‘True.’

  I glanced at Laz. ‘So tell me, we get the water, the push back the desert and save a few farms – farms with no youngsters around apparently, we grow crops under plastic. Any money in it?’

  ‘Sure, the tourist coast is close, so you can grow-and-sell the same day, or export something - coast is close for ships. We can grow what we need for the planned nursing homes!’

  I adopted a sneaky grin as I slid my gaze across to Laz. ‘So drill for that water, and buy up a suitable distributor and get a man that can help us grow our own greenhouse food in the high desert areas, some cheap land for us – they promised me some cheap land already.

  ‘Oh, and contact a Doctor Baker at Madrid University, desert plant expert, and fund his planting of trees – but where we want to grow crops. And mention to the media in Spain that I’ll plant a million trees and reclaim some desert.’

  ‘That will make the news, yes. But listen, there’s money to be made in supplying the coastal areas with water and cheap electricity, we could build a small dam or two.’

  ‘Add that to the plan, this river that floods, Rio del Garda, do a study, and a study about running cheap electricity to our own nursing homes, then find some suitable land near that river, on the coast.’

  ‘I’ll have a look at the map, they did suggest a place already. Hang on.’ I waited. ‘That place they suggested, it’s … a valley bisected by the Rio del Garda!’

  I smiled widely at Laz. ‘It was meant to be, so get to work.’ I cut the call. ‘Your doing?’

  ‘Not my doing, but I can now see the symmetry.’ He stood. ‘You wished to help Spain for no ulterior motive, yet you have – yet again – been reminded that making money is best, because that allows you to direct that commercial income to your various projects.’

  I stood. ‘So we’ll do in Spain what we did in Corsica. We learnt the process first, and we’ll do some good for the environment as well. And now I should consider more trees at the lake valley in Corsica.’

  ‘The lake water will spread far, and that will boost the local tree growth without any additional assistance.’

  ‘But I could run some offshoots and add water to valleys nearby…’

  ‘Yes, that would boost tree growth, but the soil there is … poor. It takes centuries of decaying plant life to make good soil.’ He tipped his head back. ‘Maurice Trefor, he lives in the mountains of Corsica and creates soil, for the gardens and plant pots of people in the cities.

  ‘He uses a combination of crushed rocks, and grey mud pumped up from a deep well. The volcanic ash in the mud benefits plant growth.’

  ‘Is there much of that mud down there?’

  ‘Yes, a great deal, and it grows after each winter season, a mix of water and old volcanic ash. He has the idea to grab the island’s sewage, dry it, and add it to his soil.’

  ‘That would be a great way to recycle the sewage, and my nursing homes have dedicated sewage treatment plants. We could truck it somewhere, dry it, and he can use it. We could sell the end result.’

  ‘If done on a large scale it would help small agricultural endeavours, yes. And greenhouse ventures, of which there are many in Corsica.’

  ‘I think I have a new project, a shit one.’

  He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Thanks for your assistance, and … take a look at that building for me please.’

  ‘A complex task,’ he complained before vanished.

  I called Lars in Corsica, and I detailed what I wanted, shocking him. But the Prefect would be pleased with the sewage management idea, and our nursing home sewage systems would be cheaper since we would be shipping out the human crap when still wet.

  Lars called back ten minutes later. ‘The builders say that shipping out the wet sewage is much easier than processing it, and a hell of a lot cheaper, just the cost of the trucks.’

  ‘How many trucks a day?’

  ‘One at the moment, the residents don’t produce that much solid waste.’

  ‘Great, get on it. And contact that soil guy.’

  ‘I have one of his bags in my garden, I spread it on my flowers.’

  ‘Go see him, and explain that he’ll make a lot of money.’

  The Italian Counter Terrorism police turned up an hour later, after I had a tasty bite to eat with Bill and Ted. We sat near the pool, the weather OK today.

  The lead officer began, ‘We find six men in a van in Milan, and now two in a hotel here on the lake. The men in the van … they link to the mafia, but one man was British.’

  ‘Name?’ I feigned.

  ‘John Belonti.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Ah?’

  ‘He … links to a building in London that collapsed today.’

  ‘It is on the news,’ the man noted. ‘How does he link to it?’

  ‘A few days ago I received a tip-off, that the building would come down, and that Belonti had been sent here to kill me.’

  They exchanged looks. ‘Did your people kill these men?’

  ‘No, at least not those men that work directly for me, I forbid them such acts or we become as bad as the mafia. But there are mafia groups that … wish to keep me alive, shall we say,’ I lied.

  ‘The men were burnt alive and placed in that van, which is like the mafia, a message. And the men in Rome, their body parts cut out, that was the same.’

  ‘Not done by my hand or at my request, but … I’m not unhappy that men sent to kill me are … dealt with. And I would appreciate that you name John Belonti straight away, his links to London, and his mafia links. That will worry his paymaster in London.’

  ‘Who sent this man?’

  ‘Old money in London, freemasons and … a paedophile ring that is two hundred years old.’

  They exchanged long looks. ‘We know of such groups, old money, and impossible to get evidence against.’

  ‘Don’t waste your time trying, they own London and … all of the judges and police officers there.’

  My two guests nodded. ‘Why do they want you dead?’

  ‘I destroyed the sex ring in my home town, and the leader of that sex ring links to these London freemasons. I am an affront to their dignity and their belief that they are … all-powerful.

  ‘But you can do me a favour and embarrass them through John Belonti. And you can state that … three days ago I mentioned to you that a London building would come down.’

  Their eyes widened. ‘They will be mad as hell, but also very worried.’

  ‘Yes. But leave them to me.’

  My guests headed off, to stir the shit, and I would now take a discrete look at Higgins, who would not just be shocked at the collapse of his building, but also traumatised that foul play was now suspected – his foul play.

  Setting off in the minibus, the police were definitely not happy with me venturing out and they were firmly suggesting that I remain in the hotel, perhaps in the cellars. I insisted that I had work to do, and an hour later we arrived at the Contessa’s nursing home construction site, the building almost complete.

  Michael met me there, a bank of TV crews and reporters lined up, and after a ten-minute tour of a huge grey concrete shell I faced the TV cameras, the reason for being here – to get the nursing home some publicity.

  ‘Thanks for coming out here today, to the first of many nursing homes to be built here in Italy, and I now have plans to join forces with local investors to build many nursing homes in Sardinia.

  ‘On this trip … I also visited three local manufacturers of medical equipment and placed large orders, but those large orders are just the test samples. In the future we’ll place some very large orders with local factories, medical equipment for our nursing homes in Britain and Corsica.

  ‘I also got to see the miracle baby, who is growing quickly, and a source of annoyance for the Contessa – who cannot run after the little troublemaker fast enough.

  ‘Unfortunately, my visit here has been tainted by trouble, not least four attempts on my life so far - in just three days. Perhaps your president and his government can take some time out from enjoying fancy restaurants and nice hotels and actually do some work for a change, and fix your security issues.

  ‘If they can spare a few minutes in their busy schedules I might live longer, and Italy will not slide backwards - the same old mafia incidents filling newspaper columns.

  ‘How much longer … will the Italian people just sit back whilst government ministers and officials make money from corruption and from mafia links?

  ‘How much longer … will the Italian people have to suffer the loss of public money, that money ending up in Swiss bank accounts, the poor people of Italy ignored, job creation ignored in favour of a few people making themselves very rich.

  ‘Will this country remain the cesspit of crime and corruption that it appears to be, or will it become a good and modern nation at the heart of Europe?

  ‘From where I’m stood … you seem to be sliding down the toilet pan, fingers pointed at you by your fellow Europeans, the member states that don’t suffer mafia violence spilling onto their streets.

  ‘How much longer … till Italy can say that it is rid of the mafia links to your government, and that your elected officials are there to help the people, the voters, and not to line their own pockets?

  ‘You’re hurting your own reputation in the world, and you need to do something about that, you need to evolve into a more modern nation, free of the stench of corruption.

  ‘You need each and every elected official to be audited, their finances audited and inspected every year, their family members audited.’ I held my hands wide. ‘If they are clean of corruption … what have they to hide from the voters who pay their wages?

  ‘Many are linked to Tigenheart in America, and many more elected officials may end up being exposed in the weeks ahead, a slow painful death of your reputation in the media. Better to deal with it quickly and be done with it.

  ‘People of Italy, do you want the European newspapers to report you as a shithole nation, a shithole of crime and corruption? Is that what you are willing to tolerate?

  ‘Are you moving forwards into a modern age, or are you sliding backwards into the same old mess that you were in before?

  ‘People of Italy, stand up for your country and your children’s future, and protest, and march, and insist that your elected officials are audited, and insist that more is done against those mafia men that like to butcher and burn people.

  ‘Protest with your votes, and then protest against corruption and crime here, while you still have a chance to save your reputation abroad, because from where I stand this is a shithole of crime and corruption and murder – at the heart of your own government, the people whose wages the voters are stupid enough to actually pay.

  ‘It’s not too late, you just need to make a choice, and then to get angry about the fact that your choices are being ignored by your own elected officials.

  ‘Have your government ask the FBI for the complete list of Italian men that Tigenheart dealt with, and clean house quickly, don’t drag it out for few years. Thank you. Now I have to go dodge your Italian assassins and see if I can stay alive another day.’

  I walked off to a stunned silence.

  Bill whispered, ‘We better leave now, before the population lynch us!’

  ‘We can go now, yes, we’d done what we set out to do. And the population will want a lynching, yes, but not of us.’

  Back at the hotel we packed up, our medics collected, an hour to the airport with a heavy escort, and Armani had kindly supplied his Learjet for us, a few bishops heading for London.

  I did not bother to shake their hands, because making a scene on the aircraft would have been a bad idea, my medics sat with me – and enjoying the luxury of this private jet.

  As we flew home I discussed medical kit with my medics, a few plans made, some kit to test first before we placed additional large orders.

  At London Dockland’s Airport, I said goodbye to my medics, and I would travel with Pat and Dingle, so that the assassins would be focused on me and not on my medics – as I worded it to them.

  Pat began, ‘Fucking murder in the news, that building coming down, and then the Prime Minister mentioned that you were warned of it coming down days ago – so the public want blood.’

  ‘Who do they blame?’ I asked as we drove.

  ‘The building owners, some consortium, and the insurance company and Lloyds of London are refusing a pay-out till after a police report – which could take a year. So someone is out of pocket to the tune of a hundred million quid.’

  Dingle turned his head to me. ‘How many attempts were there on you in Italy?’

  ‘I lost count. Four or more.’

  ‘Fucking hell, I thought you were popular over there?’

  ‘I am, and that John Belonti is London British, and he links to the owners of that building somehow.’

  ‘Fucking … hell,’ Dingle let out, a look exchanged with Pat.

  We took random course changes and odd routes, finally on the motorway with an MI5 chase car behind us.

  When we reached the old house David Hutton was waiting, the usual local police outside and alert now, but David did not have his happy face on.

  ‘Rioting on the streets of Italy,’ he bluntly stated.

  ‘Good, they can break a few windows and, maybe, they’ll finally do something about the corruption there.’

  ‘An end to Italian corruption?’ he scoffed. ‘Yeah, right.’

  As the rain hit the windows I got the kettle on, and we sat chatting for a while, local legal cases that David had been working on discussed, and he reported that construction on the nursing home on a hill near Bournemouth was moving on at a pace.

  When my phone went it was the Prime Minister. ‘You’re back in Leicester?’

  ‘Yes, just got back.’

  ‘The Italian President screamed at his security staff apparently, a new Security Minister to be appointed, but in the past few days there have been sixty arrests linked to corruption – as well as reports that you punched two Italian ministers.’

  ‘Those two ministers sent a man with a bomb in a suitcase to my hotel, full of women and kids. Call me old fashioned … but that pisses me off!’

  ‘I can imagine, yes. They’re rioting on the streets in Rome, and it may do some good, but they have been making progress against the mafia gangs in recent years.

  ‘Is there anything more you can add … to this tip-off you received about the building coming down?’

  ‘Look at John Belonti, roasted alive and then placed in a minibus in Milan, and just who pays his wages.’

  ‘He’s paid by a private security firm, and Special Branch are all over them as we speak.’

  ‘You won’t get far.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘He links to old money, very old money, and the old and original freemason groups in Central London.’

  ‘Ah. Them.’

  I could hear the frustrated sigh.

  He finally continued, ‘We have a tall building in rubble, a terrible act of terrorism if that’s what it was. And if it was some insurance scam … then an even more despicable act.’

  ‘Tread carefully, Prime Minister, they have influence and reach.’

  ‘And you tread carefully as well, four attempts on you in Italy.’

  ‘Trust me, I’m getting used to it. And I’ll take those assassins over the London old boy network any day.’

  Back to work, here and there

  In the morning, the news was showing the aftermath of riots in Italy, and that large protest marches had been organised for today by the Italian Socialist Party. There had even been a message from the Pope, that corruption was a great sin and needed looking at.

  Three Italian politicians had resigned, and two additional politicians had been arrested. The brother of the minister I had punched was now under arrest, along with his top company staff, but one arrest attempt overnight had gone wrong, two police officers wounded in a shootout.

  Since the man shooting at the police was a local council official, I had to wonder about the assortment of automatic rifles that the man kept under his bed – and the lack of his desire for the police to search his abode.

  It was fair to say that opening up on the police with a machinegun was probably a sign of guilt, certainly in the Italian media.

  Sat with my senior staff, we discussed what was an issue and what was needed, and I signed a few forms. The Old Tannery purchase was progressing, Rose Fallon House would soon be ready to open, and Ingrid House down in Corsica would also soon be ready to open.

  Up at the new offices, I inspected the suites upstairs and was happy with them, so I would soon move here, a safe location, if anywhere was safe from the kind of people that I upset day to day.

  Sat with my Swedish team, the main man began, ‘We had asked about people wanting to invest more money in various projects, including London property, and the response has been … as expected.

  ‘We can take receipt of eight hundred million pounds whenever we request it. Some of that money is earmarked for Corsica, around three hundred million for London property, the rest for nursing home ventures.’

  ‘And your view … on the potential of London property?’ I asked.

  ‘London has always seen increases in prices, and the luxury sector has seen large jumps in price. To target the poor quality buildings is a good idea … if we can secure good prices and develop the chosen areas.

  ‘If the area is improved, then ten years later the value could have doubled, and we gain rental income in the meantime, very little risk with such property ventures.’

  ‘And this friend of Glen?’

  ‘Has now left his former employer and found an office to use, five staff taken on – we created a company and issued a director’s loan in. They already find several suitable buildings and analyse the surrounding buildings for their potential.

  ‘First, they isolated six buildings near the Old Tannery, and each has good potential, and if the area is improved then we should see good appreciation in base property value.’