You would think that my life was full of the cloak and dagger nonsense back then and, to be fair, it sometimes felt like that. But most of the time I just put my head down and got on with life. True I was no nine to five guy but I looked on work as work and that way kept my head screwed on — at least for a while.
As soon as we were dropped off at the Albany Hotel I knew things were changing for the better.
How did I know this?
Simple really. Full length leather jacketed, jewellery-laden guys with bottle blondes on each arm don’t walk up to me every day and say ‘Welcome aboard son.’
I was ushered into the hotel lobby, whisked to the top floor and shown into a suitably plush suite. Martin and I were herded into one corner, handed a large whisky and told to chill.
I often wondered what was going through Martin’s head back then. Maybe you would know?
No?
Well time to move on.
Mr Leather dropped the blondes on a chair and flipped them a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses. The girls were all fur coat and nae knickers but the way they got to work on the champagne showed they were no strangers to the good life.
Our driver lifted me by the elbow and led me to the next room where Mr Leather was stripping to a Saville Row suit and an outrageously out of date kipper tie.
He motioned for me to take a seat and the driver dropped another three fingers of malt into my glass.
‘Names don’t matter son,’ said Mr Leather. ‘You won’t see me again.’
He stood at the far end of the room and I noted that his hair seemed to have a life of its own. Expensive wig. A crap one but expensive. Add to that the way the fat round his waist failed to move with him and I suspected that a twenty-four hour Playtex was de rigueur for my new leather coated friend.
‘I’ll keep it short,’ he said. ‘Life’s changing. Small time gangs are on their way out. Think big, that’s the secret. This is nearly the eighties and we need to change. Take your Mr Read. Nice operator — until he pulled that diamond stunt. Wrong job, wrong place and no thought to the future. Hard to think that he expected us to let a million quids worth of ice just walk.’
A million and all I got was a lousy grand.
‘ Glasgow wasn’t high on the list for us but your Mr Read changed that. A bit of research and a bit of planning and here we are.’
He paused to sip at the beer he had just poured.
‘Anyway new management needs new personnel. Personnel with ambition and drive. Word goes you’re not half daft and a whizz at the old safes. So, we say to ourselves, we need someone with a bit of nonce and cool under pressure. You seem to fit the bill, so here’s the script. We set you up in an office. None too grand but nice — if you know where I’m coming from. We give you a contact and he passes on a few errands we need done. You help us out and we cut you in for five percent of the action.’
‘You’re going to need some help. I’m assuming that is why your friend is here. It’s up to you how you fund the help. We don’t mind a few homers but nothing that will get you noticed. Keep it under the radar and we will be fine.’
‘Give us twelve months unblemished service and we double your cut in year two.’
He took another slug of beer.
‘It is about here that you expect me to say ‘any questions?’ but it isn’t going to happen. You are a smart kid. There is no negotiation on this unless you want to negotiate over the colour of your wreath.’
‘Get the picture?’
He finished the beer.
‘Time for me to go. The pros next doors are yours to do what with what you want. The room is paid up until tomorrow and the tab on room service is open for light refreshments but not for abuse.’
He headed for the adjoining door.
‘We’ll be in touch.’
And with that he was gone. I got up and followed him through but save the two girls and Martin, the room was empty.
We had a hell of a night. The girls were willing and more than able and the bar tab was large but at the back of my head I knew that there was no such thing as a free lunch and my new life might include a touch more than ‘a few errands’.