Road to Recovery

Chapter 12

  David’s physical health was improving daily; the oil change in America had been a total success, although he would still require periodic dialysis for the next few months, and medication for the foreseeable future, but his long term prognosis was very optimistic. His mental health however was another thing altogether - or so he felt, the paperwork was driving him crazy. He carefully vetted Carlos and all but two of his staff (when they had heard that Police checks were required they quietly handed in their notices - ‘SeT’ had not been that fussy), and then David’s first action was to promote Carlos to ‘Acting Manager of Uniformed Security’, with the rank of Captain, and it was to prove a good move. Carlos’s first task as El Capitan was to contact SeT and terminate his employment with them, no notice was evidently required. His second was to dispense with their services, that would take a month, and his third was to come to an agreement with them on purchasing the vehicles, radio equipment and the rest of their gear at El Campo, it would help him out greatly in the short term. They were happy to oblige, it meant that they could just close the books on the place, it had been a good little earner for them over the years, but they realised that it could not go on forever, and for a small financial consideration they would even forget about the months’ notice. As for the drop outs, they agreed to remain on the books until replacements were found - just so long as the Police weren’t involved. Carlos then went on a recruiting drive, but not for very long. As security was now going to be ‘in-house’, for a ‘very rich guy’, and they would in all probability be ‘armed’, word quickly spread in the Security Industry, worldwide, and applications came flooding in. Those chosen would be well paid, and would certainly be the crème de la crème. The ‘structure’ that David wanted initially (and I agreed to), was:-

  One Captain – (possibly Carlos)

  One Lieutenant – His Deputy

  One Senior Sergeant – day to day Manager

  One Corporal – Office bound hi-tec specialist

  Plus five teams of five Officers, with a Sergeant in charge of each team.

  Carlos did the initial cull (the ‘wanabe Policemen’ and those who just wanted to kill someone), and David did the final selection. He chose forty-four in all (including all the survivors of Carlos’s team) as he expected to lose a few very soon. Maria sent out the letters, they were long letters, and they were deliberately in English. One thing that I had insisted on very early in the proceedings was that all my Security Staff must have a good smattering of English. I did not want, in years to come, a grandson of mine going up to an Officer and saying ‘Excuse me Sir, but there is a man with a gun behind that door’, and getting a smile and a pat on the head in reply. A notice was metaphorically going up at the entrance gates; You are now entering little England, its first language is English. From now on, with the amount of money that I was now starting to shell out, I had no intention of finding out what any more conjugated verbs were, Spanish or otherwise.

  I was well on the mend, and so a couple of weeks later the hospital let me out on a day trip, not to Margate but for my first visit to El Campo, and I was more than pleased with what I saw. Fortunately all signs of the tragic accident had been removed from the crash site, and as we circled overhead, in a very comfortable helicopter, Paul and Eddy pointing out things of interest, I then had another of my thoughts; they were becoming very indispensable members of my team, so on my return to the hospital, a couple of hours later, I rang England and had a full, frank, and meaningful discussion with Mr Mattius, (him upstairs) at Monastery Housing Association.

  ‘He would not, under any circumstances, extend Paul and Eddy’s time with me; in fact the funding for their next project had come through earlier than expected and he wanted them back sooner rather than later’.

  I threatened to buy Monastery Housing Association, sack him, and open up a branch office in Spain.

  ‘Sorry you cannot do that ‘Sir’; we are a non-profit making organisation funded by the Housing Corporation which in turn is a Government Quango’.

  What a mouthful but it most likely meant that his job was safe, blast!, time for plan ‘B’, throw money at the situation, ‘alright how much to extend their contracts with me, give me a price’.

  ‘I want them back in their office by next Monday’, and then hung up.

  I noticed that he had not said ‘I need them back’ - it was ‘I want them back’ - and in my language that was fighting talk, so plan ‘C’ involved a meeting with Vicente, Paul and Eddy in my office/hospital room the next day. I hinted at what might have transpired between him upstairs and yours truly, and then asked them bluntly ‘do you want to go back to Monastery?’

  ‘Do we have a choice? Paul asked, but he was thinking on his feet, and so I laid my cards on the table, if they were to resign from Monastery I would employ them as ‘consultants’ until the completion of works (whenever that maybe) and then I would guarantee the financial backing if they wished to go into business on their own.

  ‘What about your contract with Monastery?’ Eddy asked, but Vicente had already browsed the document, which had been very hastily drawn up by the Housing Association, and he had rubbed his hands with glee. In his opinion it wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on. It was an open Contract with no end date stated; it just needed a verbal termination. Their idea was that they would summon them back at the last minute, therefore maximising the ‘consultation fee’ – BUT - as I was not an Agent of the association I was not in a position to be obligated to pass on any messages to them. All Paul and Eddy had to do was to refrain from answering any phone calls, or accepting any registered mail from the Housing Association until their ‘notices’ had expired. They went into my lounge to talk things over; after all it was a life changing decision for both of them, and they had their families to think of as well. Their wives were now both back in England after their brief holiday, as both of them had their own jobs and children to tend to, but twenty minutes later two very happy chappies came back into my room and shook my hand. Once a few of the formalities (plus four more scholarships) with Vicente and Maria were sorted out, they cheerfully left my room - well almost. As they left my room, through the extra wide ‘wheelchair access door’, they somehow carelessly bumped ever so slightly into each another. It wasn’t much of a bump as bumps go, but it was enough to worry a passing Professor of Medicine, enough for him to sign them both off work sick for a month, ‘and if they didn’t improve in that time, he would certainly consider renewing the notes for at least a further two months’. I doubted that Eddy would need another note, he only had to give one month’s notice to Monastery Housing, but Paul had to give three.

  A few days later I again left the hospital, this time in a limo - to attend the service at a nearby Crematorium for George and Millie. There were only a few people at the service, although Mr Agrampara was among them, he had flown in especially for it. For the life of me I couldn’t understand why they didn’t have more friends. They were two of the nicest people you could ever wish to meet; I suppose they just liked to ‘keep to themselves’. A preliminary report by the Accident Investigators had just found that ‘pilot error’ was the probable cause of the accident, which was a pity, but not totally unexpected. Not knowing quite what to do with their urns I instructed Marcus to place them with the rest of their personal effects in one of the hangars; they certainly didn’t have anywhere else to go at the present time, although at the same time I made a promise to myself, they were going to have somewhere ‘special’ for their final resting place.

  I accepted the most expensive tender for ‘Phase I’, not because of the cost (there had only been a million or so in it – what a pittance!), but because when they had come to see me at that initial meeting a month ago, the successful Company had come into my room speaking English. The other team had come in speaking Spanish, expecting me ‘as I now lived in Spain’ to speak their language. Translation was not the problem, arrogance was, and it also helped that the winners could start immediately, so
a week later, as I exited through those illustrious portals (as an in-patient anyway) for the last time, with Bonnie, Clyde, Maria and Rodders’ and his crew in tow, work had already commenced on my new home.

  Around the same time that I had met the contractors for the first time I realised that I was starting to attract a veritable cacophony of staff around me. I was definitely in need of more living and office space at El Campo, so, ‘Marcus, sort it out’, and he did. He contacted the mobile home manufacturers, and they provided me post haste with what seemed like a mini city, more bedrooms, a gymnasium, canteen, medical centre, cinema and rest rooms, lots of rest rooms, and Paul also took this opportunity to re-locate the whole kit and caboodle ‘air side’, in between the runways to be more precise, ‘away from all that dust, noise, and construction work when it eventually got started’, well that was his excuse anyway, although I guessed that it was really just an excuse to get me out from under his feet.

  By the time I arrived there David was already firmly ensconced at El Campo. He had returned from his convalescent leave feeling fitter than he had done since leaving Afghanistan, and raring to go, and Charlie had been busy preparing the ground work for the forthcoming week long ‘Induction Course’. It was the pre cursor to three weeks of training that David felt was the minimum that the new Security Officers would require before they took on the job, and they had all been warned at the interview stage, and by letter, what to expect. The induction course was obviously not as strenuous as the SAS version - but it was close enough. It would give David an idea of each person’s ‘strengths and weaknesses’, as he had to choose two Officers and seven NCO’s from among them, as Carlos had insisted that he be judged on his merits, along with the rest of the applicants. The Colonel provided half a dozen ‘Corporal types’ to help out on the course and a local security firm thought that all their Christmas’s had come at once, they had the job of covering all the routine security at El Campo for a month, at an extortionate rate. It meant that David could concentrate all his efforts on the course, and then get the survivors kitted out, trained, and working as a team before taking over the task – and at the end of the first week David had his ‘structure’. Carlos had come through with flying colours and was confirmed as the Manager of Uniformed Security, and his Lieutenant was to be Thomas, the Englishman. Pierre, a recently retired NCO in the French Foreign Legion was to be the new Senior Sergeant and Agnetha, from Sweden (who David nearly had to send back there because of her fear of firearms) was to be the Corporal. The main requirement for her post was to be able to oversee all the high tech security systems that the teams would be using, computer literacy not killing ability was her priority, so a pepper spray on her belt would suffice (and it also helped her case that Charlie ‘quite liked her’). Between the four of them they could speak eleven languages, so English was not a problem either.

  With week one over, David ended up with thirty-six ‘uniformed’ personnel (twelve of them female) but no ‘uniforms’, but fortunately Caroline’s father was in ‘Gentlemen’s Tailoring’. Before he had ever been let anywhere near a potential customer, he had had to correctly predict all the measurements and/or sizes of a gentleman that had just entered the store for the first time, and Caroline, from an early age, used to compete with her father at this ‘game’, and so she became a natural at ‘sizing people up’. It also helped that she had taste oozing from every pore, so when the subject of uniforms arose she took the lead. I spent hours (well almost forty-five minutes) browsing through catalogues searching for the right combination of style and practicality, and what we (I) finally decided upon was that when the Officers were on the day shift, at the entrance to El Campo, they would wear something along the lines of a Guardia Civil uniform, only in a slightly different shade of green, a brown leather belt, complete with a holster and hand cuffs, and peaked caps. The first impression that I wanted visitors to El Campo to get was that my home was guarded by smart and efficient Officers, and at night, and when they were out and about on their patrols I wanted them business like. This attire would be based on the ‘Police Local’ Para Military style black ‘jump suits’, that were tucked into Commando style boots, matt black nylon ‘duty belts’ and baseball caps, but what was standard on both uniforms was the Heckler and Koch USP semi-automatic pistol, complete with a fifteen round magazine that was packed full of shiny 9x19mm parabellum cartridges, just in case. David had chosen this weapon because it was adaptable to each Officer’s requirements (left or right handed) and its reliability record. He had also come to an agreement with the Authorities; side arm’s would be permitted on El Campo for the Uniformed Officers, just as long as David would be available to ‘fine tune’ the firearms skills of selected Officers from the neighbouring Police Forces in my new indoor range. That was news to me, the indoor range bit, yet another thing to be added to the building specs.

  For the first week the hopefuls had been living in tents at the outer reaches of the airfield. Now, for those that did not have local accommodation I had to find them somewhere to live, temporarily. Charlie had anticipated this a month previously, so when I used the term ‘I’, again it was used very loosely. ‘Maria, tell Marcus that we need more huts, he’s got a month’.

  The second week started with a lorry turning up with a reputable Military Outfitters logo on either side of it. Two days were set aside to sort out the uniforms but because of Caroline’s skills one of those days wasn’t needed. Once they had all been kitted out by the Outfitter, alterations noted, and all the insignias (and any stripes) had been loosely pinned onto the garments, they were sent off to their seamstress’s, and then on to the cleaners. I wanted them all to be the D.B’s (immaculate) on their first day on the job (as well as every day thereafter). The next day they were back in overalls, but now they were black, and they had their new black ‘duty belts’ on. This was to be their ‘patrolling’ belt, which had their black nylon side arm holster (minus the gun at this stage) and pouches and/or clips for spare magazines, handcuffs, CS spray, flashlight, multi-tool, radio, baton and Uncle Tom Cobley and all. Charlie had set up a temporary outdoor shooting range, well out of earshot of any passes by, and for the next three days David, Charlie and Pierre gave the probable’s an intensive weapons training course. Even Agnetha got three bulls at five paces - with her pepper spray. As they were one day ahead of schedule David gave them a treat; he let Pierre ‘explain’ to them all, the Officers and Patrol Officers alike, how he expected them to be turned out, and especially how to shine their boots and shoes - to HIS satisfaction. There would be a few sore, and boot-polish ingrained fingers over the next few weeks.

  The third week was a toughie. It included physical training, unarmed combat, some ‘light’ square bashing and team building exercises, and more and more David let the Officers and NCO’s take over, until by the end of that week it was Carlos, Thomas and Pierre that were devising the exercises, and the Sergeants implementing them.

  Week four started with me meeting them all for the first time. I had arrived, with my entourage in tow, in two helicopters on the Saturday, and it was nice to be finally in a place of my own, even though I didn’t have my Sheila beside me, and the original mobile homes had been George and Millie’s. As I approached the smart lines early (for me anyway) on Monday morning, Pierre called them all to attention. I had never had this happen to me before, and it sort of threw me a bit, but Charlie was having a whale of a time, and then Carlos introduced us (Bonnie, Clyde and me) to them all. As I shook each of them by the hand, and asked him/her where they were from, in English of course, they all confidently answered me, although I could easily tell which of them had been in Carlos’s original team, and just as I was reluctantly about to give them an impromptu ‘welcome to the fold’ speech, I was saved by the bell, or rather a horn. A large car transporter with five Toyota pickups, a Range Rover and a LDV Maxus Minibus arrived; each of the four by four’s coming ready fitted with all the usual flashing lights, spot lights, sirens, radios etc. Each team wo
uld have their own pickup, Carlos, Thomas, and Pierre would share the Range Rover, and Agnetha would be responsible for the mini bus, but as sure as eggs were eggs the fleet would grow. Under the watchful eye of Pierre the vehicles were unloaded, handed over to the teams, and as we watched them drive off (for yet more training) Bonnie and Clyde knew that they had made a lot more friends, and I felt very safe.

  It was Friday midday and I was all dressed up in a brand new suite, the Gucci I think (after all it was a chilly 22 degrees, well it was nearly Christmas) and I was going to a parade. Any of the participants that had relatives or friends that resided locally (and a few not so locally) invited them to their ‘Passing Out’ Parade. The Pueblo Band arrived, with more instrumentalists than my entire Security Force, but that didn’t matter, my boys and girls were definitely the centre of attention. Paul had cleared an area for us all to enjoy ourselves in, and Marcus had hired a load of tables and chairs; and from somewhere had appeared a dais. We had all had a quick rehearsal the evening before, but with the trainees dressed in their overalls, not their best bibs and tuckers - and all had gone well until Bonnie and Clyde decided to join in, and they promptly turned the whole serious proceedings into absolute mayhem. Everybody had worked so hard over the past four weeks, but Bonnie and Clyde wanted to play, so who were we to argue, and so everyone played. It was nice to see them all let their hair down, and as I watched Charlie, Bonnie and Clyde disappear under a mound of human flesh David slid up beside me, a smile on his face and quietly said ‘they’ll do’, praise indeed from their Boss.

  The Parade went spectacularly well, first they all marched on, and the Sergeants inspected them, and reported to Pierre, who inspected them, and reported to Thomas, who inspected them, and reported to Carlos, who thankfully did not inspect them, but reported to me, for me to inspect them. Was there anything left for me to find? So as I moved slowly along the lines I again shook each by the hand, congratulated him or her and then handed them their shiny new name badge and side-arm (or pepper spray in Agnetha’s case) that Maria was efficiently (if rather nervously) passing to me. They were now fully trained, and they all held their heads up high. After my, David’s and Carlos’s ‘little’ speeches they marched passed the dais with David and I looking down from above, and they really looked the ‘biz’ in their new uniforms. Two of the teams were dressed in their new patrol blacks, as they were now calling them, and were in the centre rank, flanked either side by the rest in their daytime best. It all made for some grand photographs. For after the ceremony Marcus had organised a bar and buffet for everyone, and as I circulated, my right arm gradually felt as if it was going to be ripped from my shoulder from all the hand-shaking, and I was definitely seeing stars from all the flashes that accompanied the obligatory photographs. I even had to have a photograph with the Band. Never had I ever had this amount of attention heaped on me before, but I definitely think I could get used to it. Finally, pleading that I was feeling a little peaky I left them all to it. Actually I felt absolutely knac - sorry done in, and promptly went to bed for a siesta. They would all have the weekend to recuperate, but at 0700 Monday, sharp, they would all be starting for real.

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