by AFN CLARKE
"I have been the real father to you for more years than you perhaps care to remember, Thomas. Not Ivan. Who was it you turned to after you quarrelled with him? Me. Who took you in when your world fell apart? Me." He paused and snorted contemptuously. "Put the gun down. You won't kill me because you can't. It would be like killing what's left of your family. And besides, you want to know why, don't you? Why I formed this coalition of like minds. Why I created The Order of the Orange Moon? You want to know what it's about, don’t you?" He was right, of course. One side of me was pulling the trigger; the other side was putting the gun down.
So far, it was a stalemate. He turned and pressed a button on the sideboard and a large flat screen plasma TV slid up into view, automatically turning on as it did so.
“I was going to keep this for the cigars and port, but now seems to be as good a time as any for everyone to see the full proposal.” The picture cleared and I could see it was the start of a promotional film, the first frames of which were a map of the world. Over it were dotted many digital flags, all with the symbol of the Orange Moon I had seen on the pot of body butter. The film ran silently showing mineral resources in different countries. Radical Islamic organisations in the Middle East. Zionist activities around the world. Christian evangelicals protesting abortions. Bombings. Riots. Chaos. Then images of a peaceful world. Wealthy. Healthy. Secure and totally unreal. "This is what it is all about. Power. The power to destroy and rebuild. The power to create, to form, to weld together a mass of people. To control the destinies of millions without them ever knowing they are being controlled for the greater good. That's what it's all about, Thomas. Power."
“And I thought you were an intelligent man, Hamish. You stand there like every other madman from Genghis Khan to Hitler, spouting about world domination."
"Power is the key,” Hamish continued as if he hadn't heard a word I said. “People want stability. They want safety. They want security. They want to live their lives as they've always lived their lives. They need people like us to retain the values that made us great nations, to retain our true identity as Britons, or Americans or Germans, or Dutch. People do not want their country given away piecemeal to any culture that decides to take it.” He paused to catch his breath and looked around the table. “These people here want what I can give them. People like your father thought he could control us with his billions, but it is us who controlled him.”
“You mean killed him.”
“I asked him to join us but he was too arrogant. Too full of himself and he threatened to destroy me, so I destroyed him instead, just like I will destroy anyone who opposes me.”
I turned to Radley. “And you're going along with all this are you? Or was it your idea to kill my father?”
“There are matters beyond your comprehension, Gunn.”
“I understand that I am in a room full of lying, murdering, greedy megalomaniacal bastards, which this country would be better off without.”
“Join me Thomas,” Hamish tried to smile but it was a grimace. “Join me. I could use someone like you.”
“That's what Marika Keskküla said just before she tried to blow me into little pieces.”
“An inconsequential woman with little sophistication.”
“Who stopped you from shooting me on the yacht.”
“I was angry.”
“You're probably insane.”
“I just hoped that you might see that what I'm doing is not evil. We can control industries and resources throughout the globe. Have them working in harmony and reach that Eden that we all want.” Hamish's eyes had a far away look and I could the see the others in the room were becoming more agitated as our tête-a-tête continued.
"It's over, Hamish. We recorded everything on audio tape and video."
"Nobody stops me, Thomas. What we are doing is not murder. It is surgery. How can the cancer be eradicated without cutting it out at the root, by cleansing the whole diseased body? People get hurt, that is a fact of life, but out of the ashes a new, cleaner system will be born."
"That's the only thing you've said that makes any sense." Julie stepped forward, staring with hatred and contempt at Hamish McDougall. “You're the cancer that has killed too many people and destroyed lives, so consider yourself cleansed,” she said quietly, and shot him between the eyes.
Everyone in the room froze as Hamish slid to the floor leaving a smear of blood against the ancient stone wall of the Martin Tower dining room. For a moment I was stunned as Julie had fired close to my left ear, but gradually the hearing returned as she lowered her gun and turned to Radley who stood and back against the wall.
“I suggest you have someone take these people out of here, Mr Radley,” she said evenly as we heard the sound of running on the battlement. Three Yeomen Warders, led by Robert Wrightwood, burst into the room.
“Mr Wrightwood please escort these people out,” Radley said stiffly, his eyes never leaving mine.
Robert looked at Hamish McDougall's body, then at me. “It seems that the Tower is a fitting place for traitors to meet their end, Robert,” I said and turned to Radley. “Wouldn't you agree Mr Radley?”
“So it would seem.”
“I take it this was a Secret Service operation sir,” Robert asked Radley.
“It was, Mr Wrightwood. It was.”
Robert smiled slightly and followed the line of dinner guests out of the dining room. We waited until they were all gone, leaving just the three of us, and Hamish’s stiffening corpse.
“That was unnecessary.”
“Was it? Try looking at it as rodent extermination.”
"You are both still liable under the Official Secrets Act. One mention of this business and I'll have you arrested faster than you can spit."
"What are you afraid of, Radley? That someone might get to know that the British Government almost let an insane organisation stage a coup in a foreign country in order to protect them from so-called insurgents. After all, we can't allow all that mineral wealth that has been newly discovered fall into enemy hands, can we?"
His face turned pale as I talked, and I knew I had it right. Hamish had been fed and nurtured, just as I had, and when the time was right we were thrown in and given enough information to keep us going, like salmon swimming up river. The stronger the current, the faster they swim.
"That is rubbish. You come out with a story like that and the British Government will tear you into little pieces. Besides, who would believe you?"
"We have audio and video tape, Mr Radley. We've done your dirty work for you, but just remember this, one threat against my family, or myself and I spread this story around. Some of the muck will stick and I'm betting that you won't last long if it does. I should have realised in the beginning that you were the one controlling everything. The members of ISEC were like schoolchildren playing a naive game compared to you. Well, for me it's over."
"Whatever you may think of me, or as you say ‘people like me’, I have only the best interests of this country at heart. My methods may seem immoral to you, but it is the best way I know of getting the job done. Neither you; your family; friends or the others who helped you tonight will be harassed. You have my word. Just one last thing. Would you have done what you did, if I had told you what was going on?"
There was silence between us whilst I considered the question.
"Probably not. "
"I didn't think so. Neither would I, if I had been in your place.”
I raised my gun and shot off the lobe of his left ear. He reeled away clutching the wound in shock. “That's to remind you of what you did to my family, Mr Radley.”
“You know you can never come back to this country, Mr Gunn,” he gasped.
“That’s not for you to decide. And if I do decide to come back, it will be to finish what I started here tonight. We have the audio and video, and you figure prominently. So I suggest you keep your word.”
“I would have taken McDougall down. Now that I know the full extent of
his operation.”
“Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't. Maybe you would just use him and these others for whatever nefarious little game of international intrigue you like to play.”
I took Julie's arm and we walked from the room.
Our escape from the Tower was more of a casual stroll to the waiting car than a frantic getaway.
Gerry and the team ran interference on our journey, cutting off the 'tail' Radley had put on us and allowing us to disappear into the late evening London traffic. Even the helicopter circling overhead could not pick out our vehicle because it was a 'blind car', especially equipped with laminar paint that changed the shape and GPS signature, so that it could not be picked up by the city's CCTV cameras or the helicopter's surveillance devices, and the nano transmitter the technician had injected into me, had self-destructed late that afternoon. Paul checked his receiver to make sure.
Radley should have known that we still had access to special forces assets, but he had been too comfortable in his game. Too confident in thinking for us the mission was over, believing that like good soldiers we would just hand in our weapons and say goodbye. Until the next time we were needed.
Edwards and Professor Oldfield were waiting for Julie, Paul and myself in the Golden Lion. Edwards led the way into the basement the room beneath the auction house across the street. Oldfield booted up the computer while I opened the letter Edwards had kept for me.
“Do you want to tell us what this is all about?” Paul stared around the room looking for hidden cameras.
“Money. Gunn Group money.” That caught their attention. “This whole Orange Moon scheme has been about syphoning liquid assets to Banks, Trust funds, and offshore venture capital investment companies. It's been about acquiring mineral resources in foreign countries in order to control the world price. The more ISEC and the members of the Order of the Orange Moon have, the more they could dominate Governments around the globe. My father knew this. When Edwards handed me the letter a few months ago I knew what was going on but not exactly who the players were.”
“So what does it say?” Julie leaned over trying to read the letter upside down.
“It's a list of money transfers. Gunn Group companies that Adrian embezzled from on behalf of ISEC, and a bank account that was set aside for me.” I looked at Edwards. “You are the trustee Mr Edwards, but you knew that didn't you.”
“Indeed sir. Nobody looks at a little old man working as a porter in a gentleman's club.” He smiled as if remembering an old joke. “Your father thought it quite amusing.” He looked up at me and I saw tears in his eyes. “I loved Sir Ivan, Mr Thomas. Loved him like a brother. He told me to look out for you. That you were a contrary man, but he loved you very much and knew you would get to the bottom of this. The trust account is your legacy, because he also knew that you could never inherit the Gunn Group. They wouldn't allow it.”
“Did you receive a call from Morgan Alvarez, Edwards?” I asked.
He looked puzzled. “No sir. I've never heard of her.”
“When she calls, let me know.”
“Of course.”
Paul frowned. “It's not finished?”
“I'm not sure. Maybe not. I have a friend checking some finance companies in the US.”
“Just let us know.”
“You know I will.”
Julie crossed to Edwards and put her arms around his thin shoulders, held him for a moment and then kissed him on each cheek, then kissed each of the team.
I turned to Oldfield and handed him the letter. “I need you to empty the accounts of these companies. Wipe them out.”
“But that will bankrupt them and Gunn Group Industries.”
“Indeed it will, but would you rather Radley and the remnants of ISEC and the Order of the Orange Moon line their pockets instead.”
He nodded. “I see your point.”
“And I would like a payment made every month from my trust account to Saint Theresa's House in Shannon of £30,000 in perpetuity.” I glanced at Edwards. “If that is okay with Mr Edwards.”
“Of course sir. Mr Danny would want it so,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. I looked at him a little more carefully. “Sir Ivan watched you very carefully Mr Thomas.”
“One more thing.” I turned to Paul. “You and the rest of the boys will be out of a job now. The trust will put you all on a retainer. Give Edwards your account details; the Professor will encrypt them so that not even Radley will ever find out. Right Professor?”
“Whatever you say?” There was a lingering question in his reply.
“And I believe you have been looking for a research grant.”
“You have a plane to catch,” he said dryly, with a broad grin.
Coming soon
The second book in the Thomas Gunn thriller series
Other books by the Author
autobiography
CONTACT
literary fiction
COLLISIONS
AN UNQUIET AMERICAN
DRY TORTUGAS
humour & satire
THE BOOK OF BAKER: Part One - Dreams from the Death Age
THE BOOK OF BAKER: Part Two - Armageddon
These books are available on www.amazon.com and www.amazon.co.uk
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