They Thought I Was Dead: Sandy’s Story

32 23 July 2007 — Roel Albazi

Alan Mitten and Robert Rhys had been sensible. To Roel Albazi’s relief, after Tall Joe had finally tracked them down and popped along to see them, the money they owed magically appeared in less than a day.

But Sandy Grace was not being sensible. He wasn’t trying to help her because he was being altruistic, he was simply looking after his own skin. If Song Wu was reckless enough to come down hard on the wife of a cop, the police would be all over it — and very quickly all over him.

But whatever the police might do was nothing compared to what Song Wu might do to him or his family back in Albania if Sandy defaulted, after she discovered, through the monthly audit, that Albazi had paid her back with her own money.

He knew full well how much of an interest Sussex Police took in the local Albanian community, and steps they had been taking to engage with it, which only made all Albanians here even more suspicious of their motives. During the hours of questioning by the police he’d had to face since the devastation of his office and the humiliation of Skender, it was clear they believed it was the work of fellow Albanians, and they were going through all his links to them. A little too thoroughly for his liking. He had the distinct impression they were using the incident as an excuse to delve deeper into his own private business world and that was making him very uncomfortable.

He was also angry, very angry indeed at Song Wu, for what she had done to his office and home, and the humiliation of Skender. And angry at his impotence. Angry because he knew there was nothing he could do to get back at Song Wu, to get even with her, without putting his family back in Albania at even bigger risk.

She had sent a clear message to him. A warning. Letting him know how vulnerable he and his team were if they upset her.

Skender was fine after his ordeal, and quietly determined to get revenge on the two henchmen from Song Wu who had done this to him. He told Albazi they’d tricked him into opening the door, then floored him with a taser and, he presumed, then drugged him before stripping him and applying the glue, as the next thing he knew he was naked on the floor, unable to open his mouth or remove his hands from the wall.

Albazi’s office and apartment were uninhabitable, and until the repair work was done, he had checked into the Grand Hotel in Brighton. His computer equipment and physical records had been trashed, but he had a backup of everything and was able to function again quickly. And, to Albazi’s relief, the safe, which he had not told the police about and was concealed behind fake kitchen tiles, had not been touched.

All his attention was now focused on Sandy Grace. Thanks to two bugs, loaded onto her phone, and the third, a magnetic one placed under the rear of her little VW Golf, he could keep track of all her movements. Even more importantly, he could hear all phone conversations she had, in real time. Or recorded, for those he missed.

This guy Nicos, whoever he was, who thought he was a hotshot with phones, presented a threat. What rock had he crawled out from underneath?

He needed to be eliminated and fast.