I looked at the third invoice, a month more recent. The St Louis number was there again. I had almost finished my check when I looked back at one of the numbers. The national exit code, which I had passed by at first, came back to me. ‘Why would Sonny be in Spain four months ago?’
‘He did an advance trip to check out the Barcelona venue. Why?’
‘Because he made a call from Spain to a US number. 00 1 215 671 4307. What’s the CWI number?’
‘Dunno,’ said Daze, in a voice like ice. ‘But three months ago he made three calls to that number. Two months ago, he made five. Last month he made seven.’
He stood, towering above me and walked round to the speaker phone on the desk. I watched him, as he punched in thirteen numbers; 0-0-1-2-1-5-6-7-1-4-3-0-7. As he hit each button a tone sounded from the speaker, each one singing into the silent room. After a few seconds the phone began to ring; one, two, three, four times.
After the fourth ring, there was a click, and a sunny, ‘Have a nice day’, female voice came on the line. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You’re connected to the offices of Championship Wrestling Incorporated, the world’s premier Sports Entertainment company.We open for business at eight am, Eastern Standard Time, but you can leave a message now, if you wish. Please speak after the tone. . and have a nice day.’
Before the message tape could start to run, Everett punched the cut-off button with a huge finger. ‘Son of a bitch!’ he hissed.
‘Aye, and a stupid son of a bitch too, not to know that all calls from a mobile are itemised on the bill.’
‘Let’s see if someone else is a stupid SoB.’ He leaned across the table, scanned the piles of invoices, then picked up another. I didn’t need to ask; I knew that they were for Liam’s phone.
‘For fuck’s sake, Everett! You don’t need to do that.’
He ignored me and went straight to the third invoice from the top. ‘There! Look at that!’ he called out, pointing. ‘November 14, I was in Frankfurt, he called our number from his mobile, seven thirty. I called later from my hotel, Diane wasn’t home; I got that smug woman’s voice on the answer service. I called Liam after that; made up a story about something I had to say to him. He picked up the phone all right. I’ll bet she was with him.’
I tried to keep an even tone, and not to laugh at him. That wouldn’t have been wise. ‘And I’ll bet that Liam got the answering service too, when he called. Did you ask Diane where she was?’
‘Yeah, she said she went to a movie.’
‘So believe her. She’s your wife; you owe her that.’
‘She’s my wife, but she don’t want my kids.’
‘Yet, Everett. From what you’ve told me, she doesn’t want them yet.’
‘Why’d the son of a bitch phone her?’
‘For some innocent reason, for sure. He wasn’t at home when he called her, or he wouldn’t have used his hand-phone. Maybe he thought she’d like company for dinner. Listen — your conspiracy theory’s gone by the board. Diane can’t be sabotaging the company so that she can deliver Liam and herself to Tony Reilly. Liam’s accident knocked that daft idea on the head.’
‘Don’t mean they ain’t having an affair though.’
Finally I lost patience with the poor, insecure, big sod. ‘No,’ I barked at him, ‘but it doesn’t mean that they are! You’ve got nothing more than unfounded suspicion; no evidence at all. Concentrate on the proof you do have, that Sonny Leonard is in regular contact with CWI head office. What are you going to do about that?’
Everett slumped into his chair, his chin resting on his chest, and sat silent for a full minute. ‘I’m going to watch the bastard in Barcelona next weekend, like a hawk; and so are you. If he steps one foot out of line, I’m going to break his back and send him home to Tony Reilly in a wheelchair.’
I looked at him and I was scared. Sure I’d heard him make a physical threat before, after my altercation with Matthews in Newcastle. But that had been said to frighten Liam, and to embarrass him before the team. This time there was a cold anger about him which made me worry that he might do exactly what he said.
‘I don’t think so,’ I said quietly. ‘You hurt this guy, and they’ve won, because you’ll be in the wrong. You’ll wind up in the courts, and that will be the end of your career and of the GWA. If we establish for sure that Leonard is Reilly’s plant, that’s the point at which we talk to Mike Dylan.’
He glared at me. ‘I told you. I can’t have cops in this. The publicity could ruin me.’
‘No, Everett. This is British law we’re talking about. As soon as someone is charged, whether it’s in Scotland or England, their case is sub judice. There can be no publicity until it comes to court. When it does — and if it’s in England, that could be a year away — chances are Leonard will plead guilty: even if they don’t extradite Reilly, and he isn’t in the dock himself, no way will he allow the story to be dragged out in open court.
‘Go with me on this. When we have hard evidence, we take it to Dylan.’
His sigh could have blown out all the candles on a centenarian’s birthday cake. And then he smiled. ‘You’re a persuasive SoB yourself, Blackstone. I’ll think about it. But that’s as much as I’ll promise for now.
‘See you on the flight to Barcelona.’
Chapter 23
‘Jesus, Oz, this is tremendous, you can see the whole city from up here.’ For once Mike Dylan meant exactly what he said. There wasn’t a trace of his customary flippancy in his voice as he stared out of the window into the evening, down towards the Kingston Bridge.
‘What’s that bright light over to the west?’ he asked.
‘That’s Ibrox. Rangers have a UEFA Cup tie tonight. I thought the whole city knew that.’
‘Not me. I’m a rugby man.’
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘An atheist.’
‘Who did the conversion of this building?’ he asked.
‘Need you ask?’ Susie interrupted in her high, brittle voice, from the kitchen doorway. ‘This is one of Gantry Developments’ finest achievements. Six years ago we won a Saltire Society award for this project.’
‘How come you live in a semi-detached in Clarkston, then?’ Dylan shot back at her.
She laughed. ‘I couldn’t afford one of these at the time. But we’ve got another big conversion on the drawing board at the moment, a big redundant church at the top of St Vincent Street. It’s grade A listed, but it’s derelict. If we get planning permission, I’m having the best of those.’
‘If you get planning permission. .’ I didn’t try to hide my incredulity.
‘Come on, Oz. My dad can’t pull any strings for his own company, or we’d get crucified. But we’ve consulted the City planning officials, and the Historic Scotland people about all the things we’d need to do for the conversion to be acceptable. We think we can meet all their conditions and still have a viable development.’
‘Make sure you put a lift in it, will you?’ said Jan, emerging from the kitchen with a tray loaded with plates of toast and pate, our first course. ‘That’s the one drawback about this place.’
Susie nodded. ‘I know.We couldn’t do that in here because of the layout of the building. This is listed too. But in the new one, we’ll be able to build a lift-shaft inside the main tower without the machinery being seen from outside.’ She took her seat at the table, facing Dylan. ‘I’ll show you the plans next time you’re in the office. When will that be?’
‘I’ve got other things to do tomorrow afternoon and Thursday, standing commitments to other clients,’ Jan replied, ‘and I want to work here on Friday. I could come in to see you tomorrow morning.’
‘Can’t do morning, I’m afraid. I’m doing my Lady Provost act, accompanying my dad to an official opening, and there’s a lunch afterwards.’
‘Oh well, I’ll just have to hold on to my patience until Monday.’ She shot our guest a sudden, meaningful glance. ‘I can barely wait, I tell you.’
Susie’s eyebrows shot up in one of her classic nervous gestures. ‘What! Are you on to something?’ she burst out.