From now on I promise to try to write something every day. I will keep my fingers crossed that something happens.
5.
The Waitrose in Tunbridge Wells has a café. Ian Ventham parks his Range Rover in a handicap spot outside, because it’s nearest to the door.
Walking in, he spots Bogdan by the window. Ian owes Bogdan £4,000. He has been stalling for a while, in the hope that Bogdan is thrown out of the country, but thus far, no luck. Anyway, he now has a real job for him, so it’s all worked out okay. He gives the Pole a wave, and approaches the counter. He scans the chalkboard looking for a coffee.
“Is all your coffee fair trade?”
“Yes, all fair trade,” says the smiling young woman behind the counter.
“Shame,” says Ian. He doesn’t want to pay an extra fifteen pence to help someone he’ll never meet, in a country he’ll never go to. “Cup of tea, please. Almond milk.”
Bogdan isn’t Ian’s biggest worry today. If he ends up having to pay him, then so be it. Ian’s biggest worry is being killed by Tony Curran.
He takes his tea over to the table, spotting anyone over sixty as he goes. Over sixty and with Waitrose money? Give them ten years, he thinks. He wishes he’d brought some brochures.
Ian will deal with Tony Curran as and when, but right now he has to deal with Bogdan. The good news is that Bogdan doesn’t want to kill him. Ian sits down.
“What’s all this about two grand, Bogdan?” he asks.
Bogdan is drinking from a two-liter bottle of Dr Pepper he has smuggled in. “Four thousand. Is pretty cheap to retile a swimming pool. I don’t know if you know that?”
“Only cheap if you do a good job, Bogdan,” says Ian. “The grouting’s discolored. Look. I asked for coral white.”
Ian takes out his phone, scrolls through to a photo of his new pool, and shows it to Bogdan.
“No, that is filter; let’s take off filter.” Bogdan presses a button and the image immediately brightens. “Coral white. You know it.”
Ian nods—worth a try, though. Sometimes you have to know when to pay up.
He takes an envelope out of his pocket. “All right, Bogdan, fair’s fair. Here’s three grand. That do you?”
Bogdan looks weary. “Three grand, sure.”
Ian hands it over. “It’s actually £2,800, but that’s near enough between friends. Now, I wanted to ask you about something.”
“Sure,” says Bogdan, pocketing the money.
“You seem a bright lad, Bogdan.”
Bogdan shrugs. “Well, I speak fluent Polish.”
“Whenever I ask you to do something, it gets done, and it gets done pretty well, and pretty cheap,” says Ian.
“Thank you,” says Bogdan.
“So I’m just wondering. You ready for something bigger, you think?”
“Sure.”
“A lot bigger, though?” says Ian.
“Big is the same as small. There’s just more of it.”
“Good lad,” says Ian, and drains the last of his tea. “I’m on my way to fire Tony Curran. And I need someone to step up and take his place. You fancy that?”
Bogdan gives a low whistle.
