After his shower, Stone dressed slowly; just buttoning his shirt was laborious. His shoulder was aching from the assault on his back doorstep, and a deep-black bruise was still there on his neck as he looked in the mirror. He stood on the scales and stared at the dial by his feet. Last week he had lost three pounds, and in the past month it was now seven pounds. He was becoming frail; he was feeling tired through lack of sleep leaving his hospital bed in the middle of the night, but his innate antagonism was driving him to get even with this thug Xavier.
Stone finished his breakfast with his third cup of black coffee. He called Vlad. He brought the car round to the front steps of Marine House. As they drove into London, Stone wriggled in the car seat to find a comfortable position. His patience getting shorter by the mid-morning, Stone was braced to face up to this visit.
But it was difficult not to be intimidated as he saw the high, brown brick façade of the building that was HMP Belmarsh. The visitor entrance in a side street, where there was already a queue, mainly of women and some with young children, left Stone’s tension rising. He had to get this over – he joined the slow-moving queue.
Once inside, he stood at a desk with a middle-aged female prison officer.
‘Your name please,’ she asked without looking up.
‘Stone, Harry Stone.’
The officer searched down two sheets until she found his name.
‘Your ID, please,’ she asked again without looking directly at Stone.
Stone handed over his passport. The officer flicked it open at the photo and for the first time looked directly at Stone’s face. She looked twice at the photo and his face and then handed it back to him. He was waved forward by a large officer with a sniffer dog just as he had seen at the airport just a week back. He was then patted down.
It was over half an hour before he was directed into the visit room, his patience being stretched as the pain in his right hip from standing too long was increasing. Inside the gleamingly lit, glowing day room, it was stark, with glistening paint on the walls; it even had its own clinical smell of humanity. The place was full, with a cacophony of sound.
For a moment, he had to stand in the growing noise. He leant against a wall. Across to the far corner of this wide, lofty, noisy meeting room, he suddenly saw the large face of Xavier with his round, wide head, completely bald, shining as if it was newly polished. The ripples in his neck were still there and visible. This intimidating image had not grown older.
Stone was taken to the table with four chairs, and he sat opposite Xavier and tried to keep his arms away from the small, thick plastic space that separated them. The sweatshirt Xavier was wearing looked as if it had not been changed for at least the last year since they had met. Stone stared at the ashen pallor of Xavier’s face; it told its own story of where this man had been living for some time. Stone suppressed a smile.
‘Harry, my friend, it’s good to see you’ve taken some time out to make a call on me. I like that, mate, it shows you’re a true friend, shows you still got some respect.’
‘I don’t like the look of this place, never been in one before and I’m never coming again. So make it quick. What’ve you got to tell me that I’ll want to listen to?’
‘Relax, Harry. This is a friendly, safe house and we’ve got plenty of time. I’ve not had many visitors since I came in. Some of my mates just don’t want to be seen in here. They’re all hiding, keeping their faces out the way. Do you know what I mean?’ Xavier laughed. But the noise was short, muffled in the growing din of the place.
‘You keep your drug-filled gangsters away from me,’ Stone quickly replied.
‘Ssh, Harry. We’ve done some good deals together. Haven’t I given you information and stuff that has made you rich, enough to repay everything you owe?’ Xavier said as he leant closer to Stone.
Stone felt fractious; he started to get up; he was going to walk out. He suddenly knew what was biting at him. It was claustrophobia from the high walls surrounding this place. But he was here until he was allowed to go. This bright sunny day, he was incarcerated, just like Xavier, within the confined space and tight security of this place.
‘No, sit down, not time to go yet, you’ve only just come. And we’ve got all day to talk.’
‘Get on with it. You’ve already spouted enough.’
Xavier hesitated. He placed his large, clinched hands on the table. An officer was standing just a few feet away and he looked at these two men as if he was expecting trouble. Xavier knew the signal of a straightened body from the warder dangling his keys, and he took his hands off the table and folded his arms. What he had to say, the officer should not hear.
‘There’s a buzz around a few of the nicks. Some of the boys who were working for me when the cops intruded on our freedom are getting a bit anxious. They have no money and they’re looking to do some very serious damage to you. It’ll be a bit more than roughing you up on your back doorstep. So last time, Harry, you owe money, my money, quarter of a million; it’s now long past paying up time, mate, and that’s not a good place for you to be in.’
‘Are you threatening me? Right inside this jailhouse?’
‘No, Harry. That’s not what I do to friends.’ Xavier’s sarcasm was again said with a smile over his wide face.
‘How many times. I owe nothing.’ Stone spat the words.
‘That’s not good for you, Harry.’
Again, Xavier paused. He took his time to pull his large, obese body upright. The warder close by looked straight back at him.
‘Now you listen to this. I’ve got a bunch of officious bloodsuckers pressing me to tell ’em where I got my cash invested. Proceeds of crime is what they call my money. Nasty, eh?’
‘I don’t want to hear any more of your drivel. You deserve what you get.’
‘Harry, please. The only money I have is my hard-earned savings. But these proceeds of crime people think I pinched my money from somewhere. Stole it in some dirty drugs dealing. These bean counter plods have been right in here in my new home to question me. And do you know what? They threaten to double my time inside this pokey if I don’t tell ’em exactly what they think I’ve got. Like where it’s hidden in some offshore place I’ve never even heard of. Then they want to snatch it from me. I don’t know about you, Harry, but I call that sort of deal stealing. Yeah, it’s ransom money, racketeering.’
Xavier’s voice was full of sarcasm. He spoke in a soft torrent and Stone had to lean in to hear.
‘What’re you after?’
‘Well, it’s like this. The quarter of a million you had in crisp used notes to wash to legit money for me is part of what these proceeds of crime people are trying to get their greedy hands on. So, if they ever call, you gotta tell ’em you know nothing of it.’
‘Get it out of your fat head – I’ve never had your quarter million; I haven’t got it now, and I don’t do deals with you lot of thugs trying your usual tricks of blackmail.’
‘That’s not very helpful, Harry. You want to get another top secret from the stock market then you remember this. They can’t keep me in here forever; I’ll be out one day and, Harry, I’ll come to collect my money. Just like one of my boys who has just called on you in your mansion. He knocked hard on your shiny front door to collect the twenty-five grand in notes. Down payment on what you owe. But you wouldn’t pay up. Right, Harry?’
Xavier paused, looked at the warder standing close by and spoke in a low whisper.
‘But if you wait a minute, right inside this nick, we can do a deal. We can’t shake hands in here like gents do when they agree, the screws won’t like it, but just give me a nod that you won’t grass on my quarter of a million if the cops call on you. You’ll remember it was at 6.00 in the morning and they searched in every cupboard of your place.’
‘Forget all that rubbish. I don’t like this place and I’m going in two minutes if you don’t give what I’ve come for, an insider secret I can trust.’
Stone was distracted by the noise in this hot, crowded room. He took a furtive look around and shuddered. Just being right inside HMP Belmarsh suddenly made him feel guilty. Guilty of what he was not sure. It may be that for the next few minutes he had to listen to Xavier dishing out money, just like the teller across the counter in a bank. But this time it was from a stolen source.
‘You’re too jumpy, Harry. You’re going nowhere until we’ve finished our little chat.’
Ignoring the attention of the warder, Xavier leant towards Stone across the table and looked at him with unblinking eyes as if he had not seen him before. He was looking at a changed man since they last met, someone who was now only a shadow of himself. It was age taking its toll, he thought. And for once, Xavier was not sure of Harry Stone.
‘My mate in here, who has some friends who live in those high buildings round the stock market, ’ll be let out soon, and he’s leaving this big goodbye present.’
‘The dirty hands of your money launderers and sharks’ll be all over it; I’ll need to double-check it before I touch it,’ Stone said, keeping his voice low.
Xavier had a pleading look in his closed eyes as he sat back in his chair and again folded his bare, hairy arms.
‘Well, right, now you listen, Harry. You remember calling on me in my luxury pad in the East End a year ago? I’ve a lady living in looking after it for me, lovely Lynda, and I want you to call again but this time with twenty-five grand in notes what you owe. She’ll be looking forward to your visit; she’ll give you a cup of tea for your troubles.’
‘That squat of yours in the East End is a grimy place, stinks of dogs. And that’s the last place I’m ever going near.’
‘Don’t get personal, and some advice, matey: think hard. Because it’s like this. You don’t look the kind of man who’ll want to miss out on this last big mega deal, and what I hear is that it’s really big. But, last time, Harry, you first take a bag of twenty pounders to the East End for me.’
‘You’re where you belong, you fat bit of scum. I’ve wasted my time coming in here and I don’t care what you and your lot of thieves want. You’re getting nothing, and I’ll tell the cops when they call all about your sordid life.’
Stone was getting anxious; this is not what he had come to listen to and he could feel the tension in his back and shoulder. He was unnerved, sitting tethered to a plastic chair in this prison. But he pushed his seat aside and it fell back. His fists were clenched, and in one quick movement, he leant towards Xavier and landed his right fist hard on his wide, red nose.
‘That’s for your venomous thug trying to frighten me with an iron bar and futile threats on my own back doorstep. You now keep them away.’
Blood immediately spurted on Xavier’s face. He tumbled back into his chair and fell to the floor. He let out a low growl and glared up at Stone. His eyes were widened as if he was about to jump up and land his own bare-knuckle fist right into Stone’s face. But Xavier was too heavy to get up quickly; he knelt on the floor in a praying posture before he finally climbed back into his chair.
In an instant, two warders were holding Stone’s hand high behind his back. It hurt the bruise from the iron bar to his shoulder; he yelled; he tried to struggle, but it only increased the tight grip that propelled him quickly to the door of the crowded room. Another two warders were square on to Xavier. He was going nowhere and the whole large room was reduced to a hush with a low murmur of voices. And Stone felt the glare of all the eyes in the room directed at him.
But Stone was held tightly, and as he tried to turn, he was not given a chance to face Xavier. He wanted to see the blood still spurting from his face. He wanted to see the venom in his eyes. And he wanted to see that this man was now going to be restrained and returned to a small cell for the next three years.
Stone was soon facing the two warders in an empty side room. They released their grip and Stone sat in one of the two wooden chairs. For a moment it was very quiet, and he felt none of the usual tight pain over his right hip. Stone wanted out of here and quickly. He looked at the two warders, both taller than him, who were standing rock still. They were facing up to him as if he had some fight left in his clenched fists.
‘It’s usually Xavier who throws the punches. You’re a brave man to hit him as hard as you did, sir,’ the thickset warder said with a Scottish accent. We know who you are from the visitor records; you won’t be allowed in here again, so we suggest you now leave in an orderly way. And if you do that, we’ll take no more action against you. But I don’t know about your friend Xavier. He’s a man who we hear has wide contacts, and I doubt he’ll soon forget this little incident.’
‘Just get me out of this festering den of thieves, fast,’ Stone shouted.
The warders ignored the noise from what they saw as a frail man. He was grabbed by his right arm and led to the door. He did not resist. The warders said nothing more and again Stone suddenly felt the suffocating claustrophobia of the stark, windowless brightly lit corridor. The space was very enclosed – several doors and iron-grid gates had to be unlocked to let him out, and the grip on his arm was not released until he was at the visitor entrance.
Out in the road, Stone suddenly felt good. He stood on the pavement and, for a moment, breathed in the air. There was no more pain he could feel. With blood streaming from his wide nose, Xavier was still confined securely in HMP Belmarsh. And being chased by proceeds of crime investigators for his dirty pile of money.
Stone saw this as a good day’s work. But he hesitated. Should he hold back from the attraction of easy money to clear Marine House that had been dangled in front of him by this crook behind bars?