by N Williams
CHAPTER 43
Bourse and Tourrain pulled up and parked the truck in the car park outside the industrial unit.
They entered the outer office of I.F. Consulting Services, sat on the comfortable armchairs and waited. They had their appointment for four-thirty and were five minutes early. Bourse liked to be early for everything. He wished his companion were the same, but he was always late. Bourse smiled as he thought how he had fooled Tourrain today by telling him the appointment was thirty minutes earlier to ensure he was at least on time. It was the only way he could keep control of things, and he liked to keep control of everything.
Tourrain was playing Sudoku on his iPhone as they waited. He had dressed up for the occasion. His charcoal grey suit jacket and black patent shoes made him look like a candidate for Alan Sugar’s Apprentice. But Bourse knew that Tourrain was more likely to murder Sir Alan than work for him.
Pulling at a collar two sizes too small, Bourse hated formal clothes. He never looked good in a suit and didn’t see the need to dress up to meet this man. Still wearing the black leather jacket, he had replaced his black jeans with a pair of loosely tailored slacks.
He was now becoming impatient. Although he knew he had arrived early, Bourse expected others to be ahead of the clock too. Tourrain sat impassively, waiting for their meeting, still playing his game.
At precisely four-thirty, the door to the inner office opened and a man in a designer suit and shoes waved them through. Bourse had always admired the smart man’s clothes. He clearly spent a great deal of money on his suits.
The man they only knew as Holder sat heavily in his cowhide chair and stared across the large black desk. ‘Do I need to remind you that a great deal of money is resting on this job?’
Neither man replied and they both sat impassively.
‘Gentlemen, we need to get ahead of the game. At present, we seem to be playing catch up. Woods and his friends have found the diary, and I have been able to get some of the information we need. I’d suggest you find a way to secure the diary within the next twenty-four hours. Woods and his friend are resourceful. They have been sniffing into the work being carried out at the Sphinx. The Alliance is desperate to remove any remaining relics in case news of Adelina’s “treasures” hit the headlines. I wouldn’t put it past Woods to take a trip to Egypt. I’ve warned the authorities there to expect them. We need to act immediately. If Woods goes to Egypt it’ll buy us time. If not, we need to ensure he is removed from the equation…properly this time.’
Tourrain allowed himself a small tilt of the head as an acknowledgment.
The smart man sat forward in his chair and looked at them both in turn. ‘You have been paid to do a job, and I expect you to keep your end of the bargain. One more cock up like this and I’ll personally see to it you end up back where I got you from...do you understand me?’
CHAPTER 44
The view of Swansea Bay from the balcony certainly was something special, especially at night. The line of lights along the sea front at Mumbles looked like fairground illuminations.
Sally tore her eyes away from the scene and sat at the little glass-top balcony table. The diary was sitting open on it. Zac’s laptop was sitting alongside, Google Translate opened to Italian.
The entries had been confusing. The diary was more of a notebook than a record of a particular year. The majority of entries were from 1897. She scanned through the pages already translated by Fenwick and concentrated on the next, page by page, slowly translating the text with the software.
One entry referred to two objects within a large pot taken from the Sphinx. Another paragraph referred to another object; a magical stick that glowed when touched. Madame Patti seemed devastated that the stick-thing had been stolen during the transit of the objects from Egypt. She claimed it had healed a cut on her face within minutes of holding it. It was nonsense, Sally was sure, but she couldn’t begin to imagine what the stick-like object could be or where it was now.
Three pages further on and she had found nothing new. She was about to give up for the night and retreat to Zac’s spare bedroom when she noticed a word she had seen earlier. GENESI. Genesi - didn’t take a cunning linguist to guess it was Italian for Genesis, and was followed by the numbers 5:5 - the same figures Zac had found on the shrine on the roof of the castle.
It was clearly a biblical reference, and Sally quickly searched for it online. A dozen or so entries appeared on screen, and all were a variation on the same sentence; “Altogether, Adam lived 930 years, and then he died.”
‘Bet he didn’t drink Guinness with codeine chasers,’ Gates said.
What did Adam’s age have to do with the relics? Unless… Crazy thoughts were beginning to spin around in Sally’s head. This was crazy, impossible, but then the events of the past week had been crazy too.
Zac joined Gates and Sally and sat on the loungers on the balcony. Zac sipped at his Jameson’s whilst Gates and Sally both opted for a lager.
The mobile phone Zac had resting in his lap began to vibrate. He looked for the incoming number through force of habit, but there wasn’t one. ‘‘Number withheld.’’
‘Yes?’
‘Mr Woods?’
‘Yes. How can I help you?’
‘I work for a gentleman who would like to meet you.’
‘Go on.’
‘I believe it would be in your interest to meet him, Mr Woods. It’s regarding the tragic death of Ms Powell.’
Zac sat up slowly, ‘What do you know about Rachel’s murder?’
Gates and Sally were now homed in on the one-way conversation they were privy to.
‘It’s best if you come here to meet him, Mr Woods. I’m afraid my employer can’t get about as he used to. He’s not terribly well and can’t travel.’
Zac was intrigued. ‘Okay, where?’ He covered the phone with his hand and gestured for Sally to find a pen to make a note of the address.
‘Please come alone, Mr Woods. This is a very sensitive matter. Do you understand?’
‘Not really. Why don’t I just speak to him on the phone, now?’
‘Seriously? Mr Woods, as an ex-policeman I’m sure you understand how face to face meetings are often far more secure than trusting to telephones.’
Zac ended the call and walked over to the balcony rail.
‘What’s that all about?’ asked Gates.
‘Someone wants to talk to me about Rachel’s murder.’ He checked the address again. ‘Someone from Stockwell-Vita Pharmaceuticals.’
Sally looked shocked. ‘Wow! Are you going to go? It could be one of those nutters.’
A light seemed to switch on in Gates’ head. ‘Pharmaceuticals? That means they’d have the capability of producing a slow release capsule to fuck up a fuel tank.’
Zac made a face at Gates, trying unsuccessfully to ward off the current direction of the conversation, but Sally had already picked up on it.
‘Slow release capsule? What slow release capsule? What are you both talking about?’
Zac patted Sally on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain later.’
Sally looked unimpressed but bided her time. She wasn’t going to let this slip.
Gates finished off his lager and thumped the empty glass on to the table. ‘Well, I’m coming with you.’
‘Sorry, mate. You can’t come this time. Strict orders not to bring anyone.’
Gates looked at the address. ‘Well I’ll come with you to London. You can drop me off nearby. I don’t like the idea of you going there on your own, after all that’s happened.’
Before Zac could object Sally stood and faced him. ‘I’m coming too. Bill and I will keep you company on the journey, and we’ll be around if you need us.’
CHAPTER 45
The journey along the M4 to London took nearly three hours, the X-Type cruising effortlessly. The little Ka struggled to keep up several hundred metres behind.
Sally and Gates pulled up in a car park short of the desti
nation whilst Zac continued into the secure parking area of Stockwell-Vita Pharmaceuticals and parked his car in the visitors’ spot.
The building was impressive; snow-white render juxtaposed against smoke-tinted glass over six floors. Each floor was stepped and smaller in size, built like a modern pyramid. The grand entrance was set back under a portico of pillars. The whole place looked like a mix of classic and ancient architecture.
Zac walked into the marble foyer. A prim-looking woman stood behind the reception desk, her canary-yellow cardigan neatly pressed and buttoned to the neck. The pencil pleat grey skirt looked as if it had been forbidden to crease. The secretary smiled stiffly and led the way to the top floor via the wide marble fire escape after Zac declined the lift. At the top floor, the woman led him along a long corridor to a large office overlooking the River Thames. She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter like the school secretary leading the naughty schoolboy in to see the Head Teacher.
The view was superb. Zac stood on the thick pile Chinese rug in the centre of the room and took in the sights. Pretty much all the sights worth seeing along the Thames could be viewed from the vast picture window.
A door opened at the back of the room. A hunched and sick-looking man entered the office in a motorised wheelchair.
‘Good day Mr Woods. My name is Stockwell. Eddie Stockwell.’
The old man didn’t offer his hand, and Zac was relieved. He didn’t want to waste any niceties on this guy. He was also surprised that he hadn’t used his title during the introduction. Most Lords and Knights of the Realm liked people to know they had been recognised for whatever they’d done to deserve it. ‘Okay. I’ve played your game and come as you asked. Now tell me straight - what do you want from me?’
‘I like a man who’s direct,’ said Stockwell. ‘I want you to work for me. We’re after the same things, but for slightly different reasons. Why not just do what you’re already doing and let me pay you for your troubles?’
‘Go fuck yourself!’
Stockwell laughed. ‘How dreadfully coarse! Would one million pounds convince you of my determination to acquire the relics, Mr Woods? Or can I call you Zac?’
‘Mr Woods will do nicely thanks, and no, still no deal. I’m already convinced you want the damned things and will stop at nothing to get them.’
Stockwell sighed, ‘You really don’t know what you are searching for, do you, Mr Woods?’
Zac wasn’t sure how to play this further. Should he be honest? He decided to take the middle ground. ‘It really doesn’t matter whether I do know or not,’ he said. ‘You say relics? So there’s more than one? You might know more about these relics but you have no idea where they are.’
‘True,’ said Stockwell sadly, ‘but I pity you. You are being used, like a pawn in a game of chess. A game that you have no hope of winning and no idea why you are playing it. Sport stars are so much more formidable when they have a reason to succeed, Mr Woods.’
‘And some are just so good at their sport they win because they are simply shit-hot.’
Stockwell laughed. ‘True, a rare breed though, don’t you think?
Zac smiled. ‘And what breed do you think you’re dealing with here?’
Pouring a glass of water from a crystal water jug into a large tumbler, Stockwell popped two soluble tablets into the glass and watched them as they fizzed and swirled, danced and dissolved before his eyes. ‘Would you like some, Mr Woods? I understand you have a condition which makes a regular supply of these wonderful drugs necessary.’ Sir Eddie watched Zac closely.
Zac suddenly felt decidedly uneasy. What else did this guy know about him? How did he know about the tablets? They weren’t a secret, why should they be? He wasn’t addicted to them or anything like that, but only his closest friends knew about them.
Recognising his advantage, Stockwell pushed further, ‘Life is very much like these tablets you know. We sparkle and fizz and merge with everything around us, giving and taking and becoming a part of the whole and then, just as we are having fun - effervescing for all we are worth - we are gone. We are absorbed into the ether and become part of the atoms and molecules that surround us.’
Not knowing what to say, Zac studied the man.
‘I recognise you in this glass, Mr Woods. I see you as someone who has fizzed and sparkled and is nearing that point where you also will be contemplating the great absorption. I am there already. I do not have long to live. My glass has been drunk down to the last few drops of powdery residue. I have wealth and success and everything I could ever need. I can even sleep well at night because I know that, on the whole, the work I have dedicated my life to has helped others to live longer and in less pain. This glass is an example of that, don’t you think? These are my creation, my contribution to easing your pain and the pain of many millions more like you.’ He held the glass up in front of Zac’s face in a toast. ‘True, they do have some addictive side effects, but then every good thing has a unpleasant side. In some cultures it’s known as yin and yang.
‘I don’t have much time left,’ he continued as he drank the contents of the tumbler and ran a misshaped arthritic finger around the rim to scoop up the residue. ‘I have a deep regret that I never had a family, I was always too busy.’ He licked the white powder from his finger. ‘I cannot undo what I have done, or failed to do, but I can still contribute something positive to this world, Mr Woods. If you’ll just help me and not fight against me.’
‘Death comes to us all. There’s no cheating the Reaper,’ Zac mumbled.
‘True. I know that one day soon I will have to die, but if you had the chance to extend your life - even by one day, Mr Woods - wouldn’t you take it?’
He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Zac said, because he truly wasn’t sure. He had been in situations where he had fought to stay alive, but he knew that was instinct taking over and his training guiding his actions, a bit like autopilot.
Stockwell stood and stared at Zac for a long moment. ‘From what I have managed to find out about you I can see that you are an admirable man, Mr Woods. You are loyal and trustworthy…character traits so often absent in today’s world.’
Zac stared at the old man, hypnotised by his eyes; they were the lightest shade of pale blue and as clear as a child’s.
‘I really think it is time for you to know exactly what you are dealing with, Mr Woods, and why there are many people out there who are hell-bent on stopping you. I believe I know where the objects are hidden. That is why I took possession of Adelina Patti’s Castle.’
Now Zac was interested. ‘You took possession of the castle?’ I thought I’d met the new owner.’
The old man froze for a moment, thinking. ‘Ah! Bradley Farrell, my assistant? He’s just the name on the deeds, keeps things neat. Tax reasons, and all that.’
Stockwell sat down in his high-backed chair. ‘Please take a seat.’ He gestured to another identical one.
Zac sat. He wanted to hear what this man was going to say. He didn’t believe for a moment that it would be the truth, but it could perhaps put a few more pieces of the jigsaw in place.
CHAPTER 46
Sir Eddison Stockwell paused, like some elderly grandfather setting the scene for a bedtime story. All that was missing was the Werther’s Original mints.
‘You are searching for relics of such importance that they could change the world for the better.’ He sat upright in his chair, something that was clearly causing him pain. ‘The discovery could wipe out the aches and pains of old age, and even allow us to cheat death itself.’
Zac leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms wide, feigning disinterest.
The old man continued, ‘Do you believe in God, Mr Woods?’
Zac shrugged his shoulders, ‘Never had a great deal of time to think much about it over the years, but if I’m honest I’d have to say I can’t see how a divine entity created the world in seven days.’
‘I can assure you that you
’ll have more time to think about the question as you enjoy your retirement. For me...I believe! I didn’t once, not for many years. I was very much like you, brought up in a home worshipping God, then losing my way. But as time passed I began to wonder about the science that had been my religion and the possible existence of God.
‘If God did exist, I couldn’t see how science could be separated from Him. If everything we see and have is the product of a divine intervention then surely science is a gift from the Creator also, don’t you think?’
Zac tilted his head in thought, ‘Go on. Where’s this going?’
‘I’ll get to that in a moment. I must set the scene first to ensure you understand my perspective. Without that understanding, I can never hope to convince you to help me.’
Zac shook his head. ‘I think I made myself clear on that earlier.’
Stockwell smiled. ‘Yes, yes you did. But please indulge me a little further.’
Zac shrugged.
‘Thank you,’ the old man said. ‘If we go back to my reasoning about science, if we accept that everything is true, is divine, then perhaps all those stories from the Bible were true also.’
‘I’m sure there are many arguments for and against that,’ Zac protested.
‘True, but please let me continue. One of the reasons I changed my mind on the God argument was the discovery of a relic in the last years of the nineteenth century. A small boy was said to have forced his way in behind the Sphinx stone and discovered a chamber beneath.’
