Chine Of Lamb.

I buy Chines a lot. Cut them into Lamb Chump and Loin Chops. But somebody asked me yesterday “What is a Chine and how do you make it into Lamb Chops?”

So here it is. Nice and simple. The “Chine” is simply the middle section of the Lamb. Some call it a “Saddle” because…well, you get the picture!

It weighs around 3.5 – 4Kgs. This one is 3.6kgs. The first thing you need to do is to trim it. Cut away the fat, suet and any sinews.

Then cut straight down the backbone with a good saw. This gives you two halves.

From there it’s pretty straightforward. The thick end is where the chump chops are. You’ll get three from each half, after that they become ordinary Loin Chops.

Saw through the bone the cut the meat.

Next, simply cut the rest of the loin into chops, roughly 3/4 inch thick. Stop when you hit the bone and use a chopper to finish.

One chine will give you 20 Loin Chops and 6 great Chump Chops. Trust me, they taste absolutely divine!

Cost? Straight from Smithfield? Around £25. Not bad for all that lovely meat!

One Step Ahead. ( Part 10)

Three hours later and DCI John Morgan was back at his desk waiting for the call from Demetri. The young Detective was chomping at the bit. He kept asking when he could go and make the arrest. Morgan knew he couldn’t put him off much longer. Eventually, his phone rang. It was Demetri.

“Have you got him?”

“Not yet Mister John. He wasn’t at the hotel as you said he would be. He had been there but left yesterday.”

“Fuck, I thought…

Demetri interrupted him.

“Mister John, your information was good. We were just a bit late that’s all. But we have good news. A member of our family has a niece that works at the hotel as a cleaner. Mister Jackson left a number of items behind. I now have everything from that room.”

“Okay, what now?”

“There was a receipt in the waste bin. It was for a SIM card and credit for a mobile phone. The phone number is also on the receipt. How quickly can you trace the whereabouts of a mobile phone?”

“As long as the phone is switched on it will be searching for connections locally all the time. I can pinpoint it to within fifty metres in minutes.”

“Good Mister John. Do it for me now please. I will wait.”

He gave him the number. D.I. Morgan entered the information into his computer and waited while it did its search.

“Demetri, the number is live. But the phone is not switched on. As soon as it is I can have the location for you.”

“Thank you Mister John. I need this information as soon as possible. Please remember that.”

He hung up. Morgan called in the Detective.

“Okay, it’s on. Go pick him up.”

The Detectives face beamed. This would be an important arrest and maybe even earn him a promotion.

“I’m on my way sir.”

Of course John Morgan knew that it would be a waste of time and no trace would be found of Robbie Jackson. But it would give him time to help Demetri.

————————————————————————————————————————————-

Robbie Jackson woke at seven, as he always did. Showered and then went for breakfast in the hotel lounge. He smiled. Yesterday had been a good day. He’d gained another few hundred quid. Spent a night in a good hotel, and met Carol and her friends.

The evening had gone according to plan. He’d played the reluctant guest very well. They’d swallowed his story, hook, line and sinker. At first, he pretended not to want to talk about his past, saying that it was all very boring and that he was more interested in hearing about them. But he knew they’d keep pressing him on it and the story he told was very believable.

He’d been living and working in Spain for the past ten years. He owned a number of bars along the southern coast, but due to the recession had decided to sell up. A buyer had come along quicker than he’d anticipated and the sale had been completed within a few weeks. His possessions were in storage over in Spain and he’d come back to the UK to settle down. He had no family. He was an only child and both his parents had passed away. They ended up feeling sorry for him. One of the women, called Alice, worked at a local estate agents and promised to get him details on properties to rent in the area.

They all left at ten o’clock, apart from Carol. She stayed behind to have a nightcap with him. She was divorced and had a young son. She had a three-bedroom house about three miles from the Hotel and worked as a HR manager for a local shipping company. They swapped phone numbers and at the end of the evening while she waited for a cab to take her home, they’d kissed. He’d promised to call her today and arrange to meet up again. Carol could become very useful indeed. He left it until four o’clock, then switched on his phone and called her.

“Hi, Carol?”

He could imagine her being excited that he’d called.

“I was wondering if you’d call. I enjoyed last night. You?”

“I had a really great time. I was wondering if we could do it again sometime?”

He waited, already knowing the answer.

“Sure. That would be nice. Shall I come to the Hotel tonight?”

He played his trump card hoping for the right answer.

“I’d love to but there’s a bit of a problem here. I was hoping to book a few more nights but it seems they’re fully booked. So for the rest of the day I’m gonna have to try and find a place to stay for the next couple of days. They’ve suggested another Hotel of the same standard but it’s thirty miles up the road. Might be best if we wait until I get everything sorted out my end. Such a shame as I REALLY enjoyed your company.”

He emphasised the word “Really”. There was a slight pause before she spoke. He wondered if he’d played it wrong. But he hadn’t.

“Look, how do you feel about this? Come to me tonight and I’ll cook us something nice. I’ve got a big house with a spare room so you can stay with me for a couple of days until you get yourself sorted out.”

Bingo! Exactly what he wanted. But he still had to play it cool.

“But what about your son? Won’t that be a bit awkward?”

She answered quickly.

“Easy. My mum and dad live just a mile away. I’ll take him there this afternoon and he can stay with them for a couple of days. They’ll be thrilled to have him. I’ll tell them I’ve got one of my mates staying and we need a bit of time for a catch-up. Deal?”

He waited a few seconds before answering.

“Okay. Thank you so much. How can I possibly make it up to you?”

She laughed.

“I’m sure we can think of something!”

She gave him an address, still giggling as she put the phone down. His plan had worked. He’d spend two nights with Carol then move on.

He took the Sim Card from his phone and threw it in the bin. He’d get another one from Reigate town centre later. He packed up his few belongings, stuffed them in the Louis Vuitton bag and left the room. He threw his keys on the reception desk and headed towards the town centre.

One Step Ahead. ( Part 9)

D.I. Morgan woke up and for a few seconds had no idea where he was. The surroundings were unfamiliar. His eyes couldn’t focus properly. There was a man playing a bass drum in his head.  He brought his left hand up close to his face so that he could see his watch. It was nine thirty. A young girl was lying beside him. He had no idea who she was or how she’d got there. The last thing he remembered was drinking pink champagne and snorting coke till his nose started to bleed. There was also a vague memory of Demetri booking two rooms at three hundred and fifty pounds each but the rest was a blur. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels on the bedside table beside him. It was half full. He picked it up and took three long gulps. It hit his system like a powerful punch from a heavyweight boxer. Everything seemed to become clearer and with a quick shake of the head, he suddenly felt a whole lot better. The girl beside him was blonde and about twenty. He cuddled up to her and started to stroke her thigh. She moved away from him.

“Fuck off.”

She had a Russian accent.

“Come on babe, you know I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fuck off, I’m sore, you are a nasty man!”

He had no idea what she was on about. But somewhere at the back of his mind he had a faint recollection of slapping her arse many times. He pulled the covers back and saw her naked flesh. Her buttocks were bright red and covered with hand marks. There was also small droplets of blood on the crisp white sheets.

He smiled. He could be such a cunt sometimes when the old marching powder was working its wicked magic. He decided not to push it, maybe it would be better to get up and have a shower. He stood up, stretched then made his way to the bathroom. He smiled when he saw three perfect lines of coke on the toilet system. This was his trademark. No matter how out of it he was, he always remembered to put three lines out for his recovery in the morning. He bent over and sniffed up his most prized possession, threw his head back and grinned at the ceiling. He felt alive again.  The shower was lukewarm but exactly what he needed. He sang “Mack the Knife”, one of his favourite karaoke tunes. He stepped out of the shower and begun to dry himself off. His phone rang. It was the young Detective that he’d put in charge of the Robbie Jackson case. He answered the call.

“We’ve got him sir!”

The Detectives voice was full of excitement.

“Really, where is he?”

“The Novatel in Croydon.”

“How certain are you?”

He had to be sure. The last thing he wanted was to give Demetri bad information.

“He’s on CCTV at Gatwick leaving the airport, then he’s on camera again entering the Hotel opposite, but then he re-appears twenty minutes later and gets into a black cab Registration number EJ58 HYB. We traced the driver of the cab and he remembers dropping the man at the Novatel in Croydon in the early hours of the morning two days ago. It’s concrete info sir. He’s definitely there. You want me to send some people to pick him up?”

Morgan knew he had to let Demetri know first.

“No, no, not yet. This is quite a high profile case and I need to clear everything with the people upstairs. Bloody red tape!”

“Fully understand sir. Just let me know when you want to proceed.”

He hung up. Time to call Demetri. This was better than he’d thought. Maybe he might get another line of credit. He dialled a number.

“Good news my friend. He’s at the Novatel just outside of Croydon. I can only delay things my end for a few hours so you need to be quick.”

“Thank you Mister John. The family will be most grateful. I can have someone there within the hour.”

John Morgan put down the phone and looked over at the girl on the bed.

“Brace yourself darling, I’m coming back in.”

One Step Ahead. ( Part 8)

D.I John Morgan was sitting at the bar of the Hilton in Mayfair waiting for Demetri Radchinski. He was nervous and kept stroking his chin as though he had a beard. He hadn’t had a beard for over ten years.

He’d first met Demetri when he was assigned to the Specialist Crime and Investigations Department of the Met some years back. It was a chance meeting at a charity event for Great Ormond Street Hospital. They’d spoken, introduced themselves and had a beer. He later found out that nothing Demetri ever did was by chance. He had been chosen because he was an up and coming young Detective. Before long, Demetri was helping him with unsolved crimes. Demetri always seemed to have inside knowledge about what was stolen and where it could be found or dealers who had been under the radar for years. The arrest rates were getting noticed and he moved quickly through the ranks. Now, as a Detective Inspector, he was almost at the top of the tree. All thanks to Demetri. He also had links to the Russian mafia, known as “the family”. Demetri was a man you didn’t cross and certainly one you never said no to.

“Ahh, Mister John, thank you for coming.”

He was a tall man, very broad with a thick neck. Quite a weird shape, John was sure he would have to have all his clothes made to measure. Nothing off the peg would fit this guy.

“Nice to see you Demetri, what can I get you?”

John already knew the answer. No matter what time of day it was, Demetri only ever drank pink Champagne.

“I think you know the answer to that question Mister John.”

Demetri laughed. A big, over exaggerated laugh.

John ordered a bottle of Laurent Perrier pink Champagne and two glasses. The waiter took it to a table by the window. They both sat down.

“Let me come straight to the point Mister John. One of my family over in Spain has a personal problem. His daughter has been hurt by a man who used to live in this country. We know that after he hurt the girl he travelled back here to England. So, I need to find him and you need to help me.”

John Morgan was quick to respond.

“Of course Demetri, we’re already on it. Robbie Jackson arrived at Gatwick two days ago. My team are looking at the CCTV footage of the area as we speak, we’ll soon know where he went after he landed here. Don’t worry, we’ll get him.”

Demetri leaned closer, smiled and spoke quietly.

“Mister John, please do not misunderstand what I am saying. My men are also looking for him, but we need your help as well. So, as soon as you have any information you must give it to me before you do anything with it yourself. I need to find this man first. Understand?”

“Of course Demetri.”

“For this favour Mister John, you will receive a very generous line of credit for all your habits.”

He smiled and raised his glass. John Morgan did the same.

———————————————————————————————————————————–

The news from the hospital was encouraging. The scans on Bepa were all okay. It was looking like she would have no long term damage. But she was still in an induced coma. The Doctor told Ivan this was to help the body recover from the trauma. But there was no guarantee exactly when she would come out of it. It could be days or even weeks.

The doctor also confirmed that she had traces of cocaine in her system and large amounts of alcohol.

Ivan poured himself a glass full of his favourite vodka and replayed the scene in his head. Robbie Jackson had got Bepa drunk at his apartment, then encouraged her to take drugs. He tried to force himself on her and she had refused him. He was a strong man and very useful with his hands and feet. He had overpowered her and smashed her head against the table. He needed to die. But not before he had felt incredible pain for a very, very long time.

 

 

Bavette?

Bavette? What is it? I hear that a lot.

Many years ago when I had my shop in East London. We just called it Skirt. There was Skirt that came from the Forequarter and Skirt that came from the Hindquarter. We’d either sell it as Braising Steak or cut it into cubes, mix it up with Ox Kidney and that became our “Kate and Sydney.”

Bavette is Hindquarter Skirt and over the years it’s become a very popular cut of meat.

The French call it Bavette, which basically means Bib. In Brazil it’s called Fraldinha, which means “little diaper.” And in Columbia it’s known as Sobrebarriga, which means “Over the Belly”

All of these names are apt as this cut of meat literally “hangs” from the rib cage of the carcass.

Once trimmed it’s very lean and versatile. You can cut it into thin strip and use it in a stir fry, marinade it then cook it slow for a couple of hours or dry fry it quickly and then cut into thin strip and add to a salad.

Last night I dry fried it for 5 minutes on each side.

Cut into thin strips, it was absolutely delicious!

So…that’s Bavette!

One Step Ahead. ( Part 7)

The Gables Golf and Spa Hotel was just on the outskirts of Reigate. He booked in for one night under the name of Paul Redford. He had a thing about names. He liked to mix them up a bit. A film that he remembered as a kid was “The Sting”. Its two main stars were Robert Redford and Paul Newman. At the Hotel in Croydon he’d used the name Robert Newman, so this time it had to be the other combination. For the first few months in Spain he was either George Pitt or Brad Clooney. His room was nice. Large double bed, small sofa, table, minibar, and a good size bathroom. This was the place where he wouldn’t look out of place in Bob’s clothes. He changed back into the chinos, cashmere jumper and expensive shirt. He also put on the brogues. He looked in the mirror. He looked every bit the middle-class Golf professional. He made his way to the bar. He knew what he was looking for and found it sitting at a table near the bar.

They were a group of thirty-somethings, laughing and talking. All women, all looking for the same thing. Two of them glanced over as he walked in, he smiled. They smiled back and then returned to their conversation. He was guessing he would now be mentioned in that conversation. He ordered a large gin and tonic and took a seat opposite the women. There was a newspaper on his table and he pretended to read it. He knew by now at least one of them would have noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, the fact that his clothes were very expensive and of course the watch.

He looked at his watch. It was seven thirty. He knew from experience that these places were magnets for single or divorced middle-aged women looking for a man. He was a prime target. He could see that he had at least two admirers. One, in particular, took his fancy. She had shoulder length dark brown hair. A bit of a tan, probably fake, knee lengthy skirt and matching jacket. Her eyes were brown and he guessed she was probably thirty-five or thirty-six. He waited.

As soon as he saw her get up to get a round of drinks for the rest of the girls, he finished his drink and followed her to the bar. They stood side by side. The barmen took her order. He knew she would talk to him.

“Haven’t seen you here before. Played golf today?”

Bingo. He smiled at her.

“No, actually I’m a stranger in town. Over from Spain. I’m looking for a property to rent here but not really sure of the area. What’s the best part of town for me to rent a two bedroom flat?”

“Just for yourself, or for you and the family?”

She was fishing. He liked her style.

“No, just for poor old me. Doesn’t have to be that big really. But just want it in a nice part of town.”

“Round here is nice. Very countrified if you know what I mean, but not too far from the main town. You drinking on your own?”

“Yeh, just me and a gin and tonic to keep me company.”

“Why don’t you come and join us? The girls won’t mind, in fact they’ll be delighted to have some male company for a change.”

“No, really, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense, you’ll be doing us a favour.”

“Okay, on one condition. You let me buy you all a drink.”

“It’s a deal.”

He ordered his drink and pulled out a large wad of notes from his pocket and paid for everything. He was sure she had noticed the amount of money he had. The plan was working a treat. She grabbed his arm and led him to the table.

“Ladies, let me introduce you to… Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

He smiled at them all.

“Paul, Paul Redford, pleased to meet you all.”

He pulled up a seat and listened as they all introduced themselves. He couldn’t help thinking just how easy this was.

 

 

 

The Tomahawk Steak.

Over the past three or four years the Tomahawk Steak has become very popular. Basically it’s just a Ribeye Steak with the bone left in and left long. It gets its name for obvious reasons!

If you are lucky enough to get one from your Butchers shop it’ll cost you anything from £30 -£40 (each).  Most good restaurants do them now and charge anything from £50 – £80 (each). They weigh about 1Kg and are made for two to share.

But what about a Pork Tomahawk?

A while back I was asked if I could do some Pork Tomahawks for a gastro pub in the City. My answer (as always) was “No problem.”

I got my mates at Smithfield to cut straight across a side of Pork from just above the kidney to the bottom of the best end of the loin.

From then on it was simple butchery, cut away the belly and then cut the chops long with the bone in.

My opinion? Much better than the beef cut. But then again I love Pork Chops!

And…they became the most popular item on the gastro pub’s menu.

One Step Ahead. ( Part 6)

D.I. John Morgan was standing naked in an expensive suite at the Belgravia Hotel. He dialled a number on his phone.

“Hello Sergeant, look something’s come up, you take the briefing this morning. I’ll be in later.”

He threw the phone onto a chair beside the bed. He felt a stirring in his groin, the Viagra was kicking in. He looked at the beautiful black girl who was lying naked face down on the bed in front of him.

“That is the most perfect arse I have ever seen. It’s like an onion.”

He couldn’t see her face but he heard her giggle as she spoke.

“Why an onion?”

“Because it makes me wanna cry!”

Again she giggled and this time opened her legs slightly.

“Wow, now that is a sight for sore eyes.”

She turned over to face him. A big smile across her face.

“You weren’t joking when you said something had come up were you. Now, are you just going to look at me or fuck me?”

She laughed. His phone rang. He sighed in frustration.

“Leave it, don’t answer it, come to bed.” She patted the pillow beside her as she spoke.

“I’d better, just in case.

He picked up the phone and looked at the display. He answered it quickly. His voice suddenly became shaky.

“Demetri?”

“Hello Mister John. I need to meet with you urgently and I need you to get some information for me.”

“Okay, no problem. What do you need?”

“Meet me in two hours at the Hilton in Mayfair. Get me everything you have on a certain mister Robert Jackson.”

Morgan was confused.

“Robert Jackson? From Essex? Absconded to Spain about three years ago?”

Demetri answered.

“Yes Mister John. You are aware of him?”

Morgan replied confidently.

“He arrived at Gatwick late last night. I already have people looking for him.”

“That’s perfect Mister John. Meet me in two hours and give me a complete update. Understand?”

Before Morgan could say another word Demetri hung up.

He dressed quickly all the time muttering “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He threw a handful of fifty-pound notes at the girl and left. This was one meeting he dare not be late for.

————————————————————————————————————————————–

Ivan wiped his forehead with a napkin. The heat in the disused restaurant was stifling. He had bought it a month ago from an old Spanish family. It was a prime position on the seafront. The builders had been in ever since. Today it was empty and looked like a building site.

At the end of the room were Nikor and Leonid with two other members of the “family. Between them was Paul Merritt. Paul was Robbie Jackson’s closest friend in Spain. He was strapped to a chair and had tape across his mouth. He had long given up struggling. Ivan walked towards him. Paul could see he was holding something. It was a hammer.

“Mister Merritt we are both mature men and we both know how this works. I will ask you a question and I want you to answer me honestly. Understand?”

Nikor removed the tape from Paul’s mouth.

“Ivan, I swear, I know nothing about what happened to Bepa, I swear it Ivan.”

Ivan put a finger to his lips.

“Ssshhhhh. Ssssshhhhh. I will ask you some questions and then you will answer. Okay?”

Paul nodded.

Ivan smiled and continued.

“Good man. Now then Mister Merritt, where can I find your friend Robbie Jackson?”

“Ivan, I swear on my kid’s life. I don’t know. Please Ivan, it’s the truth.”

Ivan interrupted him. His voice lowered to no more than a whisper.”

“Mister Merritt, my precious daughter Bepa is fighting for her life in hospital. She was found badly injured in your best friend’s apartment and now he has disappeared. He was your best friend. So I will ask you once again. Where can I find Robbie Jackson?”

Paul Merritt began to sob.

“Ivan, I swear, I swear, I don’t know. Please please, believe me.

Paul looked in almost disbelief as he saw Ivan raise the hammer above his head. He watched as it came down hard on his knee. He heard the crunch well before he felt any pain. It must have taken a fraction of a second before his brain understood what was happening and then he realised he was screaming.

Ivan handed the hammer to Nikor.

“Finish it, then get rid of him. He knows nothing.”

Ivan walked to the door of the restaurant and opened it. He put on his sunglasses and adjusted his tie. Behind him he heard a thud. Then the screaming stopped.

One Step Ahead. ( Part 5)

Robbie Jackson had a Pizza delivered to his room. Only ate half of it, but drank the rest of the miniatures that he’d stolen from the Gatwick Hotel. He slept soundly and woke at seven o’clock, then went for breakfast. He had the full English with lots of black coffee. He knew that by now the Russians would know about Bepa and the fact that he was missing. Ivan would be uncontrollable. He would want him dead. He wouldn’t want to hear the truth, he would just want him dead.

Ivan’s men controlled the taxis along the Costa Del Sol coast. All of them paid a small amount each week for Ivan’s permission to work the area. So it was likely that his men had tracked down the cab driver that picked him up and dropped him off. The “family” had people working at the airport so he would also know about the flight to Gatwick. But that’s where their search should come to an end. For now, at least.

What would they expect him to do? Go back to Essex? Too obvious. Besides, apart from an old uncle, he had no family there anymore.

He’d have to start his life all over again just as he did three years ago in Spain. Back then he only had a few hundred pounds in his pockets. But he survived and survived well. It would take time. But he was a patient man. He had skills he could rely on. But this time was different, last time it was only the Police who were looking for him. The worst that could have happened was he was caught and put away for a few years. This time he had to be much more cunning. If he was caught they would kill him and he would die screaming. These people wouldn’t give up, they never did. He had to avoid major cities like London, Manchester, Birmingham and Leeds. The Russians controlled all of these now. Ivan would often talk about his British “family” and how they were gaining control of most of the UK.

He decided he would never stay longer than one or two days at any place. Keep moving. As his dear old dad used to say “It’s difficult to hit a moving target.”

He figured he needed more money before he moved on. But not the watch. The watch he would keep. He dressed in different clothes. Jeans, sweatshirt and trainers, courtesy of Mr Thompson. He ruffled his short hair. He looked completely different from the man who walked into the Swan and Cuckoo yesterday. Today he looked like everyone else. He walked into town and headed for the pub. If there was one thing he could rely on was that bad pubs attract bad people and some of these bad people would have bad money.

The pub was quiet. He counted thirteen people. Groups of twos and threes. He got a beer and sat in a quiet corner. Just watching, waiting. He was on his third pint when a crowd of eight young men walked in. They were loud, excited, animated. He recognised the signs. They were on the gear. If they were, then someone had to be supplying them. Either in the pub or somewhere else. He waited. An hour passed before a motorbike pulled up outside. A tall thin guy took off his helmet and walked inside. He decided he would call him Lanky. Everyone was pleased to see him. Lanky got a beer, drank half then went into the toilets. A few minutes passed before one of the eight made his way to the toilet. He came out a few minutes later, alone. Lanky was still in there. Then another one of the group made a visit. Again he came out within a few minutes. Still no sign of Lanky. One by one they all took their turn. When the last one of the eight went in, he followed. The toilet looked deserted but he could hear voices coming from one of the cubicles. He started to wash his hands. The cubicle door opened and one of the guys came out and left. Robbie dried his hands under the hot air machine. He looked straight at Lanky, who was still standing in the cubicle.

“Got any coke?”

“Yeh man, what do you need?”

He took a step forward towards Lanky, as he did so he smashed the palm of his right hand hard into the guys face catching him square on the bridge of the nose. Lanky fell backwards against the system and slid down onto the toilet seat. Blood was pouring from his nose and his head was swaying from side to side. Pain and shock were his two new friends. He quickly went through his pockets and took everything he could find. He walked out of the toilet just as another guy was going in.

“I’d give it a minute before you go in there mate. Someone’s shooting up.”

The guy smiled at him and walked back to the bar.

He made his way through the pub and out onto the street. It was market day and he mingled with the crowd. There was a taxi rank by the station. He got in and went back to the hotel. Once there he turned out his pockets. There were bundles of notes all screwed up and just as important there were small bags of coke, tabs and powder. He counted the cash. Three hundred and eighty quid. Not bad for a few hour’s work. He wouldn’t stay another night here. It was time to move on. He put everything he needed into Bob’s Louis Vuitton bag and left everything else in the room. He left the hotel and started walking. He saw a sign that said Reigate sixteen miles. After ten minutes a black cab came towards him. He flagged it down.

“Reigate, please mate.”

“Sure guv, whereabouts in Reigate?”

“The best Hotel in town please.”

One Step Ahead. ( Part 4)

The tall, grey-haired man stood alone in the Club Hacienda thinking how much he missed his beloved Russia. Ivan Andonivski had been in Spain for eight years yet still couldn’t get used to the heat. After three days of heavy rain, the sun had returned with a vengeance. The town of Marbella was hot. Even with the air conditioning pumping out cool air, the heat was still oppressive. He walked over to the deserted bar and poured himself an ice cold beer from the tap. He drank it down slowly hoping that it would give his body some respite from the humidity. It didn’t.

Over the past few years his empire had grown. He now had eight night clubs along the Costa del Sol and was in the middle of “negotiations” to take over another two. He smiled as he thought how weak these local people were. They feared him and the men he called his “family”. They gave him what he wanted. No one refused Ivan.

When he first arrived from Russia it was the English that controlled the area. The clubs, bars, restaurants and the drug trade were all controlled by the old English gangsters. But they were no match for him and his “family”. In Russia he had learnt that you have to be completely ruthless and without mercy. If you want something you take it. If someone stands in your way you get rid of them. Soon people learn that you are in control. Once they realise that, everything becomes easy.

Only one man had decided to make a stand against him. He had a club in Puerto Banus and told Ivan in no uncertain terms that he had no intention of selling. He remembered the man’s words clearly “Take your fucking funny money and go back to that shit hole of a country you call home. This is my town, I control things here.” Two days later the man’s club caught fire. He and his wife were inside. It burnt to the ground. There were no survivors. From then on Ivan got what he wanted.

The local Mayor had become his friend and Ivan contributed generously to his campaign fund. He would often let the Mayor borrow his yacht for meetings and entertaining.

The days of the English gangsters controlling things on the Costa’s were over. The Russians had arrived. It was now their time.

He poured himself another beer and walked to his office at the back of the club. He sat down in his carved wooden chair. A gift from the Mayor for his fiftieth birthday last year.

Something was on his mind. His daughter Bepa had not returned home last night and was not answering her phone. This was not unusual, she was twenty-one, and, like her late mother, was an attractive girl with lots of friends. But usually, by this time of day, she would call him and tell him where she was. She was the apple of his eye. He spoilt her terribly, anything Bepa wanted, Bepa got.

There was another problem. Robbie Jackson, his head doorman at the Club Hacienda, hadn’t shown up for work last night and he too wasn’t answering his phone. Robbie was a good worker and was part of the “family”. He was trusted. He had done all kinds of work for Ivan including “persuading” local businessmen to take Ivan on as a partner in their businesses. But he also knew that Bepa had a soft spot for Robbie. He was hoping there was no connection between the two or Robbie would have to be taken away and “spoken to.”

He convinced himself that it was just a coincidence. But just to be sure, he had sent Nikor and Leonid, two of his most loyal men to Robbie’s apartment to find out why he hadn’t shown up for work. His phone rang. The display said Bepa. He smiled and answered the call.

“Bepa, where have you been? I have been worried.”

“No sir, it’s Nikor. Bepa is hurt sir; she is on her way to the hospital now. We found her in Robbie Jackson’s apartment, she was unconscious. She is hurt bad sir.”

Ivan let the information sink in. He was not an emotional man but every part of his body wanted to scream. He composed himself.

“And Jackson, where is he?”

“Gone sir, he’s not here.”

“I will meet you at the Hospital. Tell Leonid to find Jackson.”

“Yes sir.”

Ivan’s hands were shaking. Both from emotion and rage. He left the Hacienda and made his way to the hospital.

Bepa was in intensive care when he arrived. The word had gone round the Hospital that Bepa Andonivski had been admitted and she was being given the best care available. The Chief of Staff at the hospital had been briefed and was waiting when Ivan arrived. He led him to a waiting room.

“Mr Andonivski your daughter is having various scans at the moment. Her condition is critical. She has sustained a serious head injury.”

Ivan liked people who spoke directly.

“Thank you. You know who I am and that money is no object. If you think she needs anything, anything at all, just do it. You understand?”

“Yes sir. But for the moment we need to find out if there is any damage to her brain. She has a fractured skull and we have put her in an induced coma. We will know more in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Will she live?”

“I believe she will sir, but we need to find out if there is any long term damage.”

Ivan’s eyes began to fill up. He turned away and walked out of the room. Nikor was waiting for him. The two of them stood in a quiet part of the corridor.

“Has Leonid found Jackson yet?”

“No sir, nothing yet.”

“Nikor, you are a close part of this family. I need you to find him. No matter where he is, I want you to find him and bring him to me. I don’t care how long it takes or how much it costs. Find him.”

“Yes sir.”

Ivan returned to the waiting room.