Scion

by Murray Mcdonald

  He signalled the other three over and explained the situation. They considered the options. Kyle considered more quickly than the others and after knocking the wall to the side of the door, broke the glass covering the emergency fire axe and proceeded to knock through the wall. Two minutes later, he had a hole large enough for Jasmin to squeeze through and another two minutes later, she had the explosives safely defused. On entering the room, all deflated. The three remaining shareholders had received one bullet each to the head. A pistol lay in front of each suggesting a ritual suicide. However, the shooter had been too highly trained. Each bullet had penetrated exactly in the centre of each of the men’s foreheads. They had been executed and the explosion was set up to kill Scott and the others. Somebody was trying to cover their tracks.

  Chapter 81

  The judge had laughed Butler-Jones out of court when he had to admit he could not provide a birth certificate to authenticate Scott’s age. Without that, the Judge declared that he couldn’t possibly consider the merits of the case. Was he to believe that he didn’t have one or that he had misplaced it because it proved his age to be beyond twenty five. He asked for something which proved when he was born and until then, not a chance.

  Butler-Jones had scoured the local papers, national press, anywhere that a birth announcement could have been made but nothing. Scott advised him of the solicitor in Singapore but nothing, they still didn’t even know the name of Scott’s mother. The last people to see her alive were the islanders and they were all dead. They tried everything but to no avail. Butler Jones suggested contacting the widows of the dead shareholders and explaining the situation to them. Perhaps they would do the right thing. He had the evidence and just because their husbands were scum, didn’t mean they were too.

  Scott agreed and Butler Jones went to work tracking down the grieving widows.

  ***

  Jasmin drove the rental car through the leafy suburbs of Washington and took the sign post for Bradley Farms, the house she was looking for was just a couple of miles down the road. A small park area came into view just before she reached the house. She pulled in, parking the car at the rear of the area, out of sight of the main road. She got out and made off on foot. The moonlight gave her just enough light to make her way through the small woods and she arrived at the back of the target house. She moved very slowly. The motion sensors would only come on if she moved too quickly and after some time, she reached the back of the house. A window was open on the second floor and shimming up the nearby drainpipe, gave her access to the house. Voices emanated from the bedroom. Not good. His wife wasn’t supposed to be there. Her office had confirmed she was in California for a few days. However it soon became apparent that the voices were from the TV as it broke to the weather for the next day.

  Jasmin edged forward and could just make out the mass lying on the bed through the gap. That was him Todd Nielsen. The man who had bombed the island. She had begged Scott to allow her to deal with Nielsen. She needed this, she needed to feel she had avenged the islanders. With no objections from Kirk and Kyle who had already bagsied Mike Hunter, Scott agreed.

  After confirming it was him, Jasmin stood and entered the room. Nielsen jumped up but on seeing the pretty girl, he relaxed. Somebody who knew him had obviously sent him a present. After all with Sam Baker about to become President, Todd Nielsen was on top of the world.

  Unfortunately, the first thing Jasmin did was remove his tongue. She didn’t want to listen to him screaming or begging for mercy for the next few hours, because that was how long it was going to last. Todd Nielsen, by the time he died, would wish he had never been born.

  ***

  Kirk and Kyle took a slightly different approach with Mike Hunter, quick and easy. The man it seemed was rather nervous after his paymaster’s demise and had taken to travelling with a significant number of guards. Trailing his vehicle in a plain white van, they simply accelerated, pulled in front, threw open the doors and fired an anti tank missile right into his Hummer. There wasn’t enough left of him to put in an urn, let alone bury.

  Chapter 82

  Jennings had a team working full time trying to track down the leads to find out if, as Scott believed, there was someone else. They had tried Baker again but nothing came up, nothing linked him to Transcon. The discovery of Max Ernst’s previous career as a KGB man put a new spin on things. The Russian Mafia may be involved and took the investigation off into a new direction as Jennings considered the possibility that the oligarchs of Russia had tried to control America.

  Scott disagreed but Jennings, with little else to latch onto, went with it anyway.

  ***

  As the days and weeks passed, Butler-Jones got nowhere with the widows. The lawyers at Transcon refused any contact and threatened him with injunctions if he continued to harass them.

  Scott prepared for his twenty fifth birthday resigning himself to having lost any chance of regaining control of his father’s company. It wasn’t that he wanted the responsibility nor the money, its just that for the first time in his life, Scott felt as though he knew what his father would have wanted. His son at the helm of his company.

  Scott’s birthday would be celebrated at the Whitehouse. The squad, Ashley and the Prime Minister were to be guests of honour at a ball the President was throwing before the elections four days later.

  They arrived in style, limos picking them up from their nearby hotel and driving them the short distance to the White House. The President met with them privately and thanked them again for their help in saving the democratic process before they joined the ball.

  “Scott,” interrupted the President. “I’ve got a gentleman here who wants to wish you a happy birthday.”

  “Hi, I believe you’ve just hit the ripe old age of twenty-five,” smiled the man.

  “Yes,” replied Scott.

  “A great age twenty-five, a great age!” he repeated.

  Scott looked at the President as the man spoke.

  “Sorry, I keep forgetting. Scott I should have introduced you, this is Sam Baker who is probably going to be our next President.”

  “Less of the probably, Mr President. Fifteen points ahead in the polls you know,” he laughed.

  “Well it was nice to meet you, Sir,” said Scott turning back to his group.

  “You too son, you too.” Baker walked away smiling. Transcon was safe. Scott was no longer a threat. He’d enjoyed meeting the boy, after all this time. He’d always wondered what he looked like.

  ***

  The morning after the party was not a pretty sight. It had been a heavy night and had resulted in them all falling asleep where they fell. They woke up to the NBC local news channel. Ashley checked the weather to see what she would do with the tourists for the rest of the day. Nobody wanted to do anything but sleep but Ashley was having none of it. They were in her home town and it was her duty to show them around.

  As the weather report ended, the local news bulletin came on.

  “Police are still hunting for Eduardo Ramirez in connection with a number of murders in the Anacostia area.”

  At the mention of the name Eduardo Ramirez, Jasmin’s ears pricked up and she quickly turned to the screen. As did Ashley and Scott.

  Scott spotted Jasmin’s reaction. “What do you know about Eduardo Ramirez?” he asked.

  Jasmin looked awkwardly at Ashley.

  “Oh for God’s sake, you can talk in front of Ashley.”

  “I sanctioned him about a month ago.”

  “You killed him?”

  “Yes, he was trafficking young kids for paedophiles along with drugs. He had been warned but ignored the warnings,” replied Jasmin.

  “So it’s a different Ramirez?”

  Jasmin looked at him like he was stupid. She had just told him she sanctioned him. “But there is a family resemblance. They may be related, why?”

  “He funded the loan that created Transcon. But we couldn’t find any link between him and Transcon beyond the
loan,” explained Scott.

  “Perhaps we should see if we can find this guy,” suggested Kirk.

  “Definitely,” said Ashley. “Well at least we know what we’re doing today then. The highlights of the worst and seedier areas of Washington tour.”

  Chapter 83

  Election Day

  The hunt for Eduardo Ramirez continued in vain. It seemed the young man had just fallen off the planet. The only information they had been able to glean was that Eduardo was on the run with a notorious local hoodlum Vic Garcia. Numerous comments had been made that as long as he was with Vic and didn’t want to be found, they never would be.

  Not long into another day’s search, Scott received a phone call from Butler–Jones that put yet another spin on the whole matter. He had actually managed to speak to the widow of Charles Russell. It was in fact completely by chance. She had been to his offices as she had decided to get herself new representation. She was unhappy with how the Transcon legal team were treating her and wanted somebody with a bit of clout to back her up. Butler-Jones had been suggested. The fact that he worked for the Queen tended to impress most potential clients and she had been shown into his office.

  Butler Jones had explained to Scott that the widows had not in fact inherited their husbands’ shares. The shares had passed equally to the other shareholders. Scott had immediately jumped in, needlessly reminding Butler-Jones that they were all dead. Agreeing, he had also informed Scott that the widows would have had no objection whatsoever in talking to them. The lawyers were taking their orders from someone else. Someone was very much in control of Transcon despite every shareholder being dead. Scott speculated Ernst but Butler-Jones disagreed. The lawyers would only follow the legal owner’s orders, not somebody who had executed the previous owners. No, the only conclusion he could come to was that Scott was right all along. There was somebody else.

  ***

  The day passed quickly as election fever swept through the country. Sam Baker was well ahead in the exit polls, suggesting an even larger majority than predicted. It seemed his beleaguered rival was destined to lose by one of the biggest margins ever.

  The writing was on the wall all day and it was only stubbornness that made him wait until after midnight to concede, calling Sam Baker at 00.01 to congratulate him on a well fought victory.

  Sam Baker was to be the 45th President of the United States of America. His inauguration date was set for January 20th.

  Epilogue

  January 19th 2009

  Sam Baker climbed the stairs of his Washington home for the last time. The next day would see him sleeping in the Whitehouse. He opened the door to his bedroom and was hit by a cold rush of air. He stomped across to the window and slammed it shut. He’d be glad to see the back of the housekeeper. How many times had he told her he didn’t believe that fresh air helps you sleep nonsense?

  The door to his room burst open and two Secret Service Agents rushed in, handguns drawn. Sam explained he had just slammed the window shut and suggested they calm down. He hadn’t been in office yet to piss anyone off enough for them to want to kill him, yet, he added for comedic effect. Neither got it and left the room.

  Sam went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn’t even notice the shower curtain move, nor hear the footsteps. He just felt a hand as it covered his mouth, a firm grip he couldn’t move. He tried to scream but nothing came out. A face appeared in the mirror next to his and he recognised it instantly. He had seen it many times before and once even in person.

  “Hello Mr President,” said Scott.

  Sam squirmed wildly but his body hardly moved. Scott’s strength was far too great for him.

  “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here?”

  Scott could feel the head try to nod.

  “I found Eduardo Ramirez.”

  Sam Baker’s eyes widened as the name and the information that name held registered instantly.

  “In fact I found him some time ago, it seems you thought once you were elected, you could relax which is exactly what Eduardo’s wise old friend Vic Garcia reckoned. It seems he was right.”

  Scott could see in the mirror the question in Baker’s eyes.

  “You’re wondering why I waited ‘til now? Simple really. I wanted you too taste it, to actually feel what you have murdered and cheated all your life to achieve. Just to stop you at the last second. You see you’ll never be president. At your inauguration tomorrow morning, you’ll be arrested. It’s all been arranged. I’m not even going to kill you. You see if I killed you, you wouldn’t suffer and I want you to suffer every second for the rest of your life. Every miserable second from now until you die in your prison cell. I want you to think of it as my gift to you.”

  Scott watched the life in Baker’s eyes die as his dream came crashing to an end. His whole life had been geared for that one event and it was going to be a humiliation. Sam Baker, the President with the largest majority in the history of the USA, was going to be known for what he really was, a murdering, cheating, traitor.

  “Close your eyes and don’t move.”

  Baker did as he was told. He was sure Scott would kill him. He couldn’t know about what he had done to his father without killing him for it.

  “Come on, hurry up and get it over with!” he shouted.

  Silence. Baker turned. Scott was gone. He walked back out into the bedroom, the window was open as it had been when he entered the room. He sat on the bed and thought of all that he had done to get where he was. How it would play out on the news. What would be the headline? Sam Baker arrested for murder and treason, not President Baker, just Sam Baker. He would be the embarrassment of the country, he’d rot in jail and be referred to as the man who nearly destroyed the country. He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t let them do it.

  Sam Baker, twelve hours from being named the 45th President of the United Sates of America, reached over to his bedside table. He noticed the picture frame was missing but thought nothing of it. As he removed the pistol from the drawer, he placed it in his mouth and died knowing he was still the president elect.

  Scott heard the shot from just outside the perimeter of the garden and placed a call to Kirk.

  “Well, did you get Ernst?” asked Scott.

  “Nasty, very messy, cried, wet himself the lot. It’s always the nasty ones that die with absolutely no dignity,” replied Kirk.

  Once they had Baker as the lynchpin, it had just been a matter of time before they found Ernst. They had been watching him for weeks waiting until they took Baker out to deal with him.

  Scott hung up and looked at the family photo he had taken from Baker’s bedside table. She was just as beautiful as she was in the picture with his father. How a man could do what Baker had done, he would never know. Power was a terrible drug but even drug addicts had limits. Scott had gone there to kill him, the arrest at the inauguration was all bullshit. If Baker had stuck it out, he would have been President. But after seeing his mother’s face looking into her brother’s eyes, he couldn’t do it. Even if Baker had killed her, he couldn’t kill him. Some killings were just wrong. The evidence from Ramirez was at best circumstantial but the look in Baker’s eyes had proved it without a shadow of a doubt.

  Scott picked up the phone and dialled Butler-Jones.

  “Hi John, it’s me. Terrible news. It seems my uncle has just committed suicide and I’m the only living relative. Transcon may well be mine afterall.”

  The End.

  If you enjoyed Scion – try ‘Critical Error’ the all new page turning thriller from Murray McDonald

 

 

 
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