Malan Mothers - Cover

Malan Mothers

Copyright© 2015 by Gordon Johnson

Chapter 11

"I treat it as another small investment in the locale. That boy will probably turn into a businessman when he gets older. He knows where he can seek start-up capital, doesn't he?"

"You mean he hangs around just to park your car for you?"

"He has a cubbyhole in the foyer, and he sits and studies his school books, and does his homework there as well. That is part of the deal, so that he is educating himself. If he runs out of that material, he has a library card and can get something useful at the public library. Public libraries were once described as the poor man's university, and here it is still true."

They came to the second floor, and Esme gestured to the doors.

"This one, with the sign, is our office: Wiser Loans Company. The one next to it is my personal apartment, and the one over there is Timmy's flat, so he is handy for work. It also gives him a nice hideaway to bring a girlfriend.

The fourth one is officially vacant, but Joe and Jimmy use it to lounge around in when they are not needed for a show of strength. Joe spends a lot of time reading while Jimmy practices his reading and writing. They have a TV as well, for the sports shows, but I prefer them to be reading. They listen to me. Any time we deal with a tough client, they stand around looking dangerous, and that tends to speed up negotiations!"

They went through the office door, to find Timmy seated behind a security grille running the entire width of the room. At Esme's appearance, Timmy laid down the book he was reading, got up and unlocked the gate in the grille, to let them enter, then locked it behind them.

"Welcome home, boss. Is this the lady you are considering for taking over?"

"Yes, Timmy. This is Judith Cavallo, ex-army like myself, so another tough lady. Don't get on her bad side. You won't like her if she gets pissed off."

"Yes, ma'am. Welcome, Miz Cavallo." He offered a welcoming hand, which she shook. She responded with pleasure.

"Hello, Timmy. I am just here on a reconnaissance, to get the lie of the land, before I decide whether to jump. I will probably pick your brains about the possibilities."

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you want. Miz Limbada is a good boss to work for, and the folk around here love her."

"That takes hard work, Timmy. I am sure they love you, too. What is the book you are reading?"

"Better Faster Leaner: TQM Concepts in Business Practice". I am learning how you should run a business, so I can do a good job for Miz Limbada. I sure try to work hard for her, ma'am."

They settled into the back office. Esme ignored the big safe in the corner, and concentrated on the coffee percolator sitting on the cloth-covered table laid out with cups, saucers and plates, and a plateful of cookies. Esme commented admiringly, "Timmy has gone all out to impress you, Judith. It is usually mugs we use, with the cookies sitting in the packet!"


"Tom Pfeiffer, we have an update for you. We have established the whereabouts of Esme Limbada, one of the birth mothers. She is running a profitable moneylending business. She is interested I coming to Rehome, but needs to transfer her business holdings to another person, also ex-army.

"We are still working on locating Ruth Proctor and Esther Price. These names are more common and so there are more possibles to be weeded out."

Tom was pleased. "I am most grateful for that data. Will you need me to assist her, on the pickup?"

"She is ex-army and was a strong woman there, so she probably remains so, with no dependents, thus able to climb aboard. She might appreciate the presence of an ex-soldier, though, so you might ascertain whether Mrs Diane Kempe could manage that task."

"The Head of Rehome's Security Services? Oh, of course. She was once a military officer, wasn't she?", he reflected. "Good choice. I shall ask her."


"Ruth Proctor?"

"Ruth MacAulay, now. What can I do for you?"

"Did you serve in the US Army four or five years ago?"

"Sorry. You must have me confused with someone else."

"That statement does not answer the question. Are you she?"

"Don't adopt that hoity-toity language with me! I am a good American citizen, not one of these subservient Brits."

"Again, you avoided answering the question. Do you mind doing so? I would be most grateful."'

"NO! I am not ex-army, so there."

"Intriguing. Your voiceprint says that you are telling me a lie of sorts, but it is not clear what the lie might be. Here, I must surmise: if you are not ex-army, you must be army. Afraid to admit it, therefore ... are you working under cover, then? You need only answer "You can shove your job up your arse!" in confirmation."

She replied, "You can shove your job up your arse, mister. I am a happily married woman."

"Thank you. We will not intrude. Goodbye."

"Goodbye. Don't call again!"

Ruth turned away from the phone. "Another blasted scam. This one is offering to get me a job offer in government security at "advantageous rates". I only have to pay them an "introductory fee". I know what then happens: no job. I was not born yesterday."

"Live with it, doll. There is a new scam every day. At least it wasn't your fool of a husband this time. Why don't we just concentrate on our own scam?"

"Yeah, you are on the ball, Jim," she said, patting him on the shoulder as he sat at the table. "You are a reliable man, with good advice, unlike my stupid husband. Your only fault is roaming hands. If my man was providing for me properly, I wouldn't have to be involved in this little enterprise. I need the cash, so I want to see it to a satisfactory conclusion, to get my pay."

"But you WERE in the US Army, weren't you?"

"Of course, you found that out when I forced you to lay off touching me, but you don't think I would admit that to a scammer? Only my friends know about my past, particularly those who need my knowledge of army procedures. Talking of which; any word from our suppliers?"

"Not yet. I hope they weren't spooked by our fake army order. The delivery address was the only aspect that was likely to worry them, but I am fairly confident that the pen pushers will not want to query anything in a decent order for rifles."

"Yeah. Most of them just want a quiet life. If they cause any delay, it might cost them their job, so they ignore possible snags in the paperwork. "Not my job to query that" is a great excuse."

"Talking about jobs, I was amazed that the Team found me and offered this job. How the hell did they know I used to work as secretary to a Base Commandant, and so knew all the forms and procedures?"

Jim replied cautiously, "I can't say for certain, doll, but they have access to a number of important databases, so that is probably where they found your details. How they discovered you were short of cash, I have no idea. That's another display of their expertise, and why they get contracts like this one. This is only my third job with them. They seem to prefer to work at arm's length, for I have only ever met the one guy."

Her colleague, an unflappable and experienced crook accustomed to working with a group on big jobs, settled back with his mug of coffee. Just like in the army, most time is spent waiting, she reflected. They were posing as a couple renting a flat, but it was actually a base for the operation. The pair of them provided the communications hub, the drink and sustenance for the "soldiers" of the team. These guys stayed away, for deniability; on standby until wanted; then Ruth or Jim would phone them with a code word, which would bring them to the flat for a briefing, prior to action. The flat was also the store for the unmarked hand guns they would carry during the operation, but that was an emergency situation only. The plan should require no muscle, if all went without a hitch.

The deal was simple in concept. The cross-border gang that wanted the guns placed the order with the experts, who would guarantee the safe delivery of the ordnance at the time and place required.

The experts, a team of specialist crooks infiltrated by Ruth, organised forged orders to an authorised arms company, for delivery of a supply of arms to the Army. Such orders were routine, and the delivery point was not always the same, though usually an army base.

This order, cleverly, was officially ordered for delivery to a drop-off point in the desert "in preparation for an army exercise in ordnance retrieval." A similar order had been sent to an ammunition manufacturer, with a similar scenario listed as the cause of the unusual delivery point. Neither order was very large, just a truck-load, so could be construed as a viable amount for the purposes of the exercise.

An addendum to the order was an explanation for the new items. "Normally we would use old ordnance, but due to safety concerns it has been ruled that new ordnance should be used." The note was initialled under the name of the base Commandant of the base nearest the drop-off point. That should allay any concerns felt at the manufacturers.

The "Base" phone number listed on the order was that of the flat, so that any query would come direct to Ruth and Jim, to be answered by Ruth, as "Secretary to the Commandant". She would give bland assurances should any query come through. A female voice often was more reassuring on the phone.

The chances were that no-one would have any suspicions until the bill arrived on the Commandant's desk with a query from the quartermaster.

Ruth's "husband" was her undercover contact. He would phone from time to time, asking about matters to do with their home, usually moans such as "Where are my binoculars? I can't find them?"

Her reply would usually be innocuous, but once the "army" order was sent, her reply told him that what he wanted as on a specific shelf, along and down, in a particular cupboard in a named room, which was code for the map location of the drop point. Later, her reply to a query would be the day and time of collection, so that a snatch team could be in place.


"Diane Kempe?" said the voice.

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