Page 98 of End Game
‘I’m glad you brought your lawyer with you,’ said Longe, ignoring the slight, ‘because we’re going to need his expertise once we’ve agreed terms.’
The nightwatchman slipped away, but couldn’t miss the man with his suitcases hidden discreetly behind a pillar, listening to every word.
Longe looked slowly around the stadium before he said, ‘“All these things I will give you”, to quote a friend of mine.’
‘But you seem to have forgotten,’ replied Faulkner, ‘our Lord turned him down.’
‘And look where that got him,’ said Longe.
‘And you need to remember, they’re not yours to give until the contract is signed,’ said Faulkner. ‘Try not to forget that nine million pounds is a very large sum of money, with no guarantee of success.’
‘No more than we agreed,’ said Longe, his tone becoming sharper, ‘and just think about the return you’ll be getting on your investment, Mr Faulkner.’
‘Only if West Ham sign the contract,’ responded Miles. ‘Otherwise, I stand to lose the nine million I’ll have paid you, and perhaps that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.’
Behind him, Booth Watson stood watching the two sparring partners warily, and was already wishing he hadn’t agreed to accompany Miles.
‘But there’s no risk involved, Mr Faulkner,’ said Longe. ‘West Ham have all but agreed to cough up the two and ahalf mil a year to rent the stadium for their home matches. So, in four years’ time, you will have your capital back, and from then on, every penny we make will be profit.’
‘We,’ repeated Faulkner. ‘How much do you imagine your split will be?’
‘Fifty-fifty,’ said Longe confidently, ‘just like we agreed.’
Faulkner’s eyes remained fixed on his would-be partner. ‘So, I have to put up the rest of the money to make sure you can close the deal, in the hope that West Ham will end up renting the ground. And for that, you’re expecting me to be satisfied with only fifty per cent of the profits?’
‘Yeah,’ said Longe. ‘That seems fair, because without me thereisno deal.’
‘And without my money,’ came back Miles, ‘there’scertainlyno deal.’
‘Well, given the circumstances,’ said Longe, ‘why don’t we say sixty-forty in your favour?’
‘Well, given the circumstances, why don’t I just tell you to bugger off?’ retorted Faulkner, a note of defiance creeping into his voice.
The two heavies jumped out of their seats, making Booth Watson wish he had another appointment, but Longe raised an arm and said, ‘Not yet, boys.’
They both retreated like lapdogs, but the wordsnot yetsent a shiver down Booth Watson’s spine.
‘You see,’ said Faulkner, still looking directly at Longe, ‘there’s something you haven’t fully appreciated. Cash is king.’ He gave the jumped-up mafia boss a condescending smile. ‘However, I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do. I’ll loan you the further eight million so you can close the deal, but on one condition.’
‘Seventy-thirty?’ suggested Longe, appearing to give way once again.
‘Not a hope,’ said Faulkner. ‘Once the capital and the interest have been fully repaid, you’ll be lucky to end up getting ten per cent of the profits, which will still net you around a quarter of a million a year. Not a bad return for buying a bent councillor a villa on the Costa del Sol.’
‘And if I agree to those terms,’ said Longe, ‘you’d be willing to cough up the eight million,’ he paused, ‘before the end of the week?’
‘You can have it right now,’ said Faulkner, turning to face his lawyer.
Booth Watson bent down, opened his Gladstone bag, and extracted a signed cheque for eight million pounds, which he handed over to Longe.
After checking the noughts, Longe smiled for the first time. ‘That’s all I need, Mr Faulkner,’ he said, ‘because once I’ve cashed your cheque, you’ll become surplus to requirements.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ Faulkner responded, not attempting to hide any sarcasm. ‘But if that’s your attitude, it will only take one call to my bank and the cheque will bounce all the way back to Stratford, while I suspect Councillor Dawson won’t be too fussy about who pays him, as long as he gets his retirement home on the Costa del Sol.’
‘But there’s something else you haven’t considered,’ said Longe, the confidence returning to his voice.
‘And what might that be?’ asked Faulkner.
Longe ignored the question. He simply nodded, and his two heavies stepped forward and began to walk slowly towards the long jump pit. Booth Watson watched in disbelief as they picked up two spades and began to dig.
