"Get a few skips on site, and fill 'em up. Make it look as if we are throwing away a fortune. When did the QS last come round to do a valuation?"

"Oh I dunno, must have been two or three weeks ago. Why?"

"Well yes, as it happens we were ahead of ourselves. I've been chasing up the Mowlem bloke to get other parts of the building released to us so we can start working."

"My son! What are you saying to me? This is music to my ears. Get round the site today and prepare a schedule of the work you've completed so far, and a list of the materials you've got on site. Then give it to me. Make sure you give it to me, you understand? Don't give it anyone else, don't keep a copy for yourself. Give the original to me." Frank's hands were about to start a friction fire."You can write it on bog paper if you like. Just as long as it hasn't been used! I just want something to work from. Do you get my drift?"

"OK Frank, OK I get the picture. You are going to tell the client that we'd completed more than we have, so we can claim more than we should. Am I right?"

Frank grinned, tapping the side of his nose. "Least said Paul my son. You just do as I say and leave the detail to me."

"But Frank the main contractor must have a schedule of our work already. You have to send it in every week. You can only get away with so much. They are all over the site, all the time, they know what's going on." Paul shook his head.

"How long you been in contracting Paul? You are sounding like you just come out of school. Just listen to me, and keep it under your hat. You don't make money in contracting by doing a good job at the price you quoted to win the tender in the first place. The real money, often the only money, comes from what you can get away with, and how much you pick up on variations. Blimey if we had to rely upon the contract value alone we'd have gone bust years ago. You know that mate."

Paul tried to interrupt but Frank was now in full flow.

"I heard a little whisper about all this," he paused, dropping his voice as he glanced around the site, "so I just happened to forget to submit our returns for the past three weeks. So they don't have a clue, not really. Anyway by the time we submit the claim there'll be nobody who remembers what was on the site today. Besides, and this is the best bit, this is where the real money comes in, and that's with our suppliers. The chillers, the boilers, the air handling units, the ductwork, the control panels, all of the big gear we are using has had to be cancelled. Right?"

"But Frank I've not confirmed most of those orders yet, we've still got plenty of time to complete that lot, and anyway most of the stuff is off-the-shelf. Not the ductwork I'll agree but..."

Frank held up his hand. "Stop Paul, you'll have me believing you in a minute. One small example my friend, that says you are wrong. I've got a confirmation this morning from the boilermakers. They are nearly finished making the boilers for this job and they say the cancellation fee is worth half the contract value. Would you believe that? They want that much because they say the boilers now have to be broken down and rebuilt." Frank laughed, "well that ain't strictly true, we have agreed to share the costs and the profits with 'em. It means we've already made 25% more on that deal that we hoped for. See what I mean Paul. Those stupid bastards don't know what's going to hit 'em yet. And I want to make sure they don't. Not until we are much further down the road. If they get an idea that costs are really going to soar they might cancel our contract and get someone else in. We don't want that, do we?"

As Frank strode away to meet and jovially slap the main contractor's manager on the back with a loud, "Hello Brian, are you coming to our golf match next Tuesday?" Paul realised why he was content to remain an engineer and not get involved in contract management. It was a minefield,.

"Morning guv, cold enough?" Paul sniffed.

"You bet, here there's been a bloke around asking for you." The gate guard pulled himself up straight, flexed back his shoulders, stuck thumbs into the top of the thick leather belt running round his fat gut.

"Oh yea, what'd you tell him? I'd been nicked by the Old Bill."

The guard hesitated, looking away uncertainly, before swinging back to laugh at Paul.

"Naw, I just said, like, I didn't know who he was talking about, know what I mean?"

"Yea, I know, like your grandma's been fucking the milkman all these years. Thanks mate. If they's asking chances are I don't want to know 'em. What did he look like anyway?"

"Short little greaser, loads of gold on his fingers, pulled up here in a Merc, one of them sporty jobs. Just wound down the window and shouted at me. Looked like a bleedin spic to me. I thought to meself, 'oy oy, here's one to watch, one that our Paul won't want to take home to his missus. Know what I mean?"

"Thanks mate, really good of you. If he comes round again get a skip lorry to dump on him, or better still we'll see if we can pump a bit of concrete inside his motor!"

The guard laughed as Paul walked towards the staircase, to climb up inside the building. It was that bastard Mungo, second time in a week. It was getting serious. Paul didn't know how to handle it all. He owed Mungo a lot of money. Too much money. He'd have to work something out.