “Go away, leave us alone.” That didn’t go down well with me at all. The lock was flimsy but I knew that the shoulder charge would break it open and dramatise the scene of me in a rage. It did the trick. The gorgeous brunette jumped out of bed and leaped to her handbag, rummaging about. I should have allowed her more time and deliciously viewed her even more beautiful body but I relented and instead grabbed her by her thick locks and yanked her backwards onto the carpet and dragged her towards the door. Pandemonium broke out as both ladies started screeching. The brunette grabbed hold of my wrist with one hand and started lashing out at me with the other. To avoid her standing up and getting the better of me, I tugged her locks lower and dragged her backwards towards our front door.

Lucy launched herself at me with her claws out ready to do untold damage to my face. I had predicted the move, so with a practised sidestep and a rugby hand-off I escaped. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately for me, my open hand made full contact with Lucy’s lovely nose. The effect was devastating as you could imagine. On the rugby field, a red card and early bath! Here an astonishing amount of blood poured out from between her fingers as they covered her nose and face. At least the illegal handoff had the desired effect of disabling one of my attackers so that I could concentrate on dragging the struggling brunette out through the front door. She stood up in the outside hallway, was about to launch herself at me but realising that she was totally starkers, she covered her interesting parts in modesty. I stripped off my towel, threw it at her, which she deftly caught, slammed the door and walked into the lounge to get a drink from the bar.

I had hardly opened the fridge for the vodka when in bounded Lucy, shouting in the nasal way people do with a heavy cold, brandishing a pistol.

“Hey, careful with that, you could hurt somebody,” I said calmly, wandering towards her.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll murder you!” she yelled as she held the pistol with one hand and wiped the blood off her mouth with the other, still waving the pistol at me dangerously. “I’ll kill you, I will,” she yelled, gripping the pistol with both hands as copious streams of blood flooded from her nose and down her naked body, onto our expensive cream carpet. I noted, the last thoughts of a man about to meet his maker. 

The gun went bang and some plaster fell off the ceiling as I involuntarily put my arm up in defence. “Hey, Hey! Don’t do that darling. Do be careful,” I pleaded as another bullet boomed and ricoched of some metal object behind me. The next bullet could have been in my chest, being so close but Lucy dropped her arm and a third bullet pierced the floor beside her. She dropped the weapon as I enveloped her in my arms, cooing, “There, there. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” and lots of other platitudes as she cried her eyes out, covering my shoulder with tears mixed with snot and bright red blood. I gradually steered her to her own bathroom, sat her on a stool and wrapped a white towel around her shoulders, saying that I would just pop out and get some ice.

Tipping her head back, I held a pack of frozen peas to the back of her neck with one hand and with the other, wet a facecloth and proceeded to gently wash the mess off her face. It all looked worse than it was. The nosebleed stopped, her nose looked undamaged and the mess was wiped off. At that point I let her examine herself in the mirror.

“Not too much damage there. It will all heal up nicely and you’ll be right as rain.” I cooed as she gently felt her nose and waggled it from side to side. “I wouldn’t do just that yet babe. Let it heal first.  Why don’t you shower off the mess and I’ll get you a brandy to pick you up,” I calmly suggested but my heart was pounding. I needed the brandy too. She went off to her shower and I went back to the bar to get the desired drinks when the second pandemonium of the night broke….. or was it more truthfully the morning.

“Open Up! Open Up! POLICE!” came the shout from the front door. Before I had time to put the drinks down, I heard a crash as the police were ramming the front door.

“Hey! Why can’t you just knock on the door or press the bell like normal people do?” I shouted, irritated at all the banging thinking it might upset Lucy even more.

“Police! Open the door NOW!”

“I can’t open it now you silly buggers. You’ve damaged it!” I shouted back. “It’s a security door. It will take you ages to break it down. It will be easier for you to attack the surrounding masonry than the door. I’m getting out of the way.” Going back to the lounge I found Lucy clutching the second brandy. “Don’t worry, they are going do great damage before they get in. Let me fill you up again.”

“Shouldn’t you get some clothes on? I don’t think they would appreciate greeting you with an erection like the Eifel tower,” muttered Lucy, still very nasal.

I looked down at myself and smiled. Departing to my dressing room, I put on my best silk robe and proceeded carefully down the corridor to inspect the demolition of my whole doorway. Crash, the whole door and masonry fell into the hall amid a cloud of dust. A couple of burly policemen in all their combat gear charged in, pointing their machine pistols at me menacingly. I stood my ground and spread my arms in friendly admittance.

“Welcome friends, please take your boots off. Don’t want to spoil the carpet!” I think the reply was something like ‘Fuck You,’ as they barged past me, into the lounge only to get an equally torrid, blasphemous cacophony of abuse from Lucy. As the dust settled, I saw the brunette holding my towel tightly around her, standing in the hall. I stood aside and welcomed her in with a bow and an arm pointing the way in. She didn’t acknowledge my gentlemanly welcome. Instead, she barged past me to my guest bedroom. I followed. The contents of her handbag were scattered all over the floor. I picked up an ID.

“Hello DI Joyce Harman, nice to meet you. Pity we had such a poor introduction.”

“Give me that and leave!” she shouted. “I want to get dressed!”

“It’s my house and I can please myself. Anyway, I’ve seen everything the first time so no need to be shy.” She rushed at me and pushed me out of the broken door. I had the sense to grab the towel with double success in that I also got a second glimpse of Joyce’s luscious body. I retreated to the lounge to see how Lucy was shaping up. There she was, standing in her silver gown, hand on hips with the gown swaying open for all to see, giving the bewildered men in full combat gear, the what for.

“Go my girl!” I shouted in encouragement. “They have no right in barging in here like this and upsetting peace abiding people. By the way Lucy, that luscious brunette that you were bonking is a policewoman. That’s where you got the pistol from. Good job you weren’t a markswoman. I would be the one writhing on the floor.” Lucy stopped for a breath as Joyce entered the room, nicely groomed, with her bag over her shoulder, posing in a military stance. All eyes turned and stared at her. Mine too but my mind just though what a waste not to see the body underneath, the other eyes, particularly the men, just undressed her in their minds.

Everybody’s attention suddenly altered as a suit walked in and the uniforms suddenly tensed and stood to attention.

“Welcome Sir. What brings you to my humble abode,” I asked in jest but that fell on deaf ears.

“You must be Georgio Alfredo,” he said, pointing at me. “The owner of this property, I believe. And the lady must be Lucy Strawford. Anybody hurt? There’s a lot of blood about.”

“Nothing to worry about,” I answered. “You’ve just destroyed my front door unnecessarily and posted a policewoman in my house to spy on me. With a firearm. Why is that may I ask?”  A furious Lucy, with her gown agape, suddenly flew past me and launched herself at Joyce. A policeman rushed past me to intervene as I stuck out my foot and he tripped pushing Lucy with extra force at Joyce. All three fell to the floor as Lucy’s talons contacted with Joyce’s face. “Ouch” I mimed as blood was drawn before they were all dragged apart.

“Can we just calm down please,” I stated as firmly as possible. “You’ve all entered my apartment uninvited. Can you please pick up your things and just quietly depart and leave us to get on with our lives and clear up the mess you’ve made.”

“I’m afraid you are not in charge of the situation here. A firearm was discharged and the matter has to be investigated Mr. Alfredo. We are taking you both into custody while the investigation takes place.”

“Hey, you can’t just leave the place wide open.” I stated trying to appear cross. “We have valuable artworks in here on loan. Can’t afford any Tom, Dick or Harry to come in and help themselves. I can’t even afford to recompense their owner if they are lost or damaged.”

“Don’t worry yourself Mr. Alfredo. There will be a police presence here throughout our investigation.”

“That’s a relief, but who is going to pay for the damage to the front door. I need that to be replaced immediately.”

“As I have stated, I am in charge Mr. Alfredo. I will do what is necessary. Please take them away.”

“Can’t we get dressed first and be respectable for the general public?” I asked seriously.

“No need for that. Just take them away. The public won’t see either of you.”

We were bodily dragged out to the lift and separately taken down to the garage level. I could hear Lucy shouting and screaming at the policemen who dragged her out of the lift, handcuffed her and physically threw her into the black police van where she was immediately cuffed to the structure. Ouch!  I went peacefully and thanked the policeman who helped me up into the second van.

We were placed in separate holding cells but with the noise that Lucy made we could have been in the same cell. I requested that the warder or whoever it was in charge of the cells to place me in a quiet one, as far as possible from Lucy so that I could make some phone calls. The warder would allow only one call, to my solicitor. This wasn’t encouraging since I wanted to call the builder to immediately start on replacing the doors, a local carpenter to mend the second bedroom door and a team of cleaners to clean up the blood before it set and then new expensive carpets would be on the books.

Lucy underwent interrogation first. We all heard the goings on and the verbal abuse DI Joyce Harman received even though she wasn’t there. My processing was more peaceful. I just told them all that had happened and my involvement but they just wouldn’t tell me why I was under surveillance. A police car took us back.

“Now apart from busting my nose, tell me in simple words why you are being investigated by the fuzz?” asked Lucy as I opened a bottle of bubbly and ordered a takeaway from the finest restaurant in London. I didn’t answer Lucy but wrote a message. ‘Don’t say anything incriminating. They have planted bugs.’  I should have known. Lucy immediately broke into a clever diatribe of shouting announcements that we will have to fumigate the place to get rid of the bugs that the police had introduced when they barged in uninvited and unannounced. She then went into a vivid description of what she would do to a policewoman she had recently met. I just rolled around laughing, trying to avoid spilling my champagne. Rather predictably I had the whole apartment, lift, cars, office scanned and swept for bugs and cameras, found quite a number. Lucy packed them up carefully in coloured tissue paper and sent them to DI Joyce Harman in a pretty box. 

It was on the river at Richmond that Lucy was able to interrogate me without being overheard or spied on. We were on a private cruiser heading for Hampton Court, for lunch with friends.  

“Now tell me all. Have you been a naughty boy? Is that why the fuzz is all over you?”

“Well, as you probably know my dear angel, our wealth is not all got by fair means. You have no doubt heard the phrase that property is theft. Well, I’m into creative accounting, minimising the tax burden of my many clients and they are most grateful.”

“There’s nought illegal in that and I can’t see the police being involved in such a way. That woman had a gun in her purse and backup nearby. That suggests something far more sinister and serious. Come on, out with it. Hey, we’ve been together over ten years and you haven’t told me you’re into these dodgy dealings.”

“You are so perceptive darling and it’s more like fifteen years. You were happy with me being a very successful bean counter in the city and never asked about our wealth or where it came from. I must admit that some of my clients, the not so respectable variety, get paid for their services in hard cash. These days it’s quite hard to dispose of large numbers of notes without attracting the wrong kind of attention. Did you know that most transactions are now done by card or online but there’s more cash in circulation than ever.”

“OK, stop the piffle. You are into money laundering for the scum, drug dealers, robbers, gangs, etc, etc. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but I don’t deal with the people that you have listed. I wash cash for the elite of society who get backhanders that they can’t advertise. And I’m the best at it.  That’s where all of our wealth comes from.”

“Are you telling me that British Society is rife with corruption and you are just helping them along?”

“In simple terms, yes. You must understand that this has been going on for centuries. The rich have become richer and the poor have paid all the taxes. That’s because they can’t hide their earnings very easily. Easy pickings for the taxman and the politicians sleep easily.”

“Don’t you feel it’s morally wrong to help these people defraud the state? The NHS, teachers, our lovely policemen, army, navy etc are deprived of a pay rise. What do you say to that?”

“What have morals got to do with it? What are they and where do we find them? In a bottle? I can’t say I’m totally amoral. I was brought up as a Catholic, went to mass, confession, Holy Communion and all that, so I picked up the morals that the church fed me. Remember our last time in Rome, going around the Vatican. Even you commented on the vast riches. Where did all this wealth come from, donations from the poor and especially indulgences which the church peddled extensively to the rich, to absolve them of their sins. That was a cheap way of going to heaven for the rich and unscrupulous, without impacting on their moral code. Right, have some more champagne and let’s change the subject.”

“OK, tell me how your illegal career started.”

“I object to the ‘illegal’ reference. I might as well tell you. It started by me studying Law and Accountancy at Sheffield. Prior to that, and this is essential to my story, I worked for my family business during the holidays. They were into bespoke tailoring for rich businessmen. I used to deliver the suits, check for any alterations so got to know the rich client base in London particularly well. With tips and wages I built up a substantial bankroll so bought a dilapidated end terrace in Sheffield and filled it with students paying rent. They made a complete nuisance of themselves with noise, rubbish and parties. I picked up the rest of the terrace of five Victorian houses for a song.”

“You’re rambling again Georgio. Get on with it!”

“Sorry, but you need to know the background, how I accumulated a seed fund. Anyway, I did the terrace up to University specification and they bought the whole lot from me for a million and a half profit. I went on to do a Masters degree, funded by the taxman on tax evasion and avoidance. I wrote a dissertation entitled, ‘How to cheat the taxman.’ I got the degree but the Uni was told not to publish the paper, for obvious reasons.”

“So you used all that knowledge to defraud the taxman.”

“Hang on, I didn’t defraud anybody. In our parlance it’s called ‘Creative Accountancy’ and I was bloody good at it. I set up an office in London, solicited all of Dad’s rich clients and the Italian community and have a thriving business.”

“Yes, but when did you get into the juicy business, the illegal stuff, the money?”

“Fifteen years ago, before I met you, I went to a big society wedding, held in some dilapidated stately home and met the owner. I went out onto the veranda for a smoke. He came out and I offered him a cigar. We talked and he complained about the huge cost of upkeep, his huge debt and the taxes he was paying. I suggested that he set up a shell company or two in the Bahamas, get one to buy up his debt and foreclose his business so that he was bankrupt.”

“Yes, but these were his own new companies that were doing all this.”

“Clever girl! He was just moving money and property contracts about. He employed me to carry this through. With my substantial savings and capacity to raise money I funded the buying of the debt at considerable profit for myself.”

“Come on Georgio, stop dawdling. All this isn’t illegal or is it? Tell me when the juicy bit starts.”

“I’m coming to it. This Lord Brantford had a son who was keen on Ocean sailing. He brought over a stash of drugs and was in the process of selling them on to some Russian consortium. They were going to pay in cash. So many millions. Brantford contacted me for advice, get him out of the soup and advise him how to dispose of the hard cash without the authorities getting to know.”

“That’s money laundering and that’s illegal!” uttered Lucy as she leaned forward in a conspiratorial way.

“Yes, my darling but my greed took over as I could see a way of making millions the easy way. I told Brentford to up the anti with the Russians if they were going to pay cash. Basically, the person or organisation that launders the money expects a one hundred per cent profit.”

“So, if they give you two million in hard cash then one million of that is all yours. But how can you dispose of it? You can’t just go up to the counter in the Bank and say here’s a million to put in my account. They need to know where it’s come from,” she said knowingly, sweeping her golden locks out of her champagne.

“Too true, but in London there is a black economy that operates solely in cash. For instance, the building where we have our penthouse is owned by a consortium of Offshore Companies and they contracted a developer to build our palatial monster, giving him loads of hard cash. Labourers and most suppliers accepted cash readily which escapes their accounts and the taxman. And guess who owns these companies. Yes, Moi!” thumping my chest.

“Do you mean that the fifty luxury apartments in our block, each averaging four million each all belong to you? That’s incredulous!” almost spilling her drink.

“Your maths is perfect and I own a further six such blocks in London, outright, no mortgage or at least I use them as collateral to borrow cash for other projects.”

“So that’s why you funded my design course and now get me to design interiors for these clients. That’s all for you, isn’t it?”

“For us my darling. You get a fat fee and pay no tax. Now where is the moral in your story?”

“You mean that since I’m being paid in cash and don’t declare it, I’m just as guilty of money laundering?”

“Well, you could have been a good girl and declared your earnings to the taxman but you somehow conveniently overlooked that matter.”

“Oh! I see now. So that brunette policewoman you’re so fond of was after me for tax evasion.”

“Hardly darling. That’s peanuts compared to my undertakings. They were definitely after me. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Are you still in the game? Tell me all. Where do you store all that cash?”

“Well as you know, I have two offices, one in central London for my legitimate creative accounting business and a second office in Brentford. Behind that office is a secure warehouse. A Fort Knox type of establishment. I have access to it by a secret door from my office. A truck arrives by strict appointment, I let it in through double doors, offload it with an electric lift truck and store the pallets of shrink-wrapped cash in the warehouse.”

“So how much money is on a pallet and how much in the warehouse?”

“Depends on the denomination but probably a few million. I have some fifty pallets of money in at the moment.”

“OK, OK, where is the clever bit? How do you pay these people?”

“That’s the easy bit. I give them shares or bearer bonds in any one of the legitimate companies I own and they can dispose of these on the open market as and when they want.”

“But you can’t just keep storing the money in your warehouse. How do you dispose of it?”

“Various ways. People need hard cash like the developers and builders, so I count the money out and my secretary delivers it in a roll-along case. I have a taxi to take her to the client’s premises. I also deliver cash to various payroll companies that I have set up. There are a growing number of people who are self employed and they are happier, just as you are, to get untraceable hard cash rather than a cheque which they have to bank.”

“So, I could go along to the relevant authorities and spill the beans on you. I reckon you would be in jail for years.”

“Well, you could try but it would take years for anybody to unravel my holdings.”

“OK, then I organise a raid on your warehouse and find all the stash of cash.”

“Yes, you could but I pay the Met a lot of money to warn me of such raids. I would just load the money onto a trailer and send it around the country until things die down. How do you know it’s the only warehouse I’ve got?”

“But if they raided and found it empty, that would be suspicious. Why would you have a high security warehouse with nothing in it?”

“You know all the paintings in our apartment. They have been bought with pure cash and there is a further stash in my warehouse, all bought legit.  I employ an art expert and advisor who buys for me and my client’s paintings on a regular basis and they go into my store if the people don’t want to display them. I also have crates of second-hand gold jewellery ready to be smelted down into ingots.”

“But don’t you have to pay taxes on these purchases?”

“Well, you would normally but most of these paintings I buy, cost over a million dollars or more. To avoid taxes, they are bought by my offshore companies and many more are stored in Freeports where you don’t pay taxes. The main one I use is at Geneva airport. My clients can then trade them as if they were currency. Two Chagals for a Monet sort of.”

“There must be a paper trail that someone could follow and catch you out.”

“There is but much of is hidden and protected by what you might call firewalls. Most investigators would just hit a brick wall. Don’t forget that I have some very important and influential clients and they don’t want to rock the boat. It would be devastating for them if my organisation was closed down. They could potentially lose billions.”

“Oh! Billions. So tell me, how much are you worth?”

“At the last count, including client’s assets I hold somewhere in the region of forty billion dollars. Some of that is debt or loans.”

“NO! no, I want to know how much you yourself is worth. If you banked it all, how much would there be in your Post Office passbook?”

“Do you know, it doesn’t interest me that much but I would estimate somewhere between two and three billion dollars on a good day on the stock market.”

“Why haven’t we got a yacht, private plane, massive villas everywhere? You’re a cheapskate Georgio!”

“All that would be sticking my neck out above the parapet. Have you in the last fifteen years with me been on any public flight out of Heathrow and turned right, stayed in anything less than seven-star accommodation, been on any yacht smaller than a cross-channel ferry or stayed in a villa with less than five pools to choose from?”

“Now, if you put it that way I can see where your wealth is spent but couldn’t the authorities pick you up on that extravagance?”

“They could and they have frequently but they have come away red faced and empty handed. To all these pleasures I have been invited as a special guest, without having to pay for anything in terms of transferable cash. Yes, it costs me but that’s just a hidden transaction.”

“Well, I never. I can’t believe that you are so rich. We shall have a major spat resulting in separation and I will sue you for half your wealth. That’s what I will do.”

“If you delve into my legal wealth then you would find I am a pauper with crippling debts. You wouldn’t have a cat in hell’s chance of getting your hands on what you call my illegal cash.”

“Oh, but couldn’t you give me some more money? More cash to spend.”

“Darling Lucy, have I ever refused you any cash? Every time you ask for a grand to buy some pretty frocks don’t I just peel off a couple more to keep you happy, without you pleading?”

“I do admit some greed is suddenly creeping in. Yes, you have been more than generous and I’m sorry that I can be such a pain at times. The spats we have, have been horrendous at times but we somehow have got through them.”

“Yeah, you tried to shoot me the other day. What would have happened if you had succeeded?”

“Dread to think, cutting off the gravy train for ever.”

“I might as well tell you that if anything happens to me you are well provided for. So don’t worry your pretty head that you will suddenly have to change your lifestyle.”

“Thank God for that!”

“God has nought to do with it!”     

      

 A week later we were dressing to go out to party we had organised in a penthouse a few blocks away.

“Georgio, can I ask you some more questions about your business? Sort of where we left off before.”

“Must be serious when you call me ‘Georgio.’ It’s usually ‘Hey you!’”

“Now don’t start. I’ve been giving it some thought since our last chat and that horrid incident. If possible, I’d like to help out in anyway I can. I’m getting bored with things and something illicit might just perk me up.”

“Seems strange you wanting to work, after fifteen years of just being kept like a sort of wife at home!”

“Yeah, but we’ve always had lots of fun. No, I’d really like to help and also, so I don’t accidentally put my foot in it. Who would have known she was a policewoman? Far too pretty.”

“Is that why you fell for her,” I answered as she turned her back and let me zip up her dress.

“Yeah, but she made all the play and I fell for it all, hook, line and sinker. I’m embarrassed to think about it. Let me just help so that I don’t do anything as silly again.”

“Well, you can start looking for another penthouse for us in any of the blocks I own.”

“Why do we need to move? I like it here.”

“Yes, but the police and taxman now know where I live and we will be inundated with unannounced visits, demanding all kinds of things.”

“Yeah, but surely, they can find your address through mortgage details or tenancy agreements. Ah, something tells me you don’t have any of those things since the block belongs to you…. And I bet you don’t even pay Council Tax.”

“You’re getting there slowly but surely my pretty maid.”

“That’s why we organise parties in another location so that no one knows where you live,” announced Lucy staring at me with a knowing look. “I thought it was because you didn’t like the mess.”

“Well, I’d rather stay incommunicado for as long as possible and keep the authorities guessing.”

“But I used to bring friends back here. They knew where I and you lived. To be honest I wanted to show off and show them the paintings on our walls.”

“That I didn’t mind as long as they weren’t policewomen.”

“Drop it darling!” she said crossly. “Now who are we meeting tonight? The usual suspects? Are any of them gangsters?”

“Hang on, you’ve met most of them before and do they look or have looked like gangsters before, with their molls on their arms? I know you have enjoyed their company in the past and I know you socialise with the women.”

“True, but I’m more knowledgeable now and I’d like to know where they fit into your organisation.”

“OK Lucy, I’ll tell you tonight and point them out but for God’s sake don’t ever mention it to anyone, not even their wives. If it should get out that you know and are prattling gaily about it, then our business is finished and we could be in danger of our lives. Be warned!” I said gravely holding Lucy by her shoulders.

“Don’t take me for an idiot. I will be discrete and carry on as before in total bliss and unaware of what I truly know.”

“I trust you Lucy but be warned. You will have to be extra careful if you want to be more involved. We mustn’t talk about the business unless we are sure the location is safe and not bugged. Now let’s be off and enjoy the party.”

The long marble bar stretched across the width of the large lounge, right across to the huge plate glass sliding doors that accessed the terrace, overlooking the Thames. They were closed that evening, as drizzle hit the glass when gusts of wind came upriver at regular intervals. Lucy poured two glasses of champagne, two short glasses of straight rare malt whisky noting the label and one glass of Russian vodka, straight from the freezer.

“OK darling,” she said quietly whilst pushing the glass of vodka across the broad bar, towards me. “This is for your Russian friend Dimitry I think. Who is he and what does he do? Will he want ice?”

“No ice. He’s new to the group. Diplomat, high up in the rankings. Sells defunct military arms and equipment to any terrorist group upset with the West. Looking for someone to sanitise his raw cash and also needs a paymaster to hand out cash discreetly to his followers.”

“Why can’t he do that himself? I suppose he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty,” whispered Lucy as Georgio picked up the vodka and a plate of blinis laden with caviar, half turned and warned Lucy not to whisper. Handing the crystal frosted glass to Dimitry he placed the plate on the glass table besides him.

“Thank you Georgio.  Is it English custom for host to hand out drinks? We have servants and maids for that task,” uttered Dimitry in a pronounced Russian accent.

“Underlings are always spies that listen in to our conversations. We like to be discrete in our gatherings. Nothing goes beyond these walls and even they are automatically swept. Secondly Dimitry, please drop that strong Russian accent. We all know you speak pure Cambridge having spent four years there in your youth.”

“Sorry Georgio. It’s my cover to appear a stupid Rusky. You no doubt have done your background checks on me quite thoroughly.”

“We had to since you were so insistent on joining our club. You were making too much noise so we had to find a way of silencing you which wasn’t too drastic. We’ve run out of Polonium.”

“Don’t jest Gregorio my friend. I need you guys desperately. Others I’ve used have let me down.”

“You shouldn’t use terms like ‘desperately’ Dimitry. We my take advantage of that intelligence.”

“You probably know already so I’m just being straight with you.”

“Now Dimitry, take your drink and let me introduce you to my long-term partner Lucy and you can then take a glass of champagne and introduce me to your delectable partner. Your PA I understand. Is she trustworthy? Anyway, no more business talk until later. We socialise first.”

“Gregorio, I’m not used to such gatherings. Normally I’m usually surrounded by lithe women who seemingly cannot afford decent clothes to cover themselves and I’m drowned in drink by the bucket load. As they say in Cambridge, ‘You could die of thirst here.’ Quite a pleasant change may I add. Now do I behave like a dumb Rusky or capitalist Cambridge educated officer.”

“As you can see, we do things discreetly and professionally here. Never any pressure. Now speak English without the accent. You’re not fooling anyone here. Let me introduce you to my Lucy. She’s currently acting hostess but this will be the last drink she prepares for you. Get your own from now on.”

“Pleased to meet you Dimitry. Please introduce me to your friend Levana. I have a glass of champagne for her and I’ll introduce you to the Lewandowski’s who will interest you. He speaks impeccable Russian. Follow me,” said Lucy with a wonderful smile as she expertly ushered Dimitry across the room.

 “See you later darling,” I replied and advanced to another group of men discussing football.

“Now where does Lewandowski fit into this gang? He is so charming and his wife Annette is such a poppet,” asked Lucy as we met at the bar for refills.

“He’s and international banker and I’ll tell you about his wife later.”

“How is he mixed up with such a criminal bunch as you lot?”

“Hey, I take umbrage at your over vivid description. In his circle of influence, he has to appear cleaner than clean, totally non besmirched. He needs us to carry out his dirty work and pays well.”

“Now darling why don’t you go over to talk to Rosalind and find out how she married that awful guy Darren, who by the way, is a major drug dealer but introduces himself as in pharmaceuticals in a big way. Bye, must do the rounds.” 

Back in their apartment at approximately three a.m. Lucy and Georgio were slowly undressing, getting ready for bed.

“Hey, it was great you spilling the beans about those bad guys tonight,” said Lucy as she was vigorously brushing her hair.

“Now less of the bad guys. Did you at any nano-second feel threatened or uncomfortable in the midst of those people?”

“Nagh, just intrigued that they were all up to no good and amazed that they were all so laid back. That drug baron was very pleasant and I was disappointed that he didn’t make a pass at me. His missus is great. She’s going to take me to some art galleries to buy some paintings next week. Having the knowledge of the value of these hanging on our walls, I have suddenly taken an interest in art. How much can I spend on my visit darling?”

“Well, if you find something you really like then up to a million but you have to bargain hard and you must take Julie, my art expert and adviser with you. She’ll ensure you don’t buy a pup,” answered Georgio as Lucy launched herself to plant a kiss. “Hey, hey you must look at this as business transaction not a purchase of an expensive frock that you discard after one outing. Now, did you discuss how Rosalind met her husband?”

“Hey, I never knew things like this went on in this world. Buy a wife by catalogue and have her delivered with a fully authorised marriage certificate the next day, free delivery, with all the bloody wedding photographs to boot.  Wonders of modern computers, amazing! Amazing! Bloody amazing! The only thing that bugs me is why I wasn’t in on the act. I could be earning up to million quid a year to be nice to some freak. What an earner? Where do I sign up?”

“Sorry darling, your tortuous temperament will immediately disqualify you.”

“So why is it that you Georgio haven’t dumped me and bought one of these quiet and obedient wives? On second thoughts, don’t answer that.”

“After our serious spats I have had the urge but life would be soooooo dull without you darling and you’re cheap by comparison. Hey that hurt. Now, now don’t you dare throw that expensive bottle of perfume at me? It might hurt more than a bullet.”

“You’re a cheapskate Georgio but I can’t do without you. I can get rid of all my bad emotions and feelings in one foul session and feel better for it. Oh, by the way, I’ve signed up at the local pistol shooting club so that I can actually hit a target and avoid messing up the room décor, so be warned! Now when am I going to see this warehouse? I want to see what a million pounds looks like in hard cash.”

“I shall take you tomorrow. I have some business there. Now let’s get some sleep!”

A black cab dropped Lucy and Georgio off at the end of Lowefell Road in North London. It was a narrow nondescript road leading to a small industrial estate of offices and small workshops. Halfway along Georgio stopped outside a small dowdy office with an un-readable brass plate and pressed the bell.

“You were supposed to bring me to your warehouse not to a bloody awful office!” snarled Lucy.

“All shall be revealed to those that wait patiently!” I replied, pushing the door open as I heard the click. They stepped into a spacious vestibule with Lucy following rather reluctantly. They were faced by a blank door. I walked to the wall on the right and opened a small hatch revealing a keypad and camera. I tapped in a number and looked into the camera. A green light appeared and a spoken command was given, ‘Next person please.’  “OK Lucy, step forward and tap in your six-figure birth date and look into the camera. It’s going to check your iris. I plugged in your security information earlier today.”

“Anybody can find out my birthday. The security stinks!”

“They would also have to pull out your eyeball, freeze it and point it at the camera! Now just do as I told you and I can then introduce you to Peggy, my secretary. She’s in charge of this establishment, booking in and checking out traffic.” The door opened silently and Lucy followed into the large outer office. “Hi Peggy, meet Lucy who is going to have access to the inner workings, just like me. We’ll be an hour or so. See you later.” Lucy shook Peggy’s hand, uttered some pleasantries and followed me to another solid door. Again, we had to both repeat the security procedure before the door slid open and allowed them into a small vestibule. More security and we were let into the main office which was furnished with a large desk and a large machine covered with grey canvas.

“OK, OK, I get the message. The security is tight and I still haven’t seen the warehouse but it stinks. You’ve plugged the same data into each keyboard! 

“Patience, patience, you may have thought so but there was a slight difference. I kept it simple for you today.   I’ll turn on the monitor on the wall and you will see the warehouse, the office and the roads on either side. All this info is constantly being recorded, monitored and analysed by AI, Artificial Intelligence. If it spots any unusual behaviour of people and vehicles on both roads, then Peggy does a manual check.”

“Georgio, I want to see the fucking warehouse with all the money so stop pissing around and lead me there,” shouted Lucy in frustration.

“Hang on in there darling. This is part of your training. If you get any of the security operation wrong the room will be filled with CS gas and you will be hospitalised to recover so please concentrate and learn, otherwise you will be no use to me.”

“Just get on with it!” I twisted a button on one of the drawers of the desk and a panel in the wall slid open revealing a further vestibule. I beckoned Lucy in as the panel slid closed. Having gone through the same security routine a further panel slid open as lights went on in a cavernous warehouse.

“At bloody last! So, this is Aladdin’s cave and those are the pallets of cash. God, how many are there?”

“Right, grab the trolley there and close your mouth, don’t want any paper flies getting in there. Now this is the pallet we are working on. Batch Number 27A. Each bundle contains ten thousand pounds so ten rows by eight gives you?”

“Eight hundred thousand pounds!”

“Correct, so just under a million.”

“But there are five levels here so just a tad short of four million since some bundles are missing.”

“Correct again. Now I need three hundred thousand loaded onto the trolley so that we can count it.”

“We are not going to count it by hand are we?”

“We’ll come to that. Now before you load the trolley let me show you the other things we store here. The racking over there holds about a thousand art items owned by me and my clients. The large builder’s bags hold scrap gold and silver which will be melted down at some stage. That’s why we need this security. The hatch over there is where the pallets are offloaded, again accessed by a secure vestibule from the parallel road at the back. It’s a simple operation but nothing can go wrong.”

“Wow, what if some nasty gangsters break in?”

“Well, they will be in for a surprise. CS gas will be sprayed onto them plus a very sticky tar which will render them immobile in minutes.”

“But how would you clear up the mess?”

“With difficulty, but the robbers won’t get way with anything or be able to get away. Firstly, I doubt that they will ever get in with all the security I have here. Now let’s get that money loaded and checked.”  

“I wondered what this machine was. It’s a counting machine, isn’t it?”

“You’re getting the picture. Now load some bundles of fifties into that slot there. That’s right. Press the green button for go. Right, now the screen shows a weekly wage list. Click on the top name of John Ackerman.”

“He’s owed one thousand and fifty-five pounds so I press START. There it is counting out the money. Not only that there’s a sticky label appeared and a pay slip. What do I do, put all this in an envelope?”

“You got it in one. Tell me when you’ve finished and I’ll load the next site that needs wages.”

“Do these guys get over a thousand pounds a week working for you?”

“Well, its two hundred pounds a day plus National Insurance plus Holiday entitlement. They are all self-employed, so we don’t deduct tax.”

“OK, OK you don’t have to spell it out. Now this fucking machine is flashing red lights at me and has discarded a fifty into the bin at the side. What the fuck’s happening?”

 “It’s just found a dodgy fifty that’s all. See it’s gone back to counting.”

“Hey, there’s a whole bin full here. What do you do with it?”

“I incinerate it at intervals. It’s toxic and dangerous to have around. Having that is worse than money laundering.”

“Oh. Who delivers these wages to the sites?”

“Generally, Peggy hands it over to the manager there. Sometimes I do, just to check on the workers.”

“Can I do that? I’ve bloody counted it all out for them and if they have any beef then they can confront me.”

“The address of the site is on the envelope including the manager’s name. A car will take you to be on the safe side. Now will you be all right being ogled by a bunch of hairy arsed builders?”

“I’m used to that and I might even like it. When do I go?”

“You can do those two sites tomorrow.”

“Good, now a question that’s been bugging me. There’s some hundred and twenty envelopes each with just over a thousand pound in each but you’ve asked me to load up three hundred thousand onto the trolley. Que?”

“How perceptive of you! I need you to take a Hundred K to the Art Gallery as down payment for anything you purchase, I need fifty for personal expenses and the rest we leave in the machine for future use.”

“Can I have some?”

“How much do you need?”

“Say ten K.”

“OK just tap the ‘B’ button and enter ‘10,000’ and it will count you out the cash and wrap it for you. There you go. Easy peasy. Now let me count out the hundred K and Fifty for me. OK that’s done. Now this is where I keep bags and brief cases for carrying the money. Load them up.”

“God, it’s like going to the supermarket. Just load the trolley dear and go to the check out. Wait your turn and don’t forget we charge you for a bag, though I don’t suppose you charge here. What fun!” Uttered Lucy as she skipped and laughed pushing the trolley laden with cash.

“Lucy, if you want to help then you have to take this seriously. We don’t want any mistakes.”

“Hey, you won’t get any mistakes from me where there’s money around. Next time, I want to do this on my own without you looking over my shoulder, OK?”

“No probs there darling, just let Peggy know when you are coming. She may be out on a delivery herself. Now let’s get out of here. Peggy’s got a car waiting for us up front.”

Next time, the following week, Lucy was in the warehouse by herself. She was excited by the thought of all the money and riches lying about in the cavernous space. She took the opportunity to check everything out. The art works, the number of pallets of cash in various currencies, even the builder’s sacks of gold and silver. Having satisfied her curiosity, she loaded up the trolley, pushed it to the main office and counted out the wages as per the screen. With glee she also counted out fifty K for herself and wondered if Georgio would notice.

At the first building site, the men were waiting eagerly not only for the wages but a sight of Lucy in all her splendour. They knew or suspected that she was the boss’s wife, so they were on their best behaviour. Lucy expected some repartee and some flirtation but all she got was a pleasant ‘thank you’ as they backed out of the office, slowly, to ensure the maximum time in her presence.

“Hey, they are a good-mannered bunch these lads. I expected a more robust welcome,” she commented to the manager.

“Aye, they’re not a bad bunch. But they are scared shitless in front of the boss’s wife. They give Peggy a hard time, they do. But she can handle it.”

“I noticed when I came in, one of the guys, the one with the Arsenal scarf, giving out bottles of booze. I thought it wasn’t allowed on site.”

“It isn’t, Joe’s got a scam going. He buys booze or fags from various small outlets with dodgy money, you know what I mean, and sells it to the guys for a fiver a pop. I only allow him to do that at the end of the shift. He keeps the stuff in his locker and knows that he’ll get fired if he’s caught.”

“For fiver a bottle, I might take part in his scam.”

At the next visit to the site, Lucy had slipped a note into Joe’s pay packet to meet her at a pub nearby. There she hatched a plan with him. She would give Joe two thousand pounds of dodgy cash as his wage and he could dispose of it as he wanted. This interested Joe and each week Lucy filled his pay envelope from the discard basket and pocketed the genuine notes. This money plus any extra she counted out for herself she spent on buying premium bonds. When these amounted to over fifty thousand pounds she would have that transferred to her bank account then to her Off-shore account in the Bahamas, set up for her by Georgio, some time ago. Not only was she laundering money for Georgio but profitably getting rid of the dodgy cash. She felt quite thrilled by her innovative approach as she thought. She was helping Georgio and herself in reducing the stash of illegal cash in the warehouse.

“Hey Georgio, I can’t come to the bash tomorrow night, Dad’s birthday party and I can’t miss that. He’s eighty.”

“Pass on my regards and I’ll send round a case of his favourite malt.”

“Don’t do that Georgio, I think everyone’s doing that. I don’t want him pissed out of his mind. Send him a store voucher for no more than a hundred. He’ll be right pleased with that.” 

“Now a delicate question for you? A certain lady, well known to you has come to me and asked me to put a twenty-five K through our stores and send her a bona fide cheque, less commission. Rather odd but we complied with a favourable rate. I thought you might like to know.”

“Thanks, I suspected the same but quite harmless me thinks. Makes her feel important and helping me. Don’t let her raise the anti on this and you raise the commission rate. I want to know what her reaction will be. Cheers.”

“Why the hell do we have to go to the Bahamas next week? Who’s going to do my wage rounds? I’m not going, so there!”

“Look Lucy, I know you are enjoying the work and you are being most helpful but we have minions who do these jobs for us. Peggy can quite happily do the work. Come on darling, you know how much you enjoy the bash in the Bahamas. All our friends will be there. We take over the whole hotel and can party to our hearts content.”

Lucy took the opportunity during a lull in the proceedings to grab a cab and visit the offices of the Company that held her Offshore account to be told in no uncertain terms that the only way to access her account was via internet and the only thing of interest in the building was a bank of computers. She went away with her tail between her legs feeling very naïve. She would have to have it all spelt out to her by Georgio though on the other hand he may find out where she was hiding her stash. Georgio already knew having accessed her account himself. She hadn’t even bothered changing her passwords and access codes, not that it would have bothered Georgio who at the time of setting them up, arranged personal access for himself, on a sort of joint account basis. I decided not to confront her with these things. She was happy and the spats between them were fewer and less vicious. Funnily, she wasn’t asking me for any monies for her frequent shopping sprees.

Their new penthouse was now adorned with paintings and sculptures that Lucy had actually chosen and bought. Georgio consulted Julie his art expert and advisor who agreed that Lucy had a good eye and the artwork was a sound investment though Julie was astounded by how much Georgio was prepared to spend and the quantity he was now acquiring. She admitted that her commission was more than welcome. She even prepared to open an account with another important dealer in London for Georgio.

 I spent some time checking out the dealers that over years had made the most profit for their clients before I gave the go ahead. Lucy, with her volume of purchases was raising my profile as an avid art collector which was attracting too much interest. This did not seem to concern Lucy who was now studying all the famous artists, ancient and modern and was eager to enter the auction rooms where she felt she could snatch a bargain. I advised her against it informing her that they wouldn’t look kindly on unverified monies. Small investments in established galleries was the safest route to money laundering I told and convinced her.

Lucy was still eager to dispose of the dodgy cash that got ejected into the blue bin, at a profit. She contacted Joe and ordered him to put her in touch with any outfit that was prepared to take fifty thousand pounds in fifties off her hands on a fifty-fifty basis. Joe himself was in trouble because he wasn’t able to convert Lucy’s illicit cash nor his previous provider’s counterfeit money and they were threatening to get rough. Joe found an outfit called the Manchester gang but they wanted a much larger percentage than Lucy was prepared to pay. Unfortunately, this left a trace to her which at a later date would haunt her.            

  Delighted with her progress Lucy started to get greedy with additional cash from the warehouse finding its way into her accounts. Her attempts to increase the amount of cash transiting the friendly retail outfit came to naught. The owner even upped his commission to which Lucy had told him that’s what she expected and was happy to carry on and hoped at some stage he would allow her to double the amount processed. Her cash in her Premium Bond account was yo-yoing at an incredible rate. She used a dozen post offices in London to process her hoard with transfers to her bank account then onto her offshore stash.

The day of reckoning came when the Manchester gang, as they called themselves, contacted Joe and ordered him to get Lucy to reconsider the initial deal with them to supply fifty K of dodgy fifties. On her next pay day visit to the site Joe, on receiving his fat envelope, muttered that he would be spending much of it at the Red Lion. That was their signal to meet up. She was in the corner seat of the pub, sipping a G and T when Joe poked his head round the door, looked and disappeared. Two burley police officers in uniform and a suit appeared and arrested Lucy. She put a good fight until she was tazered, then carried out and stuffed in the back of a black Mercedes.

When she came to, she found herself in a small room, lying on a dirty lino covered floor. No windows, only a low powered bare light bulb in the ceiling as her only company. Groggily she stood, propping herself up against the wall and hammered on the door. The door itself was loose fitting so the noise was horrific. A shout of ‘Stop the racket!’ and ‘We are coming,’ came from the outside. The door was unlocked with a key and the two former burly policemen were standing there, now out of uniform.

“Who the fuck are you?” screamed Lucy, “And why have you brought me to this disgusting place. Take me to your boss and we will sort this out now!” she screamed. All she got was a hard slap across her face. She launched herself at her assailant and had the good fortune of scratching his face, drawing blood, before she was punched in the stomach and found herself on the floor, retching and in agony.

“Shut up bitch,” shouted the assailant, wiping blood off his cheek on the back of his sleeve. “We ask the questions and we better have the right answers! Now pick her up Steve and hold the bitch tight. I’m going to ask her some simple questions.” The man called Steve stood Lucy up and pinned her arms behind her back. She got another slap which bust her nose again with copious blood flowing down her crumpled dress. “That’s for scratching me!”

“Now let’s get down to business. What’s happened to the fifty K you offered us a few weeks ago? Is it still available?” They got a nod from Lucy. “OK, where is it?” They got a shake of the head in return. Lucy got another slap which probably straightened her nose. “You will tell us in the end so you might as well avoid the pain. Steve, have you brought the acid?”

“It’s just by the door there, next to her handbag.”

“Right, just to demonstrate the effect of this liquid, just watch the plaster wall there,” said the man and sprayed acid on the wall. The plaster started to foam and sizzle, giving off a foul smell. “Now just think what this would do to your face. Even expensive surgery won’t put your face right! Would you like that my dear? That’s right, a nice shake of the head. We have come to our senses. Now where is the money?”

“In an office,” replied Lucy looking afraid and glancing at the bottle of acid in the man’s hand.

“In an office, is it? Where is this office then?”

“In London.”

“Oh, in London and how much of this money is there?”

“Not much more than the fifty thousand I offered you,” answered Lucy now getting some of her courage back.

“Now how does a pretty lady like you get hold of this money and why have you got the counterfeit money in the first place?”

“It’s a secure office and they count money there by machine. If a dodgy note comes up it’s rejected into the bin. I’m just converting it into hard cash.”

“So you gave some to Joe in his pay packet?”

“Yes.”

“Now can you get us into this office to get hold of the money?”

“Yes, but I want fifty percent,” replied Lucy belligerently.

“You’ll be lucky to get away with a pretty face. Now where is this office?”

“It’s in London and I can take you there but it’s very secure and I will have to phone to tell them I’m coming. No appointment, No entry!”

“OK, have you got the number plugged into your phone? What Name?”

“Peggy.”

“Got it,” said the man and tapped the number into a cheap throw away phone, handing it to Lucy. “Just make an appointment for two tomorrow afternoon and no small talk,” he added waving the acid bottle threateningly under Lucy’s face so that she could smell the acid.

She wouldn’t tell them the final destination but told them to take her to Wade Street and she would direct them from there. Thrown into the back of a blacked-out van, they sped off with a screech of tyres. Not long after she heard a shout from the cab, ‘Oh fuck! A roadblock!’ The van came to a halt and started a three point turn but gave up. Cab doors flung open and protesting guys were dragged out. Doors slammed and they were off again at a steadier speed.

A shout from the front brought Lucy back to reality. “It’s Steve here. We are on Wade Street, where now? Shout up!”

“Lowefell Road, halfway up,” croaked Lucy, “Peeling yellow office door on the right. Park on the pavement.” She felt the bump as the van went over the pavement and stopped. The door off the van opened and Steve stood facing her.

“Here, your handbag and shoes. Let me wipe your face,” he said kindly which surprised Lucy. He rubbed her face gently with a swatch of wet wipes and gave her a clean one to blow her nose. “Can’t do much about the blood-stained clothes. Do your best to get us in. I’ll come in with you. Some more guys will follow so keep the doors open.”

“Can’t do that. These are secure premises. One door has to be shut at all times,” she mumbled, climbed ungainly from the back of the van with a helping hand and threw the wipe back in the van. Steve walked her up to the front door close behind her. She pressed the buzzer and the door opened. Steve chocked the door open as she lifted the flap and started tapping in some assorted numbers. The machine stated, ‘Look into the camera’ and she followed the instructions, with the hem of her skirt against her mouth expecting a deluge of CS gas to flood down on them. No such luck. The door opened and there was Peggy to greet her.

“God, you look like shit. What the hell have you been doing? Who is this fellow and all the other guys pouring in? Hey get out! This is private. You shouldn’t be in these secure premises. I’ll buzz for the police!” shouted Peggy, trying to drag Lucy away from the man holding her.

“We are the police. Now tell me who owns this office?”

“I’m not telling you anything. Where’s your search warrant. I’ve buzzed the local police station and fire brigade. They’ll be here in minutes and then you can ask me questions,” stated Peggy with determination in her voice as Lucy looked back quizzically at Steve.

“No need for that. And you, young lady, I’ve just saved your pretty face from an acid attack. You should be grateful.”

“Sir, Sir, there’s a monitor on the wall and is showing a large warehouse and another office.”

“Thanks Sergeant, Now Lucy, how do we get access to the warehouse and inner office, we need to search them?”

“Don’t you dare bully her anymore, you thug. I’ll let you in but first let me take Lucy to the bathroom to clean herself up and a change of clothes. It’s quite safe. No windows. You can take a look,” said Peggy sternly, taking hold of Lucy by the hand and dragging her to the bathroom. A policeman looked in first and nodded his head. I’ll let you in as soon as I’ve seen to Lucy. Now don’t touch anything, even the walls or sirens will go off,” ordered Peggy.

A few minutes later Peggy emerged and they could hear the shower running inside. 

“Now Sergeant, you guard the bathroom door and you Peggy open the doors to the inner sanctum. Now what do you do here Peggy when you’re not ordering policeman about.”

“I run the office and the warehouse. I have plenty of spare time so the boss gets me to make up payroll hence the money counting machine and computer. Security man brings me a box of cash and I make up the envelopes. Oh, I also deliver them to site so you are lucky to find me here at this time.”

“And who is the boss and where is he or she?”

“I can answer that,” said a women’s voice, as a brunette in business style clothes walked in. “It’s Georgio Alfredo and Lucy is his partner in crime.”

“There’s no crime being committed here!” shouted Peggy. “This is a legitimate storage facility for art works and precious items.” At this moment Lucy came out of the bathroom, dressed in a military style trench coat, high heels, wet hair and her handbag over her arm, looking her glamorous self again.

“Now look what the cat’s dragged in from the gutter. It’s PC Joyce Harman and this time I will scratch your eyes out when we are alone, away from all this fuzz,” shouted Lucy angrily. “What brings you here?” 

“Get it right Lucy! It’s Detective Inspector Harman. And I’m still on your case. Now where’s that scumbag Georgio?”

“He should have broken your nose too, when he had a chance. Since when have they been employing lesbians in the police force? Can’t they get straight people anymore?” screeched Lucy but being restrained by the Sergeant.

“OK less of this. So you two have met before. Good, then you know what this is all about, me thinks. Now Peggy, you let us in and you Sergeant, look after Lucy here. Make her a cup of tea unless you find something stronger. Lead the way, Peggy.”  Peggy led them through the security doors into the inner office and then through into the warehouse, all this being watched with apprehension by Lucy on the security monitor. Any moment she expected and hoped for a cloud of CS gas and worse to descend on the police.

“Now don’t touch anything in here. The security has been upgraded but they are coming to test and commission the system tomorrow so anything can happen,” warned Peggy waving a stern finger at Steve, the one seemingly in charge.

“This officer will take you back to your office and stay with you whilst we do our checks,” ordered Steve. Peggy shook her head and briskly walked out followed by the designated officer at her heels. In the outer office they were met by another dozen policemen, some armed and Peggy just pointed the way with a nod of the head. The Sergeant had found a bottle of malt and shared it out in coffee mugs amongst the four of them as they sat down to wait.

“Now just watch the monitor and see what happens,” said Peggy. “I warned them. I’ll turn the sound up so we can hear the fun begin.” She adjusted the monitor to show only the interior of the warehouse. It showed Steve ordering the men to open randomly the pallets on the floor to show the contents. Lucy looked at Peggy who didn’t seem concerned. The first pallet to be opened contained reams and reams of printing paper, the second, sheets of plain paper which the policemen got very interested in, the third pallet opened revealed boxes of microwaves. Suddenly a siren sounded and a megaphone announced. “Clear the area immediately! Clear the area immediately!” They all looked to Steve for orders and he just shrugged his shoulders and ordered them to check the other pallets. 

“Now the fun will begin,” said Peggy. “Watch the screen. The door has closed automatically and they haven’t noticed. They have no where to flee. Hey, you two guys, get ready, I want you to roll out those rolls of plastic covering to the warehouse doorway in a minute but first watch the fun. Suddenly the siren stopped and the monotonous megaphone gave up its message. What followed looked more like a Charlie Chaplin comedy. The sprinkler system started with plain water and the crowd looked for somewhere to hide. No such luck. The plain water then changed to black, a sort of sticky paint which covered everyone from head to foot. The four in the outer office just split their sides with laughter at the antics. After a few minutes the spraying stopped and they could see black figures plodding through the mire.

“OK guys, roll out the plastic and I’ll then open the doors and let the buggers out. I did warn them. OK, stop laughing and don’t dare laugh when they come out. Look serious for God’s sake. I think they will be rather cross. Lucy, sit yourself down and just look smug.”

The door was opened and only Steve came out. He was covered in red paint. It looked black on the monochrome monitors. “Sarg, call the de-fumigation unit to come out here pronto. They’ll know what to do. Tell them there are twenty people covered in oil paint. Also, can you get me some wet wipes from the van. This stuff is getting into my eyes.”

“You’re lucky it’s not toxic. The proper stuff that they are going load tomorrow would have had you rolling around in agony. I did warn you but you knew better. Now, just stand where you are, on the plastic, don’t want the stuff spreading everywhere. I’ll switch on the communication system and you can tell your lot in there to stand still and come out when ordered. Here, some of my wet wipes. Pity you weren’t wearing a hat. Just clean around the eyes and mouth. It should be setting in a few minutes and then you can move. I’ve ordered them not to laugh! But sorry I have to smile,” said Peggy with a smile as she sat down.

“Sir, Sir, two units are coming with plenty of solvent. They advise you not to move about otherwise it will soak into the skin if that makes sense.”

“OK Sergeant. Just wait by the door and see them in. Oh and move the van and park them as close to the door as possible. Also get some guys to seal the place off. Nobody crosses the tape! Got it!”

“Yes Sir. I’ll get onto it straight away. You OK there, Sir? I could get a chair for you? We have a wheelchair in the squad car for these emergencies, if you see what I mean.”

“Since I will be the last to be doctored then I might as well sit down. What are you guys drinking? Can’t be tea, you are enjoying it too much.”

“Would you like some Steve?” piped up Lucy, “It’s best malt. Might take the taste of paint away? Now what are you going to do with Peggy and me?”

“Good question. I’ll have some malt for medicinal purposes only and I’m afraid you two will be in for some questioning. It seems we have two issues here. I’m part of the Interpol Fraud squad investigating counterfeit money and the other mob here are from the Met investigating money laundering. We now suspect that both of you could be involved. I suggest you don’t say anything at this stage. It might just incriminate you. Thanks Lucy, the malt is good and sorry I couldn’t save you from the beating from that goon. He’s safely behind bars. Just to assure you I wouldn’t have let him use the stuff. You were wise to give in easily. These guys from the Manchester mob will be put away for years for kidnapping, GBH and lots more unseemly business.”

It took four hours for all the people in the warehouse to be processed. DI Harman was the first for the clean up and Lucy couldn’t restrain herself in shouting, ‘Now who’s red in the face?’ as she walked past. Lucy and Peggy were taken to Scotland Yard for questioning. DI Joyce Harman arrived with her boss and wanted Lucy to take them immediately to her new penthouse to accost Georgio. Lucy stated that she would only oblige if the DI went in a separate car. She couldn’t stand the smell of her perfume, a strong paint remover.

Lucy opened the door to her penthouse with her security programme and was surprised to find the hall littered with circulars as if the place had been left empty for some time. Walking into the lounge, followed by DI Harman and a posse of policemen, she noticed all the original artwork had been replaced by shop bought replicas. They walked into their bedroom and she checked her sideboard. All her pieces were there as she left them. She checked a drawer belonging to Georgio and it was empty. What is going on she thought then suddenly realised that Georgio was just hiding his scent. Joyce was also looking through the drawers and cupboards. Turning towards Lucy she announced triumphantly, “Hey Lucy my pet, he’s jilted you! Whose got a red face now?”

“Shut up bitch, you’ll never get to him. He’s much wiser than you ever will be.”

“Don’t be upset my dear, we have you on fraud charges and your former partner on money laundering.”

“You have no evidence and anything you think you have is just circumstantial and wouldn’t stand up in court.”

“What, a warehouse full of money, even a counting machine? Don’t you call that evidence?”

“Show me the money! Go on you supercilious pig, show me the money! You didn’t even find a bent dime. We were watching you on the monitor all the time. God, how we laughed when you got the full dose of your own medicine. Now just fuck off and leave us alone to lead our own lives without you interfering.” The crowd of Police officers left, empty handed, whilst Lucy sat on the bed considering her situation. Where would Georgio be? At this moment the doorbell chimed but the caller hadn’t appeared on the security screen. On going to the front door Lucy noticed a card pushed through the letter box, ‘Savoy Grill, 3.15.’

“Hey honey, I hope you have learned that if you are playing a dangerous game you have to take care of the detail, however small it is. I warned you that counterfeit money was toxic and you didn’t listen. That one minor detail almost collapsed the whole business. Fortunately, I took avoiding action when you suddenly disappeared.”

“I know darling, you don’t have to rub it in. I had that intense feeling of greed and it dulled my senses. It seemed such a waste to burn those fifties. Did you ever suspect that I was creaming off the top?”

“Hey, you were so obvious and left such a clear trail that at first, I thought it was a joke and you were making a fool of me. You even stopped asking me for spending money. But in time you got more devious and I enjoyed going through the learning game with you.”

“So, you knew all along that I was filching cash from you? Why didn’t you say something or stop me?”

“Well, you were enjoying yourself and you were finding out about the true value of money. OK, there was a certain amount of greed on your part but everybody has that. It’s in their genes, a survival instinct. What I didn’t see or notice was the dodgy money side. I would have stopped that at the very outset. Only the lowest of the low get into that trade and all of them get caught out. In your case, it nearly cost your life or at least your good looks. It was bloody fortunate for us that Interpol had someone working on the inside. Your driver warned me that you had gone missing and I had my contingency plan.”

“But didn’t my naivety cost you a fortune? I’m so sorry, really!”

“Not in the long run. I already had a backup site. I just brought the programme forward. Just got rid of the money in time and bought fifty pallets of assorted goods to take place of the cash. I also disabled the security system so that it would let you all in. I enjoyed the sight of you covering your mouth with your skirt expecting a cloud of gas to suffocate you.”

“Thanks! Do you know what? When I saw them opening up the pallets I thought you really were a sly bum and you were fooling me before, that you had so much money in there. In fact, I was getting rather cross at the time until I noticed Peggy chuckling her socks off. I suppose you’re not going to tell me where this new warehouse is, are you?”

“No, I won’t darling and this episode has come to an end. You can still buy art for me. You’re quite good at that. Just leave the laundry basket for the maid or the experts.”

“What are you going to do about my offshore account where I’ve been squirreling money? Bit naughty of me, wasn’t it? Do you want it back?”

“In the scheme of things its peanuts so I’m going to let you keep the four hundred thousand, five hundred and forty-five pounds, seven shillings and four pence in your account without saying a word.”

“How the hell do you know the exact sum?” retorted Lucy displaying a hurt pout.

“Miracles do happen in this world. Now get your pert arse in gear, we have a party to go to! And don’t forget to apologise to Martin for giving him money to launder for you. We already launder millions for him every year! Second lesson, know intimately who you’re dealing with, especially you enemies!”