Roskov, Book 10, page 30
But a call came in from Birmingham, and that the Birmingham Echo was trashing my failed wine bar opening, a low turnout reported.
I now had an idea about why my liquor license was being delayed, so we jumped into two cars and sped west to BBC Birmingham as I made a call to my local council chief.
‘Mister Roskov?’
‘Yes. Do you happen to know why my request for a liquor license for my new wine bar has been delayed?’
‘I … never knew you had a new wine bar, or had applied.’
‘Who handles matters like that?’ I asked.
‘That would be David Grace.’
‘This morning, a Birmingham newspaper is running a story, of my failed wine bar and low turnout.’
‘How … can you have a low turnout when you’re not trading yet?’
‘Because David Grace likes sex with nine-year-olds.’
‘Oh hell.’
‘Do some digging very quickly, you’re about to get a tonne of shit and some very bad publicity. Call me back if you find something, I’ll be on the news in an hour.’
As we arrived at the BBC Birmingham offices he called back. ‘David Grace walked out when confronted and … told us where to shove the job.’
‘Be a love and find my liquor licence application and process it please.’
‘I will do, yes, we’re going through his desk now.’
Stood next to the car, the lads waiting, I called the Chief Constable in Leicester. ‘David Grace, local council. Have a very quick look at him for his links to Roger Pearson, he just quit his job and walked out of the council when confronted about links.’
‘I’ll get the team on it now.’
Inside, we waited, a chat to the crews and a cup of tea. Make-up done, and in I went quietly. Sat, I waited, the presenter finally turning to me as the camera turned to me.
‘Mister Roskov, what do you make of the story in the Birmingham Echo this morning?’
‘It’s a pack of lies, and we think that the people behind it might to be linked to Roger Pearson and the sex ring. And it’s an odd story to run … because my wine bar in Leicester is still being refurbished and decorated, it’s not open yet.
‘We have no staff, no booze to sell, no license or insurance, no sign above the door to say what it is. The idiots in the Birmingham Echo should have checked that before printing such a stupid story, or at least waited till we had actually opened the wine bar.
‘But what has happened today … is that a man in Leicester council has quit his job in a hurry after being asked about his links to the former child sex ring. And that man … he had been delaying my liquor license for the new wine bar - the one with the low turnout.
‘We’re now looking at the link between him and journalists at the Birmingham Echo, and we are aware of people linked to the newspaper also linked to Roger Pearson. I would expect arrests to follow.’
‘So the conspirators … blocked your application for a liquor license and to open the wine bar, then run a silly story that the wine bar is not doing very well - a wine bar that’s not even open yet...’
‘Yes, the IQ standards of the conspirators are very low it seems, but the IQ standards of the people now investigating them are very high, and prison sentences will follow. I’ll also now look at High Court legal action against the Birmingham Echo, which could cost them three million quid.
‘This comes after a stupid attempt by reporters in London to stitch me up, so the friends of Roger Pearson are still out there and still mad at me for running the investigation and ruining their fun.’
I lifted the book I had brought with me. ‘This book of the investigation is out now, and sold out for now, but it seems that there will be a follow-up book, a bunch of low IQ sex offenders detailed in it.’
‘Are you taking legal action against The Mirror?’
‘No, it seems that they never knew what just a few of their reporters were up to. We have asked that they donate to my charity.’
‘Mister Roskov, thanks for coming on.’
I slipped out quietly, and we were soon heading east back to Leicester.
I told Pat and Dingle. ‘These lame attempts are just that, lame, and would probably not have worked.’
Pat noted, ‘If you’re accused of punching a hooker the stain will stay, some people will believe it, they always do. Bad smells hang around.’
‘So when do the bad boys make a proper attempt?’ I posed. ‘A serious attempt, a serious man sent my way?’
Pat and Dingle exchanged worried looks as we drove, and a strange tingle moved through my body, that same odd feeling.
Turning off the motorway near Leicester, I heard a screech, a thud, and the washing machine started, my car spinning.
Blood, I could taste blood. I was … upside down, on a shoulder in the rear of the car, Pat and Dingle moaning. I could see blood on Dingle as he hung upside down, grass, a wire fence with sheep hair on it fluttering in the wind, the engine revving, the smell of exhaust fumes.
Footsteps, two men.
Four loud cracks, and the two men landed with a thud. I could see a pair of lifeless eyes staring at me.
A car, speeding off, tyres seen. I tried to right myself, my shoulder killing me, my hips none too happy.
A woman. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Shit, that’s Roskov,’ came a male voice.
‘No…’
‘Yes, that’s Roskov. Help me get him out, we need to call the ambulance.’
‘Get out the way!’ The voice sounded familiar, a familiar face seen. ‘Ricky, you OK?’
Geoff Wolak, Roskov, Book 10
