‘I must say, Mr Skinner, the thought of an airport welcome by the Guardia Civil had me worried all the way across. It was quite a relief when their driver turned out to be in plain clothes!'
Skinner smiled. 'Even the Guardia have men in suits, Mr Ainscow.'
The two Scots shook hands on the pavement of the Passeig Maritim, outside the office of InterCosta. Ainscow thanked his driver, and the black car which had delivered him pulled away from the kerb and headed off in the direction of L'Escala's old town. It was 4:30 p.m., and even on a Sunday the few shops along the Passeig were in the process of reopening after their afternoon break, in the hope of gathering in a few more pesetas from the weekend visitors.
`You made good time,' said Skinner.
`Yes, I took the quickest option available: Air France from Edinburgh and on to Barcelona from Charles de Gaulle. Bloody expensive, though. Not the way I'd choose to travel. I take charters to Girona from Glasgow when I can, and look for deals on schedules to Barcelona in the winter months, when Girona's shut. How do you come down?'
`Varies. Quite often, like on this trip, I drive down. Look, shall we go inside?'
Ainscow nodded. Skinner pushed open the door of the small office, and the two stepped inside. Ainscow dropped his flight bag on the floor and placed his briefcase on one of three desks in the room.
`That's the desk you use normally, when you're here?' Skinner asked.
`Yes. That's … that was Santi's over there, and the other's used by a part-time secretary.'
`Right. Nothing's been touched here since yesterday. Everything is exactly as it was the last time Alberni locked up. What I want you to do, or more precisely what the Guardia want, is to go through the books of the business, and try to locate all the funds transferred under that crazy blank-cheque system of yours. Have you called the InterCosta accountant?'
Ainscow looked at him a shade sheepishly. 'We don't have one. We have a book-keeper over here, and I have one in the UK. We operate as a partnership, so there's no need for filing of accounts anywhere. However, I have located an independent accountant in Girona. She'll be here tomorrow.'
`Good. What about a lawyer?'
`I'll call one if and when I need one. There's a bloke in Torroella that I've used in the past. But I've got nothing to hide. It was Santi who had the five million in his safe, not me. Do you want me to begin today?'
`No. Wait till your accountant gets here — and the Guardia man. They're sending someone up from their fraud department.
`Have you met Pujol, the local Commandante?'
`No.'
'Didn't think you would. Not too many people seek out the company of the Guardia. He's coming down here this afternoon to meet you.' Skinner looked out of the window, peering through a chink in the mass of posters which covered most of its surface and darkened the room. 'In fact, here he is now.'
As he spoke, Pujol, out of uniform, appeared in the doorway. Skinner made the formal introductions.
`I am glad to see you here, Senor,' said the Commandante. `I think that there are matters with your company which have to be looked into: things that happened here in Spain.'
Ainscow broke in. 'Look, I want you to know that apart from this Pitkeathly business, and let's hope that still turns out to have been a mistake, there has never been a single complaint to me in Scotland by any client about any transaction. Ask around town and you will find nothing but satisfied people.'
`We shall ask, Senor. In fact we are asking already. Tell me, how long have you been in business with Senor Alberni.'
`Nearly ten years. I was in the estate-agency business back home. I built up a chain in central Scotland, then sold to an insurance company at the height of the boom. I did well — well enough to buy my place in Punta Montgo, and to spend some quality time out here. That's when I got to know Santi. He was working as a salesman for a big promoter-developer. He had sold me a couple of apartments as investments. I was looking for a manager and the thought shuck me: why not set up Santi in a business of his own, combining estate agency with property management, and all the other add-ons that brings? Then I thought that a business like that should have a UK outlet on the estate agency side. I looked at the restrictive covenant attached to my sale, and discovered that I was clear to deal in overseas property. So InterCosta opened in Scotland as well. Initially I ran it from our house, but when the Stirling
Business Centre was built, I liked it and moved in there. Gives clients a better impression, you understand.'
`You said you were partners,' said Skinner. 'What was the profit split?'
`I put up the development capital, so I had seventy-five per cent. Santi had twenty-five, but he still had a good package, by Spanish standards.'
`Has the business been profitable?' asked Pujol.
`It's washed its face, I'd say. If I were to be completely frank, I'd have to say that it's under-performing. It's always made a profit, but somehow it's never come up to business-plan forecasts. Some years the profit has been so low that I've given Santi a fifty-per cent share just so that he'd have something worth having.'
`Where has the problem been? Sales?' Skinner quizzed.
Not really. The way the thing is structured, we're not dependent on the market. Property management — and by that I mean looking after villas and apartments and providing a rental service — that's always given us a second income stream. The problem has always been that the overhead at the Spanish end was way over budget.'
`Why didn't you crack down on it? Put in an accountant?'
`In a business like this, it's not that easy to pin down the overhead. There are always things that you didn't budget for. Things like putting clients up in a hotel for a night or two because the maid forgot to renew the gas bottle in their apartment and you can't get one till Monday, unexpected trips to the airport with clients, people taking inspection flights over and ripping you off by buying from someone else. Loads of wee things like that can cut into your costs. I've always reckoned I'd just have to live 'with that. As I said to you in Scotland, Mr
Skinner, I've been feeling a bit uneasy lately, but until Pitkeathly there's been nothing to go on. Now there's this five million.'
`How often did you see Santi Alberni?' Pujol asked.
I'm over here about half a dozen times a year, in some years more. When I'm here, even apart from on business, I see Santi a lot. And Gloria, of course.'
`Are you married, Senor?'
Was once — not now.'
Pujol sighed. 'Ah, yes. I can say the same. And so could Bob here, until recently. Now he has a wife and a new family to go home to, so we should let him do that. Senor, I shall drive you to your villa, and tomorrow we will begin the search for the origin of Santi Alberni's five million.'