Billy Noble may have just been offered a way out of his predicament, but that is not the end of his troubles. After watching the man from MI5 disappear he soon realises that handing over the Spitzer family documents will not solve everything. Especially when he finds out there is more gold to be claimed. Neil Morrison of Miller Samuel picks up the story.

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Billy stared at the sleek car speeding off into the distance and noted the vehicle was a Jaguar XF, the car brand and model reaffirmed his belief that he had been in the company of an MI5 agent. Billy stood motionless as he let his gaze wander up to his Victorian sandstone seven-bedroom house. He trudged up the driveway, his mind still trying to comprehend what the MI5 agent had told him. Billy felt the cold wind on his face which roused him from his mental procrastination. If the MI5 agent story was true, Billy’s father was a hero. All those tabloid headlines castigating his late father and he was a national hero. Billy felt his heart leap at the thought of clearing his besmirched family name; it would be his final act of atonement for all the heartache and trouble he had caused his late father over the years.

Billy muttered to himself “If I give the Spitzer family documentation to MI5, everything will be fine, just fine”.

The moonlight shone on the front door of the house and Billy noticed the door was ajar. Someone had been in his house, he felt sick.

He walked inside, a spike of adrenaline pulsing through his veins as his breath quickened. Billy slowly walked to the “Singing Butler”

Jack Vettriano painting in the hallway, pushed the frame to the side and plunged his hand down the dark hole in the wall. He flinched as he felt the cold steel of his secret revolver against his hot palm. Billy took the gun and quickly darted around the house checking each room for any unwanted visitors. Nothing had been taken; he slammed the door and jumped in his BMW Z3, crunched the car into gear and accelerated at high speed through the leafy suburban streets of Bearsden. Billy’s destination: Carlton Place.

Billy pulled up outside his office and parked the car behind his scratched Aston Martin DB9. He winced at the damaged bodywork and walked up the stairs to the door. He skulked into the foyer and turned left into his office; he saw his secretary, Veronica Pryce, sitting in his office chair. Both of her hands were tied behind her back with a stout piece of string and black duct tape was wrapped around her mouth. As Billy crept closer to her, he noticed her face was bruised and there were lacerations on her neck. He scanned the room; the perpetrators had gone. He walked over to Veronica, cut the string that tied her hands and wrenched the tape away from her mouth.

“Billy, the Zamporini gang were here, they know the whereabouts of the remaining gold bars…they were going to kill me, I’m sorry but I had to tell them!” Veronica cried.

Billy shrugged “Remaining gold bars; Veronica, they’re at the bottom of the Clyde….or are there more bars I don’t know about?”

“Yes, I tried to tell you earlier. Your father knew you had a flamboyant side Billy. He wanted to keep some gold bars aside if the firm ever encountered financial difficulties in the future. I was the only one he told. He hid them in a dead client’s mausoleum in the Necropolis.” Veronica said quickly.

Billy’s forehead was throbbing with rage at his loyal secretary’s deceit. “Which client?” Billy snapped.

“Monty Crooks, he was a client of the firm for almost thirty years until his death, his family were wealthy tobacco importers and they have a huge plot in the Necropolis. They are plot 109 and it’s a large marble mausoleum” Veronica said.

“Ok, they didn’t take the Spitzer documents though?” Billy interrupted.

“They took everything you kept in the safe Billy” blurted Veronica.

“Bloody hell! Veronica, we’re finished!” Billy cried.

“Calm down Billy, the Zamporinis will be in the Necropolis and it’ll take them hours to break the marble mausoleum door without the key.” Veronica pleaded.

“Come on, let’s go! We don’t have any time to waste!” Billy exclaimed as he ushered Veronica outside and into his BMW Z3.

Veronica grabbed his arm, and pulled a small black metallic bugging device from his shoulder and showed it to him.

“Great, MI5 just heard our conversation” Billy sighed sarcastically.

They jumped in the car and accelerated off in the direction of the Necropolis, the resting place of Glasgow’s wealthiest families. Billy noticed a metallic blue Mercedes car was following them with an odd registration BIZ M8RK. He swallowed and concentrated on the road ahead. Veronica sat in the front passenger seat silently watching the road ahead. Suddenly Billy’s mobile rang, he glanced at the screen and answered it.

“Billy, Peter Pryce has been murdered! Your life is in danger Billy! The killer wrote “Billy you’re next!” on Peter’s forehead in black marker pen.” Anna Noble said, her voice trembling.

“Jesus Christ! Anna, listen to me, we’re going to the Necropolis, plot 109” Billy screamed down his mobile.

The line went dead.

Billy turned to Veronica and told her the tragic news then whispered condolences. She burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.

Billy’s BMW screeched into the Necropolis. The cemetery gates were open. Billy drove up the hill. He could see torch lights in the distance.

“Veronica, this must be it?” Billy whispered, switching the engine off.

They both got out of the car and began running towards the torch lights. They lunged behind a tombstone. Billy and Veronica listened to the Zamporini gang hacking at the Crooks’ mausoleum door with some blunt instruments. Baggio, the gang’s dog, started barking sensing their presence. They both looked at each other; now what?

Suddenly a shot rang out.

“Ahh…..ya basturt!!” Fatboy Frankie screamed and fell to the ground with a thud that reverberated through the silent cemetery.

A second shot was fired.

“Aarrgh…Cazzo!!” shrieked Giovanni Zamporini, as he slumped downwards with blood spurting from his chest.

Billy turned to Veronica and wiped away the tears running down her face.

“Do you smell cigar smoke?” Billy whispered.