Annabel looked on the verge of tears. Without looking at William she asked,
“Okay. I just think about them? In my mind ask them to appear and they’ll appear? That simple?”
William nodded,
“That simple. If they don’t appear, off spooking elsewhere, that’s fine I’ll try and contact them later. If you can find out before Ben arrives tonight, we can incorporate it in our plan.”
“Is Jemima coming tonight?”
“I don’t know.” William opened the boot and put his leather satchel in.
“How do you feel about her? I’m struggling with the Cortez connection, but she has proven Jonas was killed and hinted that Ernest was despatched in the same fashion, and Ben loves her. A compelling reason by itself.”
Annabel shrugged,
“I like her. I love Ben and she makes him happy. But can we be sure she isn’t a plant to help Felicity find out what we are doing? I don’t know. Does it matter? I don’t think so. As well as liking her, I trust her. Don’t ask me why, intuition maybe, but I think she has severed her ties with her family and I do think she’s committed to Ben.”
Annabel leaned across and kissed William on the lips,
“Have a good hospital visit and drink with your friend. I’ll see you at the house later. I think I’ll invite Jemima to show her we like and trust her.”
***
William approached the main entrance of Yeovil hospital with mixed feelings. The last time he had been here was on the wrong end of a near fatal heart attack. The care had been exemplary and the after care, rehab and follow up visits again superb. For a small town hospital, Yeovil outperformed many big city institutions.
Today William felt very uncomfortable for two reasons. First, because he was here to have on going minor chest pain assessed. Dr Frederickson in his thorough Scandinavian way had opted for a better safe than sorry approach and referred him back to the Cardiology team for their opinion. The other reason for his discomfort was that he had lied to Annabel. William remembered her concern when an appointment for the cardiology department had come through and he and left it on the table for her to see. He hadn’t known how to tell her he was in pain and worried so, he had lied.
“Just a routine follow up appointment.” He had said, fingers crossed behind his back, in the vain hope that by doing that he was negating his deceit.
Checking his watch, William saw he still had forty minutes to go before his appointment, which would give him the time he needed to track down the nurses who had been on duty the night Ernest had died. Ben had hacked the hospital duty rosters for the night of his father’s death and narrowed the choice of nurses who could have worked on Ernest to three. April Talbot and Donna Smith who where student nurses and Sister Sandra Blacken, who had been team leader for that night shift. He thought that the students would have been the ones left to deal with a dead body rather than the sister in charge, so had decided to talk to them first. Unsure who he should ask, he had decided to go to the main reception and ask where he could find the two nurses.
“Both of them are on EAU.” Seeing Williams blank look he had added,
“Emergency Assessment Unit. Shift change is in ten minutes so if they’re working today now’s a good time to catch them.”
The door to the ward was locked shut allowing only card-carrying staff or visitors with the numeric code to open the doors. The door opened and a pretty nurse emerged chatting to a colleague. She held the door open for him, but instead of walking through William took a leap of faith and said,
“Donna Smith? April Talbot?” The nurses looked a little surprised but nodded and Donna asked,
“Donna Smith, can I help you?”
William exhaled with relief and held out his hand,
“My name is William Bacchus and you cared for my father when he was admitted to A&E after having a massive heart attack. I’d like to have met him.”
April looked confused and looked at Donna,
“I’m sorry, you’d like to have met him?”
William nodded,
“I was the result of an affair he had with my mother many years ago. He had decided to get in touch with me to introduce me to my brother Ben Sanderson after his wife died. Events overtook him and we didn’t meet, although I did receive a letter from him along with a significant bequest.”
William held out a copy of the letter he had first read a few months before in the guest bedroom at Freddie’s,
“Please read it. It’s the only way I can show you I’m not delusional.”
Donna took the letter and scanned the first couple of pages passing each page to April once she had finished it. As they read they exchanged a long look.
“Ok Mr Bacchus, how can we help you?” said Donna
“This may seem like an odd question, but did anyone take any blood from Ernest?”
“The usual tests were done, why?” April asked.
“No one checked to see if he had anything he shouldn’t in him? Non pharmaceutical drugs maybe?”
Donna answered for both of them,
“We answered a weird call on his mobile from a deranged woman demanding to speak to Ernest and throwing all sorts of threats around. When I told her he had died of a massive heart attack she didn’t sound surprised, just said, ‘That was quick; his longevity has already been affected.’ and hung up. She had hinted that he had been killed, murdered. Ernest’s death had been called as a heart attack and that is what would go on his death certificate.”
April continued,
“We searched his body for any needle marks that hadn’t been made since he had arrived with us. Nothing. So I decided to take some blood and Donna gave it to a friend in the pathology lab. That was the last we heard of it. I afraid we moved department two day’s later and it was forgotten.” Turning to Donna she said,
“Did you hear back from John?”
“No I’ll call him now and see what showed up in the sample.”
William looked at his watch and groaned,
“I need to be in Cardiology in two minutes. Would you mind calling me later if you hear anything from your friend? Anything at all?”
“Sure. Couple of hours should do it.”
“Thank you.”
***
Tiny Jonson shifted his considerable bulk and eased his way to the bar as William came through the door of the Digby Tap in Sherborne. William thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his ringing iPhone. He caught Tiny’s eye and indicated that he wanted a pint of bitter.
“William Bacchus.”
“Hi, it’s Donna, from the hospital.”
“Hi Donna, thanks for calling me. Did you have any luck with your friend in the pathology lab?”
William could hear the sound of rustling paper as he waited for Donna to arrange her notes and tell him what she had discovered.
“John did a tox screen on the day I sent him the sample of Ernest Sanderson’s blood. He sent the results to back to me in A&E. At least he thought he did. It didn’t leave the lab, lost in a welter of paper. I asked him to print me another copy of the report.”
William waited for her to speak, to tell him the results of the toxicology screen, to confirm his worst fears. Nothing.
William, struggling to calm his impatience, said,
“What did it say?”
Donna apologised,
“Sorry, April’s just arrived and is scanning the report.”
William heard a voice in the background say,
“Shit, no wonder his heart packed up.”
“Donna?”
“Sorry. Right, your father wouldn’t have needed a heart condition to be killed by the amount of cocaine in his system. The quality was also unusual, medical grade, so pure; even a tiny amount would leave you bouncing off the ceiling for a week. In the quantity Ernest had, well he couldn’t have survived. I’m sorry. If it helps, John said it looked like Colombian; Colombian pure.”
William paused to regain control and th
en said,
“Thank you. It means a lot to know. Thank you.”
William walked across the bar to the corner table that Tiny was dwarfing. Smiling, he eased himself onto the banquet seat picked up his pint of bitter and took a long swallow.
“You look like you needed that. How have you been keeping?” Tiny asked.
William put his glass on the table and took a deep breathe.
“Let me give you a very truncated update since we were lying side by side in Yeovil Cardiac Care.” William said.
He ran through receiving his inheritance from a father he hadn’t known, meeting Ben, his evolving relationship with Annabel, the book shop and a brief outline of the challenges Ernest had set him.
Tiny whistled in amazement flicking his fingers in appreciation of William’s good fortune.
“Lots of good news, which is fantastic, though I’m guessing, out of the ordinary even for a vicar. My last couple of months haven’t been as momentous, but have been satisfying. After the heart attack, I took it as a sign that the door security was becoming too strenuous for a man of my age and health. So I have taken responsibility for leading some of my brother’s younger and more challenging parishioners down a path straighter and narrower than they are used to. Some of them are little shits, but with a combination of enthusiasm and control they are becoming less challenging. Next week we have our first field trip to Brownsea Island. I have zero tolerance on any form of trouble with the police. If one fails they all loose the trip. So they keep each other out of trouble.” Tiny sat back in his chair with a curious expression on his face and took a huge swallow of cider.
“So your father, who was he investigating? Do you think they killed him?”
William looked at Tiny in surprise.
“Why did you ask if I thought they killed him?”
“They way you described how he had died and how you recounted the tasks you have to complete. You look like a man who’s worried and beginning to feel a little out of his depth. Am I right?”
William had sat lost in thought for perhaps two minutes. He looked up and stared at Tiny, took a sip of beer to wet his lips and said.
“Ernest, my father, spent the last forty years of his life trying to prove that his brother was murdered. He was determined not only to prove that, but to discover what his brother, my Uncle Jonas, had stumbled across that made killing him so important. The company he was employed by and who we have since shown killed him, is CHC Industries.”
William could not have hoped for a more dramatic reaction to his statement. Tiny’s face suffused red and he had the look of a man on the verge of a stroke. His anger was palpable, making his muscular bulk strain his tee shirt as his body swelled with rage.
“Cortez.” he said the single word with such venom, shocking William with the depth of his anger towards them.
Tiny held up a restraining hand when William made to speak. After a moment to control his emotions he continued,
“The same family I assume?” William nodded.
“Without knowing anything about the circumstances of their death’s I can say with absolute certainty that they would have been responsible. I have two reasons to despise this family.” Tiny paused to take a sip of his beer.
“First, I belong to a group who care about the world we live in. One of our areas of interest is the rainforest. Were you aware that two hundred thousand square miles of Amazon Rain Forest vanishes every year? Most of the forest was cut down, destroyed, for logging of tropical hardwoods, farming and cattle grazing. CHC is one of the worst offenders. They convert rain forest to farmland to grow feedstock for bioethanol production. They steal the land, no cost. They employ peasants and pay them a subsistence wage, low cost. Then they produce the bioethanol in refineries in Columbia, low cost, and then ship it to the United States or Europe and sell it at a competitive price, huge profit. Every month they cut down more rainforest. The irony is they have so much tropical hardwood; they have had to set up a division to sell the wood to brokers. No cost for the wood, therefore, huge profits. I try and teach my kids that crime doesn’t pay. It does if you’re a Cortez!”
William was fascinated by Tiny’s explanation on the Cortez bioethanol business and wanted to hear second reason he hated them. Still greed and underhand practice or worse? William prompted Tiny.
“You said you had two reasons to despise them”
Tiny nodded and said,
“The second is more difficult. A few of the kids I help have had addiction problems in the past or have friends and family who still have problems. In the last few days the dealers have been going crazy, hyping a new, cool batch of ultra pure coke. This shit is arriving soon and the price will ‘blow their minds.’ I’m worried; any drug that is this pure would never normally make it to the street. It would be cut to almost nothing and the profits would be huge. If the pure is going to be released then a lot of new addicts will be made and some reformed addicts will want to try the good stuff. Combine that with bargain basement prices and they’re going be creating a whole new generation of customers. Once they’ve got them the next bag is twice the price and half as good.”
Looking puzzled William said,
“I can see why you’d be worried, but how does it connect with the Cortez family?”
“The word is that it is coming from Colombia in one of their tankers.” He paused and looked at William, concern on his face.
“I think you might be needing a little help.”
Chapter 31
“Your friend Tiny said that?” said Ben, grinning. “CHC is importing cocaine in their tankers when they bring Bioethanol into the UK and other countries around the world?”
William shrugged, unsure why Ben was so excited. To describe that assertion as supposition was being generous.
“Yes, he said that or something similar. A bit of a leap believing something because one junkie mentioned something to another junkie. Why?”
Ben began pacing the room taking deep breaths, excitement all over his face.
“Ok. How much do you know about CHC and the Cortez family?”
The blank stares that greeted him surprised him as he had been expecting more interaction than this. Jemima seeing his confused expression jumped in saying.
“We all know the basic stuff, Charles headed the company, and since his death Felicity has taken control. They are a producer of bioethanol and export the bioethanol around the world.”
Annabel added,
“We know they are murderers and are involved in the cocaine business, thanks to Jemima.”
Ben looked at William and asked,
“William, anything?”
William thought for a moment and then said,
“We know that we have been tasked by Ernest to stop them. Stop them, once we know what they do and how they are doing it.”
“When William gave me the Cortez family and CHC to research I thought it would be a simple cut and paste from the internet and then get back to what I do, geek shit.” Shaking his head, he continued pacing and talking.
“I love a challenge, but this was easy right? Wrong. And a little bit right. If you’ll humour me for a moment, everything will become clear. Charles Cortez was born in Colombia, just outside Bogota and spent his first ten years there. He was then sent to England and went as a boarder to a top prep school followed by Eton and after that Cambridge. Each holiday he was whisked back to Colombia to continue his education in the family business and to develop the friendships that would be so important in later life. Scroll forward thirty or forty years. I looked at the cousins, uncles, nephews, nieces and friends of Charles Cortez. His immediate family. All of these people appear to be low level CHC employees or peasant farmers working the family land.”
William interrupted,
“What you’d expect. Charles is looking after his family and the people he grew up with. Behaving as their lord and providing them with a guaranteed means of income in a country that is riven with poverty and degradat
ion. And an ego, a massive ego. If he ensures everyone is able to feed their families then they will be in his debt. Charles Cortez isn’t someone I’d want to call my shots for me.”
Ben shrugged looking irritated. He took a deep breath, smiled and continued.
“You’re right in part. Charles, and now Felicity did need their family in their debt. Not for ego, but for sound business reasons. The hoards of peasant farmers, caretakers and gofers don’t take any income from their occupations. They pay no taxes. These should be poor destitute people, starving, miserable, stressed and exhausted.” Ben opened his MacBook. He clicked the wireless mouse and brought up some photographs and a video clip. Clicking on the first photograph, he opened it and began narrating.
“This is a Cortez cousin. A small scale farmer.” He clicked again and a photograph of an opulent mansion with accompanying swimming pool.
“This is his house and pool.” He clicked again and brought up a photograph of a man standing next to a cherry red Ferrari.
“Meet Pedro Montoya. Pedro is caretaker of the shabby office building in the background, standing next to his favourite car. He also has a Maserati and a Lamborghini.” Clicking again, he opened the video clip. They sat in silence as they watched a man cavorting in a hot tub with five beautiful women and another man. Ben continued his narration,
“Contrary to appearances, this is Juan Mendoza, a goat farmer. As you can see, he has lost his goats, so now he spends his days with prostitutes and drinking champagne along with his brother Domingo Mendoza.” He closed his laptop and looked at William, Annabel and Jemima.
Jemima shook her head smiling,
“Cousin Pedro, Uncle Juan and Uncle Domingo. The money went to their heads. Imagine if they can live like this for working a few hours a month how much money my grandfather and sister have been making? This is what they are protecting. This why Jonas and Ernest died.” Jemima looked at them one after another and then added,
Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) Page 23
