One building would house our pharmacy, one would have a Roskov wine bar, and one would be a large coffee shop with lunch - light snacks. Amongst the existing shops there sat a printers, a funeral directors, two abandoned shops, a specialist photocopier repair company and a pub for old men.

  I told Chris, ‘I want our shops open late, to 10pm, that way more of a buzz to the area at night. And we can enter into a partnership with the café, so that they stay open late. What we don’t want is people coming home to a dark street.’

  ‘Could open a coin-operated launderette as well, open late,’ Chris suggested.

  ‘Great, do it. How many apartments in the street?’

  ‘In total, this street, we’d add seventy apartments, so that’s seventy to a hundred extra residents using local shops and the café, and we don’t need many using the café, ten or twenty a day.’

  ‘And existing residents?’ I asked.

  ‘Around a hundred in that street, many around the corner who’ll use the shop and pharmacy.’

  ‘I want you looking at repos as well, houses and apartments, anything that will make a return ten years later - we have more money now, as well as the Government’s Regeneration Fund. So any shit old house … we can grab it and revamp it.’

  ‘We have a list, near the target area, a rundown apartment block up for grabs from the receiver, forty apartments.’

  ‘That would be ideal,’ I told him. ‘Sitting tenants?’

  ‘They all moved out.’

  ‘So we could revamp the whole place…’

  ‘Yes, and it needs the work.’

  ‘And the building outsides?’ I asked.

  ‘Men are ready to move when we have the final purchases, all of the building fronts to be cleaned, and we’ll even clean some that are not our buildings.’

  He showed me a photo. ‘This is two streets away from our second street, an old building, but it was a warehouse. Would it suit as a soft prison?’

  ‘Yes, but a soft prison would never be sold in the future or listed as a good asset, so it would have to be charity money. What’s near it? Because residents might object.’

  ‘No apartments or houses for … three hundred yards in any direction, mostly businesses.’

  ‘Nearest police station?’

  ‘Two streets away.’

  ‘Nearest magistrates’ court?’

  He checked an AtoZ of London. ‘Half a mile away.’

  ‘I’d prefer a place that was … more isolated and away from regular people, but in London that may be hard. Is there a hospital nearby?’

  ‘Ah, behind it and down the street four hundred yards.’

  ‘So a soft prison with a medical bay may work. Send it to Bill, with what we discussed, have the architect look at it and contact the local council, mention the medical bay.

  ‘But step up a gear and find us more buildings, we have a shit load more money now.’

  Back at the apartment, we packed up and said goodbye to Babs, but on the way back up to Leicester we stopped at the North London Computer Units, finding them busy. Staff were greeted, customers greeted, and we sat with the manager and his deputy for a cup of tea and a catch up.

  The rush had settled down, and now they were more into maintaining kit than supplying it, tens of thousands of computers installed, many schools kitted out.

  Back in the suites, and my artist lady wanted to pop in. She turned up half an hour later, large drawings in hand, those large drawings soon laid out on the boardroom table.

  ‘OK,’ she began. ‘Your scale was all out, it’s way bigger than you realised and the parking area you designed would have held a thousand cars or more.

  ‘There could be a quarter of the residents with cars – at most, so that’s around five hundred cars, and many would be out at odd times, not all sat there apart from maybe a Sunday morning.

  ‘Shoppers would take up perhaps two hundred spaces, and then you’d need spaces for businesses like the GP practice and the shops. But you forgot the big area under the first floor parking, so that was empty.

  ‘We’d put a carpark in there, for GPs, for the shops and for business that need to come and go, like your computer rentals. So we could easily see another five hundred spaces below the main car park.’

  ‘Residents would purchase a parking space?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, because most won’t have cars.’ She showed me the new designs, and it looked nice. But there were now five towers at the tube side not four, and the rooftop running track was enclosed.

  She began, ‘There would be space for many shops, a supermarket, dentist and doctors, many small units, but these days there are few independent shops, so they would be chains.’

  ‘I can get Tescos in.’

  ‘That’s a start.’ She put a finger on the design, above the shops. ‘A wine bar here, a restaurant next to it, a large café and coffee shop at the other end, then offices in between. Above them a row of offices, but that’s a lot of office space…’

  ‘I want new small Yuppie start-ups to move in, and I’ll help them to grow, so I want the space.’

  She pointed. ‘Middle tower will be posh, larger apartments. Two next to it would be almost posh, those at the ends to be basic one-bedroom apartments but with a sofa bed.

  ‘Total number of apartments would be close to seven hundred, many couples staying or two people, so that would be over a thousand people.’

  ‘I want more, many more, or the shops may not be as busy as we want them to be.’

  ‘Could be twelve hundred people using those shops.’

  ‘More floors or more towers please, I want more warm bodies.’

  ‘The towers can each have another four floors, after that we’d need special permission and better foundations.’

  ‘And the front apartments?’

  ‘Could have an extra floor without any hassle,’ she informed me.

  ‘Go to the maximum without special permission, and maybe take a few offices and make them apartments, say twenty.’

  She made a note. ‘There is passing trade for this place, a busy road, so the shops will be noticed. And this area has very little in the way of shops, and there are many new towers being built around it.’

  ‘How did you know where it sits?’ I puzzled.

  ‘I had a look at the map, a square cleared of that size with a tube line next to it – I have a mate down there, and there is only one of the right size sat waiting a few cranes.’

  ‘Clever girl. Now go re-work it and have a think, I want a nice painting to show my investors when you’re ready, a bonus for you. Oh, a gym?’

  ‘In the shopping area, or next to the café, first floor?’

  ‘First floor, with a view out, large enough. But how do residents avoid getting wet?’

  ‘The ground floor parking area will have walkways to the shops, and from the shops you’d go up to the cafes and gyms. That undercover area would be the loading bays for the shops as well, rubbish bins for the residents.’

  ‘I’d have six guards on day and night, making the place very safe, as well as cameras.’

  ‘Entry to a building or the resident’s car parking would need a plastic swipe or four-digit code, it would be safe,’ she assured me.

  ‘Get an expert or two to check the designs, think up issues, then we’ll present it as an idea.’

  David Hutton popped in on his way home, as I sat eating with Bonza. He sat. ‘We have another holiday camp, near Bristol, place called Minehead. It could hold six hundred men easily and it’s a steal, a repo.’

  ‘Go ahead, yes, we need a few more. But fewer end of sentence men this time, I want more magistrates sending local men there for minor offences.’

  ‘They’re extending our big place west of here, more mental health beds, the women’s section bigger, the kid’s section. Someone asked if we’d have a section for naughty dogs.’

  I smiled. ‘Cheeky buggers.’

  ‘And the council says that there’s more land available, the farmer is happy to sell at a good rate.’

  ‘Was that a subtle hint from the council?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about staff accommodation?’

  ‘There are two big internal apartment blocks, men and women, which should be enough for staff that don’t live local. We’re building two smaller apartment blocks on the road outside, not near that petrol station, and we’re building houses as well with a local developer, and he’s building houses.’

  ‘Enough?’

  ‘No idea, because we don’t know which staff will want to live local or commute into the city.’

  I nodded. ‘We have to wait and see. What’s at this holiday camp?’

  ‘The huts are OK, some need work, and there’s about two hundred concrete holiday apartments, two men at least in each, and most have a balcony. There was an indoor pool, which we can refurbish, large café, and a dance hall to convert into indoor soccer and a gym.’

  ‘Sounds ideal,’ I commended.

  ‘Already had a basic fence, and your uncle can do the glass partitions.’

  ‘When we have it and work starts, recruit a manager and his staff and have them work out of the Coventry Holiday Camp for a month, to learn the ropes.’

  David nodded. ‘The manager there helped out with the one in Hampshire.’

  ‘And Monty Drew?’

  ‘Is busy with appeals, many a crooked police officer kicked up the arse. But we’re getting a whiff about Birmingham, and corruption there.’

  Images popped up in my mind. ‘I’ll … have my people look into them.’

  ‘These people, are they invisible to the police?’

  ‘They are,’ I firmly stated. ‘And they get results.’

  In the suites later, I put on the bracelets, Julie appearing – but in a nice white dress. ‘Wow.’

  ‘I considered that I should wear something, and be more human.’

  ‘Yes, and you look great.’ I showed her an image of Birmingham, then a map, and images of Birmingham Central Police building.

  ‘Go to this building, and look for men that do evil. Find one that is central to the evil and make him change his mind, to travel here to Leicester Police, and confess what he has done and to ask for a lower sentence.’

  She studied the images and vanished, back three minutes later. ‘He leaves his post to travel here.’

  ‘So, you and me, we should check out the beach in Corsica then, just in case there’s something wrong with the beach.’

  She grinned at me.

  At 10pm the Chief Constable called me. ‘We had a senior Birmingham officer turn up, wanting to confess all for a lesser sentence, and … he’s given up twenty other officers. Special Branch have the detail.’

  ‘What were they up to?’

  ‘Fixing cases, drug dealing, some prostitution of young drug addicts.’

  ‘Special Branch on their way?’

  ‘In a hurry!’

  I sighed loudly. ‘So when this episode is over the world might be a better place.’

  ‘Be a few bad newspaper headlines for a while.’

  ‘Thanks for the update.’ I called Blair. ‘Got a stiff drink in your hand?’

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘A senior Birmingham police officer just handed himself in to my local force, and he’ll take down twenty others for some very serious crimes.’

  ‘I’ll roast the little shits!’

  ‘Get the detail now, and roast them for the morning news.’

  ‘I will do. Thanks.’

  Next call was The Sun newspaper, an exclusive for them. Final call was my Deputy Editor, an almost-exclusive for her.

  Birmingham

  The BBC news in the morning was not pretty, twenty-four Birmingham officers arrested, Blair condemning them all loudly. And given that the officer cooperating with Special Branch had handed himself in to Leicester Police, my role was being speculated about.

  David Hutton called. ‘What the fuck did you do?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you, sorry, but … we had people looking at that Birmingham police gang for a year,’ I lied. ‘When you alerted me we moved, before it leaked.’

  ‘Fucking hell. But what a result, twenty-four arrests. Monty is representing six black men that say they were stitched up.’

  ‘They probably were, so push the appeals process.’

  The Chief Constable of Birmingham then resigned, but there was no suggestion that he was dirty. The BBC news then detailed two suicides in Birmingham, and that one officer had killed his wife and then killed himself. Two other officers were “missing”.

  Barrister Monty Drew managed to get himself on the BBC Midlands news, stating that six black men had been stitched-up, and by the officers in question, and so they should be released on bail pending an appeal straight away.

  I headed into the constituency offices with Bonza, all of the visitors talking about Birmingham.

  Call made after lunch, and I set off for London, soon to the BBC studios and ignoring the news crews asking me for an interview. I met Paul and Ian, a cup of tea and a chat, and I was soon walking out to an applause.

  Opposite me was a familiar face, the fat lady comedian, Jo.

  Settled, the music played out and Angus began, ‘Thank you audience, and those at home with nothing better to do.’ They laughed. ‘With us tonight again is comedienne Jo, and on my left is the Member for Shagging Central.’

  I smiled as the audience laughed.

  Angus faced me. ‘So what have you been up to?’

  ‘Bungling along, minding my own business.’

  Paul touched my arm, ‘How’s that working out for you?’

  ‘Well I’ve now rented my own bachelor pad in London, and I got to see Parliament and have a look around.’

  ‘And besides that?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Not much.’

  The audience laughed.

  Angus asked, ‘And did you have a hand in the Birmingham Police corruption scandal?’

  ‘In a word … no.’

  ‘The man gave himself up in Leicester. Do you know Leicester at all?’

  The audience laughed.

  ‘Some, yes, and I hear that the weather is OK there, in summer, for three weeks.’

  Ian asked, ‘So it was not you who turned that officer, who then turned on all his mates, twenty-four arrests made and a few suicides…’

  ‘I’d like to claim credit, but I deny involvement. And I hope they all rot in hell, otherwise known as a crumbling old British prison, and that they don’t end up in my soft prison ten years from now – gym and a pool to enjoy.’

  ‘Or in one of your holiday camps,’ Paul put in. ‘Can’t have villains in holiday camps.’

  I faced him. ‘The camps have fences, and men sit around bored, society protected from them for a while. It’s not about punishment, it’s about protecting society from them. Punishment … would have been paying to go to that holiday camp in the rain with your family.’

  The audience laughed.

  Ian asked, ‘And is this an end to corruption in Birmingham Police?’

  ‘I’d hazard a guess … and say that most of the gang are now known about and … sat in a cell, or in the morgue. I’d wager that the main areas of police corruption in Birmingham have been dealt a blow.’

  ‘But just a guess,’ Ian noted. ‘Since you were not involved.’

  ‘Just a guess, yes.’

  Angus asked, ‘And you opened a building for new MPs…’

  ‘I did, and we have a hundred and something in there, we have a former Parliamentary clerk and his secretary, we have computers, and the children are playing nicely together, early to bed.’

  ‘You called the police…’ Ian noted. ‘Did they refuse to go to bed early?’

  ‘A local London man was refused help from his local London MP after he peed through the letterbox of the local London constituency offices, and he heard about the new building and decided to try again and get some good advice on housing allowance issues - and to not at all take the piss.’

  ‘And he forced his way inside…’ Angus floated with a grin.

  ‘He did, the security guard not knowing if he was an MP or a thug, they all look alike.’ The audience laughed. ‘And the MPs present offered the man some handy advice till the police arrived. And when at the police station he peed all over his cell.’

  ‘Nice chap,’ Ian noted. ‘But at least he’s consistent.’

  ‘I think you mean incontinent,’ I told Ian, the audience laughing.

  ‘Consistently incontinent, yes,’ Ian agreed. ‘And who pays for this building?’

  ‘My charity, an investment, we got it cheaply in a deal whilst colluding with Barclays, and the MPs will now pay proper rent, annual contracts, no tax issues of gift in kind. And the female MPs feel safer there, disgruntled incontinent voters aside.’

  They laughed.

  I added, ‘We’ll hold onto the building for a few years and then sell it, or keep renting it out if there’s a need.’

  Ian noted, ‘You criticised the evil system that you joined.’

  ‘Of course, I aim to shake things up and improve them, and the way that new MPs are treated, trained and housed is a damn disgrace. Or at least it was, till I kindly fixed it.’

  Ian noted, ‘The Tories lost two MPs, the third may go as well, despatched in a craftily timed manner – you waited for them to ask you rude questions first…’

  ‘Who me?’ I feigned, the audience laughing. ‘So how was my delivery, posture and diction?’

  Ian noted, ‘Like an old pro, so in a past life you may have been a politician.’

  ‘Perhaps the senate of Rome, in a toga,’ I suggested.

  Jo cut in, ‘Can we see you in a toga?’ They laughed. ‘I dare you to wear one to Parliament.’

  ‘The Speaker would be cross with me,’ I pointed out. ‘But so far we’ve passed two votes, the Tories not opposing us.’

  ‘They’re the opposition,’ Jo noted. ‘They’re supposed to object to everything you do, like a husband and wife.’