Roskov book 17, p.26
Roskov, Book 17, page 26
Bill from my charity called. ‘Can you talk?’
‘Yeah, just sat with a cold beer and pretty girl.’
‘Sounds good, I have my hot chocolate ready for bed.’
‘Bill, that image will destroy my impression of you as a bad boy.’
‘Boring old man, more like. Anyway, we now have eight health gyms in Leicester, first two in Nottingham, one in Derby and one in Coventry, and we have twenty-eight suitable buildings listed.
‘The original manager is managing three, and we hired a guy she knew to travel around many of the others to get them started, but three is as many as any local manager could handle.
‘We’re just about to hire a national manager and a second guy to do the food and drink and the wine, and we’re starting to make good money on the sales.’
‘What’s the attendance like?’ I asked.
‘The original ones are full - and turning new members away. They have three to five classes a day, fat people dancing, but the places have become more like social centres, fat people coming together to chat and have a coffee.’
‘That was what I wanted, that social element, a reason for them to keep coming back and getting some exercise.’
‘And Lucas is involved with the national warehouse operation for the health gyms, but this is charity money, right?’
‘Yes, but it may benefit from a few government supplements at some point. Make it a separate business owned by the charity, we’ll try and make it break even -’
‘The food and wine sales are moving them towards profit, and we sell these health drinks and snack bars, so it all adds up and covers the wages and the rent,’ Bill pointed out.
‘Good, but I want a thousand of these around the UK, so get that new manager on the case.’
‘Does he sit in the new offices?’
‘No, this is charity work. The new offices are consortium only.’
‘The new Swedish guy is here now, the data guy.’
‘He does sit in the new offices.’
‘He went to see Experian with Lucas, and they have some huge database already of pensioners - he already has a chart of how many people in Leicester will retire each year ongoing, and basically we have too many old people and not enough babies being born.’
‘Yep, an aging population, more people drawing a pension and fewer paying tax,’ I noted.
‘The downstairs offices in the new place are just about ready.’
‘Have them furnished well, extra desks for extra people in the future, but I want the security to be shit hot first. I want two security men on it 24hrs a day starting now, cameras, safety glass and high fences, the works.’
‘Colditz Castle, eh.’
‘I make enemies easily enough,’ I sighed out.
‘You were all over the news here, the shootout in New York.’
‘Just another day. Move the Swedish men over when the place is ready and secure, the apartments are not urgent.’
‘How do we allocate the apartments?’ Bill asked.
‘One to be kept for security men working odd hours, two single beds in it maybe. The suites are for me and my guests only, the other apartments can be used by the Swedish men, but not for families obviously.’
‘There are three Swedish guys here without family.’
‘So the last few apartments can be for visitors,’ I suggested. ‘The French consortium men when they visit.’
‘We have a polite young lad from Malaysia now, a year with us, sent by Lee Tong for experience.’
‘He sits in the new offices, and can live there if he wants. Who’s teaching him?’
‘He’s in with the Swedish guys and studying the nursing home designs, but he also spends time with the Traffic Jam people – his uncle is installing a Traffic Jam system in Kuala Lumpur.’
‘Make sure that the lad is well looked after, his family are important investors of ours.’
‘We got him in the apartment opposite our offices, with the younger Swedish apprentice, and they’re both described as geeks.’
I smiled. ‘They do accounting and play computer games, yes. Have the Swedish guys design their own office layouts and choose the furniture.’
‘IKEA?’
I laughed. ‘If they want it, yeah.’
‘You’ll have a desk there?’ Bill asked.
‘No, I’ll be in with you and David. But I’ll visit the place often for meetings. How many wine bars do we have?’
‘Twenty-four running, another ten pending, and the warehouse operation for it is growing rapidly.’
‘They built a second shed in the Leicester warehouse?’
‘Yes, and have an extra hut. They now supply the Coventry Holiday Camp and are gearing up for the nursing homes.’
‘How many men in the Holiday Camp now?’
‘Over four hundred, so the regional food supply is huge.’
‘Ask Lucas to work out the monthly profit on food and drink, the soft prisons, Fish Ponds and the Holiday Camp, some provisional figures. I want to know what they eat and drink.’
‘How do we work it out?’
‘We charge the government the retail cost of the food served but within a capped budget of thirty grand a prisoner. So if we supply a million quid’s worth of food in a year at typical British shop costs, we look at what the food cost us and what the difference is, the implied profit.
‘We then factor in the daily overhead running costs, we ignore capital repayment for now but include sundries and bedding and toilet paper, and we get capped at thirty grand a year per prisoner.
‘So we work it out as if we were selling the food to the government at retail when we actually get it for import prices. So Lucas starts with thirty grand a year, he takes off the overheads, staff wages, electric, water, takes off the cost of food and drink, and what’s left has to be apportioned towards operating profit and capital repayment.
‘That food profit is internal, but we still need to know what we’re spending and the implied profit, because G4S will be providing food at a higher rate.’
Bill began, ‘I saw some figures he had, and when you took off our operating costs and the food there was twelve grand per man left to play with.’
‘That would be a good margin, some money on repairs, some on capital repayment – the land and building. But the land is a profit held for the future, so are the buildings, and we could sell it as a going concern.’
‘Will we … sell the prisons?’ Bill asked.
‘My gut feeling is that G4s won’t have the money, not for ten years, and that the margin is good enough for us not to want to sell them.’
‘And the government?’
‘I can’t see them wanting to buy the prisons, or the Three-Phase homes, they’d rather outsource. But my original plan was for the government to own forty-nine percent of the prisons and maybe the same with some of the nursing homes.’
‘Lucas thinks he can make a good margin with the prisons…’
‘And the government may see that margin at some point and want to squeeze us a little, and pay just twenty-five grand per prisoner. If they did, we could threaten to close the prison and turf out the prisoners.’
‘They’d never risk that, be a national panic!’
‘Exactly, so I think they’ll set a price for us and G4s. Oh, what happened to The Post Office?’
‘It’s open, and packed most days - we bus in all the pensioners, and the restaurants upstairs are full of old people, so there’s never any trouble. Lucas says it makes a great profit already.’
‘So recruit someone in Nottingham, and do the exact same thing there, then Derby. And in the future, wherever we have a nursing home complex we have a place like the post office for our Phase One people.’
‘Would the consortium take over these places?’
‘Possibly, yes, and they could supply food and drink, but my aim is to make the Post Office a kind of break-even charity place.’
‘Lucas says it will make a good margin at the end of the year…’
‘So it could be sold to the consortium then, and the charity will make a profit from it.’
Call ended, and Jenny could wait no longer, the robe coming off, the fit and trim body on display, but the milky-white skin needed a tan. I sat her on the sofa, a pillow down, a towel ready, and I licked her for a minute to get her ready.
Cock inside, and I worked up the speed, my lady partner already red in the face, her eyes closed. Cock wiped, I worked up the speed again, and now my lady partner was getting louder, a cushion handed to her.
Cock wiped again, and I was enjoying getting the buzz on, but I would not be in credit; I had no need for the credit. I worked up the speed and back down, my cock tingling and so extra stiff, and Jenny screamed quietly into the cushion.
But I was nowhere near done, so Jenny screamed a second time five minutes later, then a third before I finished, but I had mistimed it and I spread my swimmers all over her taut stomach muscles.
Cleaned up, we cuddled in bed, the TV turned on, by partner soon asleep with her head on my chest.
Los Angeles
Jenny set off at 6.45am after a quick hot shower – telling me to stay out of trouble, and I went back to bed for a while.
At 8am I ate breakfast in my room, the TV news turned on, and Congressman Wilderman was now being transferred to a prison hospital. But his wife, the alcoholic, was also being charged, charged with neglect – as well as shooting her husband.
Burt and his assistant turned up at 10am for a coffee, and they had a few re-shoots, but none that involved me, so I could fly to Los Angeles soon. I would be available to fly back to New York on my way home, if they needed me for re-shoots.
I called Trish, it would be afternoon in London, and she called me back half an hour later. I was booked onto an Air France 747 bound for LA later today, two seats, one in the name of my air marshal, Decker.
That left the question of the FBI, so I informed the FBI detail of my plans, and a local Los Angeles team would meet me at the other end.
I called Decker next, and he would come around to the hotel soon, with his usual small bag of tricks that a seasoned flier always had to hand.
Finally, I called Rod Stewart.
‘Fucking hell, Ricky, what the hell you been up to?’
‘I was in Antigua investigating on the quiet,’ I lied. ‘That party you got me the invite to, I had to be coy because a few of the suspects were at it.’
‘I met Tigenheart once, a funny triangle house up the hill.’
‘They said it collapsed.’
‘My friend on the island has been feeding me the story, and then they try and shoot you at the hotel.’
‘Listen, if staying at your place is a danger to you or your staff…’
‘Fuck that, come anyway.’
‘I have an FBI detail with me.’
‘They’ll have a local base and hotel, they won’t want a room with me.’
‘You’ll be there?’ I asked.
‘Another four days, yeah.’
‘I take no responsibility for people shooting at me and damaging your house.’
‘The FBI should look after you.’
‘Don’t tell anyone yet that I’ll be with you.’
‘I won’t mention your visit yet, no, but Elton may pop in.’
‘Elton John?’ I queried.
‘Yeah.’
‘Be great to meet him. I should be there around six hours after leaving New York at 5pm…’
‘Be 8pm landing, hour at least from the airport to Bev Hills.’
‘I have the address, you’re house number 1421?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It will be just me, no ladies.’
‘Good, you can have a bloody rest.’
Smiling, I cut the call after saying, “See you soon”.
David Hutton called. ‘The Sun newspaper had a photo of your massage video on its front page, the flag with “Vote Labour” sticking out the model’s arse, the naughty bits covered over.
‘People have been making fun of Tony Blair on the news, but it has got your video a lot of extra coverage.’
‘So more money for me, good. And I spoke to Blair and explained that he might be the butt of a few jokes.’
‘That Swedish model, she was on the news, attending some event in London in a posh dress.’
‘She’s signed to my model agency, so maybe we hired her out for the evening.’
At 3pm we set out with my FBI escort, the room checked for anything left behind, my luggage checked for bombs, the hotel staff then thanked. At the airport, sat in the Business Class Lounge and waiting for the flight – and being glanced at, I called Jenny and left a message.
Finally boarding, it was myself and Decker, but Decker had his ID and his gun, both effective items when scaring off troublesome passengers, but not much use against Gabrial should he be on the flight.
As we taxied out I touched the leg of the seat and closed my eyes, and I went up and down the passengers in my mind. All had beating hearts and flowing blood, no angels were present, and I was relieved.
But as soon as we levelled off a baby started to cry loudly, and heads turned towards me, as if the crying was my fault. Sighing, I eased up and past Decker, the lady very pleased to see me, the baby thrust at me.
I held the baby close as she studied my face. ‘Oh my god, look at these chubby legs, you’ll never get a modelling contract with chubby legs like these.’
The passengers laughed, but so did the baby, and she reached for my nose. Handing the baby back a few minutes later, the child stared after me as I waved, the passengers relieved.
Sat back down, I had a paperback on Post-War Anglo-American relations and I started to read, the time passing quickly.
Touching down in Los Angeles, I had not seen any of the view out of the window, and it was now dark anyhow. We walked off with the rest of the passengers, but at the top of the ramp the FBI detail were stood waiting for me, and they escorted me towards Baggage, a wait for twenty minutes as we stood chatting.
Luggage collected, we mounted a van that was seemingly parked on the same tarmac as the aircraft, and we exited a side gate with a second van behind us, soon driving through what appeared to be a shit industrial area.
A long hour later we reached Beverly Hills, and we climbed up into those hills, not much to see at night apart from closed gates in high walls, finally to Rod Stewart’s house.
Bell rung, gate open, and we drove in, space enough for both vans.
Rod appeared in a football shirt and beach shorts, he welcomed me, and he directed me inside as Decker called a cab; he would be in a local hotel and relaxing on expenses.
The FBI had the use of an outhouse apartment, a team to be there on rotation, and the apartment had a stocked fridge and a small kitchen.
In the main lounge, I found Elton John with a drink in his hand, as well as a third man that I did not recognise. I shook Elton’s hand, the final man introduced as a former player for Stoke City back in the UK.
And about to start on the big TV screen was a tape of today’s Stoke verses Watford soccer match, Watford FC being Elton’s former club; he had owned a stake in it.
Cold beer handed to me, and I sat, feeling very relaxed; I had beer and football. The former Stoke City player told us tales of mishaps in his career, including turning up at the wrong stadium one time. I told him about my chance to play for Watford Juniors.
Watching the match like a bunch of kids, we shouted at the screen a few times, and at halftime the food was served by a maid, questions fired at me about Tigenheart and hotel shootouts.
I faced Elton. ‘When Rod tells me about this party invite I was in a bind, because I figured some of the bad boys might be there, and some of my undercover team would have been there - disguised as a tree or serving drinks.
‘And at the party the owner introduces me to Tigenheart, so I played it cool, because Tigenheart wanted my help with good property deals in Corsica.
‘After the party I made a choice, and we could wait no longer so the FBI were alerted to move in the next morning, and the US Navy showed up in the morning because we had informed the FBI about Senator Johnson being killed by Harry Stanulou, so the President was up late and shouting.’
‘No news on this Stanulou?’ Elton asked.
‘No, he’s a slippery bugger that one.’
‘Is he getting help from Serbia?’
‘No, not any more, they don’t want to get bombed, but he has friends in many places, and has probably earned favours by killing people.’
Rod put in, ‘There’s been like forty arrests so far, and that could reach two hundred arrests.’
‘Fewer money-laundering dirt bags out there,’ I suggested. ‘Jenny Patrick, her distant relatives are all Jewish financiers, and some are now worried and running scared; New York is full of worried men at the moment.’
‘You did a walk on?’ Rod asked. ‘It was in the local biz news.’
‘Yeah, a one day walk on, second time I’ve done one, first with twins and Claudia, same storyline.’
‘What’s this AIDS hospice?’ Elton asked.
‘When I found out that there were no AIDS hospices in the UK I figured I’d help, and open one. And the fact is that the NHS are struggling to help AIDS patients, the sick people stuck in regular wards when they need sterile isolation wards, and the fact is that our hospitals are full of germs and sick people.
‘My first AIDS hospice will open soon, and it has isolation wards, air extraction, the works, and most AIDS sufferers are suffering at home, treated at home, sent to hospital when they get too bad, but not kept in isolation.
‘There are a few isolation places, but there’s no cohesive plan across the country. My second AIDS hospice will hold two thousand patients, south London, and we’ll carry out a shit load of research, and we’ll do what we can for them.
‘My aim … is to hold around six thousand patients, and that way there’ll be none left languishing in NHS wards. In my place they’ll have their own or shared apartments, TV, books, but most importantly they’ll have people with similar stories to their own to chat to.’
