CHAPTER 27
Sharp
My phone was ringing off the hook this morning and most of it was tele sales, scammers and junk. I had one decent call, and that was from our friendly neighborhood mayor. He called to let me know how his chat with Richard S. Everard, the junkyard owner, went.
It sounds like it was very one-sided from how the mayor told it. All the mayor's side, too. When he arrived, Everard went straight on the defensive because all the mayor's previous visits had been demands for the junkyard to be tidied up, and made safe. Being forearmed this time with the knowledge of the lack of safe recycling systems, our mayor didn’t hold back and took no prisoners.
Having had some research done by his staff at the town hall, the mayor knew how much a successful junkyard would sell for. He also knew how much it would cost to install the necessary battery and oil recycling equipment, and the cost of prosecution for failing to have those things in place. Not to mention the penalties for burying batteries illegally and dumping waste oil into the sewer system.
The mayor demanded that the junkyard be sold immediately, at the reduced price that his staff had deemed appropriate. Or Everard would be facing a criminal prosecution that would be followed by a considerable jail term, and the seizure of the profits from his illegal activities.
I got straight onto Bank and Pen at this point in the conversation and had them on the case. It was only moments later that Psycho, Porky, and Croc were running past my office, no doubt summoned by Pen to give them the news.
The mayor asked how long we thought it would take to get ownership in our name, and for us to begin making the place look like the reputable business he has always envisaged it to be. I assured him we would take over as soon as legally possible and that we would clean up around the outside of the site when that happened. The clean-up of the stock itself and installing the recycling areas would also begin at the earliest opportunity.
I invited him to visit at any time once the business was ours, and we would keep him fully up-to-date with how things progressed. Sounding extremely happy with everything, he said that he would support us in any way possible. Also, if any other business became available that he thought would benefit from the club's involvement, he would let me know.
Walking down to Bank’s office, I see everyone crowding outside Pen’s instead. None too gently pushing my way inside, I take a seat and wait to be updated on the proceedings.
“Well, Pres, our lawyers are already on the case and we are pushing to get the deal done as quickly as possible. Bank has spoken to Everard, and he tried to sell at an inflated price. Once he knew that we had been in contact with Mayor Stonewall, he came to his senses and we’re moving forward.
“You realize we need to get in there as soon as possible, Pres?”
Pen looks at me with owl-like eyes and I wait for what’s coming next. “He could take a lot of inventory with him if we’re not careful. There’s bound to be some high-end stuff that he could move even without owning another junkyard.”
Turning to the door, I look at Psycho and nod my head sideways.
“On it, Pres. I’ll rotate with Porky and Croc so we have eyes on the place twenty-four-seven.”
The morning of the second day watching over the junkyard, a large truck arrives. Croc is on duty there and is on the phone to me right away. I chase up Bank and Pen to find out where we are with signing over the business. Bank tells me it should be this morning but Everard isn’t answering our calls. No doubt delaying while he gets his damn truck loaded.
Calling out to all available officers and brothers, I tell them to meet at the junkyard in fifteen minutes. That should have a good showing of the club arriving all at once, I think to myself.
Rolling up to the junkyard, I see Croc getting into some hands-on negotiations with a couple of guys that are clearly trying to close the main gates. As soon as we rock up, they hightail it back into the yard and disappear.
“Hi, Pres. They know we’ve been watching, so I took a different spot today and they thought they could get in and out without us knowing. As soon as their truck was inside, I made my presence felt, which in turn made them panic and try to close the gates. I wasn’t having any of that, so things were just getting interesting when you got here.”
“Nicely done, Croc. Now I think it’s time I had words with the soon-to-be previous owner.”
Marching through the gates, I notice a couple of brothers hang back to watch our rear, while four more peel off and take station by the truck. Barging into the office, I see one of the guys from the main gate talking to Everard. Well, more like demanding payment when I catch the drift of the conversation.
“You’re not getting paid, so you and your friend can take the empty truck and fuck off. Unless the truck is on the junkyard books, of course, then it stays here.”
“The truck is mine. Nothing to do with this piece of shit.”
The guy is clearly none too impressed with not getting his dollars. Leaving the office, he walks over to the truck where two of the brothers have detained his friend. Trip goes to the office door and calls out for the brothers to make sure the truck is empty and then let it leave.
“You’ve had your fun and games, Everard. Now it’s my turn. Get your shit from the desk, get to the lawyer and sign the papers. If we see you anywhere near this yard again, we’ll make sure you become one with it. Understand?”
Seeing him go white and nod his head, I look for the three new owners. “Crack… Take the new owners with you and escort Mr. Everard to the signing.”
Everard starts to grab papers, shoving them into a bag. When he goes to a safe in the corner, which is standing open, I say, “Ah, ah, ah. Only from the desk. You’ve had plenty of time to organize robbing the yard, you should have organized taking your own stuff first. Whatever is left here now is ours. Psycho, get him the fuck out of your office.”
I can see him wondering if he can get his stuff from the safe, but he resigns himself to having lost it when I wave Crack towards the safe. As he leaves the office he spits, “This is daylight robbery…”
“Nothing worse than you’ve been doing to the citizens of this town all these years.”
Turning to Psycho I say, “Go with him into the lawyer's office. For every minute you’re in there, break a finger on his left hand. Then break his toes and keep going till he signs. If the lawyer says anything, ask if he wants to take his place.”
Psycho knows that I don’t mean it, but Everard knows no such thing. We can all see him squirming at the thought. Psycho takes his arm and drags him out of the office. I hope that’s the last we see of that dirtbag.
Watching Crack and the guys leave, I wander over to the safe and have a peek at what he wanted to loot. There’s a few thousand in green, but not as much as I would have expected. A couple of journals that I slap onto the desk, and a box, like you would use for petty cash.
Sitting at the desk, I open the first journal. False account books by the look of it. The second is far more interesting. Businesses and dollars per month? It looks like our Everard is running a protection racket or something similar. Skipping through the pages shows it’s been going on for a while. At the back of the book is a list of officials that he has been either bribing or blackmailing. That wasn’t something I was expecting, either. Damn.
I’m not surprised, however, when I don’t see our good mayor on his list. Taking out my cell, I place a call to Grant. I feel we should be on first name terms by now, and when he picks up, I strongly suggest he gets down here at warp speed.
Minutes later and he’s sitting opposite me and reading the journal. I can see how angry he is when the veins at his temples are dark blue and pulsing.
“Son of a bitch. Dirty, filthy, scumbag, son of a bitch. If this gets out, we could have a riot on our hands. The people aren’t going to believe I didn’t know about this, and they are going to want heads rolling. I can’t blame them either. Jesus Christ, that man needs buried in a shallow grave for all of this. How the hell do I put this right, Sharp?”
Grant slumps back in his chair and shakes his head.
“First off, I’d suggest you let us keep the journal at the clubhouse. If you ever need it, you can get to it easy enough. If anything comes out, you can play the ‘plausible deniability’ card. Second, I could get my financial team to go through the protection payments and then we can divvy up and return the dollars from the safe.”
Nodding to the safe which is still open, Grant sees the piles of notes.
“Shouldn’t that be your cash now, though?”
“Well, Grant…we won’t miss what we’ve never had. How much is the goodwill worth to the MC when we rock up at nearly every business in town and give them a wad of cash back and freedom from future payments? I don’t think we have a bad street cred in town, but having a boost like this can’t be bad. Unless you have other ideas for the cash?”
“Hell, no. The less I’m involved with that stash of ill-gotten gains, the happier I’ll be. What a fucking mess he’s left behind.”
Grant rubs his hands over his face, head and then the back of his neck.
“This conversation stays between us, then. Any preference on where the shallow grave should be?”
“What? No. No shallow grave. I was just venting my anger. That wasn’t a real thought or suggestion.”
Seeing me grinning, he sighs. “You’re a horrible man. Nasty, mean and horrible.”
“A nasty, mean, horrible man that has just saved your ass. I might not vote for you next time after all that name calling!”
Reaching over the table, we shake hands.
Laughing like a couple of schoolboys, we leave the office, and he heads back to his office, or wherever he was when I called. I take a quick dive back into the office, grab the journal and the cash, before taking a leisurely stroll around the junkyard. As I wander, I wonder what else is hidden amidst the trunks and bodies of all these vehicles. Bodies? I hope it’s only car bodies in here.
I hang around long enough for Crack and the guys to return and once they’ve confirmed everything is now legally ours, I head back to the clubhouse. Psycho, Porky and Croc already know to get the outside done first. I promised the mayor that much as part of our deal, so let’s get the place looking businesslike again.
I’ll sit down with the officers at some point, and we can draw up a plan of how to get the yard itself sorted in the least amount of time. The club’s coffers are sure going to start looking healthier again with all these new business ventures.