‘And the funds’ first year gains?’ he nudged.

  ‘Of the money invested, around thirty-five percent.’

  ‘Won’t get that in the city,’ he responded. ‘And what will some chap get back for his thousand pound investment, in ten years?’

  ‘Roughly … eight grand.’

  ‘A ruddy good investment,’ he commended as eyes widened and looks were exchanged.

  Blair noted, ‘NHS are keen about the NHS mini-hospital inside Battersea, saves them a lot of money they say.’

  I nodded. ‘The NHS get old ladies dumped on them, beds taken up, and a third of our NHS budget is geriatric medicine. In Battersea, they can see a problem and fix it quickly, not wait for an expensive ambulance to bring someone in. It’s win-win.’

  Heads were nodded.

  ‘We could see a site in East London in twelve months?’ Blair nudged.

  ‘I think I have all the nation’s builders and their cranes flat-out busy already, but I can give it priority over other things.’

  ‘Unemployment is down,’ Brown put in. ‘And in the building sector it’s almost non-existent, and National Insurance and tax from builders is way up.’

  ‘Just need to spread that around the country some, but I did read that sixty percent of London builders were from outside London, many from the north, so money flows to the provinces at least.’

  Heads were nodded.

  Brown asked, ‘Your social housing numbers in the East End?’

  ‘Upwards of thirty thousand cheap apartments to open next year, not including Key Worker places. And we’re building modest apartments to sell as well, so that will ease price rises. But tell me, when can we close some of the old prisons?’

  ‘As soon as is possible, is the answer,’ Blair put in. ‘They’re all old and falling down!’

  ‘When my second huge prison comes on line, keep in mind that it’s not so soft, it will have Cat A sections and Cat B. I could take a thousand Cat A, a thousand Cat B, then lower grades or short-timers. Then you can close a few places maybe.’

  ‘We plan on merging a few in London and closing down the empty ones, sites sold off,’ Blair told me. ‘Can’t come quick enough.’

  ‘If you close some place like Wandsworth, and sell it to me, I’d build a new place there.’

  They exchanged looks and Blair made a note. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’d have say three hundred mental health cells, three hundred youth cells, and then a thousand of each category. But I would make them comfortable, gym and TVs, and … less violence towards the staff. And a soft prison section, a hundred cells, for local magistrates to use.’

  ‘I’ll get a team on it,’ Blair promised. ‘But since everyone - including the regulators - condemn the places, what can they say?’

  ‘Fallout from Solihull Police?’ I nudged.

  ‘Eight men charged, a ruddy disgrace,’ Brown put in. ‘A few were let go quietly, the Chief Constable gone.’

  ‘Is there more to come?’ Blair asked.

  ‘I have no idea, we get the tip-offs and … we wait till we do.’

  My phone trilled. ‘Sorry.’ I answered it. ‘It’s Laz.’ My eyes widened. ‘A senior Civil Servant plots with Trin Jones, a Martin Castlemere, but others make plans to execute him very soon – he has been reporting back to the New York mob.’ The line clicked dead.

  I faced Blair. ‘Chief Cabinet Secretary still here?’

  Puzzled, they checked, and he arrived quickly.

  I stood and faced him. ‘Martin Castlemere.’

  ‘What … about him?’

  ‘I was just wondering why the New York mob had a hit team in London, a bullet with his name on.’

  Shocked comments shot around the room, not least from the Chief Cabinet Secretary.

  I told that man, ‘You don’t get whacked by the mob unless you mix with bad company and then betray them. Get him some protection right away, and … maybe then ask him what he’s been up to, exactly.’

  The Chief Cabinet Secretary stepped out after Blair had raised his voice. Blair finally faced me. ‘He’s dirty?’

  ‘He’s … very dirty according my sources.’

  ‘Christ, another scandal.’

  ‘Use it, fight for the common man, a crusade against the mob.’

  My phone went again. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It is Laz, and Martin took a bullet a few minutes ago, police on scene. I was not observing him closely.’ The line went dead, and I wondered how Laz controlled my phone.

  I faced them. ‘Police report … that guy Martin, the poor chap, he just took a bullet. I’ll … leave you to clean up the mess.’

  Back in the vans, and I called out in my mind, Laz, why use my phone?

  I wanted you to have an excuse to name that man.

  Good idea, worked well.

  Wait, car behind you. I shall deal with them.

  A few seconds later came a burst of machinegun fire, Pat panicking and racing off, blue lights flashing, Dingle screaming down the phone.

  We made it back to the new apartment, worried armed police meeting us there, and I was rushed inside. In the apartment, Pat and Dingle searched high and low as I got the kettle on.

  Blair called. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yes, what happened? We heard gunshots as we drove.’

  ‘Four men in a car got hit by someone in a van with a machinegun! They’re suggesting that the men are linked to that Civil Servant!’

  ‘So … the hit team got killed, and dead men don’t talk. Use it, get angry, and be tough in front of the TV cameras, we don’t like new York mobsters over here. But forget to mention that Civil Servant, for now.’

  ‘Be a Press conference in half an hour. But why were those men behind you as you drove off?’

  ‘Two jobs on the one visit, or random bad luck. First job was to silence that Civil Servant, second job was to silence me maybe.’

  ‘These New York idiots?’

  ‘Yes, but the FBI know who they are. Tomorrow, shout at the FBI.’

  ‘I will,’ he threatened.

  Call ended, and I sipped my tea. Laz, the men behind us…

  Were after you, and had no link to Martin other than the fact that Martin was talking to their bosses in New York, a phone link to the men shot dead. Those men would have protected Martin, not killed him.

  Odd. So they were here for me, and … Martin gets killed a few minutes earlier.

  There seems to be no connection other than odd timing.

  Thanks.

  The Rasmussens are at your old family home in Stockholm.

  Go say hello. Oh Laz, you used a machinegun?

  First thing that came to my mind.

  That’s … a worry.

  It was more efficient, and quicker, than the alternative.

  The BBC news was soon mainlining the story, and at the Press conference Blair mentioned that the men were American and maybe linked to the mob after me. And then he vented his anger at such people before promising further details in the morning.

  Ross Daniels then called, American news running the story, and he was worried for me.

  ‘Don’t be worried for me, I … have a guardian angel.’

  ‘You must have. Listen, while you’re on, we have the chance to grab a consignment not paid for, but it’s long plastic pipes used for drains.’

  ‘Chat to my Swedish consortium manager, see what size we use.’

  He was back on ten minutes later. ‘They’re roughly the same size, and your guy wants them, they can be used on the new nursing homes in Britain.’

  ‘Send them then. How many?’

  ‘Six thousand pipes, each thirty foot long, plus joins.’

  ‘These pipes are good quality, they last?’ I asked.

  ‘Treated plastic, they would last a thousand years!’

  Including the kitchen sink

  In the morning, the news was full of the investigation into the four dead men, and who had used a machinegun to kill them. I quietly cursed Laz for his “efficiency”.

  Back up in Leicester, I popped into the new warehouse, and we now employed twelve young men from the hostel, four on the night shift, good wages earned. We also now had six pensioners to supplement our other staff, some on the night shift as well.

  Eight tills were now in use, customers smiling towards me, and many of them were buying cheap food or cheap items, such as a tin of paint.

  The Swedish manager came out and met me, and he showed me the huge stack of toilets and sinks, each in square plastic and with wooden surrounds, some foam seen. And now the huge warehouse did not seem so huge.

  Ten miles of green chain-link fence was stacked up in rolls, each roll ten metres. I could now see the bags of cement, and I had a look at some of the tools we sold, hammers and chisels and spades and pickaxes.

  A few builders said hello, each pushing heavy loads on our trolleys, but we now had electric trolleys - for customers that did not have big muscles. We also had the handy use of eight loading bays, where trucks could reverse into and take away a heavy load.

  The offices were just about ready, and now being painted, the café to take a little longer. But it would be a large café.

  Over at the first Innovation Centre, I sat down with the computer game geeks, but they now had a swagger about them – and new clothes. The second version of the game was ready, more levels and more complexity, and we would be offering a fifty grand first prize, thirty grand second prize, twenty grand third prize.

  They reported that many schools had adopted the first game, supplied to the schools cheaply, and that students competed with each other, the educational benefit being a few words in Latin or Greek learnt, some mental arithmetic practised.

  Over at the second Innovation Centre I met Russel, and he was keen about a company based here. ‘They make driving simulators.’

  ‘Games?’

  ‘No, for people to learn to drive - no danger for pedestrians and other drivers.’

  ‘Ah, good idea.’

  Inside the offices, I was welcomed then directed to a chair, pedals seen, steering wheel in front of me. A button clicked, brake and clutch, first gear, some gas and off the clutch, and off I went as the computer monitor showed me a virtual street.

  A dog ran out and I hit the brakes, soon changing gear and pulling off – mirror, signal, manoeuvre!

  ‘How accurate is this?’ I asked the team as I drove my virtual car.

  ‘Pretty good, and getting better all the time.’

  ‘What happens if a hit a pedestrian?’

  ‘It records the event, and you fail the test.’

  ‘Great, I want some soon, for my wine bars and nightclubs.’

  ‘Wine … bars?’ they puzzled.

  ‘They have a night out drinking, then they lay off wagers as to who can drive safely, or kill ten people.’

  ‘Ah, as a game. We can build a console for that, like an arcade game. But we hope to sell these to each driving school or test centre.’

  ‘That’s good, and I have a few million quid for you, but I want a games console for my wine bars as well. And soon. They pay fifty pence, they drive for five minutes, score displayed. Just like an arcade game, but it needs to be robust, or they will break it.

  ‘And I want one for every school, kids over seventeen learning in school – and safely. So you have some advance orders, a great budget, just get on with it. When can you have a games console?’

  ‘It’s the same as this just with a strong box around it, coin machine and wire link to start it. We can have a prototype in weeks.’

  ‘Work fast, get me a prototype to test.’ I faced Russel. ‘I’ll create a TV show, drunk celebs in cars, see how they do. Fund the project well, shares to us.’

  ‘They wish to sell forty-nine shares to us.’

  ‘Fine, then make them a loan-in to get started.’ I faced the geeks, but these geeks were thirty-years-plus geeks. ‘Can you map the actual roads of Britain?’

  ‘That we’re working on, but it’s not easy to make it look like Leicester. Maybe in years to come.’

  ‘But could you get a map, digitize it, at least get the road layouts right, buildings to come later.’

  ‘That we could do, we know a company that does it. And if we tag the buildings as house or shop or high rise it would basically look like the street in question.’

  ‘Great idea, now get on with it and make yourselves some money.’ We shook, and I left them to it.

  TV on as I had a cup of tea after a shower, and a comedy show had a man get into car, Traffic Jam device turned on.

  ‘Your desired destination today … is all screwed to hell,’ came a pleasant female voice, an unseen audience laughing. ‘Perhaps you should go back to bed. But that would mean that your wife would be unable to invite around her lover, Derek from No. 42.’

  The audience laughed as the man looked peeved.

  ‘But with your small dick, Simon, it’s not surprising, is it?’

  I smiled, my Traffic Jam devices now part of our culture.

  Dressed, we headed down to Traffic Jam HQ, past the tight security, a few new faces seen. I had a look at the big board, a few red lines in the north caused by rain and accidents.

  I asked the manager, ‘Any new innovations?’

  ‘The sensors give us early warning of traffic slowing, but also tell us when it’s speeding up again, and it’s all automatic now. It might say: traffic slowing five miles ahead for three miles then normal traffic speed.

  ‘We had the Italians visit here first, then the French, now the Germans. Had the Dutch as well. Only an idiot would drive without a device now, unless they just drive local.’

  ‘And the Met Police?’

  ‘They have a carbon copy of this place, just for inside the M25, some crossover obviously. They can get a helicopter to an accident, the aero-meds, officers on scene quicker. I went up there last week, and it was manic, six nasty accidents in an hour.’

  ‘People can subscribe to the M25 service?’

  ‘Yes, like taxi drivers. It might say that a road ahead is closed, divert now, so they love it. Buses are not allowed to divert, so they get stuck.

  ‘Patrol cars have it, and it gets them the warning fast, officers speeding towards the accident and telling the radio girl, not her telling them.’

  I nodded. ‘If it saves time, great. How about a Roskov service?’

  He frowned at me.

  ‘Warning, Roskov ahead, shootout likely.’

  He laughed. ‘It’s needed.’

  ‘Any other improvements?’

  ‘The devices get better, you can programme them - your planned route, and expected times along which roads, and it won’t warn you about a road you drove along earlier, or one behind you.

  ‘You can store ten trips, home to office, home to shops, home to golf club, then just call them up. Saves time. Now we’re working on an alternate route system with the government and police, so that we divert people safely, and not down some narrow lane.

  ‘When the traffic is diverted, people in the diversion route get a warning – heavy traffic and slow.’

  ‘And Northern Logistics?’ I asked.

  ‘They have it in every van and truck, software at the offices and ten men that know the roads, and they plan the alternate routes. Time is money.’

  I nodded. ‘It is when you move trucks for a living.’

  ‘I got some paint and some green fencing from your new outlet, cheap enough.’

  ‘If a consignment is not paid for we buy it cheap; it would cost too much to send it back to South America.’

  ‘Of course, long way to go.’

  I pointed at the big screen. ‘What’s the amber dash section?’

  ‘Road works, speed reduction, they get the warning.’

  Up the road and in the city, I entered our mobile phone outlet, finding it busy, Lucas now running fifty outlets around the country. The lady manager came out to me, all smiles.

  We shook. ‘How you getting on?’

  ‘Busy, good trade, everyone will have a mobile phone soon.’

  ‘The trade covers the rent and wages here?’

  ‘Yes, and more on top, we should see a good end of year margin. We sell contracts for the providers and get thirty percent, that’s half of our income, handsets are the other half, and your people buy in bulk and pay upfront, so we get a good margin on the handsets.’

  Back at the suites, and Blair called. ‘That Civil Servant, Martin, they found odd phone links that no one can explain, no direct links to America, but we’re dealing with it quietly.’

  ‘And the post mortem would say…’

  ‘Unknown assailant, wallet missing.’

  ‘I won’t be kicking up a fuss. If you want some of these incidents dealt with quietly that’s OK, bad for tourism otherwise.’

  ‘It is, yes. Oh, we’ve condemned three London prisons, so your new place will get temporary inmates for a year, but most of the men will have no regular visitors anyhow.’

  ‘Men that rape and murder people don’t get the well-wishers, no. After you demolish the places I can make a quick start on new prisons, and we’ll start soon on a large place near Watford, so that will help.’

  He noted, ‘The old prisons are now reporting surplus cells, which is a first. Magistrates are getting tough on sentencing again.’

  ‘As soon as my new place opens, three months or so, move the men, we’ll be ready. But in the future … our policy should be smaller regional places, but that loses the benefits and cost savings, so … a few large regional prisons is better for costs.’

  ‘There are rules about relatives travelling, but some prisons are a hundred miles apart and it’s not easy for the wife to visit, so I think the rules are not enforced. And we have Scottish prisoners in London, so I’ll have to check those rules.’

  ‘Leicester is central, inside fifty miles for Birmingham, Coventry, Nottingham, Derby.’

  ‘A good catchment area, yes,’ he agreed. ‘And your soft prisons are taking up the slack nicely, so we could see a few thousand men incarcerated into soft prisons for two months and less use of long-stay prisons.

  ‘And end of sentence men opt for the city soft prisons as well, so that helps. If every town has a soft prison with at least fifty cells we’ll need fewer large prisons by around … three thousand inmates, a cost saving seen.’