The Guaranteed Return

Keith Martin was in coffee shop, grabbing his morning coffee, on the way to the office. He was about to leave with this take-out coffee, when someone called his name.

‘Excuse me, it’s Keith, isn’t it?’ 

Keith turned to see a man walking over to him. He was dressed in a designer suit, and the morning sunlight glinted off his expensive silver watch. 

‘Remember me, it’s Charlie Burgess from high school?’ the man asked.

‘You went to St Gregory’s?’ Keith asked.

‘Yeah, I was at St Greg’s. I knew it was you.’ Charlie said. 

Charlie asked what Keith did for a living these days. Keith explained that he was a line manager at international shipping company. 

‘And you?’ Keith asked.

Charlie replied detailing that he was head of investments and developments at one of the city’s biggest stock brokers. 

‘I also have my fingers in a lot of lucrative pies. Business is my business, if you get me.’ Charlie added.

‘Sounds like you’ve done well for yourself.’ Keith said.

Charlie shrugged, modestly. I get by.

‘Look, I’ve got to dash, but we should meet up again, maybe a round of golf, or a round of drinks, or both.’ Charlie suggested, smiling warmly.

Keith nodded, agreeing that sounded like a plan. 

Charlie reached in his suit jacket and handed Keith his card. Feeling rather scruffy in comparison, Keith scribbled his number down on the back of his coffee order receipt and handed it over.

‘So that’s your mobile number, and your coffee order. Got it.’ Charlie laughed, waving the receipt. 

Keith laughed too. There was something, charming, disarming about his former school friend. 

On Friday afternoon, Keith’s mobile phone pinged, one new message. 

Hey, one of my friends has cancelled for tonight. He’s had to fly out to Belgium on business. You fancy a meal in town later?

It took Keith a moment to realise who the message was from. It was him, Charlie, his old school friend he’d met earlier in the week. Friend cancelling because they were away on business?

That did sound very high-flying. If any of Keith’s friends ever cancelled a night out, it was because they couldn’t get a babysitter, not that they were away in Europe on business. Charlie moved in very different circles. Keith considered himself to be rather successful, and had worked hard to get where he was, but Charlie just seemed to be on another level. While Keith hoped one day to be made regional manager at the company he worked at, Charlie seemed to be more like the person who owned several businesses while being on the board of directors at dozens of others.

Keith replied to Charlie saying he’d be up for a night out. 

The swanky bar was packed. Jazz music mixed with the chatter and laughter. Keith usually frequented pubs less up-market than this. He would go to nice places, decent bars, those that were a step up from getting a burger and a beer for £9.99, but the place Charlie had suggested meeting up was a bit out of Keith’s comfort zone. It was the kind of place you went so you could take photos and post on social media, or so that you could tell your friends that you had drinks in the place. 

As he glanced around the room, looking for Charlie, he spotted several famous faces, there were footballers from both the Manchester teams, and actors of the North West TV soaps.

Keith pushed his way through the crowd to the bar. He ordered a pint of their cheapest beer, shouting to be heard over the noise in the room. The barmaid handed him his pint and told him it would be twelve pounds. Keith shook his head in disgust, but reached for his wallet.

He was about to hand over a twenty pound note when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He half-turned to see Charlie standing beside him. He wore a navy polo shirt, with a designer logo on the chest.

‘Can you make that two beers, please, love?’ Charlie said, waving his credit card.

Keith followed Charlie through the throng to a free table. Charlie seemed at ease in the upmarket bar, greeting people as he went. 

Charlie plonked himself down on the leather sofa and sighed. He looked as comfortable as he would be at home. There was an easy confidence with him. Keith joined him on the sofa. Charlie raised his glass, cheers, and thanked him for ‘playing out at such short notice’.

The conversation flowed easily, considering that they hadn’t seen each other for years. Charlie was good company, enquiring about Keith’s life these days, and describing his lifestyle. Charlie’s exploits all seemed rather jet-set compared to Keith’s dull existence. Keith’s idea of a birthday treat was going for an Italian meal with friends, Charlie’s version would be going to Italy for a long weekend. His friends just seemed to have this classy aura about him.

The evening progressed with more drinks, more swanky bars. The beer rolled into cocktails and whiskey. Keith felt intoxicated, not only with the alcohol being consumed, but by the lifestyle and glamour that his former school-friend seemed to exude. Every round of drinks, every whiskey chaser, every glass of champagne, was paid for by his friend. 

Keith did offer to pay his own way, but Charlie insisted he would be able to claim it back on expenses. Charlie would wave his gold-coloured plastic credit card with a flourish. He would wave the card between two fingers, as though it was an access-all-areas back-stage pass. 

At the end of the night, as Keith climbed in a taxi, Charlie hugged him, patting him on the back. 

‘We’ll have to do this again, brother.’ Charlie said.

‘Definitely, mate.’ Keith agreed.

The next morning, as Keith sipped a strong cup of tea, in front of rubbish television, and nursed a hangover, he still wondered at the events of the night before. It had all be so swish, so glamorous. The easy confidence and yearning for the finer things in life had been infectious. Charlie had asked Keith about his chances of progression at the firm. Keith explained how he hoped for regional manager in the near future. Charlie had swigged on his glass of champagne, shaking his head in disagreement.

‘Regional manager? You should be aiming for director, mate. A man of your calibre, any company should be honoured to have you on their board.’ 

As he sipped his tea, the morning after, he wondered, maybe Charlie was right. Maybe Keith should make more of himself. Why should he limit himself to one position, at one company, and even one industry. Maybe he should follow Charlie’s example and branch out. As far as he could tell, the only difference between him and Charlie was that his friend had the confidence to put himself out there. Charlie had taken the risks and it had paid off. There was no reason that Keith couldn’t be like that. The only thing holding Keith back, was Keith. And he knew that Charlie would agree with him.

Over the next few weeks, more nights out with Charlie followed. There were drinks in swanky bars, meals in fancy restaurants. Charlie would pay for everything on his company credit card. Keith would thank him, and Charlie would insist he was grateful for the company. 

Keith couldn’t help being impressed. He had originally seen his old school friend as moving in different circles, now Keith had a chance to move in those circles too. This was the chance he hadn’t known he had been waiting for. 

Over dinner in an exclusive restaurant a few weeks later, Charlie put his cutlery down and cleared his throat. 

‘I’m hosting a dinner party at my place on Saturday evening. It would be great if you can make it.’

Keith had arranged to join his friends in the pub to watch the Manchester United game with a few beers, but he shook his head. This was a better offer. He could go and watch the match with the lads anytime. 

‘I’ve got no plans. I’d love to come.’ Keith said.

As the taxi pulled up at the address Charlie had messaged him, Keith gasped. He got out of the taxi, and stood on the wide driveway, staring up at the large mansion house. The building was just magnificent. It had all the grandeur of a country house. Keith could imagine a detective in a 1930s whodunit gathering the suspects in the drawing room of a house like this. 

Keith walked up the steps to the double doors, still in awe. People hovered in the doorway, smoking cigarettes and chatting. As he went by they called out hello. They were dressed in elegant designer clothes, all perfectly fitted and tailored. Keith felt under-dressed in his shirt and jeans. As if sensing his unease, one of the smokers, a guy in his fifties, wearing a sharp grey suit, shook his hand saying it was good to see him. 

Keith simply nodded, and went through the doors. Stepping over the threshold was like a book he’d read as a child, a little girl goes through a wardrobe to a wonderful, magical land. The grand entrance hall, with grandfather clock and suits of armour standing to attention. The people milling around the hallway were as lavishly dressed as those outside. One woman kissed him on the cheek and said it was great he could make it. The house seemed to be full of beautiful and charming people, all immaculately dressed. 

Under the chandelier at the bottom of a wide stairway, a string quartet played classical music that filled the air. 

Keith wandered down the wood-panelled corridors and found himself in a room with tall bookshelves and leather furniture. He spotted Charlie perched on the arm of a sofa. Charlie gave him a wave and took a sip on his cocktail before rushing over to Keith. He patted him warmly on the back.

‘Keith, so glad you came.’ Charlie said.

‘Wonderful place you’ve got here, mate.’ Keith said.

‘It’s somewhere to get my head down at night.’ Charlie laughed. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the games room.’ 

Keith followed Charlie down the corridors and through lounge rooms. They emerged in a large room with two snooker tables and a pool table. The tables were lit overhead by lamps and looked as fancy as the rest of the place. The green baize shone in the lamp-glow.

A young man approached, carrying drinks on a tray. Charlie took two glasses of the offered champagne and handed Keith a glass.

As they sipped their drinks, Charlie spoke, leaning in close, his voice a confidential whisper, leaning in close.

‘Keep this to yourself, mate, this is for a select few only. I’m investing in this new hotel chain in Dubai. We’ll be in this thing from the ground up, literally. This could make millions, maybe even billions, for everyone involved. If it’s a success, we’d be looking at branching out and setting up hotels across the Middle East and then the world. The word is that they have their sights set on cracking America after the Middle East. I’m asking a chosen few to join me.’

Keith didn’t know what to say, this was all so unexpected and, if he was being honest, all way over his head. He considered himself a success in his own business, managing the shipping department, but this, this hotel investment, seemed such a leap of faith, such a step up. Could he do this? Should he? Should he get involved? He had been wanting to step up, to move up to the levels he’d found with Charlie but this offer had come as a complete shock.

Before Keith could respond, Charlie continued speaking.

‘The spaces are limited, I can’t take everyone on. There are a lot of people interested on getting on board this venture. There are a couple of spots left. I could get you on, if you’re interested.’

‘Wow, I mean, thanks for thinking of me, but I’m not sure-’ Keith started.

‘Hey, no biggie, no pressure.’ Charlie raised his hands, to make his point. ‘But if you change your mind, give me a shout. I’d be good to do business with you. I think you and I would work well together.’

Charlie patted him on the back and crossed the room to talk to a woman in a sky-blue ball-gown.

A while later, Keith was playing snooker with some of the other party-goers. Charlie was presumably off mingling somewhere with more of his guests. A woman called Anne leaned on the side of the snooker table, drinking a bright green cocktail. 

‘Have you heard of this business venture Charles is suggesting?’ She asked.

Keith looked up from taking his shot at the snooker table and nodded. 

‘I simply have to be one of those chosen. I can bring such a lot to the table.’ She insisted. 

‘So you’re going to invest?’ Keith asked.

She looked at him as though he was a child asking a silly question.

‘Of course I am. Why wouldn’t you? It’s too good an opportunity to resist. We are lucky to be asked.’

As the evening wore on, Keith got the chance to explore the large house. The place was just so lavish. The rooms were all so grand and had titles such as library, drawing room and study. He chatted to the other guests. They were a surprisingly friendly bunch. Maybe they saw him as a friend of Charlie’s so were making an effort. 

Just after midnight, one of the waiters, a guy called Lloyd, ushered Keith into a drawing room. He found half a dozen guests gathered on chairs and sofas, seated around the fireplace. Charlie was leaning on the mantelpiece, holding court. When Keith had took a seat, he nodded. Charlie clapped his hands together, then spoke to the group.

‘I am going to need an investment from you all, up front, that will get the ball in motion. We’re asking for seventy-five thousand pounds from each investor.’

Charlie said he would leave them to think it over. He gave a graceful bow and slipped out of the room.

Keith was still reeling at the amount. He supposed he could use his savings and get a loan from the bank for the rest of it. The others in the group, all nodded. Anne seemed quite happy about forking out that much money.

‘If you want a large return, then you have to put up a large investment.’ She suggested.

The others nodded. 

‘This is an exciting opportunity, for those that can afford it.’

‘And,’ someone added, ‘if you can’t afford it, maybe you should go back to playing Bingo and doing the lottery and leave the serious money to the big leagues.’

The group laughed at the hilarity of not being able to part with large sums of money at a moment’s notice.

‘And we’ll definitely get our money back?’ Keith asked, trying to hide the nerves, and keep his tone conversational.

‘Have you not been listening? Of course we will. We’re not throwing money away, we’re putting it into building hotels in Dubai. Have you ever been to Dubai?’

Keith shook his head.

‘It’s crammed full of swish hotels for wealthy tourists wanting to spend their money. Seriously, it is THE place to be and THE place to build.’

‘You must join us in this, Keith, you really must. I’d hate for you to miss out.’ Anne said.

Keith said nothing, taking a swig of his whiskey. 

Keith spent the next two days mulling things over. It was a big decision and one he couldn’t rush into. Charlie was asking for a lot of money, more money than he could easily get his hands on, but the rewards sounded amazing. There seemed to be such potential in the opportunity. If he managed to scrape together the amount required, then he stood to make a lot of money. They said you had to speculate to accumulate. If he forked out more money than he had, then perhaps, he would reap more money than he had ever dreamed of. 

Maybe he would look back at this very moment, this decision, as being the making of him. This could be the start of something special. He could get involved with other properties, other hotels, once this venture paid off. Maybe the next time someone suggested investing such an amount, he wouldn’t wince at the amount.

And also, if he did take the offer, it would signify a change. He would be moving in different circles. He would be part of the set, of the clique. That evening at Charlie’s lavish house, he had been given a glimpse, a taste of what his life could be like, of the circles he could move in, of the person he could be, if only he took the chance. 

He was completely torn. One moment he would decide to turn Charlie down, that the amount requested was too much, that the return, despite what they said, wasn’t cast in stone. There was no such thing as a dead cert in this life. It was too much of a risk. But then Keith would start thinking about the what-ifs, what if this paid off? The rewards would be astonishing, and more than purely financial. He could life a different life, and be the person he wanted to be. 

The following morning, when he woke, he had made his mind up. He would go for it. He would take Charlie up on the offer. He would be bold. Fortune favours the brave, as they said. He would be investing in a hotel in an extremely lucrative location, so with a bit of luck, the gamble would pay off. He spent the next hour or so filling in online forms for the bank, asking for a loan. 

Just after midday, Keith received an email from the bank. This was it. Would they help him fulfil his potential?

The answer was no. The bank wouldn’t lend him the money. He swore. Why couldn’t they see the potential in this investment? He could see the opportunity for this business venture, for this new life, slipping through his fingers. 

At that moment his mobile phone started ringing. Charlie’s name flashed up on screen.

‘Hey Keith, how’s tricks?’

‘Yeah, fine, all good.’

‘How are you looking for the investment? Are you with us? Are you in? It’s just we’re gonna need funds in the next couple of hours.’ Charlie said.

‘I’m actually getting the funds together as we speak. I just need to juggle a few things around.’

‘Are you sure? No worries if you need to back out. There are lots of people who’d jump at the chance-’

‘Charlie, honestly, I’m sorting it. Count me in.’ Keith said.

‘Good stuff. I knew you would be the man for this.’ Charlie said.

‘How long would you say it would be before we see a return on our investments?’ Keith asked.

Charlie paused, as he thought of the answer.

‘I’d say you’re looking at a full return in 6-8 weeks, and from there the sky is the limit really. Once you’re in, the possibilities are endless.’

‘It would be that soon? The hotel wouldn’t be built by then, surely?’ Keith asked.

‘Once we get the investments, and get the green light, our marketing team will be pushing for reservations and booking for the planned opening week. We’ll open roughly two years from now. The new hotels in Dubai are booked up months, even years in advance. Everyone will want to be staying at our hotel on the opening week. There will be the big business people wanting to impress their clients, honeymoon couples wanting to treat themselves. Out there a hotel opening week is like a movie premiere. Everyone will want to be on the guest list. The figures show that the returns speak for themselves.’

‘Really? Can that be right? People will actually book for a hotel that isn’t built yet?’

‘Look at concert tickets. You buy tickets now for an evening that is twelve months away. People queue up to buy gig tickets. This is exactly the same.’

Keith said nothing, there was silence on the line.

‘Keith, mate, if you are getting cold feet, that’s fine. I completely understand. You wouldn’t be letting me down. I have a subs bench of people wanting to get involved.’

There was the feeling again, that this chance for a better life was slipping out of his reach.

‘Charlie, I’m in.’ Keith insisted.

‘And you’ll be able to sort the funds out? We’re against the clock on this.’ Charlie said.

‘I’m on it now. Just need to free up a bit of capital.’

‘Good man.’ Charlie said, then hung up.

Keith paced up and down the living room. He had to get his hands on a lot of money, and sharpish. There was one option open to him. He knew a lot of people in Manchester, and not all of them were upstanding citizens. In fact, Keith moved in some rather dodgy circles. Not all of his acquaintances were the type of people you’d have over for a cup of tea.

Liam Turner would be able to help him out. Liam had started out as high school bully and progressed to petty criminal and was now dabbling in all kinds of illegal activity. Loan-sharking was just a small part of his nefarious business dealings. 

Keith knew where he would find Liam. There was a pub around the corner from the block of flats he lived. Liam was always in there. The pub was like Liam’s office. Sitting there with a pint of lager, he would run his criminal empire.

Having been frequenting the city’s more swanky bars recently, the Golden Lion seemed more downmarket and grotty than the last time Keith had been there. The décor looked as though it was at least thirty years old, and the stained yellow wallpaper dated back to when you could smoke in pubs. 

It was only early afternoon, but a lot of the customers were already slurring and talking in the kind of loud voices you only heard from those who were inebriated. Several of the customers had shopping bags on the seat next to them. They had gone from the morning grocery shop, straight to the pub for opening time. 

Liam was dressed in a hoodie and baseball cap, both emblazoned with the names of random American sports teams. Keith assumed that Liam had no interest in American football, and wasn’t a fan of the New York Yankees either. 

Liam took a long swig of his pint of lager and before shaking Keith warmly by the hand. Liam grinned at him, but the menace and danger was there, lurking just beneath the surface. Keith sensed that one wrong word, one wrong glance, and Liam could erupt into violence. 

Keith took the seat facing Liam and asked how things were going.

‘Can’t complain, mate.’ Liam said. ‘What brings you around here?’

‘A bit of business actually.’ Keith said.

‘I’m all ears. Get the drinks in, and then you can tell me all about it.’ Liam said.

As they sipped their pints of lager, Keith explained how he needed funds as he was having cash-flow issues. He kept things deliberately vague, neglecting to mention the loan was for a business venture, for a new hotel chain out in Dubai. The last thing he needed was Liam bullying and badgering his way into the deal. No, as far as Liam was concerned Keith was in a bit of a mess and needed the cash to tide him over.

‘I’ll pay you back in eight weeks, maximum.’ Keith said.

‘I don’t normally give that kind of credit, mate.’ Liam said.

‘You’ll get your money back, eight weeks tops, sooner if I can. Just in a bit of a bind right now.’

Thirty minutes later, Liam slid a brown envelope across the table. Keith quickly pocketed it. The envelope was thick with cash. Keith didn’t need to count it. Liam may have been a villain, but he was also a businessman. If he started short-changing his customers, then people would start going elsewhere. Liam had a reputation of being able to help you out when you needed, but would put you in hospital or worse if you crossed him. 

Keith thanked him and got to his feet. As he zipped up his coat, Liam gave him a hard look.

‘You know who I am, you know what you’re doing?’ Liam said.

Keith nodded.

‘And you know what will happen if you don’t pay me back?’

‘Yeah.’ Keith said.

Liam’s face changed, a smile breaking out, his demeanour friendly once again.

‘Nice one, mate. I’ll see you around.’ 

Back home, Keith opened up his laptop computer and called Charlie on his mobile phone.

‘Keith, my man, how are we getting on?’ Charlie asked. 

‘I’ve got it. We’re good to go, mate.’ 

‘Wonderful news.’ 

While Charlie hung on the phone, Keith transferred the funds. Charlie thanked him, adding that it would be a pleasure going into business with him, and said he would be in touch.

As he hung up the phone, Keith felt excited. He was now a businessman, an executive. He was an investor in a hotel in Dubai. What a day! 

Late that afternoon, Keith received an email from Charlie. 

Hey, thanks so much for getting on board. Congratulations on your investment. If you click the link below you can see the full sales brochure and the plans and drawings for the hotel. In a few months, we’ll be looking at taking our investors over to check out the start of the building work. Flights and accommodation will be included, of course. 

Thanks again! 

Keith read the email several times. How exciting was this? This kind of thing didn’t normally happen to him. Keith clicked on the link and gasped. The plans and the artist’s impressions of the hotel were out of this world. The gleaming tower rose proudly from the sandy coastline. The vista looked like something from a television competition where the prize is the holiday of a lifetime. And Keith was a part of this. It all felt like a dream. 

Keith was on a night out with friends a few weeks later. He’d had a few drinks around the city centre and was heading to catch the last bus home, when he saw a familiar figure walking towards him. It took him a moment to figure out where he knew her from. Then it clicked. 

It was Anne, from the dinner party. She looked so different, no longer wearing the flowing gown. She looked different, dressed in more of a grungy, student way. Her style looked more punk than princess compared to how she’d been dressed the other evening.

‘Hello, you. I almost didn’t recognise you. Anne, isn’t it? We met at the dinner party the other week.’ Keith said.

‘Oh, yes, of course. My real name’s Beth. What’s yours?’ She asked.

‘My name is still Keith. What’s with the different name?’ Keith said.

‘Well, that was for the parts we were playing that evening.’ She explained.

‘Sorry, I don’t follow.’ Keith said.

‘We were playing parts, acting out. We were paid by Mr Burgess, Charlie, all dressed up, at the fancy house he hired for the evening.’ 

‘You mean you didn’t invest? We were talking about business, the hotel in Dubai.’ Keith said.

‘What, no, of course not. It was just role-playing. It was improvisation, all a game. None of it was real.’

Keith couldn’t find the words to reply.

‘Wait, you mean, you actually invested?’ She asked, eyes wide in shock.

Keith suddenly felt freezing cold. He felt sick.

This couldn’t be happening. He turned away, staggering down the street, trying to process everything. As he headed down the road for the bus, his head was spinning with it all. He rode the bus home, his mind racing, trying to figure it all out.

He knew Charlie from school, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Actually now that he thought about it, Keith couldn’t recall Charlie from school at all. But that wasn’t possible, surely. Charlie had known him, known his name and the school he’d attended.

Keith’s mind went back to the first meeting in the coffee shop. Charlie had known his name. A shiver went through him. Thinking about it, Keith’s name had been written in black marker pen on the coffee cup, as a lot of these places did when taking your order. They called out your name when your coffee was ready. Had Charlie known his name simply because the coffee-shop worker had called it out when handing Keith his coffee?

But Charlie had known what high school Keith had attended. As Keith recalled exactly what was said, he now remembered, that he, Keith, had mentioned St Gregory’s and that Charlie had simply agreed with him.

Back home, he made himself a strong cup of tea and tried not to panic. The more he thought about it, the more suspicious he was of Charlie, and concerned that the whole thing had been an elaborate con. Had he actually handed over a ridiculous amount of money to a confidence trickster? You heard stories on the news, but you never thought it would happen to you. Was Keith a victim? Surely not, but all the signs suggested that was the case. 

Had the whole thing been a scam? Had Charlie, if that was even his real name, orchestrated the whole thing, arranging a lavish dinner party like that, so that Keith would invest? How many of those people there that night were actors and how many were gullible victims, like him, believing the whole thing to be real?

He had to know for sure. He had to speak to Charlie. With fumbling fingers he reached for his mobile phone and dialled Charlie’s number.

As the automatic voice coldly stated the number he was calling was no longer in service, the full realisation of what had happened washed over him. 

A moment later his mobile phone rang. He didn’t recognise the number on the small screen. This would be Charlie ringing him. Thank goodness. Maybe he’d got a new mobile phone, or was using a different mobile for business.

‘Hello? Is that you, Charlie?’ Keith said.

‘This is Liam Turner. I’m just ringing to remind you that you owe me. You really wouldn’t want things to get nasty.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom