GHIGAU 30 (PT1)
By w.w.j.abercrombie
- 122 reads
Lenny was still towelling his hair dry after a shower, when his phone rang.
“Lenny? Sam Tate.”
He pulled the towel around his waist and sat on the edge of the bath to talk. “Hello Sam. It’s seven am, does that mean you have news?” he said hopefully.
“We’ve been looking in to the Mercedes car.” said Sam.
“And?” Lenny couldn’t help the slight note of impatience in his voice.
“And, the model on the cctv is quite rare it appears. It’s only been available for a few months and is very expensive. There have been just sixteen sold in the UK since its launch, all from one dealer, and we should have a list of buyers very soon.”
Lenny didn’t remind her that he knew some of this already. “Only sixteen?” This was new information and his mind was working overtime, thinking what this might mean.
Sam went on, “I just wanted to keep you informed, I’ll know more once we have the names.” She paused for a few seconds before adding, “Of course, this kind of vehicle is often owned by luxury rental companies so it may be a long process trying to find out which exact one is on the footage, and who was using it on that day. But I just wanted to let you know we’re working on it.”
“How long until you get the details?” Lenny said quickly.
“Well, that depends, if we don’t hear by tomorrow I’ll be chasing it up I can assure you.”
Even before he had thanked Sam for the update and ended the call, he had already decided what he was going to do with this new information,
It only took Lenny one phone call to Terry’s Garage, and one more to Mercedes Benz’ head office in the UK, to ascertain that the particular model that Nikki had been seen getting into was indeed very expensive and was only sold via the flagship dealership on Park Lane, Mayfair. A further phone call secured ‘Jack Cooper’ CEO of a made-up hedge fund and prospective buyer, an appointment with Barnaby James, a salesman, or rather ‘senior luxury brand decision consultant’, that afternoon.
Lenny dressed in a mid-blue linen suit and pink button down shirt. It was too hot for laced shoes so he slipped on a pair of soft leather loafers that at least allowed his feet to breathe a little. To add to his look, he wore his Ray-Ban Aviators and dug out the Rolex watch his dad had worn for most of his life, and which had lain unwound in Lenny’s bedside drawer for a good few years. He wanted to appear serious enough to convince Barnaby James he was a genuine buyer, but also come across as approachable and friendly, not stuffy; the kind of guy who, despite his obvious personal success, might be up for a little bit of indiscreet shop talk.
He parked his Volvo round the corner from the dealership, out of sight. It was a nice enough car, and suited him just fine, he’d never cared much for status symbols anyway, but it wasn’t in the same league as his supposed next purchase and he didn’t want to raise eyebrows.
As he walked in to the glass and steel atrium, where that year’s gleaming new models stood on revolving pedestals like enormous jewels, he was greeted with a warm smile by a young blonde woman with a pony-tail that swished from side to side, like a cheerleader’s. It made her look busy and energetic. Lenny identified himself as ‘Jack Cooper’ and accepted the offer of a sparkling mineral water, which came with ice and a twist of lemon. The young woman fetched his drink and showed him to an expensive looking leather and chrome chair, in the customer waiting area, where he could watch business news on a huge flat-screen television.
The scrolling section at the bottom of the screen was filled with alarming temperature readings and animated symbols of flaming suns. There were constant warnings to the elderly or infirm to remain hydrated and avoid unnecessary exertion. Location reports from Britain’s coastal towns looked like holiday footage from Benidorm. Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun, thought Lenny.
In this cool, quiet, Germanic palace however, you could be forgiven for thinking there was no heatwave at all.
Barnaby James wasn’t what Lenny had been expecting. The name had conjured up an image of a lanky, fop haired youth who probably pronounced yes as ‘yah’ and interjected ‘like’ before every adverb.
In reality, Barnaby was a short, balding man on the wrong side of fifty, beginning to run to fat. He didn’t appear to be coping with the heat at all well. His pink, round face glistened with perspiration and when he offered his well padded hand to Lenny it was limp and clammy. Despite the efficient air-conditioning, his Ralph Lauren monogrammed shirt showed dark patches under the arms. A faint aroma of tobacco, coupled with his evident shortness of breath, told Lenny he had recently been outside for a smoke.
“Mr Cooper? Nice to meet you sir” Barnaby said, between gulps of air.
“Please, it’s Jack, nice to meet you too.”
“Sorry, to keep you waiting, I was just, um, sorting some paperwork,” Barnaby explained, somewhat half-heartedly, as if they both knew what he had been doing. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead, exhaling through puffed cheeks.
“No problem,” said Lenny, “I’m not in a rush. Anyway it’s rather nice sitting in here, out of the heat.”
Barnaby nodded vigorously, “It is isn’t it? Although it just makes it feel hotter when you go outside,” he added with a forlorn expression.
Lenny decided that Barnaby was a glass-half-empty kind of guy.
“So how can we help you today Jack?” said Barnaby, straightening his tie and his posture.
Lenny took the printed photograph he had downloaded that morning from his inside pocket and showed it to Barnaby. “I’m interested in one of these, for my company. We often have to collect clients and we need something very special to… well to impress them if I’m being perfectly honest.”
Barnaby took the printout and Lenny saw the gleam in his eyes when he realised what vehicle his customer was interested in.
“Ah, the 600 Limousine, a beautiful car, and a perfect choice for any corporate organisation wishing to, how can I put it — impress without being showy,” said Barnaby unctuously.
Lenny couldn’t help smiling at Barnaby’s sales patter. “Do you have something I can actually look at? I like to touch what I’m buying, you know?”
“I can do better than that Jack, I have something you can drive!” Barnaby said enthusiastically, mimicking steering a car. Anyone would have thought he was announcing that Lenny had won the car in a lottery.
“Oh, great. Ok then.” Lenny was slightly taken aback but quickly realised a test drive would be an ideal opportunity to pump Barnaby for information without being overheard.
There was an awkward moment when Barnaby asked to see his licence, but he got over that by pointing out he wanted to experience the car as a passenger; like his clients.
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we're all passengers in your
we're all passengers in your story. Will he spill?
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