Stacey gave him a little smile, like a cartoon cat who’s just done something horrible to the dog. ‘I’d rather not say how, but I’ve got all the data from the First Fabrics computer.’
‘First Fabrics?’
‘Yousef Aziz’s family textile business. I’ve printed out all the correspondence and sent Sam off to find a quiet corner to read it in. He’s better at picking up the human interface stuff than I am,’ she said.
‘Did you just take the piss out of yourself?’ Tony said.
She flicked a quick glance his way, a twinkle in her eye. ‘I may be a cyborg, but I still have a sense of humour.’
Tony acknowledged her response with a mock salute. ‘So what are you looking at?’
‘The financials.’
‘And?’
‘It’s stupendously dull, for the most part. They buy textiles from half a dozen different sources, they sell on finished garments to a couple of middlemen.’
‘Middlemen? I don’t understand.’
Stacey took her hand off the mouse. ‘Rag trade 101. The end user is the retailer. They have suppliers who are in effect the wholesalers. The retailer tells the wholesaler what they want to buy and what price they’re prepared to pay for it. The wholesaler goes to the middleman and tells him what the order is. The middleman parcels out the order to the manufacturers. Who may not be in this country. Or, who might be illegal sweatshops. Some legit manufacturers, like First Fabrics, also do their own samples, which they pass up the line to try and get orders for.’
‘It seems…over-complicated?’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But apparently that’s the way it works. And every step of the way, there are profits to be taken. You buy a shirt in a shop for twenty-five quid, the chances are the manufacturer didn’t get more than fifty pee. So the machinists have to make a lot of shirts so their bosses can stay in business.’
‘Aren’t you glad you’ve got a skill that earns more than sewing shirts?’ Tony said, sighing.
‘You bet. Anyway, like I said, that’s what First Fabrics does. Buy cloth, make clothes. Sell clothes to one of two middlemen. At least, that’s what they did until about six months ago.’
Tony’s attention quickened. Anything relating to Yousef Aziz six months previously interested him. ‘What happened then?’
‘This company appears in the accounts. B&R, they’re called. They’re paying more per item than the middlemen. From what I can figure out, the price B&R are paying First Fabrics is roughly half way between what a middleman would pay and what a wholesaler would pay the middleman.’
‘And this started six months ago?’
Stacey clicked with her mouse and brought up a new screen. She swung her monitor round towards Tony. ‘There.’ She pointed to a ledger entry. ‘First time they show up.’
‘So who are B&R?’ he asked.
Stacey tutted. ‘I don’t have access to Companies House database, and they don’t issue detailed information like directors and company officers on a Sunday. All I have is a registered address, which is an accountant’s office in north Manchester, and the nature of the business.’
‘Which is?’
‘Garment wholesaler.’
‘So for some reason, six months ago, First Fabrics discovered the joy of cutting out the middleman?’
‘That’s about the size of it, yes.’
He could sense her impatience to continue with her work. ‘That’s really interesting. Now I need to make a phone call.’ He pushed off with his good leg and the wheeled chair scooted a few feet away. He swung round so his back was to Stacey, then dialled the number Sanjar Aziz had given him. The phone was answered on the third ring. But not by Sanjar.
‘Hello,’ said the voice. Deep, Mancunian and cautious.
‘Is this Sanjar Aziz’s number?’ Tony said, equally cautious.
‘Who’s calling?’
‘This is Dr Tony Hill. Who am I talking to?’
‘Mr Aziz is not available right now. Can I take a message?’
‘No message,’ Tony said and ended the call. He was about to ask Stacey how to find out whether Sanjar Aziz had been arrested when Kevin walked in with a sheaf of papers.
‘Hiya, Tony,’ he said, looking genuinely pleased to see him. He perched on a desk opposite and ran through the usual questions about the mad axeman and the knee. ‘You here to give us a hand?’
‘I hope so,’ Tony said. ‘I need to talk to Carol. And you? What are you working on?’
‘This and that. I went to see the Double Aitch’s headmaster. All three of the poison victims went there, but the head says he’s never met any of them and he didn’t set up the trap that reeled Popeye in. For what it’s worth, I think he was telling the truth.’
‘Wait a minute. What trap?’
Kevin outlined what Cross’s widow had told Carol. ‘He’s not leaving much to chance, is he?’ he concluded.
