Looking at the high-resolution photographs of the documents they had discovered for what seemed like the hundredth time, his admiration for Ernest Sanderson continued to grow. If he could only see Gerald sitting and reading the documents that he thought, he had protected.
Thrasher picked up the fine bone china cup of coffee and sipped what was one of the best coffees in the world. He had been introduced to the ‘Black Ivory’ coffee by Felicity, who enjoyed the absence of bitterness achieved by the action of an elephant’s stomach. The coffee cherries are fed to the elephant and the action of their digestive enzymes removes protein from the cherry. Less protein equals less bitterness. At eleven hundred dollars a kilo, the Black Ivory beans were a treat he reserved for himself. The thought of Felicity brought him back to the present and the new information he had in his possession. When should he share it with her to achieve maximum benefit for himself? Sooner rather than later to keep her sweet
or …
His mobile phone beeped at him indicating an incoming call. Looking down at the screen, he blanched when he saw the caller was Felicity and the left hand side of his face began twitching involuntarily. He recovered and answered with exaggerated brusqueness, over compensating for the fear she instilled in him.
“Thrasher.”
“Progress?”
“Ah, well umm.” he stuttered, battling his overwhelming urge to tell her about Bacchus and Sanderson’s relationship.
The pitch of her voice went up as she vented her irrational rage at him.
“Have you forgotten what I will do to you? How your fat little wife will discover her husband is fucking rent boys? How talentless do you have to be, to be you?” He could hear her taking deep breaths trying to bring herself back under control.
“I am in a meeting for the next two hours. When I am finished, I will call you. You will have what I need or I will do what I promised.”
***
Hannah looked down at Felicity screaming at Thrasher. She could also see Thrasher at the other end of the telephone, he wasn’t looking scared. He sounded scared, but he didn’t look it. Turning to Charles, she said,
“She’s losing it, her ability to scare, intimidate. You need to speak to her, guide her or she could mess this up for all of us.”
Charles nodded,
“She’s on her way to meet Alexander, do we stop her or wait until later and talk to her then?”
Hannah thought for a moment and said,
“I’m going to trust you Charles. Not a lot, but more than I expected to. I’m leaving you to watch her meeting with Alexander and the Home Secretary. You’ll be in a bubble, invisible to everyone on Earth and in Limbo. You won’t be able to do anything apart from watch and record. They’re meeting the Home Secretary in his office at Two Marsham Street in thirty minutes. I’ll put you in the room, able to move around and watch and record from all angles. You’ll also be able to connect with Felicity. Don’t unless you have to. She’s not stable or used to you talking to her.” Hannah flounced around their space mimicking Felicity, looking from side to side as if a fly is buzzing around her and appearing more deranged than normal.
Continuing, Hannah said,
“I need to see what Jemima is telling the cripple and slow them down. The vicar and his team are far more resourceful than any of you realised. If this whole organisation isn’t going to end up bankrupt, with all its directors in jail for a million years, I need to do something. Your enforcer is going to be a busy man.” She paused and looked at Charles with a strange look on her face. She looked as if her thoughts had crystallised and the answer was blindingly clear.
“Or maybe I need to be a busy woman.”
***
Felicity and Alexander sat in the luxurious waiting area outside the offices of the Home Secretary. Alexander had requested an emergency meeting with him on a matter of national importance and had been instructed to come to 2 Marsham Street at two o’clock when the Home Secretary could spare him ten minutes.
Felicity stared ahead with a blank, neutral expression masking the turmoil she was experiencing. Had she lost her edge? Thrasher had sounded scared by her screaming at him, as usual. But there had been something, the underlying feeling that instead of cowering, he had been smirking. If Thrasher was becoming immune to her and the power she represented, then she need to show him that actions have consequences. Re-establish her as a force to be reckoned with. Pulling her mobile phone out of her Gucci handbag, she pressed a speed dial combination and waited. Within seconds she heard the voice that always inspired confidence and soothed her soul, a strong, confident baritone.
“Good afternoon.”
Felicity smiled, ignoring Alexander’s enquiring look and replied,
“Good afternoon. Are you free to listen?”
The strong baritone said,
“Of course.”
Of course, he was, she chided herself, if he had been unavailable her call would have gone unanswered. Standing up, she walked to the window and watched the traffic moving along the Horseferry Road.
“Can you send a message for me? An unambiguous message that will re-establish relationship parameters.” He would know what she meant. Working with people who understood was so much more satisfying and straightforward. No unnecessary explanations, questions or clarifications.
“Who is the recipient?”
“Sophia Thrasher.”
“Ah. When?”
“Yesterday. I expect that there will be a few more messages to be sent over the coming day’s, I’ll move a small token of my appreciation to Switzerland for you.”
“Thank you. Shall I call you later?”
Felicity thought for a moment and then replied,
“Thank you, but no. A simple ‘Yes’ by text will suffice, I know how your busy schedule limits your time.”
The door to the Home Secretaries office opened as Felicity replaced her phone into the Gucci handbag and an attractive assistant showed them in.
“Alexander good to see you, I didn’t realise you were bringing guests.” The look of malevolence that flashed across his face as he said it caused Alexander to blanch and tremble.
“My niece, Home Secretary, Felicity Cortez”
“Ms Cortez,” he said nodding. Continuing in a condescending, superior manner he said,
“So Alexander, I’m sure introducing me to relations isn’t the emergency you mentioned. What do you want? You have.” He looked at his elegant wristwatch and said,
“Eight, no, now seven minutes.”
Alexander looked at Felicity and nodded with a smile. Felicity looked at the Home Secretary in the manner of a cobra eying its next meal and said,
“Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan. You have been a very naughty boy. Nothing wrong with that of course, no one is perfect. We all need a little extra cash, to try and recapture our fading youth, to fulfil our desires.” Standing up Felicity walked around the office looking at the modern art that adorned the walls and the elegant sculptures displayed on glass shelves around the perimeter. She walked behind Jonathan Andrews causing him to turn in his seat to be able to see her.
“The money your family embezzled has never been enough has it? Is that why you followed grandfather’s lead and stole hundreds of thousands from the party and then laid a trail to the door of your innocent deputy? I wonder how he is finding prison life? I understand he has made some unpleasant friends. Friends who would kill for the price of a good meal in the West End. When is he to be released? Of course, you’re the Home Secretary, he’ll be there for his full sentence.” The Home Secretary tried to speak, but Felicity held her right hand up, stopping him and then put her index finger to her lips.
“Sshhh. Your turn will come in a moment. Youth, so desirable, so sensual and I understand so talented. How is the Prime Ministers sixteen-year-old daughter? Are you still sleeping with her or was that a brief interlude while she interned for you this year? I have some marvellous photographs, would you like to see them? No? Oh, how disap
pointing.”
Home Secretary, Jonathan Andrews had become very pale, he had lost his superior condescending look, which had been replaced by fear and panic. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top shirt button, his upper lip had a sheen of sweat as did his brow and he looked defeated. Now, Felicity thought, time for my coup de grâce.
“Maturity, experience and sophistication are so much more enjoyable than the callowness of youth, wouldn’t you agree?” She looked at him her head cocked to one side.
“No? How is Mrs Prime Minister? As accommodating as her daughter I understand. While the PM was screwing the French and Germans at the G8 summit at Camp David, you were screwing his wife in Downing Street and in a suite you have at Claridges. Would you like to see these photos? No? I thought not.”
He now looked cowed and submissive and asked,
“What do you want?”
Felicity was sure he would acquiesce without the need for any further threats, but she couldn’t resist the rent boy ploy. It was her favourite threat and one she had followed through on with Thrasher. Then it had brought him to heel very effectively.
“I’m a woman of the world. I understand men have needs that need to be satisfied, I’m sure your wife is the same. Understanding, able to forgive any minor dalliances and move on. I’m sure the Prime Minister given enough time could forgive you for fucking both his wife and daughter, but do you think that your wife would be quite as understanding if she knew about the rent boys you have been inviting to your flat while she had been at her sisters in Kent?”
“I have never invited rent boys to my flat or to anywhere else?”
“I know that and you know that. I also know that I have at least ten boys who will say whatever I want for a few pounds.”
He slumped in his chair, looking very ill and old.
“Alexander, get Jonathan a large single malt to steady his nerves.”
He took the proffered glass and took a large sip, coughed and took another. Setting the glass onto the desktop he said,
“What do you want? You must want something, something quite big or you wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble proving you can ruin me. So what is it?”
Alexander looked across the room at Felicity who smiled and nodded. He looked across the desk at the Home Secretary without pity and Felicity said,
“We are going to have around six tonnes of something coming to the UK every month. We need a friend to help us move it without anyone realising it is being moved. You are that friend. Please make sure that when any ship Alexander informs you of docks in any UK port it gets automatic clearance from customs, priority off loading and a rapid, discreet forward passage for everything that needs to be rapid and discreet. Clear so far?”
Jonathan Andrews looked at her with contempt,
“Drugs? Cortez, South American? Cocaine?”
Felicity answered,
“Yes Jonathan lots and lots of cocaine which you are going to make sure no one ever finds out we are bringing in. I’m a generous woman and will be transferring one million pounds a month into an account in Lichtenstein I’ve set up for you as compensation for your trouble. You are now wealthy enough to buy all the tarts you want. I’ll send the details to you once the first shipment is ashore and has been moved without incident to our refinery. I don’t wish to labour the point but please remember, you don’t have any option. A courier will deliver your account details two weeks from today. Your life has changed, enjoy your new found wealth and as long as you do as you’ve been asked you’ll never need to see me again.”
***
Williams MacBook and Annabel’s iPad chimed at the same instant, announcing the arrival of an email. Annabel swiped the screen of her iPad and opened the email.
“ Ben,” she said. “He’s sent us his part decoded diary. He’s broken the original code, but is left with pages and pages of number/letter strings that are still gibberish.”
Reading aloud from his email, Annabel continued,
”I’ve tried to think as a scientist would, but I am getting nowhere. The letter/number combinations aren’t elements with their atomic weights, not enough variety and the letters would have to be undiscovered elements. I’ve tried to think of other scientific notations that require a letter/number combination, but nothing obvious springs to mind. I’m sitting staring at this and I know that it is obvious, but it is still eluding me. Will set the MacBook on it again tomorrow. If you have any inspiration let me know.
See you later
Ben.”
Annabel stared at the email concentrating hard, mumbling to herself. After five minutes of mumbling and note taking she smiled, passed her iPad to William and said,
“What do you think?”
William looked at her, intrigued and then looked down at the first page of letter/number combinations. Talking as he focused on the iPad’s screen, William said,
“It’s odd. Looking at these letters and numbers in small defined groups, I feel I should know what they are.” He turned to Annabel and asked,
“Do you know what this means?”
“I think so. You do too. When it occurs to you, it’ll seem so obvious.”
William continued staring, absorbed by the elusiveness of the answer to the puzzle. Sitting back, he smiled and pushed the iPad back across the table to Annabel.
“The Old Testament references confused me, I was only looking for New Testament. The cunning devil has used both. I don’t think he has included the Apocrypha, but I’ll need to check the whole document. This is going to be a long job, twenty pages and two hundred groups per page. Ben’s going to have fun. I’ll send him an email and call him later to find out how he is getting on.”
***
Charles looked up from the view of the Home secretary pacing his office muttering to himself.
“What happened?”
Under other circumstances, the curt question would have irritated Charles, but he wanted to share Felicities triumph, so he smiled and answered.
“She was magnificent. Authoritative, persuasive and threatening, very threatening.”
Hannah looked at him unconvinced,
“Show me.”
Charles looked at her, a confused expression on his face.
“Show you? How?”
Hannah looked straight in front of her and said,
“Like this.”
She nodded at the space in front of her and said,
“Replay” A soft square appeared shimmering with a translucent area inside the soft outer edges of the square. An image appeared showing the room as it had appeared to Charles. The image was three-dimensional and could be viewed from any angle to get different perspectives on what was happening in the room.
“Play.”
The scene began to play out as Charles had seen it an hour earlier.
“Forward.”
The images began to scroll forward at twice-normal speed.
“Forward.”
The second forward command sped the images to five times normal speed and when Hannah said,
“Forward.”
The images sped to ten times normal.
After three minutes the images they were watching had slowed to normal speed and they were viewing Jonathan Andrews in real time.
“Well?” Charles said.
Hannah continued to watch the Home Secretary pacing around his office.
“I think she’s overplayed it. Though the carrot she offered was impressive; the stick, the requirement,” she clarified, “was difficult to achieve. She might have a problem. So might we.”
***
Siobhan rushed into Thrashers office, flustered and worried.
“Gerald your wife’s her, in reception. She insists that she sees you and sees you now. I’ve tried to mollify her and explained that you had a vital client meeting to prepare for, but she told me to ‘get my skinny arse into his office and don’t reappear until he’s with you.’ She seems a little upset.”
Despite the fact h
e didn’t have the time to see her, he smiled at her description of Siobhan, which was quite accurate. Thrasher loved his wife very much, but she knew never to come to the office. This was his work life, she was his home life. He recognised this must be serious, so he said to Siobhan,
“Show her in and bring coffee please Siobhan.”
Seconds later his wife burst through the door. He got up and enveloped her curvaceous body in a comforting hug and then led her to the client sofa and asked what was wrong. Sophia looked at him and said, her voice brittle with anger,
“What have you done? Who have you upset? Deceived? Swindled?”
Thrasher looked at his wife, no surprise on his face; just resignation. He smiled to reassure her and then said,
“What happened?”
“This,” she said shuddering and took a padded envelope out of her bag which she threw onto the table with obvious disgust.
Thrasher picked it up and peered inside. Inside was a whole tongue, from a pig or sheep and a note pinned to it with a two-inch nail. The note read:
‘Tell your husband to be a good boy and be truthful, honest and quick. Next time it’ll be his.’
Thrasher’s colour had changed from his normal flushed hue to grey. He gasped and slumped to one side grasping his waste paper basket and retching into it. After a moment, he sat back upright panting with the exertion. His wife passed him the glass of water on his desk and he sipped it. After a few sips, his colour began to return.
“Felicity.”
“Felicity, what about her?”
“This was her.” He pointed with his index at the envelope on his desk.
Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) Page 25
