Free Some by Fire by Stuart Pawson Page A

expecting him to be another Maxwell. He was a Flash Harry with the Midas touch, famous in the past for his golden Rolls Royces and platinum women, but nowadays courted by politicians of all persuasions because of his media interests. I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Just what I read in the papers,’ I said. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
    ‘Do you know how he started in business?’
    ‘Mmm. He claims to have begun with a barrow in the East End, doesn’t he?’
    ‘As you say, that’s what he claims. There may be a kernel of truth in it. His real beginning was when he won a boxer in a poker game.’
    ‘A boxer?’ I queried.
    ‘A boxer, Mr Priest. A heavyweight with a glass chin. That didn’t matter; you just backed the other fellow. He moved with a violent crowd in London in the late forties, early fifties. He expanded rapidly, from second-hand cars sold from bomb sites tobingo and discothèques when the cinemas began to close. JJ Fox became an expert at turning one man’s failure into his success. It’s a lesson he has exploited to the full over the years.’ He paused for a drink. The old ladies were leaning forward, studying menus, their heads bobbing about like cauliflowers in a cauldron. Crosby carefully placed his glass on the table and continued. ‘Unfortunately, as he expanded he attracted attention from the gangs that were becoming a feature of life in south London at the time. He wasn’t really a criminal, just a struggling businessman who had to be flexible with the rules. Ultimately he wanted to be part of the Establishment, not fighting it. So he assessed the situation and decided to move north, lock, stock and barrel. Manchester, Liverpool and Leeds were sitting ducks for someone with his talents.’
    ‘He created the Reynard Organisation, didn’t he?’ I asked, trying to show off the little I knew about the man.
    ‘That’s right. He moved into the high streets, with a chain of boutiques; pop groups; music outlets; fast food. He had his finger on the pulse of the times and kept one step ahead of the trends. Now, as you know, he’s big league. It’s the FT 100 and public utilities now, plus the two newspapers, if you can call them that, the football club and controlling shares in a television station. The Reynard bandwagon is unstoppable, andJJ Fox runs it single-handed from a deck chair on a yacht somewhere in the Caribbean.’
    ‘He built the big new hotel in Leeds,’ I said.
    ‘The Fox Borealis,’ Crosby stated. ‘And the office block across the river from it. Leeds is the fastest-growing financial centre outside London, Mr Priest, and Fox has a slice of the action.’
    I knew it was, I’d read it in the papers often enough, but I didn’t know what it meant. ‘So where is this leading us?’ I asked.
    Crosby deflated with an audible sigh, drumming his fingers on the table as he gathered his thoughts. ‘He hasn’t changed,’ he began. ‘He still exploits other people’s bad luck, but he manipulates their luck for them.’
    I thought I was beginning to see where he was leading me. ‘You mean insider dealing?’ I asked.
    He shook his head. ‘No, it’s much more than that.’ He leant forward, closer to me, and began to speak rapidly in a low voice. ‘Two years ago, Mr Priest, there was a crash on the Northern and Borders Railway. One person was killed and it was put down to a signalling fault caused by vandalism. A month later two trainloads of commuters had narrow escapes when one train cut across the other. The passengers were hurled to the floor as their train braked and some of them saw the other train go by. Five seconds earlier and it could have been the worst disaster inBritish railway history. Again it was blamed on vandalism and hundreds of passengers vowed they would never travel by N and B again. Share prices plunged from over five hundred pence, Mr Priest, to below four hundred. Guess who stepped in to rescue the business? That’s right, JJ Fox. They now stand at