“Well,” began Grimshawe hesitantly, “sometimes he does things his own way, you know, he doesn’t always do what you’d expect.” He was deliberately sounding vague as he lied.
“How d`you mean?” Thanos interest peaked. He had always trusted that whenever things needed to be sorted out his right hand man did the job exactly as he wanted it to be done. He had never questioned or even checked on him.
“Well, let’s say that he dresses very well. I know you pay him well and all that but,” his slow brain was trying to think up a plausible lie, anything that would sow a seed of doubt in Thanos mind but if it were proved to be wrong could have been easily explained away, “it's not my place to say.”
Thanos thought slowly. It was true Morton’s suits were a lot sharper than his and he always seemed to carry wads of cash. The seed of doubt was sown. He then turned his attention on how he was going to get to the solicitor. Logic told him that if anyone had the files then the safest place to leave them would be with your solicitor. He needed to search her office but how?
“Shaun,” Thanos said, Grimshawe`s head turned quickly at the use of his first name, “I have a job for you. I need you to find a way of getting into that office and searching for a missing file without,” he emphasised it again, “without raising suspicion.”
Thanos was back in his office when the phone rang. He answered in his usual discourteous manner, “Yes!” he barked.
The caller’s voice was clipped and well spoken though, surprisingly, not overly posh. “Mr. Thanos?” he inquired smoothly.
Thanos recognised the voice and immediately his whole attitude changed, “Speaking,” his tone mellowed dramatically and became more business like.
“We have reason to believe that some files that do not exist have gone missing!” Thanos was only to glad that he was sitting down. How the hell did they know? He stayed silent waiting for the caller to continue. “What do you know about this?” there was a dangerous note in the voice.
Thanos delayed answering as his brain went into overdrive trying to think of something to say. All he could come up with was, “Er, nothing!” he lied. “I'll look into it.” Even to himself he did not sound convincing.
There was a deathly silence on the phone that lasted so long he thought that his caller had hung up. “Hello?” he asked silently praying that the line was dead.
“Word has reached us that your accountant has records of some very sensitive transactions.” Again the long silence before continuing, “We thought that you understood the terms?”
Thanos was stunned. How the bloody hell can they know that! He wondered. He had only found out the day before! He could feel a light sweat breaking out on his brow, “As far as I know there are no records,” his voice lacked the conviction of truth, “I’ll get onto this straight away!”
“This is a poor show, old man. It would seem that you are unaware of what individuals in your organisation are doing. This does not bode well for any future transactions.” The blood started to drain from Thanos` face as the implications of the veiled threat hit home. Only he knew the true financial benefits from his alternative business empire. True, the risks were high, very high, but he considered himself intelligent enough to offset those risks by using middlemen and go-betweens so that nothing could be traced back to him. Again, he wondered how they knew. “Did you know that your accountant was adept with recording equipment?”
“What? How do…” the words slipped out before a stunned Thanos had time to think.
“Was he working alone?”
Thanos thought fast as the visions of sharp suits, lots of cash and expensive holidays came into his mind. “I don’t think so. He was an accountant not James Bond. There had to be someone else.”
“Who?” demanded the caller still in the same controlled tone, “who else would have had that information?”
Thanos forced himself to calm down and think. Thinking quickly on his feet was one thing he was good at. Lying was another. “Apart from myself there is only one other person who knew all the details about every single transaction.” The inference that Morton was involved was unmistakable.
“Deal with it!” the order was short but the meaning behind it was unmistakable.
The four men sitting around the boardroom table in a London office were listening to the conversation with Thanos via the speakerphone.
“Well?” asked the military gentleman.
“He’s lying!” stated the large, balding gentleman.
The uniformed person said what they were all thinking, “Lies roll too easily off his tongue. I am not sure that we can trust him anymore.”
“Do you think it's time to terminate this relationship?” asked the military gent
“No. Not yet,” said the raspy voice of the fourth man quietly, “we need to know the truth. We cannot trust him. I think we all agree on that so we need to know what else he has on file.” He raised his nicotine stained fingers to his mouth and drew on the ever-present cigarette.
“You’re assuming it's him,” the uniformed person nodded thoughtfully, “that makes sense.” He looked at the others, “It would fit his profile.”
“I’ll put some of my boys on this,” said the military gent.
Chapter 13
Morton pulled up at the apartment complex about fifteen minutes before his appointed time with the estate agent and briefed the blonde haired girl once again. Her name was Kim but for today she was Mrs. Macmillan - his wife. He had personally chosen her attire and purposefully picked out the shortest white dress she owned which covered very little and no underwear. Of all the pretty girls that worked for Thanos he had chosen her deliberately because of her best assets, her legs, which were made to look even longer by the three inch white high heels she wore. That, and he knew that he could trust her. Her loyalties lie with him not Thanos!
He already knew from his earlier conversation that the same guard would still be on duty when he returned later that day. He had carefully decided which visitors parking bay to use choosing the one almost opposite the guardroom window knowing that the guard would be watching them.
Once parked he walked round the front of the car and opened her door deliberately standing behind it so as to not block the guards view as she stepped out. The dress, short enough to start with, rode up even higher on her thighs giving the guard an uninterrupted view of her wonderfully long, tanned legs.
For his plan to work he had already impressed on her that it was imperative that she sat on one of the chairs opposite the guard facing the only window in the small room. Kim’s legs soon got the guards full attention.
The room layout was simple. It was, basically, a box. Once through the door the room was divided into two areas; the first area was where the guards sat and were able to keep watch through the window at anyone approaching the main gates either on foot or by car and where all the monitors connected to the various cameras were whilst towards the rear there were a couple of chairs, a table a small kitchenette and, what was, presumably a toilet. Behind the guards head, though, on the wall, was what interested Morton at the moment. It formed the first part of his plan. There, in a glass-doored cabinet were the keys. Each tenant obviously had to leave a key in case of emergency and each one hung on its own numbered hook!
Morton paced the room slowly watching her work her charms on the unsuspecting guard. She sat, as told, directly opposite him with her legs crossed so that the tiny dress rode up offering an uninterrupted view of her thighs as she flirted outrageously with him. Her hands, seemingly innocently, played with the hemline of her dress and every now and again her finger would find its way underneath the thin fabric and would trace a line towards the top of her thigh lifting the material even higher. She had his full attention and then, at a sign from Morton, she slowly adjusted her position uncrossing her legs and stretching out her left leg ensuring that he was able to see that she was wearing nothing under her dress. He stared transfixed at her shaven mound.
Morton walked
across to the window leaving his wife to perform for the guard. It was working better than he had hoped for. With the guard’s attention firmly on her Morton located the key he wanted and deftly opened the cabinet and helped himself.
The agent, a young man in his mid-twenties, showed up shortly after and escorted them to one of the empty apartments. On their way along the well kept path bordered by a perfectly manicured lawn and edged with flowers Morton could feel the old guard’s eyes as they feasted on Kim's legs. More to keep up the appearance of a loving couple than any other reason he gently pinched his wife's arse. He thought he heard the guard sigh wistfully.
Kim kept up the charade for the agent. Once in the apartment she paid him her full attention making the young man feel very uncomfortable and embarrassed as she flirted with him in front of her husband. Eventually her charms, both physical and social, got the better of him and, in between trying to look down the top of her dress plus the distraction of her legs he was having great difficulty concentrating on his job. Of course, Kim made sure he saw as much of her as was possible without actually removing the dress.
Morton reached into his jacket pocket and pressed the send button on her phone. His own phone rang almost instantly. He took the fictitious call and excused himself saying that he needed to take this call in private and left the apartment.
Kim knew what was expected of her a task was made all the easier by the interest shown in her by the hormonal driven young man. As soon as they were alone she guided the susceptible agent into the main bedroom with its private terrace that overlooked the river. Luring the young agent to follow her through the French-style doors and onto the small but un-overlooked terrace she stood on tip-toes and lent out over the low wall on the pretence of wanting a better view knowing that her short dress would ride up giving him the perfect view of her behind. She waited what she estimated to be the right time and turned her head slightly towards the agent and caught him looking at her.
The young man, meanwhile, was busy checking out his own private view as he admired her long, shapely legs. It was only then that he realised that she was wearing no underwear. He managed to drag his eyes off her arse and looked up in time to see her looking at him and felt the heat burning into his face as he blushed.
For her it was fete a accompli now she had to keep him there and occupied for as long as possible.
Once outside Morton set off as fast as he could to find her apartment. He arrived slightly short of breath silently cursing. He should have guessed that it would be one of the penthouses.
He put the key in the lock and held his breath as he turned it praying that the alarm would not go off. Most residents who lived in these expensive complexes were too arrogant to turn on their alarm systems assuming that the presence of security guards were enough to deter any would-be thief.
Morton thought that his flat was large and at the top end of the market. This place was spacious, light and impeccably decorated. He did not have time to stand around and admire it, though, and set to work quickly searching all of the obvious places, convinced that if she had anything she would not necessarily deliberately try to hide it. Having found nothing he searched the spare bedroom which, apart from a double bed, also had a small desk in it. Nothing there. He searched the main bedroom and still found nothing and turned his attention to the sparsely furnished living room. There was no-where really to search here as the only furniture in the room was a large white, leather corner sofa with a matching two-seater sofa, a large TV with DVD and a light coloured wooden wall unit which went along the entire length of the back wall. It was the only place in the room to store anything. Still he found nothing. He checked his watch and saw that he had been gone for eleven minutes. He had one last look around the living room more to quell his conscious that he had thoroughly searched the place than in the hope of finding what he was looking for and left.
Tucked neatly away between the side of the large white sofa and the wall was the green folder. Francesca, being a somewhat house-proud and tidy person had stashed it there out of sight.
He heard them before he saw them. She was bent over slightly her hands on the edge of the wall supporting herself, the back of her dress pulled up giving a glimpse of her nakedness while the young estate agent had positioned himself behind her. From the frantic thrusting Morton guessed he had returned just in time as he doubted whether the young stud could last much longer. He grinned. She was a good girl and he would make sure that she was well looked after for this. He returned to the front door and slammed it noisily.
Chapter 14
Grimshawe knew what he had to do and returned to Tyner's office. He had been given specific orders from the boss and it was very important that he did not let him down. This was his chance. His time was coming. He could feel it. It was time for the old man to move aside and let the younger generation take over for that is how he saw Morton. He considered his advanced years compared to his twenty-two as old and saw imagined weaknesses. He thought that if he could do this job right and impress the boss, well, who knows, maybe that promotion would come quicker than he anticipated. He sat outside C.Tyner`s office waiting for her to leave. His plan was simple; follow her home and get her address. It was his back-up plan just in case he did not find the file he wanted at her office. If it's not at her place of work, he reasoned, then it must be at her home. Logical. To help pass the time he played on his Gameboy.
He was easily bored and this street did not help. It was very quiet with few people walking along it, which meant that there were very few attractive women for him to look at.
The flash BMW immediately caught his attention as it drove slowly along the road towards him and stopped almost parallel with him before squeezing between two parked cars. He looked longfully at it. A BMW M6 coupe. He dreamed of owning such as car. If the car took his attention then the driver certainly grabbed it. He was looking at one of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even more beautiful than his dream girl.
The woman who got out of the car was very tall with long dark, wavy hair and legs that just seemed to go on and on. He was staring so hard at the woman’s body fantasising what it would be like to have her that it was not until she turned to enter the solicitor’s office that he finally looked at her face.
She looked familiar but he did not know why. He stared at her thinking hard trying to remember where he had seen her before and then it hit him. She was in a photograph. It was her. He was not a hundred percent sure but she looked very much like Richard’s sister.
While he waited for her to emerge his slow brain churned over as he considered what his best option was. A small, sly grin appeared on his face as he picked up his mobile and reported in. His chance to earn some brownie points with the boss!
Francesca pushed on the small button on the intercom system and the door buzzed like an angry bee as it clicked open. Entering into a small atrium area no bigger than a six foot square box room there were two doors; immediately opposite the main door was a solid-looking wooded door and to the right was a half glazed door with C.Tyner, Solicitor engraved on it in bold gold lettering. She knocked politely and entered.
The office was not what she was expecting. Instead of the drab, heavy décor that she would usually associate with a solicitor’s office it was, instead, refreshingly light with no dark wood or big, heavy desk. The walls were painted in pastel pink with the woodwork in a complimentary darker shade. The desk, placed towards the back of the room, was of a light oak and except for a double steel filing cabinet and a rather comfortable looking sofa the room was bare. One side of the desk was a cream coloured vase containing a bunch of mixed carnations whilst on the walls hung various pictures depicting summer themes.
Emerging from a doorway at the back the office was a slender female figure, “Hello,” her voice was husky and relatively deep for a woman’s voice, “I`m Caroline Tyner,” she approached extending her well manicured hand, “how may I help you?” Francesca found herself surprisingly relaxed in
her presence. Her attire was different to other female solicitors that she had met before. Instead of the usual sharp-cut trouser or skirt suits that were so often worn by women in this trade as they tried to compete in the masculine world of the legal profession she was wearing a fairly short, light blue dress with dark blue high heels. Around her neck was a gold chain but apart from that there was no other jewellery .
Francesca could not help noticing that even though Caroline was probably well into her forties she was still a very beautiful woman. They softly grasp each others hand and shook them lightly before being led to the main office at the back of the premises. It was, Francesca noted, decorated very much in the same way as the outer office except more personal with diplomas and photographs hanging on the walls.
Francesca was directed to sit on the comfortable looking sofa instead of in front of the desk while Caroline sat on a matching armchair opposite. She had already planned how she was going to approach this but was completely thrown by the situation. If the effect of the very feminine décor of these offices was to relax you then it was certainly working.
The Qadesh Club Page 9
