CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,122
for now, either believe or don’t believe the spy bit. The important thing to understand is that if you don’t listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you, the next thing I squeeze won’t be your knuckles, OK?’
Steve hastily crossed his legs. ‘So what does British Intelligence want with a jeweller?’ he asked.
‘There’s a couple of South American diplomats going around London hawking dodgy diamonds – the kind that are illegally mined and sold in violation of a United Nations trade embargo. We need to get into their offices and plant some bugs, but our suspect is working out of the most secure part of the embassy.’
‘And what am I supposed to do about that, your spyness?’
‘You can get close to these people: you’re well known as a man who buys large uncut diamonds and it’s been in the newspapers that your company is having financial problems.’
Steve shook his head resolutely. ‘I have a personal reputation to protect. If I was seen to be involved with shady characters … And frankly, I’d have been more inclined to help if you’d approached me in a civilised manner.’
McEwen pulled a letter out of his pocket and showed it to Steve long enough for him to see that it came from Inland Revenue – Tax Fraud Department.
‘We need you on board quickly because we only just received the information and we’ve got to act fast. If you agree to cooperate, my people will be prepared to make this little tax problem of yours go away.’
Steve shook his head. ‘I don’t have a tax problem.’
McEwen smiled as he read an extract from the letter:
‘The informant Miss T told the revenue that Mr Steve Nolan of Nolan’s Jewellers has been siphoning money from sales in the United States into a private account. Pieces of jewellery worth in excess of £2.4 million were allegedly donated to film and television personalities in the United States for promotional purposes. Miss T stated that the items were actually sold by a Cayman Island-based company owned by Steve Nolan and his sister Emily, and provided us with account numbers and transaction dates.’
McEwen passed the letter across to Steve.
‘That’s serious seven-figure tax evasion,’ McEwen explained. ‘Now I ain’t no lawyer, but I hear you’ve already been a naughty boy and had a slap on the wrist from the taxman. If they prosecute you again, it’ll be slammer time. And I don’t think your refined and delicate self would really fit too well inside Wormwood Scrubs.’
Steve’s worried eyes turned angry as he worked out who the informant was. ‘I can’t believe that bitch dobbed me in,’ he hissed. ‘I paid her bloody wages while she had two ugly-arsed sprogs.’
‘So the deal’s simple, Mr Nolan,’ McEwen said, not responding to Steve’s emotional state. ‘If you help us deal with this little piece of business, we’ll make sure that any investigation vanishes in a puff of fairy dust.’
McEwen paused to glance at his watch. ‘We’ve got until this evening. Call your lawyer, we’ll draw up legal papers giving you immunity from prosecution for tax evasion, provided you help us out. Do we have a deal, Mr Nolan?’
Nolan looked down at his lap and made a long sigh before answering. ‘I suppose we do.’
‘Great,’ McEwen said, smiling. ‘And you’d better call someone to fix your French doors too. I kind of wrenched ’em off their tracks when I broke in.’
9.24 p.m.
The Lymeric Hotel was a shabby two-star near London’s Russell Square. The corridors thronged with French and Japanese school kids having the time of their lives.
Callum and Connor were definitely not having the time of their lives. They sat together at the end of a double bed, stripped down to grey school socks and matching blue undershorts. They had a large modelling light shining in their faces and the bedspread and carpet around Callum’s feet were covered in clumps of freshly chopped hair.
‘What do you think?’ Lucy asked.
Lucy was an MI5 technical officer. Her speciality was concealment and disguise. She could open up a Reebok and hide a microphone in the heel, give you a new jaw line, or stick on a mole that was actually a high definition camera.
Even identical twins aren’t exactly the same and Lucy’s job was to iron out the differences between Callum and Connor. CHERUB didn’t have its own cosmetic specialist, so she’d worked with the twins on several occasions. Usually they had a bit of a laugh, but this time it was strictly business.