He still thought in much the same way. Life was about choices. You made your choices and you reaped the benefits or paid the price. He’d chosen medicine and had grown wealthy and respected on it. He’d chosen to indulge his less savoury tastes and might one day pay the price. He was comfortable with what he’d done, but fully aware that the days of plenty might end very soon and a high price would need to be paid.
It was Llewellyn that tidied up the Three Hombres situation. Sutherland’s death was routinely ticked off by his own GP and there was nothing to raise any suspicion about his ‘natural causes’ verdict. Wilkins had been a little trickier. What remained of him was gathered together and separated from the twisted remains of his beloved car by those who attended the scene, before being taken to the nearest mortuary. A few words in the right places and a favour called in from a colleague ensured that the post-mortem on Wilkins found extremely high levels of alcohol in his bloodstream. That was the beauty of post-mortems. They were one-offs. They weren’t closely monitored, for the most part, and the word of the attending physician was taken as gospel. Besides, it wasn’t as if Wilkins had any close friends or family who would want to dispute the findings.
Which left Paul Roberts. He’d been asked to take the last of the evidence to Llewellyn. His call to Mitchell Knight had been triumphant and positively received. So positively in fact, that Knight had proposed the journey to Harley Street as a bonus.
“Since you’re free to enjoy your new life,”, Mitchell had told him, “we thought you’d appreciate a health check as well. Alan will give you the once over, treat anything that needs tweaking, then we’ll be done. Sound good?”
With hindsight, Roberts now realised that he’d been a little naïve in all this. After so many years of their tense relationship, it was all a little bit too amicable really. But then, what use was hindsight? It was so frustrating though. The meeting with Llewellyn had been going so well and they’d treated him like royalty from the moment he’d stepped through the clinic’s doors. He should never have let the doctor administer the tetanus jab.
“You understand the situation?”, Llewellyn’s voice was clear but seemed to come from a faraway place, even though he could see him in front of him.
“Not really,”, he managed to reply, his words slurred as they left his rapidly-numbing lips, “I thought this was a check-up.”
“My dear boy,”, the doctor explained, “a check-up this certainly is not. You see, we need to ensure that we dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s just now and, I’m afraid, that means your termination.”
Roberts was surprised how calmly he took this news. It was inevitable really. He’d been stupid to trust them and even more stupid to believe that they’d simply send him on his way.
“The files that you retrieved,”, Llewellyn continued, “were exactly what we needed. You could even say they were just what the doctor ordered. No? Not in the mood for humour. Understandable, I suppose. Now, let me explain. Everything you have given us is perfect. The Three Hombres present no threat to us anymore and rest assured, your work has bought peace of mind to a lot of people. But there remains one final source of evidence that we need to tackle.”
Llewellyn drew closer to him and he felt restraints being placed on his wrist and around his ankles.
“Inside here,”, the doctor tapped Roberts’ forehead lightly, “there remains information that we wouldn’t want out in the public domain. What to do then? We could trust you to stay quiet. Not really a definitive solution. We could lobotomize you and destroy it that way. Again, a bit messy and uncertain. Besides which, not really the life that you would like to lead. Which leaves us with the best option all-round. Your death. You probably can’t feel much just now, but I have just inserted a needle in your arm. We’re not monsters. We have no intention of making you suffer. That needle is filling you up slowly with a nice, fatal dose of heroin. It is, I’m told, a surprisingly pleasant way to go. All you’ll be aware of is the euphoria that comes before the oblivion. Is it kicking in yet?”
The last of the Hombres didn’t reply. Despite the knowledge that this was the moment of his death, he was struggling to battle against the drug that was making that same moment one of extreme pleasure. Resistance was futile. If this was how it had to be, he may as well give in to it. He couldn’t form any final words despite this being one of those occasions when they would seem so appropriate. Instead, he let out a long sigh and went to join his pals.
The orderly who removed Roberts from the doctor’s consulting room knew exactly what to do. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. They paid him well, they looked after him in numerous other ways and he was happy to carry out the doctor’s orders without any qualms. They’d been together for ten years now. He could tell a lot of tales if he wanted to do. He never would though. He truly was the model of a trustworthy employee.
Whilst Roberts was being reduced to manageable chunks in preparation for incineration in the clinics medical waste furnace, Llewellyn was making a phone call.
“Your prescription has been completed.”, he told the person on the other end of the line, “I believe that we can safely say that this particular ailment should now trouble you no more.”
He didn’t expect a response. R very rarely spoke more than a few words. It was just the way he was. Some might say he was over-cautious, but then, he needed to be. Of all the people who had been endangered by the data that the Three Hombres held, he was probably the one with most to lose. That would change over time. The voters would ask for change at some point and he would be forced to move into a lucrative career as a consultant. He had no intention of hastening that day. Not with the plans that he still wished to see come to fruition. His position gave him the power to effect the changes he believed were right for the country. He’d earned that position and the public were on his side. They couldn’t be allowed to see his other side. Not yet.
******
Aside from tailing Wilkins to his solicitors, Hendricks and Powell had had little to do with the termination of the Three Hombres. They were concentrating on their own objective. An objective that had, long ago, become an obsession for them, and an objective that still eluded them after so many years. They were not the sort of people who enjoyed being beaten. Particularly not by a homeless ex-school teacher and a naïve City trader. Like Roberts, they wanted this one to end soon in order that they might move on, even retire. Unlike Roberts, they had enough untouchable leverage to ensure that they would be allowed to enjoy that future.
The search program had been running silently for over a week without yielding any new information. A small part of the duo gained some satisfaction from this. Nobody wanted to be outsmarted by a computer. The greater part of their thinking prevailed however, and they checked the monitors hourly, hoping to see the breakthrough that they needed. Running the program had forced them to think in different ways. It asked for information that they would never have considered of any value and it took them along lines of enquiry that seemed to have no bearing on the goal they were seeking. Still, they dutifully fed in the information and waited for the next instructions. When it finally yielded up its secrets and recommended the best course of action, its proposal was met with a certain degree of scepticism.
“It doesn’t make sense.”, Hendricks said as he tried to make sense of what they were reading, “This is an avenue we’ve already exhausted. It’s the no-brainer we checked off at the start. No way can this be right.”
“Let me have a look.”, Powell took the sheath of papers off his colleague and took them over his desk, where he spent some time trying to decipher them.
“Any luck?”, Hendricks asked.
“I don’t know.”, Powell replied, “I can see where you’re coming from. This is something we tackled early on and, with all the monitoring we still have in place, nothing has come up to make us think differently. And yet, there may be some logic in
what this output recommends. Besides, who are we to argue? It’s not like we’re coming up with any alternatives, is it?”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“I suggest that we at least investigate this. Before we do though, I want to run it by the higher-ups, see what they make of it. If it’s right, then we’re going to need authorisation anyway.”
They patched themselves through to P and explained their situation. it didn’t take them long to receive their reply.
“If the program suggests it,”, P told them curtly, “then it’s what you do. Remember why we gave it to you. It was to help you see what you couldn’t see yourselves. Why doubt it? As for authorisation, don’t ask me again. You do what you have to do and you act quickly. I’m getting a lot of heat here. If this is the breakthrough we need, get out there and make the most of it.”
The course of action proposed by the program required very little planning. What they were about to do, they’d done many times before and the tools they needed were all close to hand in the secure lock-up that only they knew about. A visit there, followed by a few brief phone calls and a couple of reconnaissance visits to the target location and they were ready to move.
Blissfully unaware of the changes that were soon to happen in her life, Amanda Courtney relaxed with a glass of red as the pasta dish she’d just prepared cooked itself off in the oven. It had been a long day at work. The campaigns that she was overseeing were delivering results alright, but keeping ahead of the game was becoming increasingly difficult. On top of all that, she was finding it more and more difficult to fend off the attentions of the Financial Director, who seemed intent on pursuing a relationship with her, despite her constant rebuttals. It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive, nor was she particularly content to be without male company, even after the brief affair that had fizzled out soon after she’d left her long-term partner. No, it was Philian Gregory who left her in isolation. They’d parted amicably, accepted their weaknesses and the end of the relationship, and they’d both acknowledged that they’d had a good run of it. But after they’d parted, she’d seen a side of Philian that she had never seen before. She knew little of the detail, other than that he had given up everything he had to help a homeless man, but that was more than enough. When she’d spoken to him last and been able to help him, she’d so wanted to reach out some more and be there with him in his troubles. That was the part that she didn’t really understand. Until she did, she couldn’t simply yield to another relationship.
When her buzzer sounded and she saw the motorcycle courier standing in the porch of the small block of flats where she lived, she thought nothing of pressing the button to allow him in. The company she worked for was a global business and much of what she dealt with was data of a highly sensitive and very valuable nature. It wasn’t unusual for her to be asked to work late into the night, nor was it strange that documents be delivered at all hours.
“Oh, well,”, she thought, “there goes another peaceful evening.”
Opening the door to the courier, she smiled as she reached for the offered package and waited to be asked to sign for it. The clipboard she expected to be presented didn’t appear though. Instead, she caught a brief glimpse of the barrel of a gun and felt the sharp sting as it hit her with a tranquilising dart. The briefest moment that she had in which to cry out, disappeared unused in her shocked state. Instead, she felt her whole body relax and then it all went black.
Chapter Twelve
“Come on, love, time to wake up.”, a distant voice grew louder as Amanda Courtney began to regain consciousness.
“Give her a little encouragement.”, she heard a different voice saying, just moments before she felt the slap on her face.
Rage suddenly rising up within her, Amanda Courtney responded to the slap by lashing out and responding to the slap with a punch of her own. At least, that’s what she thought she’d done. In reality, she’d simple thrashed about a little and mumbled something incomprehensible.
“She’s coming back.”, she heard someone say, “Get her some coffee. And double check the restraints.”
By the time the coffee was being pressed against her lips, she was almost fully conscious. She remembered the sequence of events, the courier, the dart and then the sleep, but none of it made sense to her.
“I think you may have made a mistake.”, she finally managed to force a few words out, realising then why she hadn’t been gagged as well as bound. Whatever they’d given her left behind a body in a very weakened state and a voice that was barely able to whisper, never mind scream for help.
“No mistake, love.”, she looked up to see a balding, middle-aged man smiling down at her, “Unless you’re not Amanda Courtney. Which I very much doubt is the case, given that we’ve searched every part of your home and found enough photographs and supporting documents to confirm your identity.”
“Okay,”, she sighed, “so it’s me you want. But what for?”
“Funnily enough,”, the man pulled up a chair and sat closer to Amanda, “it’s not you that we want. We might need you just now, but we want somebody else. And that’s all you have to do for us, give us Philian Gregory and our work here is done.”
Another chair was pulled up next to Amanda and a fresh cup of coffee raised to her lips. Despite wanting to refuse the offered drink, she needed it if she was to understand what was happening and so she took her time sipping it and letting it wake her up.
“I don’t know where he is.”, she told them.
“Okay,”, the younger of the two replied, “now that’s a start. And surprisingly, we actually believe you. It seems that whatever help you’ve given him, you’ve been very careful to cover up your tracks. But that doesn’t quite explain this.”
She looked at the expired cheque that he waved in front of her, the signature reminding her of the same scribble that Philian had always left on the bottom of the numerous love letters he’d left around the place when they first started courting.
“We were an item once.”, she explained, “I lent Philian some money and the cheques a sort of IOU. Look at the date, it isn’t even valid anymore.”
“We thought you’d take that tack.”, he replied, “And, were it not for some other information in our possession, we might be inclined to believe you. But there’s also this.”
She shuddered as he held up the note that Philian had left for her with his contact details. It was torn at the bottom where she’d removed the phone number. She knew then that she should have disposed of the whole thing, but then, it had been a reminder to her. It was the first time that she’d seen Philian asking humbly for help and she’d kept it for that reason.
“Again,”, she whispered, “a piece of the past. Philian and I haven’t been in touch for a long time. I know he’s disappeared, but that’s all I know.”
She watched as the two men stood and walked to the far side of the apartment. She could see their faces clearly and trembled as she understood the implications of that. If they didn’t feel that they needed to hide their identity, then who were they? They didn’t look official and their methods were certainly not legitimate. If then, they were here illegally, what would prevent her telling the police and given them a description? That was when she realised that she wasn’t going to have that opportunity. It was a moment of revelation that caused her to break down in tears, but it was also a moment of realisation that encouraged her to go out fighting.
“Let me explain something.”, the older man walked towards Amanda and removed a linen cloth from his pocket, which he then used to gag her, “In fact, let me explain a few things. You see, despite what you may think, we are not really that nasty. It’s just the work we’re involved in. It sometimes requires us do things that we may not always want to do. You understand this, don’t you?”
She closed her eyes and simply shook her head. The slap was unexpected.
“We
can make you look at us if we have to.”, the other man said, “But, believe me, that’s not a pleasant experience. So, no more of the ignoring us, okay?”
They took her silence as agreement.
“First of all,”, one of them said, “let us introduce ourselves. My name is Powell and this is my colleague, Hendricks. Like the gin. Only not so smooth on the palette.”
“And, yes,”, Hendricks took over the conversation, “those are our real names, which should tell you that we like to get to know the people we work with and that we have a certain degree of protection that means your response to our visit will have no teeth whatsoever. You see, your boyfriend has got himself caught up in things that neither of you are really prepared for. In a way, it’s a shame. You’re the innocent victim, whereas Mr Gregory just seems to be … well … a deeply misled participant.”
They sat down beside her again.
“Sadly,”, Powell spoke next, “the situation that you both find yourself in is one that we have to deal with. We can’t simply turn the clocks back. So, let me explain a little about what led us to your door. You see, Amanda Courtney isn’t just the person that we see in front of us. You are also a construct of everything that you have read, written and done over your lifetime. Less so, the early years, but they don’t really count. What we want to focus on is the Amanda Courtney of the past twenty years or so. The Amanda Courtney for whom substantial electronic records exist. Are you with me so far?”
She nodded but this time stared directly at Powell as she did so.
“Good. Now, to continue. Despite what you may think about the human propensity to act independently and to be creatures of free will, we are in fact, very much creatures of habit. We know what we like and we like what we know. You, for example, are a keen skier and an equally keen fan of some of the most luxurious hotel complexes in sunny climes. A bit of a contrast, yes, but understandable. One holiday on the icy slopes, another enjoying sun, sand and sea. And your trust fund enables you to enjoy both at regular intervals. That same trust fund, coupled with your successful and well-paid career also allows you to save, invest and even, donate, substantial sums at regular intervals. That was our big mistake, you see. We saw the big transfer that you sent and just lumped it in with the others.”
Philian Gregory Page 11
