by Paul Mathews
As he drifted into sleep, images from last night’s dream flashed into his mind. The boat chase, the beach escape, the rock climb, the secret complex, the captured president, the evil genius. They spun round his mind in a carousel of confusion. Then he heard a voice from beyond his dream world. ‘Howie, old chap, what’s going on?’
Howie’s eyes flicked open. He looked awake. But he was still deep in his dream state. ‘It’s Maxim,’ he mumbled.
‘What do you mean?’ asked the voice.
Howie heard the question and responded. ‘He’s the evil genius who’s got the president.’
The voice became louder. ‘What are you talking about? Have you discovered new evidence?’
Howie’s eyes were still wide open. But all he could see was Maxim pointing a gun at the president and threatening to put a bullet in his head. ‘He’s going to kill the president!’ shouted Howie. Then he took a breath. ‘He wants to replace him.’
‘My God, this is treason!’ gasped the voice.
Howie’s eyes blinked three times and he rejoined reality. He became aware of a person sitting next to him. He turned to look at his face. It was a man. But it wasn’t any of the police officers he’d encountered today. It was the chief of police. ‘Freddie,’ he gasped with relief. ‘You came.’
‘Of course I came. I’m a man of my word.’
Howie still wasn’t himself, but having Freddie next to him was making him feel better. ‘The police think I’m a 24-7. They locked me in here for nearly four hours. They’re going to interrogate me.’
‘Don’t worry. I saw you on the security camera and confirmed who you are. I explained that you would have been at the studios on business and the First Lady probably didn’t recognise you, seeing as you currently resemble a mud monster from Mars.’
‘She knew who I was,’ growled Howie. ‘She just wanted me out of the way, so she could do that bloody interview. She’s the one who should be arrested!’
‘We are where we are. You being arrested brought me to your rescue. And that may be a fortuitous chain of events for your good self.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘All will become clear. Now, in a minute I’ll take you up to the custody suite and we’ll get you de-arrested.’ Freddie looked into Howie’s eyes. ‘But first, you look a little peculiar. Are you in good health?’
‘I need to eat. Can we go somewhere?’
‘Yes. I’m taking you to a place you’ll be familiar with – The Savoy.’
Howie wasn’t sure whether he should have a full lunch break, after all the time he’d wasted sitting in this cell. But it would be rude to decline the offer. ‘The Savoy it is.’
‘But in light of what you’ve just told me about the president’s disappearance, Howie, I’m going to ask someone else to join us.’
Howie was confused. He couldn’t remember telling Freddie anything. He must have forgotten in all the confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean it’s time that I used my contacts to get you in the same room as the number-one suspect in the president’s disappearance.’
The number-one suspect. Yes. Who was that? Howie wasn’t sure. Better not to get into a long discussion about it. That would only delay lunch. ‘Okay. That sounds good.’
Freddie stood up. ‘All I ask is that when your missing person is back where he belongs, you inform him of my pivotal role in helping you with your mission.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘And whatever you do, don’t breathe a word of this to Martha Blake. If she knows I’m helping you – even if it is on a personal level, rather than an official level – we’ll both get an ear-bashing. And we don’t want that.’
Howie nodded. He would accept Freddie’s offer of help and keep his involvement a secret from Martha. ‘Yep. Let’s work together on this.’
Freddie smiled. ‘Good man. Now, you can’t go to The Savoy in that state. But don’t fret. I’ve arranged a clean set of clothes.’
Howie wasn’t sure he wanted to leave here looking like a teenage drug dealer. ‘It’s not one of them synth all-in-ones you stick the real criminals in, is it?’
Freddie laughed. ‘On the contrary. It’s a better suit than the one you’re wearing. Much better. The finest Italian silk. We keep a spare at every station. Just in case any high-profile clients like yourself need a bit of assistance. We usually charge, of course, but in your case, consider it a freebie.’
‘You’re a lifesaver.’
‘I like to think so. Now, let’s get you discharged, water-sprayed, changed and out of here. There are two sirloin steaks at The Savoy with our names on them.’
Howie stood up. He was feeling better now. Maybe that funny spell was because of something he ate? He looked down at his cup of tea. Or more likely, something he drank. Yes. The reason for the police officer’s generosity was clear now. Howie’s tea had been spiked in an effort to disorientate him before his interrogation. Luckily, he’d only taken a couple of sips, so its effects had been limited. But it was still outrageous. He thought about mentioning it to Freddie. But he decided against it. It would just cause more hassle for both of them.
They got up and left the cell. Twenty minutes later, they were leaving the police station and jumping in a taxi. Next stop – The Savoy.
Chapter 30
Britt walked forward to the American Fitness reception desk. The receptionist nodded and beamed a huge smile at her.
‘Good morning, madam. Are you a member?’
Britt didn’t smile back. Partly because she’d been waiting twenty minutes. Partly because smiling politely didn’t come naturally to her. And partly because this wasn’t going to be a polite request. ‘No. I’m here to see Cherry Blush.’
‘I’m afraid Miss Blush is fully booked today. Would you like to leave a message?’
‘I won’t be leaving any messages. I need to see her now.’
The receptionist’s smile didn’t flicker. ‘That won’t be possible, madam. Only our Premium Club members can demand to see Miss Blush at their convenience. Membership starts from £5,000 a month, if you would like to —’
‘I don’t need the marketing brochure,’ interrupted Britt. ‘It’s a personal matter.’
‘Then I would suggest you contact Miss Blush about that matter in her own personal time.’
Britt leaned her forearms on the desk and dropped her voice an octave. ‘Contact Miss Blush. Tell her someone is in reception. And tell her it’s someone who needs to see her urgently.’
The receptionist thought about Britt’s request for a few moments, while maintaining her smile. ‘And you are?’
Staying anonymous was always the best option in this kind of situation. If it all went wrong, at least your adversaries only knew your face. ‘Miss Smith.’
‘You have ID, Miss Smith?’
‘No, I’m sorry.’
‘Then I am sorry. I can’t help you.’
Battling against receptionists was always difficult. They were veterans of customer combat. Getting past their defensive line was often impossible, even for an investigative journalist as experienced as Britt. But she had planned for this. She was ready with another line of attack. One that would lure Cherry out of the safety of her consulting room and into the reception area itself. ‘Tell Miss Blush that I’m a friend of Oskar.’
‘Oskar who?’
‘Just Oskar.’
The receptionist’s smile was cracking. ‘Is he a member?’
‘I’ve no idea. It’s not important.’
‘Does this Oskar work here?’
‘No,’ sighed Britt. ‘Just make the call.’
The receptionist stopped smiling. ‘What is it that you want exactly, madam?’
‘That’s between me and Miss Blush. Now stop wasting my time and give her the message.’
‘And what if I don’t?’
Britt’s response was immediate. ‘Then Cherry Blush won’t thank you when I inform her that she had the opportunity to see me righ
t now. But you failed to make a simple call to alert her to that fact.’
They stared at each other for a full ten seconds. Neither spoke. Neither blinked. Neither breathed. Like two warriors about to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Then Britt decided it was time to fake a retreat. ‘Fine. Have it your way.’ She turned in the direction of the exit.
‘Alright,’ snapped the receptionist. ‘I’ll do it.’
Britt swung round. ‘Thank you.’
‘But if Miss Blush says she doesn’t want to see you, you will be asked to leave. If you don’t do it voluntarily, I’ll call security. Understood?’
Britt nodded. The receptionist gave her a filthy look and then spoke into an intercom. ‘A woman is here to see you, Miss Blush.’
‘Hi, honey!’ trilled Cherry from the intercom. ‘You sure about that? All my appointments are fellas today.’
‘This woman doesn’t have an appointment. She said she’s a friend of someone called Oskar. I don’t know if that means anything to you.’ There was no response. ‘Cherry, are you still there? I said she’s a friend of —’
Cherry’s voice sounded flatter. ‘Still here, sweetie. What’s the lady’s name?’
‘She gave her name as Miss Smith. But she doesn’t have any ID. She wants to talk to you right now. It’s a personal matter.’
‘Oh, r-r-right,’ stuttered Cherry. ‘It’s a bit tricky at the mo. I’m with someone. Let me think about how I’m gonna do this.’
As several seconds ticked by, a thought occurred to Britt. After Cherry’s secret meeting with Oskar Polak yesterday, she might be wondering if the ‘friend of Oskar’ was more than just a friend. A wife, maybe. One who’d just discovered her husband had been having an affair with Cherry. A wife who wasn’t here on a social visit.
Britt issued one more instruction to the receptionist. ‘Tell her I’m not a relative. Definitely just a friend of Oskar.’
The receptionist reluctantly relayed the message via the intercom.
‘Okay,’ sighed Cherry. ‘I’ll be straight out.’
Within sixty seconds, Cherry had arrived at reception. She looked flustered. Frightened even.
The receptionist flicked her eyes in Britt’s direction. ‘This is the woman.’
Cherry’s eyes scanned Britt – her face, hair, clothes and shoes – desperately searching for some clue about the identity of this friend of Oskar. But Britt could tell from Cherry’s wrinkled forehead that she couldn’t find one. ‘I haven’t got long. I’m with a client.’
‘It won’t take more than a few minutes,’ replied Britt. But she wasn’t sure if it was true. It would depend on Cherry’s reaction to what she had to say. If things went well, Cherry would play along and answer her questions. And Britt had lots of those. On the other hand, she had already witnessed Cherry take swift flight from one stressful situation. She hoped she wouldn’t see a repeat performance today.
Cherry checked the people in the reception area. Then she took a couple of steps towards Britt. Their faces were only a few centimetres away from each other. ‘I don’t wanna talk here,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s step outside.’ Then she turned to the receptionist. ‘If anyone asks where I am, honey, just say I’ve popped out for painkillers.’
Cherry gestured to Britt to follow her and they left the building. They turned right and walked the short distance to the edge of the concrete plaza. There were still people coming and going. But it was private here.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Cherry, her voice a mix of panic and confusion.
‘I didn’t want to say who I really was in front of your colleague. I’m actually Britt Pointer.’ She fished out her ID and showed it to Cherry. ‘I’m a journalist.’
Cherry tried not to react as she examined the card. But Britt could see the fear in her eyes. ‘A journalist?’
‘Yes. And I’m doing an investigation into Oskar Polak. A man you’re very familiar with.’
Cherry was lost for words for a moment. Then she swallowed hard and responded. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Britt was now in control. ‘It means you’ve been having an affair.’
Cherry tried to laugh off the accusation. It was unconvincing. ‘You got it wrong. Me and Oskar are just good friends.’
‘I saw you here together yesterday. You met in secret. Went to the park around the corner. Sat on a bench. Had a heated conversation. Then you yelled his name and ran off. I presume because he gave you bad news. I’m guessing he dumped you.’ Britt took a breath. ‘Am I right?’
Cherry swallowed hard again. ‘Like I told you, we’re just good friends. He was … he was just telling me we couldn’t meet up that evening coz he was busy with something. I forget what.’
‘He came all the way out to Canary Wharf to tell you he was too busy to see you?’
‘Yeah. Oskar’s really considerate like that.’
‘He couldn’t just bleep you?’
‘I work very long hours. Sometimes with no breaks. I don’t always get time to check my bleeper.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really.’
This young woman was proving almost as tough an adversary as her colleague in reception. But, as with that battle, a new angle of attack should set Britt on the road to victory. ‘I’m writing a story. But I’m not interested in your relationship with Oskar Polak.’
‘No?’ replied Cherry, sounding surprised. ‘What are you interested in, then?’
‘I’m interested in Oskar Polak’s relationships with other people. People with power and influence.’
Cherry frowned. ‘Sorry. Can’t help you. When we met up, it was only ever the two of us.’
Britt sighed. ‘If I don’t get the information I want – for the story I want – I’ll have to write about your relationship with Oskar Polak. Because that’s all I have at the moment.’
Cherry’s tone was more aggressive now. ‘But you only seen us in the park. You got bugger all evidence. You’re bullshitting me!’
‘You’re wrong. I have this.’ Britt reached into her bag. She pulled out the photo she had obtained from the First Lady’s office – a photo of Cherry Blush outside a Westminster townhouse, with Oskar Polak standing at the door. She showed it to Cherry. ‘It’s one of many. A private investigator has been following you.’
Cherry’s mouth dropped in horror and her breathing became quicker. ‘Is that who that bloke was? I thought he was a bloody stalker!’ She put her hand on Britt’s arm. ‘You’re not gonna publish it, are you? His wife don’t know. We’ve broken up. It’s finished.’
‘Why did it finish?’ asked Britt, returning the photo to her bag.
‘Oskar said it had to finish.’
Britt was getting close to something important. She could feel it. ‘Yes. But did he explain why?’
‘Something changed. He wouldn’t say what. Maybe his wife’s ill? Or she was getting suspicious? I dunno. He just said we couldn’t carry on. And I was never to say nothing to no one about it.’ She heaved a big sigh. ‘That didn’t last long, did it?’
Britt wasn’t going to stop here. ‘His other relationships, Cherry. You’ve got to tell me about those. Who was he meeting recently?’
Cherry thought for a moment. ‘Viktor Maxim. He was the only one he ever mentioned.’
Maxim? Where had Britt heard that name before?
‘He’s the Russian bloke who owns this place,’ continued Cherry. ‘And a lot of other places.’ She looked around to check no one was listening. ‘Don’t say I told you, for king’s sake. But they’re very friendly. Oskar likes to keep it top secret. He says it’s all hush-hush because he’s a top politician and Maxim is a big businessman. People might jump to the wrong conclusions.’
Britt remembered that name now – Maxim. It was the name on the screen when she caught a glimpse of Oskar’s bleeper. Her heart started to beat faster. ‘What other businesses does this Maxim run?’
‘You name it, he runs it. Sports, food, drink, Tech.’ Her voice dropped t
o a whisper. ‘Even guns and rockets and stuff. I know, coz Oskar told me once, when he’d had too much red wine.’
The defence industry? That was full of shady characters and dodgy deals. And Oskar was the vice president for defence. No wonder he wanted to keep his relationship with Maxim a secret.
‘Did Oskar get you the job as the president’s personal trainer?’ asked Britt.
‘No. American Fitness contacted the palace with an offer of a free personal trainer a couple of years ago. The president accepted. Maxim asked me to do it. He said it would be good PR to have someone like me in the palace. And I could keep all the fees.’
An idea came to Britt. ‘Did Maxim encourage you to make contacts at the palace?’
‘Yeah, he did. The president introduced me to Oskar not long after I started. And we, you know … got friendly pretty quickly.’ She checked that no one could overhear them. ‘I was worried at first. So I told Maxim about it. I didn’t want to lose my job because of some fling with a married politician. But he weren’t bothered. Actually, he was dead chuffed about it. He told me to bring Oskar here and I introduced them.’
‘So Maxim knew about your affair?’
‘Yeah. I didn’t tell Oskar that, though. Maxim told me not to.’
This information was solid gold. Mr Maxim had clearly been making big efforts to make contacts at the centre of government – contacts he could leverage in the future for his own gain.
Britt’s thoughts turned to Oskar’s presidential ambitions. ‘Did Oskar say anything about his political future?’
‘He never wanted to talk politics. I tried a few times. But he weren’t interested.’
There was no reason to doubt that. So, if Britt was going to confirm what she suspected – that Oskar was lining himself up to take over the presidency – she would have to speak to the man himself.
Cherry took a tentative step towards the gym entrance.
‘I’m not finished yet,’ growled Britt. It was time to engineer a meeting with Vice President Polak and see what he had to say for himself. ‘Do you have Oskar’s bleeper number?’
‘Yeah. Course.’
