Intoxifresh

Chapter Thirty

Chief Inspector Michael McCormack had given the order to question all five goons in the same room. He wanted the truth to finally come out. One by one Marco Santorini and his men were led into a much larger interrogation room where they were told to sit down. Officers' David Coleman and James White where also in the room as a safety precaution. The man in charge, Deputy Inspector Neil Taylor, was leading the investigation. He wanted things quickly and neatly wrapped up.

DI Taylor leant back against a table, fists at his side as he faced Marco, Jack, Stefani Rossi, Gino and Joe. He gave them all a very uncomfortable stare. It was obvious to him that they were all trying to act tough but would break at any minute.

The air conditioning had stopped working and the station had become uncomfortably humid. DI Taylor's bald head was showing signs of perspiration. He dabbed his brow and regained his composure before introducing himself and officers' White and Coleman. 'It seems you've not been entirely honest with us,' he stated, squinting at each one of them in turn. The goons didn't know what the others had said so remained silent, except for Marco.

'I've already told you, Mr Taylor, we were just seeing the sights of London. We haven't been before and this van, it just...'

DI Taylor pointed his index finger towards Marco, as if to single him out. 'You're the leader of this group, this gang, am I right?'

Marco was confused. 'No, not at all, I...'

'Well, I'm afraid your men say that you are.'

Marco's face showed signs of anger. What had his men said about him? 'I sometimes take charge, yes, if that's what you mean?' Marco confirmed.

DI Taylor smiled. 'We know you're the man in charge, Marco, that much is crystal clear. But what we've failed to establish is the simple matter of why you're here in London. What are you all doing here?'

Marco turned to face his men and decided it was time for honesty. He knew that if the triads were securely locked up behind bars it would get them off the hook for many years. 'Well...' DI Taylor asked, impatiently. Marco was used to standing on chairs or pallets when talking to others, anything to elevate his stature but, this time he'd have to talk from his natural height which made him feel rather intimidated.

'The truth is...' Marco said, turning once more to his men who were nodding in mutual agreement for the truth to come out. 'The truth is the Chinese gang... they're after us. They forced us to come here, to get those pills that have been on the news lately,' he stated with honesty.

What Marco had failed to mention was that he wanted the pills himself and was only prepared to pay-off the triads once he'd made a ton of money from selling the recipe. It was now too late for that. His last resort would be to extract the money from the man who had already sold them.

'Why? What do they want with them?' DI Taylor asked.

'It's a long story but the triads think we owe them a lot of money. They won't leave us alone until we pay up.'

Over the next hour and a half DI Taylor felt he was finally making progress with the case but kept the goons in separate six by eight feet cells overnight while further checks were made. He sent an email to the Shanghai Customs and Excise fraud department to see if they would corroborate what Marco had said about the container being seized. He hoped to have a reply by first thing in the morning.

As they continued the drive south the sunset gave way to a glorious red night sky as their destination approached. After diligently following the signs leading to Bournemouth, Tom arrived at the bed and breakfast and drove onto the sparse gravelled fronting. There were no lights on and they all agreed the building looked empty. After Tom had locked the car they weaved their way between numerous flower pots to the front door.

George rang the bell and nothing happened for a few moments but then a dim interior light came on, then an outside porch light illuminating the front of the building. George noticed a decaying wooden sign displaying the name Evergreen Bed & Breakfast affixed to a wooden post near the door. Climbing plants practically hugged the house. Hanging baskets hung plentifully and within the lit area a neat border of flowering shrubs displayed an array of soft warm colours.

George was aware of the freshness in the air as he breathed in the many scents the slight breeze sent his way. They heard the clink of a key and the door was slowly opened. George was lost for words. He didn't notice the peeling wallpaper or the heavily stained carpet. He was wide-eyed and unknowingly smiling at the woman holding the door open for them. 'I'm sorry. What did you say?' he asked. He'd seen her lips move but hadn't heard a single word.

Her smile met his. 'I said come in. Please make yourselves at home.' She seemed a little embarrassed as they entered the modest house and followed her to the small reception area to sign in. Tom had a good look around while he waited to sign his name and noticed the dilapidated state of the place. As he signed in he gave a false home address, as did the others.

He looked up at the owner. 'Not too many people in tonight,' he quipped.

She let out a nervous laugh before answering. 'It's just the time of year, I'm sure of it. Anyway,' she said, moving her blond fringe away from her eyes, 'please let me show you to your rooms.'

They followed her up the short flight of stairs, noticing patches where the red carpet had worn through to the floorboards underneath. After arriving at the top she turned around and extended her arm towards them. 'Please excuse me. I haven't introduced myself properly. I'm Maggie, Maggie Potter.' George, Tom and Simon introduced themselves and shook her hand.

The rooms were all identical and extremely basic: a small colour television, a kettle, a shower and a double bed. The walls were far from clean, especially around the light switch. The carpet looked as old and worn as the one on the stairs. 'It's perfect,' George said.

'If there's anything else you need, just let me know. Breakfast is between seven and nine. If you need a newspaper I can get that for you too.' Maggie seemed overjoyed at having paying guests staying at her house.

'Thanks, Mrs Potter,' George said, tired after the long drive.

Maggie playfully brushed her hair aside. 'It's Ms Potter and, please call me Maggie.'

'I'd better unpack. If there's anything I need I'll let you know, Maggie,' George said, feeling radiant inside.

Maggie went downstairs, leaving them tounpack and get acquainted with the place. None of them knew that they'd be stayingfor quite some time.