‘She has, believe me. People don’t change their accountants otherwise.’
‘Forget her problem,’ I murmured, turning her towards me and nuzzling her firm breasts. ‘Let’s concentrate on our own.’
‘And what’s that?’ she asked, smokily, being rhetorical again. I answered her anyway.
‘When the hell are we going to eat those pizzas?’
Chapter 5
In a lot of ways, Newcastle is like Glasgow. There’s nothing quaint about it, but it has the same sort of grit — evolved, I suppose, through a century of building big ocean-going vessels. Like Glasgow too, the distinctive character and toughness of its people still shines through, for all its nineties face-lift.
Jan and I travelled down from Scotland by train on Friday afternoon, first class of course, courtesy of Everett Davis. He and his star performers had gone down to Tyneside that morning, to do television promotions for the live event, while the road crew drove down in their trucks, to begin the setting up of the arena.
As the express cut silently through the fields of East Lothian, many of them ploughed already in readiness for their spring seeding, I asked Jan whether she had taken up Susie Gantry’s invitation.
‘I called her this morning, while you were out doing that interview,’ she replied. ‘We had a long chat.’
‘Why’s she looking for a new accountant then?’
‘Because she does have a problem. I was right. She thinks her book-keeper may be on the fiddle, and she wants someone independent to cast an eye over his work.’
That sounded a bit odd to me. ‘Wouldn’t the company’s auditors do that?’ I asked her.
‘Normally they would. But Susie buys her book-keeping and audit services from the same firm. They’ve just finished the audit for the last financial year, but they seem to have skated over some discrepancies that were worrying her.
‘As a result, she doesn’t trust any of them any more; she wants me to do some forensic work, either to confirm her suspicions or put her mind at rest.’
‘Has she spoken to her father about this?’
‘No. That’s a bit of a touchy point with her. When the Lord Provost gave her control of the firm three years ago, he saddled her with an in-house accountant. He was an old mate of Councillor Gantry, who’d been doing the job for years, but very badly, according to Susie. She tolerated him for as long as she could, but finally a few weeks back, she’d had enough. She fired him.
‘Her father wasn’t very pleased about his pal getting the sack, although he didn’t interfere. Against that background, though, the last thing Susie wants is for her appointees to be found wanting. She says her dad would never let her live it down. So, among other things, she wants help to find the right successor to his old mate.’
‘Are you going to do it?’
Jan nodded. ‘I’m having lunch with her in the Rotunda on Monday. We’ll sort out the brief then.’
She glanced out of the window, as the train swept past a huge, grey, monolithic, menacing building, which I guessed had to be Torness Power Station. ‘That’s next week, though,’ she said. ‘What’s the programme for this weekend?’
‘We check into the Holiday Inn, then I have to go to the Arena. Everett’s called a team meeting for five o’clock, to go through the running order for tomorrow’s show. The roadies will start to build the ring and dress the hall this evening, while the rest of us are having a buffet supper back at the hotel.’
She threw me a mock grimace. ‘You mean I have to eat with a bunch of sweaty wrestlers?’
‘They only sweat after their matches, my darling. Some of them even know how to use a knife and fork.You’ll enjoy it.’
‘If I must,’ she grinned. ‘What about tomorrow?’
‘That’s when you go to the Metro Centre. I have to be around the Arena most of the day, ostensibly rehearsing, but in practice nosing around and keeping my eyes open for potential saboteurs.
‘The show begins at six o’clock. I told Dad you’d meet him and the boys outside the main entrance at five thirty. Once the thing’s all over, and they’re heading back to Fife, we’re on our own. .’ I hesitated ‘. . Except that Everett’s invited us to have dinner with him and Diane.’
My wife grinned at me, and leaned across the table which divided our seats. ‘You know, Osbert,’ she whispered. ‘I think you’re as big a Daze fan as Mike Dylan. Just as well I sort of fancy him myself.’
Chapter 6
We checked into the Copthorne Hotel, near to the station, to find that Everett’s secretary had booked us into one of the best rooms in the place, overlooking the River Tyne and its iron bridge, a smaller version of the Sydney Harbour landmark, but one which, I’ll bet, has seen as much action in its time.
I hadn’t realised that the Global Wrestling Alliance had its own liveried bus, until I saw it parked outside the hotel as Jan and I arrived. It wasn’t any ordinary tourer; it looked almost as tall as a double-decker, as if its roof had been specially raised, and I guessed it probably had. When I stepped outside at quarter to five after leaving my wife in our suite, it had begun to fill with wrestlers. . very large wrestlers, each of them wearing a GWA tee-shirt.
The huge Daze. . he had the gold in his hair once again. . leaned out of the door and waved me on board. Even with the high roof he stooped slightly as he looked along the aisle. ‘Okay guys,’ he boomed. ‘For those of you who ain’t met him yet, this is Oz Blackstone, our new ring announcer.’ He turned to me. ‘Oz, I won’t introduce you down the line. Most of these superstars have their names on their shirts, so you’ll be able to figure out who’s who.
‘Grab yourself a seat, and let’s get under way.’
I nodded. There was a spare seat halfway up the aisle, next to Darius Hencke; well, a spare half seat at any rate. The huge German grinned as I squeezed myself in beside him.
As we swung out of the hotel drive, I could see the Newcastle Arena, on the same side of the river, not far away; so close indeed that I wondered why we hadn’t just walked. In fact, I asked Darius that very question, but the driver answered for him, as he turned the bus in the opposite direction.
‘We have to let the people know we’re here,’ the Black Angel of Death explained, tossing his long hair back from his forehead as he spoke and throwing a stage glower at a child who was gawping at him from the pavement.
The driver took us on a grand tour of the centre of the city, across the bridge, up into Gateshead, then round and back over the Tyne by another crossing, until finally, almost twenty-five minutes later, he drew the bus to a halt outside the venue.
The Newcastle Arena is a modern, purpose built place, a big shed with the flexibility to allow it to stage both sports events and rock concerts. As we stepped inside, I could see that Everett’s roadies were a hard-working crew. The ring was in position already, although the canvas and surround were still to be fitted.
As the boss led his troops, me included, across the empty floor, I tried to imagine it twenty-four hours later, filled with seats and screaming spectators. For the first time, a wee bundle of nerves knotted in my stomach, as I thought of myself standing up there, calling out the matches.
The highest of the three ropes which enclosed the ring looked to be around five feet high. Everett jumped up on to the apron and stepped clean over, with ease. ‘Okay guys,’ he called out, ‘listen up.’ The wrestlers, two of them tall, strapping women, and half a dozen older guys whom I took to be the referees and in-house television commentators, gathered around the ring.
‘We got eight matches on the bill tomorrow,’ the giant boomed. ‘You’ve all seen the running order, and you’ve all been working on your routines. Once the guys get the padding and the canvas down, I want you to run through them for me, as usual. . without breaking any props.’
He looked at me. ‘Meantime, Oz, you with me over there and we’ll rehearse your ring announcements.’