The Fire Man (5 page)

Stressing repeatedly that he wished to be kept fully informed, Jackson finally ended the call with a cheery prediction: ‘If you make the best of this connection, Drew, it can't do you any harm – but I'm pretty sure you understand that. Bye for now, keep me in the picture, eh?'

* * *

Driving back to the Foundry Estate, this time in Grim's pristine silver Mondeo, the division of responsibilities for the afternoon's visit was the main topic of conversation. Kevin may have been a frustrating and erratic young man but he wasn't stupid. Not stupid at all, when it came to realising he was going to be doing the dirty work.

‘So, basically, you want me to dig around in all the wet, filthy dresses and list it all?'

‘Afraid so, Kev, it's good for the soul,' responded Grim. ‘Anyway, it'll look good on your CV.'

‘Good if I want to be a transvestite, you mean!'

‘No, I actually meant experience on a multi-million quid case. Mind you, it will improve your knowledge of women's fashion, too. Might stop you buying that rubbish you normally wear.'

‘Ha bloody ha.'

‘Ok, let's cut the crap,' said McRae without bothering to turn to face Kevin in the rear seat. ‘You get on with the stock, Kev, while Grim and I are interviewing Kanelos and his merry men. I know it won't be fun but it's going to be very important to get a proper handle on the stock – that's where the real money is. Take plenty of photos, particularly if you want to raise queries later. Oh, and by the way, I've booked you another slot from nine until one tomorrow, because this is going to take serious time. There is a hell of a lot of stuff there.'

The silence from the rear was truly deafening.
Do him good,
thought McRae.
He's had it too easy so far.

‘Did you hear what I said?' asked McRae.

‘Absolutely,' replied Kevin, seeking, without success, to inject a modicum of enthusiasm into his voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, McRae could see Grim smothering a grin.
Just wait until Kevin sees the “Hell” sign
mused McRae.
Maybe he'll resign on the spot?

As they parked on the grass verge across the narrow access road, Grim noticed that Steve Balfour's Saab was pulled up on the hard standing. ‘I see that Steve is still here. He's putting in a decent shift,' he remarked.

No sooner had he spoken than the man himself appeared in view, carrying a pair of black plastic bin liners. He then proceeded to place these in the back of his estate car, before approaching them.

Once the pleasantries had been observed, Balfour pushed his podgy fingers through his lank hair, adjusted his glasses, which inadvertently left a grey sooty smudge on his nose, before speaking quietly.

‘For once in a lifetime, you superstars are correct. The fire was undoubtedly assisted, but there are a couple of interesting angles that…', he paused, ‘I can't go into it now because I really need to get off. As you can see, I was just packing up when you rolled up. If you are in the office tomorrow, Drew, I could pop round about eleven?'

‘Sure, no problem, Steve, but is there absolutely nothing else you can tell us now?'

Balfour looked quickly towards the warehouse before he replied, ‘Rather not, still have some lab work to do. Let's leave it until tomorrow, if that's okay with you?'

‘That's fine, I'll see you at eleven then,' replied McRae.

* * *

While Balfour finished loading his Saab with various pieces of exotic equipment and sealed evidence bags, Grim wandered over to the Hellenic offices to notify Kanelos of their arrival. McRae gave his sulky young assistant a quick-fire preliminary tour of the site from the perimeter. As they picked their way cautiously along the side wall, the phone went off in McRae's pocket. It was Karen.

‘Just letting you know that Wagner of Adelsteins has been on. He's on-site already with Kanelos somewhere. He just asked me to let you know.'

Curious,
thought McRae. ‘Okay, thanks Karen.'

Why hadn't Wagner just introduced himself in the usual way?
The answer was soon apparent as Grim came marching towards them saying, ‘Bloody Kanelos says he can't be disturbed at the moment. He's up in the directors' office with some assessor apparently. Asks us to deal with Gallo until he's free. Bit of a bloody cheek after we fixed a firm appointment, don't you think?'

‘Yeah, he's with Wagner, Karen just told me. Mind you, the appointment isn't actually until three, so it's over half an hour away. Maybe we can make do with Gallo in the meantime. Where is he?'

‘They've got a couple of hired-in Portakabins set up this morning, round the back. He's using one of those, I think.'

‘Good. Well, once we've got the gear on, Kevin knows where to start, and we can get into a proper discussion with gorgeous George, eh?'

* * *

There was something about the official envelope that told him everything he needed to know, before he had even opened it. He had been caught; the cameras at the end of the M62 had clocked him. Shit.

All that time scrupulously watching his speed and keeping his head down. He was amazed that the clapped–out old van could even exceed the limit.

He fingered his small diamond ear stud as he wondered what to do. If he told the boss, he'd go ape-shit – better to just cough-up the sixty quid, take the points and forget it. Still, it was fucking annoying, particularly when he thought about how many times he had made the trip.

As he folded the summons back into the envelope, his mood lifted. At least the offence had occurred on home territory; it wasn't as if it had been near Walsall, which could have been tricky. No, he concluded, nothing to worry about and he would soon be able to afford the fine.

For a moment or two, he allowed his mind to drift back to the job. Everything had gone as well as he could have hoped; of course, it had been pretty simple – almost too straightforward for an expert like him.

Maybe the next job, wherever it might be, would call for a touch more “creativity”. He hoped so.

Gallo had established himself in a surprisingly spacious Portakabin building, which was pre-fitted with carpet tiles, desks, chairs and a couple of filing cabinets. It was warm and snug and the Greek already looked very much at home. He was talking on his mobile as McRae and Cairns cautiously opened the door. Seeing them, he covered the mouthpiece as he instructed them to pull up a couple of chairs.

After a few moments, the call was concluded and Gallo beamed across the desk. ‘Welcome to our new little home,' he said. ‘Alex is tied up for a while, so he's asked me to help you as much as I can. If you need information about the stock, though, you really will have to talk to him, but I think I can cover everything else.'

‘Okay, but I understand you have appointed Danny Wagner,' responded McRae. ‘It would be usual for him to be involved in all our discussions from the start. Do you want to leave it until he is available?'

Gallo appeared un-phased, ‘No, not at all, I am assuming that you only want general information at this stage? If you seriously expect claim details now ….' His voice tailed off and he shrugged expressively.

‘Of course not, right now, all we want is to establish some basics… whether or not you are intending to reinstate the building or move, what steps you have in mind to keep your business going, what's the impact on your customers etc. In other words, we are looking to start the dialogue.'

‘That's fine,' replied George. ‘I can certainly help you with all that.'

* * *

Just over one hour later, Grim felt they had made some real progress. George had seemed frank and cooperative in his responses and Grim, for his part, hadn't been conscious of any evasiveness at all. Despite his swarthy, tough-guy appearance, Gallo was clearly highly intelligent and a bit of a smooth operator. He was able to quickly provide what appeared to be accurate information concerning the plant and machinery, and he had an exceptional grasp of the structural repair issues. As a surveyor himself, Cairns was quickly satisfied that the Greek knew his stuff where buildings were concerned. Although the financial viability of reinstating the buildings in their existing form was, at best, debateable, it was pretty clear that once the losses attributable to any prolonged inability to trade were factored into the equation, it would probably be a write-off. The fact that Hellenic owned rather than leased their building, in many ways, would make the final conclusion and negotiations simpler.

McRae, on the other hand, felt distinctly frustrated. What he needed above all was to get more information about the destroyed garments and he was increasingly impatient to talk to Kanelos. The meeting between Kanelos and his assessor should have started over half an hour ago.
Where the hell was he?

Excusing himself and leaving Grim to continue his chat with Gallo, McRae made his way to the remains of the warehouse to see how Kevin was getting on. Badly, was the simple answer.

The young adjuster, whose white disposable overall had already taken on a filthy shade of grey, was, literally, up to his neck in what looked like a pile of extremely dirty laundry. He was also, metaphorically, fed up to the back teeth.

McRae's cheery enquiry of ‘How's it going, Kev?' was met with a pregnant silence before the young man replied.

‘At this rate, I'll finish in about three months. It's bloody ridiculous.'

‘Well, what have you checked so far?'

Kevin gestured towards a molehill-sized pile of what appeared to be blouses, which was segregated from the rest of the stock.

‘That's not too bad,' lied McRae. ‘You'll find it easier as you go; you'll begin to get a better feel for what you're dealing with.'

‘Really?' came the sarcastic response.

As he walked away, leaving Kevin to his misery, McRae had reluctantly concluded that the size of the task was, in truth, too great for one man. He decided to draft in some additional support, if he could. He'd check whether Mike, Kevin's junior colleague, could also be spared from other cases. It would shorten the process considerably and they would at least be company for each other. Spending damp, tiring days on your own in a cold, dark, gutted warehouse wasn't anyone's idea of a good time.

Reaching the office block, McRae could see that a light was shining from the interior of the directors' office. They must have got some temporary power on.
Maybe a generator
, he thought. Before tackling the stairs, with the firm intention of interrupting Kanelos' meeting, McRae called Karen from the empty canteen to ask her to cancel Mike's appointments for the next few days. He wanted Mike in Walsall tomorrow, at the latest.

As he was replacing his phone in his jacket pocket, he heard footsteps on the bare wooden stairs.
Thank God, sounds like the meeting is over
.

Reaching the hallway leading to the stairs, he was just in time to see the back of the familiar figure of Kanelos stepping out of the main entrance. He hurried to catch up.

As he approached the entrance, he could see that Kanelos and Wagner were chatting animatedly in the porch, but also that another vaguely familiar figure was climbing into the driver's seat of a small grey Fiat saloon.

Wagner was the first to observe McRae's emergence from the gloom of the passage.

‘Drew, nice to see you again,' he stepped forward, smiling broadly with his hand extended. He looked as immaculate and as wealthy as ever – good suit, Italian loafers and more than a hint of a tan.

A bearded Mancunian in his late thirties, Daniel Wagner was a partner at Adelstein and Brooks. Like most assessors, Daniel – or Danny as he was usually known – worked a wide geographical area, despite being based in the North West. If the job was big enough and lucrative enough, Danny could, and frequently did, cover anywhere from Newcastle to London.

McRae had dealt with Wagner many times over the years. Assessors were different in many ways to the loss adjusters who they oppose.

While most “civilians” commonly refer to absolutely anyone who deals with insurance claims as an “assessor”, in reality the business is neatly divided between loss adjusters, who act almost invariably for the insurers, and assessors, whose client is always the claimant. The division is as acute as the one between prosecuting and defence lawyers, cops and robbers, or cowboys and Indians. Each side understands the other well, but, quite apart from earning a damn sight more money and wearing better suits, assessors tend to enjoy a number of distinct negotiating advantages.

Firstly, they usually enjoy the full candour of their clients and consequently tend to know the true value of the loss. Crucially, they usually know exactly what the client will be prepared to accept in settlement. Adjusters, on the other hand, are often perceived as the insurers' detectives and are therefore frequently “betting blind” when it comes to negotiations.

Assessors, as a gross generalisation, avoid getting their hands (or, indeed, loafers) dirty, hence Danny's distinctly natty appearance. In essence, assessors tend to talk money rather than insurance. Adjusters, on the other hand, understand the insurance. They are the masters of wordings, conditions, exclusions and law, but are sometimes nowhere near as cute where the money is concerned.

In short, adjusters heartily distrust assessors, who in turn despise adjusters. In spite of this, however, McRae and Danny genuinely liked each other.

Wagner had found he could cut to the chase with McRae, which was often not the case with other adjusters he knew, whereas McRae knew Wagner well enough, he hoped, to determine when he was being conned. It was not to say that Danny wouldn't try, and McRae knew for a fact he had been outwitted on several occasions, but, overall, he liked to think he enjoyed the other man's respect.

‘Good to see you too, Danny,' he said as they shook hands. ‘Someone just leaving?' He gestured in the direction of the departing Fiat.

‘Just one of my colleagues,' said Kanelos as he too extended his hand. ‘Glad to see you already know Mr Wagner.'

‘Yes, we've handled quite a few cases between us,' replied McRae. ‘It always helps.'

Once the small talk was over, the group moved in the direction of the Portakabin to rejoin Gallo and Grim. Here, they discovered the pair enjoying a rather convivial smoke outside the entrance. Not for the first time, McRae reflected how the shared vice of smoking tended to unite very different people.

* * *

Nearly two hours and couple of cigarette breaks later, McRae and Grim believed they had as much information as they needed to be getting on with and the meeting was brought to a close.

They had obtained information on the company's formation and background; they had extracted details of all recent staff departures and disgruntled former employees. They had been told anecdotes about other incidents of arson and malicious damage on the Foundry Estate, none of which was in any way remarkable. This was Walsall, after all. What else was there for the local youth to do? They had obtained as much information as they needed about the trading position and had even been able to obtain copies of the most recent management accounts and stock returns.

Adelstein and Brooks' were in the process of scoping out a draft buildings repair specification and preparing a detailed schedule of the damaged machinery, which they promised could be available to Fairclough by as early as the following week. All that was necessary now was for the adjusters to complete their background enquiries, and that wasn't something to discuss with Hellenic or Wagner.

As they sauntered back to their car, having assured the now terminally depressed Kevin that the cavalry was on its way, McRae mulled over the whole case in his mind. The straightforward nature of the Hellenic directors' responses to all their questions had been refreshing. At no time had he experienced even the slightest impression of evasiveness. Kanelos had spoken frankly about their rather robust attitude to hiring and firing. The company enjoyed, if that was remotely the right word, a high turnover of staff and a reputation as a difficult place to work. Kanelos had even volunteered the fact that some of the office computers were overdue for replacement – hardly a generous concession, but a little unusual nonetheless. All in all, there was no doubt that the fire was arson, but on paper, there seemed no reason to conclude that it was beneficial to Hellenic. And yet … McRae wanted to know more about Mr Kanelos.