Chapter Sixty-Six
Daniel’s Story
It all started the morning Nic strolled into my office.
***
I’ve become used to Nic just walking into my office. He never knocks. I don’t like to say anything; after all, he’s been good to me.
‘Are you free tonight?’ he asks, without preamble. ‘There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’
‘Who?’ I ask, curious.
‘Let’s just say it’s a good business contact for you. He’s looking for a financial advisor – and not just any old advisor, someone brilliant. So, of course, I recommended you.’
I’m tempted, but taking on extra contract work would mean more evenings away from Jo, and we try to spend as much time together as possible, especially with her changing shifts.
‘Thanks, Nic, but I can’t take on any extracurricular work. I need the evenings with my family.’
He scrapes back a chair, sits down and looks at me earnestly.
‘Are you fucking serious? These people pay guys like you a fortune, and you do it during work hours, you moron. Christ, Danny, you’re in a position now where no one’s watching. At least meet the guy.’
He has a point. There’s no harm in meeting him.
‘I suppose I could,’ I say. ‘I’ll need to check with Jo.’
‘Great. Phone her now.’
That’s the thing with Nic: he never thinks things through. He isn’t going to budge until I call Jo.
‘That’s fine,’ she says when I call. ‘I’ll get a takeaway delivered. This is my chance for an Indian.’
I hate Indian food.
‘Then it’s on me,’ I say.
I hang up, and Nic claps his hands in glee.
‘Perfect. We’re meeting him at seven at the Royale casino. The food’s to die for. We’ll have a few bets after.’
‘You’ve already arranged it?’ I ask, surprised.
Nic laughs. ‘Time waits for no man.’
I open my mouth to say that gambling isn’t my thing. Truth is, I think it’s a mug’s game. But he’s putting work my way, so I say nothing.
That was my first mistake.
***
The casino entrance looms like a portal to another world; a world where fortunes shift like tides and the air hums with anticipation.
I hesitate before stepping inside. Then the lobby envelops me in a kaleidoscope of crimson carpet, golden chandeliers and mirrored walls that reflect a glittering chaos.
The aromas of perfume and aftershave hang heavy, making my senses reel.
To my left, rows of slot machines flash promises of wealth. Ahead, blackjack tables beckon, their green felt inviting.
I follow Nic, and as I walk I feel the soles of my shoes sinking into plush carpet.
A swirl of voices, laughter, curses, and whispered secrets surrounds me.
The players’ faces flicker between stoic determination and wild desperation.
I wonder what stories hide behind their eyes.
The gambler who’s lost everything. The high roller chasing a rush. The novice praying for a miracle.
‘Come on,’ says Nic. ‘Grub first.’
He pulls me off the main floor and towards a door to our left. That takes us into a sleek restaurant, where the air smells of grilled fish and barbecued beef.
‘Hey,’ he shouts, waving at someone. I follow his gaze towards a suited man who sits alone at a table.
‘This is Rupert Maynard,’ says Nic. ‘And this is the guy I was telling you about. Mr Financial Genius, Daniel Neal.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ I say, half-laughing.
Rupert shakes my hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he says in a smooth, cultured voice.
I instantly feel out of my depth. Rupert is commanding and enigmatic.
His tailored suit discreetly proclaims that he is wealthy, and that his wealth is of the kind that buys castles, estates and entire businesses.
His salt-and-pepper hair is swept back with precision, his high forehead lends him a distinguished air.
‘Good things, I hope,’ I say, hearing the nervous edge in my own voice.
‘Nothing but. I’ve ordered Martinis. I hope you’re not going to tell me you’re teetotal.’
‘Far from it,’ laughs Nic.
‘I suggest we eat first,’ says Rupert. It sounds more like an order than a suggestion. ‘I hate discussing money on an empty stomach. I highly recommend the duck.’
I glance at the menu and feel Rupert’s eyes on me. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to ask for the steak. It feels as though my future with Rupert Maynard may depend on my choice of dinner.
‘The duck sounds great,’ I say.
And it is. But the meal drags on, and I keep sneaking looks at my phone.
‘Need to be somewhere else?’ Rupert asks.
‘No, no. Just checking on my son. I like to say goodnight to him.’
‘Don’t let me stop you. Kids are important.’
I nod gratefully, and then wonder why the hell I feel grateful. I step outside and call Jo. I tell her things are running late, but I won’t be much longer.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I’ve had my curry. An early night with my book sounds like heaven.’
‘Don’t miss me too much,’ I joke. I spot Nic waving at me. ‘I’d better go. Love you,’ I say.
Back at the table, coffee and liqueurs await.
‘Here’s to our deal,’ says Rupert.
Nic raises his glass to clink with mine, but I pull back.
‘I don’t think we’ve agreed on a deal yet,’ I say, rather more brusquely than I intended. Nic’s cheek twitches, and I can see he’s uncomfortable.
I’m already light-headed from the Martinis and wine. Any more, and I won’t be able to think straight.
‘I thought Nic had put you in the picture,’ Rupert says, sounding surprised.
Nic shifts uncomfortably. ‘I’ve given him the basic gist. I thought it would be best coming from you.’
‘Right. Down to business,’ Rupert says.
I sip my coffee, grateful we’re finally getting to the point.
‘Taxes here are criminal,’ he says, lowering his voice. ‘A man works hard, keeps his nose clean, and then they want half of it. My businesses are legal, you understand, but I need someone to set up offshore accounts. Nic said you’re the guy. Nic said you could make it look legitimate.’
I shift uneasily in my seat. ‘Why would I need to make it look legitimate if it already is?’
Clearly, this isn’t the reaction they’ve been expecting.
Rupert smiles. ‘Let’s not quibble over a few unregistered companies,’ he says.
Nic kicks me under the table, and hisses ‘There’s good payback for us.’
‘Ten grand for every transaction you handle,’ Rupert adds.
Ten thousand. So, this isn’t legal after all.
‘Nic will be your go-between, give you everything you need. I want the money to go through a reputable company.’
Lockwood and Holland. The perfect front for laundering.
I bite my lip. Ten grand… just like that? ‘I’ll need to think it over,’ I say.
Rupert smiles. ‘Of course.’
But it’s obvious that’s not the answer he expected. My head’s spinning. I want to go home.
‘Let’s play some roulette while you think it over.’
Christ. How long is this night going to last?
***
‘Don’t be a fucking wet blanket,’ Nic snaps when Rupert heads to the loo.
‘It’s illegal, Nic. He wants me to launder money through the company's books. I have to go.’
I stand, staggering slightly, but Nic grabs my arm. ‘It’s only a few times, Danny. You could make thirty grand. No one would ever know.’
I shake him off. ‘I’d know.’
Nic swallows, looking almost ashamed. ‘Look… I got you that promotion because you deserved it. But Rupert has influence. He knows people. You could lose your job if you cross him.’ He lowers his voice. ‘It’s better to say yes.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ I ask, anger rising.
‘No, Christ. It’s just, Rupert got me out of a mess. I owed a loan shark a lot. Rupert paid it off. I do him the odd favour in return.’
‘That’s your problem, Nic, not mine.’
‘Just this once,’ he pleads.
‘Who the hell is he anyway?’
‘Does it matter? Stay on his good side, and you’ll do well.’
And if I don’t? What happens then? That’s the real question.
Before I can reply, Rupert returns. ‘Ready for some fun, gentlemen?’
Nic gives me a pleading look, and stupidly, I give in.
***
At the roulette table, I follow Nic’s lead, placing a modest bet on red. The croupier eyes me, remaining calm but looking curious. I must exude the air of a virgin gambler.
The wheel spins. My heart races.
It lands on red seven.
I’ve won!
People around us clap. Nic grins like a lunatic. I turn to Rupert, who smiles approvingly. ‘Lucky streak. Don’t stop now.’
And, like an idiot, I don’t. The chips pile up. Time blurs. I’m flying high.
‘Beginner’s luck,’ the croupier mutters.
Eventually, I push through the crowd and try to hand Rupert his chips. ‘They’re yours,’ he says. ‘Cash them in.’
‘I can’t possibly—’
‘It’s a small amount,’ he says with a smile that almost dares me to argue.
Two grand. Small? ‘Jesus,’ I mutter.
Nic laughs. ‘Told you. There’s plenty of money to be made.’
***
I don’t remember following Nic to the loo. Rupert’s already in there. My foggy brain struggles to process what’s going on until I see the white powder on the toilet lid.
Rupert inhales; Nic follows. The next line is for me. I stare at the powder.
‘Not a virgin at this, too, are you?’ Rupert sneers.
I think that was my tipping point.
Fuck it. I lean over. The hit is instant, and all my nerve endings are suddenly on fire. Euphoria mixed with dread. Everything sharpens. Colours pop. Sounds explode. My heart hammers. Confidence surges. Somehow, I shake hands with Rupert, or is it Rufus? And agree to a deal.
That is my second mistake.
***
I crawl into bed at around four in the morning. Jo stirs.
‘You’re late,’ she says sleepily.
‘Sorry. We went to the casino… time flew.’
‘As long as you had a good time,’ she murmurs.
I snuggle close to her. The scent of curry lingers on her breath.
My mind’s still racing. Rupert said someone would drop my car off at seven.
Then I remember the winnings. I reach for my jacket.
Two grand in the pocket. So, this is how the other half lives: fine dining, client gifts and cash on the side.
As Nic said, there will only be a few times.
No one will know. And maybe… just maybe…
Jo and I can finally live like her parents.
Maybe Donald will stop looking down his nose at me.
With that thought, I fall asleep.
I should have stopped it there, but I didn’t.