Cherry Picking

by Tim Heath

  “Where to, sir?” he asked, a strong Midlands accent coming through.

  “The UCI cinema on Greek Street,” Robert replied, as the cab edged back out into the steady flow of traffic. A few moments later Robert glanced back to see two men coming out of the entrance to the hotel. They looked around but obviously did not find what they had hoped to. They then walked over to the abandoned car and got in. Robert watched them pull out and they turned right, taking them round the south side of the building. They went out of sight as the taxi gained speed, green lights all the way.

  **********

  Ted Hague was the guy Brendan had called when he first came across Robert. It was Ted’s team of ‘guys’ that had gone to SecureCCTV and come up with nothing. Having reported the news to Brendan, Ted put the phone down and smiled to himself. He didn’t trust or like Brendan as far as he could throw him, but he did pay very well and they’d worked together quite a bit over the past few years. Having felt like he’d gained the upper hand, or at least given as good as he got, Ted sat down on his sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table.

  He worked from home as a free-lance investigator, though at times that was putting it mildly as he often got his hands ‘dirty’ in more ways than just the usual investigator would. The day was still early, though an empty jug of coffee already sat on the floor, a half cup of coffee next to it long since gone cold. Ted pulled out his mobile phone and called one of his guys.

  “Any luck on the hotel listings front, Vincent?” he asked. With the likelihood that their target had recently come to the area, Ted had got a team looking at recent arrivals at a number of local hotels.

  “I think we might have one, actually, Mr Hague,” came the respectful reply. If ever the phrase ’honour among thieves’ meant anything, Ted Hague was a strong enforcer of the concept.

  “Good, what do you have?”

  “Sid knows someone at one of the George Street hotels. They mentioned that a guy fitting the bill checked in two days ago and under the name of a Robert Sandle. We sent over a photo about an hour ago and she thinks it could be the same guy.”

  “Good, get around there now,” Ted said.

  “I’m already on the way, sir. I’ve got Sid with me.”

  “Are you carrying?” asked Ted

  “Do I need to be? Anyway, Sid has his 20 mm tucked away but I won’t be, just in case the hotel has X-ray machines, in which case I’ll walk on and he will suddenly remember something he’s forgotten in the car. Hold on Ted, I think we’re here. Pull over there,” he instructed Sid, who was driving and he swung the black Mercedes into the kerb outside the hotel in a careless fashion.

  “I’ll call you in a while, Ted,” and he shut the phone, opening the door as the traffic moved slowly by. The two of them walked through the main doors and it was clear that there were no such machines. Sid smiled at the girl behind the desk. She smiled back.

  “Good to see you again, Sergeant” she beamed. “Are you on some undercover mission again?”

  “Something like that,” he said. Some months before they had needed to get into one of the rooms of a business associate staying at this hotel. He had something in his room that Ted wanted access to. Sid had worked the receptionist, first ‘bumping’ into her in a café on her lunch break and then chatting her up, with the cover that he was a police officer. It happened to come up that a certain person was staying at a certain local hotel. Caught up in the glamour of it all, she offered up that she worked at a local hotel and was even more excited when it was the one in question. Lunch led to dinner and that led to her ‘helping’ the police by sneaking them the room key when they arrived the following day, the nature of the case meaning she couldn’t tell anyone what she was doing, especially her boss, for fear that they would lose this dangerous criminal, one that threatened every citizen of her great country.

  “I need your help again, sweetheart,” he said, as charmingly as possible. “Can you let me know what room this man is in?” and he showed her the same photo that had been faxed over.

  “He’s in…,” she started and then paused, changing the subject slightly as she tended to do. “Why haven’t you called me since, you know what,” she said, her cheeks going a little red.

  “I’ve been deep under cover,” was the short reply. After a little silence and knowing she wasn’t going to get any more from him, she reluctantly continued.

  “He’s on the fourth floor, room 419, five doors down on the right once you’re out of the lift. One of the girls saw him yesterday morning, with barely anything on. Some people get all the luck,” she stated, taking her eyes from Sid’s face and turning back to her screen.

  Since their last meeting, Sid had obviously no need to speak to her again or carry on the cover story so had simply disappeared. Now needing her again, he’d surprised even himself that she had bought his story, though maybe she wasn’t the type of girl who had many one-night stands.

  They both turned and went to the lift. The doors opened and they got in and pressed the fourth floor. She looked up as they entered and saw the lift doors close, the lift starting to ascend. About a minute later the doors leading from the stairs opened and she looked up to see Robert leaving. She wanted to shout out to him but didn’t have anything to say.

  Up on the fourth floor having arrived at the room, they checked the hallway, which was quiet and lightly tapped on the door, the sort of tap that the hotel’s domestic staff would make. Not hearing anything, Sid produced a key which he passed to Vincent, while keeping a look out down the hall. As Vincent worked quickly at the lock, Sid put his hand inside his jacket and held onto his gun. Slipping a credit card down across the catch, the door opened and both men went inside. Having looked around quickly it was clear that Robert wasn’t in the room, but the lack of personal items tended to mean he had already left. Was it possible he’d seen them coming? Unlikely, he thought as they turned, not a word said as they exited the room.

  The lift was still on their floor so the doors opened quickly, both men getting in and pressing for the ground floor. When they got to the bottom they headed for the exit, Sid glancing at the receptionist, who was busy with an elderly couple, who were just checking in.

  Out on the street, they glanced around. Was it possible they’d just missed him? Had he seen them coming and exited the building? They jumped into the car, edged out and turned right, wanting to do a circuit of the hotel just in case he was still around.

  **********

  Brendan was already parked up and waiting as Nigel’s car pulled down the narrow lane and stopped in front of the derelict buildings, which once had been a factory, though now stood empty, broken and falling apart, large pieces of glass hanging loose from the open and exposed windows. Isolated and quiet, it was a perfect place to meet up, which is why Nigel, and occasionally Brendan had used it.

  Brendan waited for the car to come to a stand still, which it did in no great rush. Being kept waiting wasn’t something that Brendan usually came across but with Nigel it seemed all things went according to his timing.

  Nigel sat inside watching as the car came to a stop, his driver jumping out and opening the left hand door. Gathering his things together, Nigel slowly made his way out of the car, being helped by his long-suffering driver.

  Brendan stood cool, his face a blank page, giving nothing away. He knew it was just a show Nigel put on to make himself look older than he was, the frail old man who needs a stick to walk, needing help out of a car. Brendan was one of only a few people alive who wasn’t taken in by the charade. Not that he’d dare tell Nigel; Brendan doubted he’d see out the day alive if Nigel ever found out.

  “It’s so good to see you looking so well, sir,” Brendan said, coming across to Nigel with a big smile on his face and holding out his arms to support him while he walked. Nigel waved him away.

  “Never felt better. I have a good doctor, you know,” Nigel replied. “Highest paid doctor in the world, no doubt,” he continued, with a slight smirk. Brend
an could well believe it. “A young Korean chap. Brilliant mind…,” and Brendan wondered to himself why they were discussing such things, as small talk wasn’t a thing Nigel ever really did. His doctor clearly wasn’t the reason they’d come to meet again like this.

  Sensing the same, Nigel quickly started on a different subject, as if to catch Brendan off guard.

  “So things are progressing on the business front?” A general question if ever there was one but Brendan understood it as reference to the Nottingham Forest takeover.

  “Yes, things are nearly all in place. We’ve confirmed the appointm…,” Brendan replied, getting cut off mid-sentence.

  “Good, and Mr Lawrence is in place is he?”

  “Yes, I was just about to…,” Brendan said defensively when Nigel jumped in again.

  “Very good. We need to talk about the next few months therefore,” Nigel stated.

  Brendan remained silent. ’What is he getting at?’ he thought to himself, clearly put out by his constant interruption but not wanting to let this be known. He smiled.

  “What do you have in mind, sir?” he asked, as politely as anything.

  **********

  Driving twice around the hotel and having not spotted anything, Sid pulled over the car and stopped by the side of the road.

  “I don’t think he’s around.”

  “He can’t be far. Maybe you carry on driving around and I’ll check the hotel again. I want to make doubly sure before I have to call back Mr Hague.” He got out of the car and Sid pulled away again, driving south and then back around the block. Pulling a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, Vincent stood there and smoked it for a few minutes, just watching the passers by, thinking about what had just happened. Had the girl on the desk warned him? Had they just been unlucky? After five minutes, he went back into the hotel and took another look around.

  **********

  Nigel sat there quietly, deep in thought and clearly processing the things he wanted to say.

  “News of this Nottingham Forest takeover might have been fresh to you, but I’ve been thinking about it for quite some time,” Nigel said. Brendan was well aware of the preparation that Nigel went into, often having whole teams of management people to come into a new company, most of whom had no connection with anything they’d soon to be part of, but always going on to flourish.

  “Between yourself and Tommy Lawrence, I want you to implement a number of changes.” Nigel often referred to Brendan and whoever, though both knew it wouldn’t always be Brendan doing all the work. He was, after all, a CEO himself with his own company to think about. But Brendan was the man connected; he would have the people to bring into place in order to see Nigel’s requirements met, as always. Brendan remained silent, simply looking up at Nigel to show that he was listening.

  “The Nottingham Forest academy is the key thing here. There are a number of teenagers from around the country that I’ve become aware of. Home grown talent is the way to go and I want these players under the attention of Mr Lawrence. I’ve identified ten such players at the moment, the oldest of whom is eighteen, and I’ll give you their details shortly. They’ll need approaching, signing and moving to the area. They are all English and need to be fast tracked through the academy and into the first team over the next few years.”

  “Are you asking me to interfere with the running of the team, sir?” Brendan said, suddenly not too keen with the ’hands-on’ approach that Nigel was implying.

  “No, I am simply asking you to do your job.” About twenty-seconds of silence was finally broken when Nigel continued. “Mr Lawrence will soon be able to see for himself the ability of the players that I am making available. They’ll naturally be pressing through into the first team before long anyway. Mr Lawrence just needs to be encouraged that youth is the way forward, and the rest will take care of itself. A few of the kids are only second generation nationals and therefore Mr Lawrence needs to be encouraged to bring them to the attention of the Under 16’s England set-up so that they come through the ranks and reach their potential, for England.”

  Brendan didn’t say much. Quite how his boss had come across these names he wasn’t sure. How did he even know that they had a chance? How did anyone know? Most clubs take on about a hundred kids at that age, sometimes many more, and only one or two ever come through as talented adult players. Before the actions of the last couple of days, Brendan never had Nigel down as a sportsman, just a businessman. Making money always seemed his priority, and he certainly had plenty of it. Why now take such an interest in the long-term view? Why not buy all the players he wants and put them into the first team straight away? He certainly had the money. Tommy Lawrence would certainly want to buy some new stars. Did he dare mention this? Was this in his plans at all? Maybe they’d come to that in a minute.

  **********

  Robert sat comfortably in the back of the taxi as it pulled away from the cinema. Though he’d gone there to watch a film, his mind wasn’t quite able to concentrate and he came out twenty minutes before the end; he had in fact seen the ending once before anyway. Now he was just processing things in his mind. He was certain that the men he’d seen coming out of the hotel had been looking for him. And not appearing to be the police, it could only mean trouble if they ever caught up with him. Robert would soon be aware of who they were, as long as he was able to pick up their trail at some later point, though he wasn’t going to go back to the Department of Information for a while, his little run in with Jessica Ponter made that a ‘no-go’ zone for a month or two. Heading out of town, the taxi driver pulled onto the motorway and picked up speed.

  Robert pulled out a notepad that he had in his bag, a small reporters pad that he scribbled in frequently. There were dates, times and locations noted, but Robert flicked through the pages, only taking the odd glance on any single page, more of a review than anything else. His mind was not at rest. The little potential run-in had been too close for comfort and he knew he needed to lie low for a while. Time was on his side, after all, so there was no need to rush things just now. He knew he had picked up his trail, had been around his people and had witnessed his business. Robert knew that he was getting closer, that his time would come, but for now he’d have to be a little more patient.

  Having drifted off to sleep Robert woke up with a start, as the taxi struggled down the small country track that led to the house that he was to be once again staying at. Thick lumps of hard mud lay on the road and the taxi driver did his best to avoid them, yet still the car rocked from side to side as he swerved around as many as he could. Going the half mile to the house, he slowed and stopped outside the front door, pulling up in front of Robert’s own car that had been returned from the garage, its engine problems now fixed he hoped, making future travelling a lot easier.

  Robert thanked him for his time, paid the £60 agreed and left a further £10 tip, then grabbed his bag and got out of the car. The taxi driver waved with a smile as he pulled away and started negotiating the return trip down the muddy road, being far less careful now, as he put his suspension to good use. He was out of sight in no time.

  Robert picked up his bag and carried it to the front door of the eighteenth century farm house that had certainly seen better days, but it had a roof, open fire and a quiet setting which was perfect for now. Once a busy place, though now standing in ruins, the house was once owned and occupied by a wealthy and influential family, whose three sons were all brilliant scientists, a couple of them world renowned. Now the house was a quiet back-water, with little clue of what had gone before, which was exactly why Robert used it.

  **********

  Nigel Gamble and Brendan Charles had been talking for over thirty minutes now, which was longer than they’d spoken for, over the last few months combined.

  Having discussed the Nottingham Forest situation even further, and the importance of bringing through these younger players, Nigel had touched upon looking to sign other prominent players in the current game, though equall
y spelling out the players not to sign. Detailed lists were passed to Brendan, marked for his eyes only and with a ‘highly confidential’ stamp very evident on the front page. Brendan didn’t need any reminding of their importance, as everything he ever got from Nigel was marked in exactly the same way.

  They had then discussed wider things, such as Brendan’s role as CEO and Nigel’s desire to see him taking more control of things. Even now, Nigel still had the final say on all new multi-national cases as to whether the risk was acceptable or not. Though he’d guide the firm in the premium stakes as to what would be acceptable, unless he gave them the green light no new business could be done. And this of course was an extremely time consuming process, which in the past had seen him sell on his gaming business, for a profit, in order to concentrate on the insurance market. Financially the move had been very good. Profits were much higher now than they had been in the betting shops; it was his time, however, that was most valuable.

  Chapter 6

  It was a fairly sunny day, a pleasant change to the way the weather had been the previous week. The dark clouds and heavy rain that had dominated the last ten days had only been a reflection of the turmoil that had gone on within her nineteen year old head.

  Her car stood crammed with personal items, the last of the things that hadn’t already been taken to her brother’s. The downstairs windows on the large family home were boarded up, which gave the house a lonely and needy look. The ’For Auction’ sign hung tall and victorious on the front gate. What would have already been a sad day was only compounded by the events of the previous week.