Unnatural Justice

Twenty-Two.

He's a cunning sod, is our Phil. I knew damn well that he'd raised the subject of hints and rumours surrounding the Gantry Group in the middle of our round as a bit of added insurance… as if being two up at the turn wasn't enough. He could just as easily have waited until we were back in the club-house before bringing it up.

As it happened, it backfired on him. Instead of destroying my confidence it helped me focus. I saw the golf ball as an enemy, and I knocked hell out of it for the rest of the round. I was two up myself after fifteen and closed out the match with a tap-in par on the seventeenth.

Back in the bar, we let the subject of Natalie Morgan and her possible ambitions lie. I didn't forget Phil's warning, though; on my second pint, I brought it up. "All that stuff we were talking about on the course: I take it you're going to tell Fisher."

"That'll be a bit difficult," he replied. "My information came through a professional source, so no way can I let it be minuted. Telling you about it seemed like the best thing to do; you seem like the sort of guy who might do some digging, rather than just waiting for it to happen."

"Noted," I said. "Now, there's something I've got to ask you, behind the mighty chairman's back. I've told Susie that she is going to take maternity leave, and damn soon, just like any other working mother.

When Janet was born, Gerry Meek deputised for her, but this time there are too many financial balls in the air for him to combine her job with his own. So we were wondering… would you fancy being acting managing director? It wouldn't be for long, mind."

When Susie and I had discussed an approach to Culshaw she'd been sure he'd turn us down; his golf meant a lot to him. For once she was wrong.

"I'll do it," he said, with barely a second's thought. "If anyone is playing silly buggers, they may be counting on a vacuum at the top. I take it Susie will raise that at next week's board."

"Yes. She'll present it as her appointment. She thinks Fisher fancied the job himself, but no way is she going to let him take any executive decisions."

The shit had hit the fan, though, long before the board gathered seven days later.

Only a day after Culshaw and I had our chat, Susie and I were at home, watching that silly Monarch of the Glen thing (she likes it), when the phone rang. I don't like it, so I answered.

"Oz Blackstone?" asked a voice at the other end. It was a journalist;

I could tell by the very tone of the woman's voice. Which member of our cast has done what, to whom, and with what?" Those were my first weary thoughts as I said, "Yes," in a tone of my own that was meant to convey in a single affirmative just how pissed off I was at having my Sunday evening interrupted.

"It's Jenny Pollock here, from the Daily Record. It's your wife I'd like to speak to actually."

I switched into protective mode in an instant. "Not a chance. Susie's tired, she's fairly pregnant and on top of that she's watching telly.

I'm not putting my life at risk by telling her the Record wants her."

"But it's important, Oz." I've noticed this about celebrity; it puts people you've never met on automatic Christian name terms. "I'm working on a story that involves the Gantry Group and we're planning to run it as tomorrow's lead." That got my attention, but I wasn't about to let "Jenny' know it.

"The Group employs media relations consultants," I told her. "They're called Goodchild Capperauld. You've got Alison Goodchild's number on file I'm sure, but if not I'll give you it."

"I don't want to talk to PR consultants on this, it's too important. If you won't let me speak to your wife, I'll just have to call Sir Graeme Fisher and ask him about it."

"And Christ knows what he would say in a crisis!" I thought. "You're missing the obvious," I told her. "I will not disturb my wife, but you can talk to me if you like."

"Do you have authority to speak for her?"

"Don't be fucking dense. Now, what is it, this story of yours?"

Jenny Pollock took a deep breath and then dived in. "I believe," she began, 'that the Gantry Group is in the first stages of a major housing project to the north west of Glasgow."

"That's right. It's called New Bearsden, and I'd say that major was an understatement."

"It's the biggest development of its type that you've ever undertaken, yes?"

"And then some."

"Can you tell me something about the house types?"

"It's a mix, from apartments aimed at singles, to substantial family houses on large plots. Believe it or not there's a shortage of high-amenity housing in that area."

"I believe it; I live there myself. In fact I've been to the Gantry sales office to have a look at what you'll be doing. I don't think I'll be going back, though, in the light of what we'll be running tomorrow."

"And what's that?" I was still trying to sound bored, but it was proving difficult.

"I have information that several notorious alleged criminals have bought some of the biggest and most expensive houses on key parts of the estate. Let me try some names on you: Mark Ravens, Jock Perry and Kevin Corn well. Have you heard of them?"

Word for word, Phil Culshaw's strange half-warning replayed itself in my head. I decided to lie. "No, should I?"

"You should read the Record more often, Oz."

"Jenny, if I could read it less than not at all, I would."

"Very funny." To her credit, she laughed. "All those guys, as I'm sure you know, are alleged to be among the ring-leaders of organised crime in Scotland. They're popularly known, in the tabloids and on the street, as the Three Bears. Between them they control virtually the whole of the greater Glasgow area, including Paisley. Their activities include protection, through bogus security firms, reselling stolen goods, including cigarettes and alcohol in huge quantities, money laundering and, naturally, the drugs business."

Of course I'd heard of those guys. Mark Ravens had actually tried to sell his 'security' services to the Global Wrestling Alliance, until a meeting with Everett Davis and Jerry Gradi had convinced him that on this occasion at least he should think small. The Three Bears were serious enough, though, and in their own playgrounds they had been known to do some nasty things.

"All three of them, I'm told," the reporter continued, 'have bought little palaces on the New Bearsden estate. Furthermore, I've also had information that several of their associates are buying in there as well' "And what have you been told might be behind this?" I asked her.

"It's only a hint," she said, 'but… Remember the stories a while back about Northern Irish guys trying to muscle into the drugs business in Scotland."

"Vaguely."

"Well the word is they haven't gone away, and that the Three Bears have decided to get together for added security. The story we're going to run tomorrow is that they're planning to turn Gantry's New Bearsden estate into a sort of Glaswegian mafia compound. I want to ask your wife two questions, that's all. Did she know about these purchases, and what's she planning to do about them?"

"I'll answer those questions for her," I said. "I'm still not letting you speak to her. So, first; she doesn't know a thing about this story of yours, and second; she plans to find out whether it's true, or just the usual load of mince. You can phrase the last bit any way you like, Jenny."

She chuckled down the line. "I'll say she's launching an internal investigation first thing tomorrow, if that's all right."

"Fine, for it won't be a lie. Where did you get all this stuff anyway?"

"I can't tell you that, Oz."

"I know where you didn't get it. It didn't come from Ravens, Perry or Cornwell; those guys don't talk to the press, and they don't hire media relations advisers either… although if they did, I've a fair idea who'd pitch for their business." I took a chance. "It's not them, so it's gossip from someone out to harm the Gantry Group. If I dropped the name Natalie Morgan in your ear, what would you say?"

There was a pause, only a couple of seconds, but to me it was very significant. "I wouldn't say anything, because I couldn't. If I betrayed an informant's confidence, even under oath in the witness box, I'd never work in journalism again. I'll tell you this, though, Oz. I honestly do not know the source of this story… the informant and the source are not necessarily one and the same… but if I was you, on the basis of what I've told you, I'd say that Susie has to have a mole in her company."