Turn a Blind Eye

25

William arrived at the Playboy Club in Park Lane just after seven, confident that he’d have more than enough time to familiarize himself with the premises, as he knew Summers didn’t come off duty until eight.

After signing in, he climbed the stairs to the first floor and entered the casino. He walked slowly around the gaming room, checking out the different ways of losing money. A dozen blackjack tables and several roulette tables manned by croupiers who spun the wheels while their customers followed the progress of a little white ball, fervently hoping that it would select their chosen number. Ninety-three per cent of the time it didn’t. At the back of the room William noticed a door marked Privé, through which he assumed only the high rollers were invited. An invitation that would never be extended to him.

After a second perambulation of the gaming hall, he took a seat at the end of the bar and waited for Summers to make an entrance.

‘What can I get you, sir?’ asked an attentive barman.

‘An orange juice, please,’ said William, taking out his wallet.

‘On the house, sir,’ said the barman to the first-time customer.

An hour passed, and still there was no sign of Summers. After a second hour, William was beginning to wonder if PC Bailey had set him up in the hope of getting her boyfriend off the hook, while leaving him to wish he stayed at home.

William almost fell off his bar stool when the door opened and Bruce Lamont strolled in. William quickly headed for the nearest stairs, not even knowing where they led. When he reached the top step, he was greeted by the maître d’.

‘Will you be joining us for dinner, sir?’ enquired a man who was used to customers dining alone.

‘No, thank you,’ said William. ‘I’ve already eaten.’ He glanced over the balcony to see Lamont standing at the bar just a few places away from where he had been sitting only a moment before. ‘But I would like a coffee,’ he said, eyeing a table at the far end of the balcony.

‘Of course, sir. If you’d like to take a seat, a waitress will be with you shortly.’

William’s new vantage point gave him a panoramic view of the casino floor, while he remained half hidden behind a fake-marble pillar. Lamont was sipping champagne and chatting to the barman when Summers strolled into the casino and walked across to join him at the bar.

‘What can I get you to drink, sir?’ asked a young woman dressed in an outfit that left little to the imagination.

‘Just a coffee,’ said William, trying not to stare at her trademark large rabbit ears and fluffy bobtail. ‘Black.’

He turned his attention back to the bar, where Lamont and Summers were deep in conversation. William was beginning to wonder if they had chosen the club as their meeting place simply because they were unlikely to bump into anyone who would recognize them, but then the talking stopped. Summers stood up and headed for the nearest roulette table.

He handed the croupier a cellophane packet containing five hundred pounds in five-pound notes that William had last seen in the Hawk’s office. The croupier spread the cash out on the green baize and counted it before dropping the money into a plastic box for all to see. He then pushed a small stack of chips across the table to his new customer.

William didn’t know a great deal about gaming, but he did know that roulette was one of the easiest ways to lose money. Nags and fillies came a close second, his father had warned him at an early age. If that weren’t the case, he explained, it would be the casinos and the bookies, not the punters, who ended up broke.

A few minutes later Lamont joined him, taking the seat opposite, without acknowledging him. He handed over another five hundred, and also received a pile of chips. William sipped his coffee as he tried to work out what they were up to.

‘Faites vos jeux,’ said the croupier as he spun the wheel.

Lamont put five chips on black, while Summers placed the same amount on red, ensuring that one of them was certain to win, while the other was just as sure to lose.

‘Rien ne va plus,’ declared the croupier. The ball continued to spin around the outer rim before dropping towards the numbers where it bounced around for some time, finally settling in red 27.

The croupier raked in all the losing bets, including Lamont’s, before pushing another five chips in Summers’s direction.

‘Faites vos jeux,’ he announced again.

Some punters stuck with their favourite numbers without rhyme or reason, while others pursued supposedly infallible systems, ignoring the fact that a thousand books had been written on the subject, most of them out of print.

Lamont placed five more of his chips on black, while Summers stuck with red. Red 11. Summers won again, while Lamont lost. After two spins, between them they’d lost nothing and gained nothing, just broken even. It didn’t take William long to work out exactly what they were up to.

They were simply and methodically disposing of the Hawk’s numbered notes in exchange for chips which they would eventually cash in for a casino cheque. Their winnings could then be deposited at any bank, the result of a run of luck at the tables, should anyone ask. On two occasions zero came up, and they both lost their five-pound stake. A small blip in their overall plan, as they didn’t have to pay for their free champagne and smoked salmon sandwiches.

After an hour had passed, Summers and Lamont gathered up their chips and headed for a different table, where once again they each handed over a cellophane packet containing five hundred pounds before continuing with their joint enterprise. William knew there was nothing he could do about it. He could imagine the Hawk’s response if he called the local Crime Squad and asked them to raid the joint.

Another hour passed before they moved on to the next table, their pockets now bulging with chips. This strategy continued until the last packet of cash had been disposed of, when they finally left the table to join a small queue at the cashier’s window. A teller made out two cheques for three thousand nine hundred pounds each in exchange for their chips.

Summers and Lamont left the club with two hundred pounds less than they’d come in with, but with one essential difference. They’d disposed of the original banknotes.

William had to acknowledge that they’d found a way of laundering money right under the noses of the casino bosses and the police. He could only wonder how long it would be before a law would be passed to prevent others playing the same game.

Despite the late hour, William knew the commander would be sitting by his phone at home, waiting for a call. He came on the line before the second ring could disturb his wife.

‘Enlighten me,’ said the Hawk, aware that only one person would be calling him at that time of night.

William took him through his evening at the Playboy Club, and when he came to the last spin of the wheel, all the Hawk had to say was, ‘Clever.’

‘But they made one mistake, sir,’ said William, ‘which might still catch them out.’

‘Enlighten me,’ he repeated.

‘As far as I could tell they didn’t launder all of the money. It looks to me as if they got rid of around eight thousand pounds in cash, so there’s still two thousand out there somewhere.’

‘Don’t forget that DI Castle will have been paid his share.’

‘I hadn’t, sir. In fact, I was going to suggest we obtain search warrants for all three premises, and if we come across any of our numbered notes, we’ll have them bang to rights.’

‘Castle and Lamont will be far too shrewd to make that kind of mistake,’ said the Hawk. ‘However, we might get lucky with an over-confident detective sergeant.’

‘At the same time,’ said William, ‘I think we should raid Jimmy Turner’s place. I suspect the Turners have got lazy, and think that as a local copper is on their payroll they have nothing to fear. We may find a lot more than just the drugs Summers took from the Paynes and delivered to the Turners.’

‘Good thinking, William. Have everyone except PC Bailey in my office by seven o’clock tomorrow morning. If we’re going to mount a full operation, we’ll need to move quickly.’

‘Summers is off to Malaga for the weekend, sir, so while he’s out of the country it might be the ideal time to strike.’

‘Agreed, but not until he’s boarded the plane and is on his way back.’