With its final
tune-up complete the band drifted off to get changed. Meanwhile, the
experienced agency waiting staff tinkered, adding the finishing touches to the
thirty-foot table laden with some of the world's finest food, specially
imported for tonight's soiree.
His gaze drifted out over
the large terrace and he took in the incredible view; the view that had sold
the chateau to him.
A view that took in thirty acres of manicured lawns, bordered by hedges shaped
like animals; luxurious surroundings more suited to royalty than a lad brought
up, or rather dragged up, in the boarded-up slums of Salford, Manchester. A lad
with a rap sheet longer than the Seine.
Most of his men were already standing in
position, their weapons safely concealed beneath their smart tuxedos. They
would be joined by the others once the limos arrived.
Baldwin glanced at his watch for the
tenth time in as many minutes, his irritation bubbling just below the surface.
The guests should have arrived at seven, a full ten minutes ago; where the bloody
hell were they? He marched over to the window and craned his neck to look up
the long tree-lined drive. Nothing, not a limo in sight, nothing but the grey
gravel, glistening in the evening sun. It didn't bode well, not in his book,
anyway. His blood pumped harder, faster, so much so that the vein in his temple
jutted out, just as it always did when something didn't go according to plan.
His
plans.
'Well?' he asked, when Julio, his second
in command, joined him at the window.
'Nothing as yet, boss. Everything's
ready though.'
'That much I can see, you bloody moron.
Now go and see what the fucking hold-up is. I want this evening to go smoothly.
You understand, Julio, no cock-ups.'
'Yes, boss. I'll get onto it straight
away.'
'Never mind, I'll see for myself, I know
how those guys can twist you round their fingers.'
Baldwin stormed into the communications
room next door. The room was littered with pizza boxes and a bottle of scotch
sat on the desk in front of his men. The three men, all built like bouncers,
leapt to their feet. 'Look at the bloody mess in here. Did I say you could
drink on duty? This is supposed to be serious business tonight. I'm warning
you, fuck this up and you'll pay for it, with your
lives
. You got that?
Now, what's the bloody hold-up?' His glare unnerved the men, and they nodded,
like toy dogs in the back of a car.
Baldwin stepped forward, a menacing look
in his eyes. He stopped in front of the youngest of the three men, their noses
a few inches apart. 'I said, have you got that, Benji?'
The man gulped, his eyes bulging
with fear, he nodded again. 'Yes, boss, I got it.'
'This is your final warning, Benji.
Screw this up and….' Baldwin left the sentence unfinished on purpose.
The new recruit backed away and Baldwin
let him go, for the time being; he'd had his eye on him for a while, and had
come to the conclusion that the man's attitude stank. It hadn't escaped him
that the man thought highly of himself and enjoyed strutting around as if he
owned the place. 'Now, let's start again, shall we? Tell me, what the hell is
going on?' He sat on the corner of the desk, looking at the ten TV screens
attached to the wall in front of him, each showing a different area of the
chateau and its grounds.
'The limos called in a few minutes ago.
They got held up a couple of miles up the road. They should be here within ten
minutes,' Benji said.
'Make sure they
are. I'm getting anxious and I don't need to tell you what that means, do I?'
The men nodded their understanding of
the unspoken threat. His anxiety was notorious, and often resulted in bouts of
violence. Despite his men having muscles ten times larger than their IQs, when
Baldwin went on the rampage, they all turned into quivering wrecks.
With the threat still lingering in the
air, Benji pointed to one of the screens, as a car pulled into the drive. 'Here
comes the first lamb now.'
Relieved, Baldwin headed for the door,
but stopped in the doorway, turned and issued a final warning, 'Remember what I
said… any fuck-ups, and I'll personally cut off your balls and serve them to
the pigs.'
Re-entering the Great Room, Baldwin
clicked his fingers and the band brought the room to life with one of his
all-time favourite Jazz numbers.
Julio gathered
the girls together to make sure they understood their roles for the evening.
Several of the girls noisily smacked on their gum, no doubt bored of hearing
the same instructions for the fifth time since arriving mid-afternoon. The
plans were embedded in their minds already. Baldwin made a mental note which of
the girls he would punish later for showing him attitude.
An English butler announced the arrival
of the guests as they entered through the main doors. 'Mr Chang Foo,
representing the Chinese Government.'
As each guest was announced Baldwin
stepped forward, a false, welcoming smile lighting up his handsome face. His
annoyance at their lateness forgotten for now, at least.
'Mr Yashicotin, representing the
Japanese Government,' the butler announced, one of the young girls latched onto
the dignitary after he had shaken hands with Baldwin, and guided him in the
direction of the free bar at the rear of the room.
When everyone was assembled, and the
room was buzzing with excited chattering, Julio gave the signal for his men to
take up their positions. The men who'd accompanied the limos drifted through
the crowd and slotted into their allotted places around the room, roughly six
feet apart, with their weapons still concealed.
As per their instructions, the band
stopped playing as soon as Baldwin appeared on the makeshift stage. The room
erupted with loud applause as he stepped up to the microphone. 'Good evening,
Gentlemen, first of all let me tell you what a great honour it is to welcome
you into my humble home.' Baldwin paused to accept the rapturous applause
generously given by the audience, before continuing with his sucker-punch. 'It
has always been my ambition to become the world's richest man, and now, with
the help of you and your respective governments, I am in a position to achieve
that ambition.'
As his eyes surveyed the crowd, he
noticed several of the brighter men in the group eyeing him with caution, their
unease changed to alarm as his men took out their guns. 'Now, now, gentlemen,
settle down. There really is no need to be alarmed,' Baldwin addressed the audience
in a singsong voice, 'Providing, of course, you co-operate.'
The Russian Finance Minister, his face
flushed and contorted with rage, approached the stage, he gesticulated with his
hands and shouted in his native tongue.
Outraged by the man's rudeness and
mistimed outburst, Baldwin nodded to one of his men standing a few feet from
the Russian and signalled for him to be shut up.
Three shots echoed around the room and
the Russian groaned.
Again, the Great Room fell silent.
The Russian clutched his chest, and fell
to the floor, his blood quickly making a pool beside him.
Several guests tried to escape out on to
the terrace, but the armed men herded them back into the centre of the room.
Baldwin's calm, yet assertive voice rose
above the commotion. 'Gentlemen, you disappoint me. I thought we were all
getting along so well. It’s unfortunate that our Russian friend chose to
disrespect me, but I hope the rest of you will learn from his mistake. The
ball, as they say, gentlemen, is in your court. Now, what is your decision,
gentlemen? Am I to take it from your silence the rest of you have no objections
to helping me fulfill my ambition or…'
This time the Chinese Finance Minister
chose to interrupt his speech. Yet another communist with balls, Baldwin
thought, as the man approached the stage and mumbled, 'Robert, we are all
friends here, we should discuss your ambition openly and frankly.'
Baldwin's smile vanished. The Chinese
Minister, whose position gave him great power, shrivelled in front of him. 'And
what do you foresee the outcome being, Mr Foo?' Baldwin asked, through clenched
teeth.
Foo's body trembled, he tried to take a
step back and bumped into the pretty blonde Baldwin had supplied him for the
evening. Julio's colt dug into the base of his back. Panicked the man ran, but
three shots from Julio's gun prevented him from going more than a few paces.
Foo cried out in agony and slumped as the impact of the bullets sent him
sprawling to the newly-polished floor, like a puppet whose strings had been
cut.
'Is anyone else going to interrupt me?
Speak now. My patience is wearing thinner by the minute.'
The room remained silent.
Baldwin's triumphant laughter echoed
round the enormous room, as he sensed his long awaited objective about to
finally materialise.
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