The result that Dexter was prepared to wait a week or more for came surprisingly quickly. It had taken Dave less than twenty-four hours and for once, when he rang with the information, his cheery manner seemed to have been replaced with a tone that had more than a hint of fear in it.
“I’ve got what you want,”, he told Dexter, “but I’m not sure you really want it. We’ll meet tomorrow at our spot. Before we do, you need to know, you may be getting into very murky waters. If you choose not to show, I’ll respect that. I’ll destroy the information and we never had this conversation.”
“I’ll be there.”, Dexter replied calmly.
True to his word, the two men met the following day.
Chapter Seventeen
The hotel was one that Dexter used frequently and the recognition he received from the staff there meant that a discrete booth in a corner of the large lounge was made available to them. They ordered coffees, waited for the smiling waiter to arrange these and the accompanying trimmings before them, then Dexter nodded and Dave began.
“First off,”, he said, “you need to know that this is only a preliminary report. Real top-line stuff. I could find out a lot more, but I’m stopping here for now.”
“Go on.”
“The names you gave me, they don’t mean a great deal in themselves. However, there are strong hints that behind those names are some powerful forces. The word is that this Amanda Courtney, Gregory’s ex-partner, was killed by those forces. You sure you want me to carry on?”
Although vindicating his own stance on Gregory’s innocence, that revelation was hardly reassuring. What had begun as a seemingly simple request for some basic information had now become a choice. Dexter drained his coffee and considered his response. Was Philian Gregory that important to him? Did he really want to risk being caught up in a web that he might not be able to escape from?
“I guess,”, he eventually replied, “I have little choice in this. If I leave it now, I may never be able to reconcile myself to that action. More so, when I think that Gregory is being pursued for something that we all know he didn’t do. He may need help. Whether I can offer that help or not, I don’t know. Let’s do this and see where it goes.”
“The first three names,”, Dave leaned closer to Dexter as he spoke, “are on public record. Roberts, Sutherland and Wilkins are easily found on the internet. Twenty years ago, they were convicted of abducting, imprisoning, raping and murdering a young kid. The only interesting additional detail that isn’t so obvious is that they were released last year, since when, they’ve disappeared from view completely. No records, no attendance at probationary meetings, no activity at all under their old names. Either they were given new identities or they fell out with the wrong people. My sources tell me that they were ‘off-limits’ whilst in prison.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that they were protected. None of it is official of course, but it happens all the time. Fellow inmates are warned off. Even the toughest of the long-termers accept these rules. To ignore them isn’t worth it. So, they did time, disappeared on release and were looked after whilst they were in the nick. That tells me that they were some sort of patsies.”
“But the conviction was sound?”, Dexter asked.
“As a bell,”, Dave replied, “which makes it all the more unusual that they received special treatment. You may remember the case. The father of the child conducted his own investigations, forced the police to act, but not before he’d exacted his revenge. He emasculated the three before handing them over. And that father is another link in the chain. You see, his name also appears on Gregory’s list. Nathan Carrington.”
“You’re right.”, Dexter stared into the distance as he tried to recall details, “I do remember something of the case. Saw some PBS documentary on it a few years back. There was a public outcry over his sentencing. Calls for him to be shown leniency. Ten years, wasn’t it?”
“Which he did without any incident, after which, no trace of him. Another disappearance. The only word I’m hearing is that he went on the streets. Which tells me that he was feeling threatened. Which sort of fits with the rest.”
“On the streets?”
“He became a tramp. He came out of prison, tidied up his affairs and then just disappeared.”
Something niggled at Dexter as he heard this. He couldn’t quite place it, but something about what he was hearing stirred a memory in him. It was there but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“You alright?”, Dave asked.
“Sorry, just trying to remember something. Please, go on.”
“Everything so far can be pretty much taken as fact. It wasn’t difficult to pull together and the sources I’ve used are reliable. Where it becomes less clear is in trying to go beyond these facts. The other two names on the list seem completely out of place. Paul Philips, you know. He presents primetime television shows. Geoff Samson, well, he could be any of a dozen who share that name. None of them of any public note.”
He paused to call the waiter over and ordered more coffee.
“The only other mystery is what Gregory meant when he wrote down, ‘The Circle’.”, he resumed, “And that’s where I’m coming from when I tell you that this may be taking us into the kind of territory that we might not want to go into. There are whispers and rumours that a group calling itself The Circle was active in the period before the others were imprisoned. All I can glean from my information is that it was a ring of like-minded individuals who seemed to share unusual sexual tastes, including, for young children. That may be the link with Carrington.”
“A paedophile ring?”
“To put it crudely, yes. But more than that. More of an affiliation of excess. Child abuse was a part, but there were no limits to what they dabbled in. Mind you, it’s all still rumour and speculation. Even for me. You know my methods. People talk to me and I can access the most expertly hidden databases there are. When I started to look into this though, those who would tell me anything about anything else simply clammed up. You could see and hear the fear in their response. And I got kicked out of more servers than I can remember once I started searching for more information. So, that’s really it in a nutshell. Something’s going on, Gregory seems to have got himself snared up in it, although I can’t think how, and behind the simple facts, you’re looking at potential murder, cover-ups and what may be a very messy conspiracy.”
“I appreciate your honesty,”, Dexter replied after considering what he’d been told, “and you’ve done well with the limited information I gave you. The question is, what would you advise?”
“That’s up to you. But if it was me, and given the limited connection that you have with Gregory, I’d say leave well alone. It may all be coincidence. The only real connection is with Amanda Courtney and that’s tentative. My contacts are good but they’re still the sort of people you treat with caution. Courtney was killed horrifically, and the press have been used to draw Gregory into the picture. It’s quite feasible that my sources are simply speculating.”
“And if I chose to pursue it further?”
“If it helps you decide,”, Dave replied, “and being totally honest with you, I’d have to say no. It’s not my thing. I’ve been stung before and asked to back off and I can’t see this one going any differently. Call it cowardice if you like, but don’t judge me too harshly. I still have a lot to give. This one just doesn’t seem to be the one for me to lay my life down over.”
“It’s as serious as that?”
“It might well be.”, Dave paused before continuing, “You’ve asked my advice and I’ve given it. And I’ve told you where I stand. That’s it for now. You have to make your own choice, but make it wisely.”
They both stood, shook hands, and then Dave left, leaving Dexter to settle back down and order another coffee. He was a man who made decisions and stuck to them. The busin
ess world respected that side of him. What they never really knew however, was the agonising processes that he sometimes had to go through to reach his decisions. This was something that had come out of nothing, but which now commanded his whole attention. He switched his phone off and settled back to think things through.
Despite the background hum of the busy hotel lobby, Dexter had managed to zone-out and an hour later was resolved to garner further information before making a final decision. The brief flash of memory that had appeared during his conversation with Dave had clarified itself in his mind and there was somewhere that he needed to go. He called the waiter over, handed him a credit card and signed for the lunch. As usual, he slipped a discrete fiver under the plates that he’d neatly stacked and walked quietly out of the hotel before the tip was discovered.
The weather was dull but there was no threat of rain, so Dexter chose to walk through the city centre towards his destination. He had a car on call, should the weather change, but he preferred to join the maddening throng as they hurried about their lives. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Nor was he a furtive fugitive seeking to evade capture. And yet, he somehow felt more comfortable being shielded from the numerous banks of CCTV cameras by a thousand anonymous faces. He kept his head down and took a circuitous route, knowing always that such displacement activity was essentially futile, but it made him feel a bit better and gave him brief periods of respite from the jostling crowds and the hazards of pedestrians glued to their mobiles.
The plaza hadn’t changed. The offices of LMBA still rose up at the centre and the various peripheral businesses surrounding the area remained as they were. Maybe one or two of the cafes had changed hands and were now offering the latest high-fashion food trends, but that was something you could never be certain of. They all looked pretty much the same and their passing was rarely an incident worth note. Dexter wasn’t a foodie. Food, to him, was something that was functional. He’d enjoyed the experimental offerings that came along occasionally as a by-product of his business life, but his preference would always be for the simple, the quick and the easy. Food that you didn’t need to research before eating it. In the corner of the plaza, the kiosk remained. He walked slowly towards it.
“Just a plain black coffee.”, he affected his natural stateside accent as he ordered the drink.
“Certainly, Sir.”, Terry Watson knew the value of an upbeat greeting.
“You over visiting?”, he continued as he waited for the shot to be forced through the machine.
“Not now, no.”, Dexter replied, “I live here. Despite the fact that it’s nigh on impossible to get a decent cup of coffee here. No offence.”
“None taken, sir,”, Watson laughed, “and I agree with you. Oh, for the good old days of the filter coffee pot and the simple choice of black or white. Still, I can’t complain. It keeps me in business.”
“You have a good reputation.”, Dexter told him, “You were recommended to me by a friend.”
“Oh, yes?”, Watson handed the coffee across to his customer.
“Guy who used to work there.”, Dexter pointed to the office block, “How much do I owe you?”
“That’s just three pounds.”
“I love the ‘just’ in that!”, Dexter paid and took a sip of the drink, “Worth it I suppose.”
“So, who was it recommended me?”, Terry asked.
“Philian Gregory. I understand he used to be a regular.”
“Now, there’s a blast from the past.”, Watson seemed thrown by the name, “Haven’t seen him for a long time. Vanished, he did. Really odd. Then he resurfaced on television after the death of his ex. You’re not involved with that, are you?”
“Please,”, Dexter smiled, “do I look like a cop?”
“No, suppose not. Anyway, I’ve already told them that I don’t know anything other than that Philian Gregory is no killer. You any idea why he disappeared?”
“I’m afraid not,”, Dexter eyed up the kiosk owner as he spoke, “it was a mystery to all of us. Were you here when he was last seen?”
“I’m always here, mate!”, Watson replied, “But yeah, I remembered it all being a bit odd when he failed to show. That was what stuck in my mind about it at the time. It was the day after that I thought about it. You see, he was a real regular. Spent a lot with me. I saw him every day and so, when he didn’t pop over, it was unusual.”
“I didn’t realise he was such a coffee fan.”, Dexter probed.
“No, it wasn’t really about that. He used to buy food and drink for a homeless guy who had himself settled in a spot across the way there. I don’t know what their relationship was, but Gregory used to look after him. Sometimes, you’d even see them sitting together. Unusual for these parts, but he seemed to get something out of it.”
“And then, he just stopped coming?”
“That’s about it. As I say, it was only the day after that I noticed. First thing was, the homeless guy wasn’t there. Figured he’d been hitting the bottle the night before. Then, no Gregory either. And that’s how it’s been since.”
“So, the homeless guy disappeared at the same time as Gregory?”
“As far as I remember, yes.”, Watson paused, “Odd really, when you come to think of it. Can’t see the two things being connected. But yeah, I’d say it was the same day.”
Dexter drained his coffee and thanked Watson for his time. The cost of the coffee had been more than worth it and the information was priceless. He’d seen Philian on a number of occasions looking after the beggar that LMBA had done everything to get rid of. Sheridan Harper had an office that looked directly out onto plaza and it was when he was in that office that Dexter had seen Philian doing his small act of charity. It had impressed him. Now, it haunted him. Dave had mentioned that one of the names on Philian’s list was somebody who had become homeless. Nathan Carrington. There was a link between the two and perhaps this was it. Could it be that Carrington and that beggar were the same man? And, if so, where was the connection between him and Gregory?
Chapter Eighteen
It was a difficult decision for Bob Dexter to make. The facts were simply a little too tenuous. He had the information from Dave. Information that also came with a warning. And he had the testimony of the kiosk holder which only served to muddy the waters even more. He needed to know more and, after several restless nights, he began to formulate some sort of a plan that he hoped would help bring him to a decision one way or the other.
There were, as Dave had correctly informed him, a dozen people called Geoff Samson whose personal profiles established them as being of the right age to have some connection to the events surrounding The Circle. It was always going to be a long shot. And it was always going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Except for one thing. Geoff Samson came to Dexter in another extraordinary twist of fate.
Ordinarily, Dexter’s calls were fielded by one or other of his loyal secretaries, a pair of identical twins who had been with him for over a decade now. They worked in shifts, alternating their responsibilities but always able to pick up where the other left off thanks to that unusual and inexplicable bond such twins were often endowed with. To say that they were totally identical would be to slightly mislead though. One was male and one was female. Aside from that small difference, they were interchangeable. Zoe Summers was the eldest to her brother, Sam, by a matter of less than a minute. That accident of fate was immaterial in their relationship and they considered themselves true equals in a way that very few siblings ever did. Dexter trusted them implicitly and relied on them more than he would ever admit. For that reason, he was comfortable to feed them some of the names that he wanted them to be alert for. They had access to numerous diverse databases and had been searching for information for Dexter when one of their marks made an unexpected appearance.
“Mr Dexter,”, Zoe interrupted her boss in the sure knowledge that he wouldn’t blame
her for doing so, “I have a call on the line that you might wish to take.”
“Who is it?”
“A gentleman called Geoff Samson, calling from Meridian Estates. Ordinarily, I’d deal with it myself, but the name was on your list.”
“That’s fine, Zoe.”, Dexter cleared a space on his desk as he spoke, “Put him through.”
“Mr Dexter, Sir?”, Samson seemed to have been thrown by gaining immediate access to the main man, “Geoff Samson from Meridian. How are you today?”
“I’m fine thanks.”, Dexter chose one of his less aggressive personas to respond, “What can I do for you?”
“We’ve just received an instruction on a piece of real estate that we thought you might be interested in.”, Samson explained, “Usually, we’d put it straight on the market but the client has agreed that we can approach a few prospective buyers before going public. Have you got a minute to discuss the details?”
Having agreed to listen to the sales pitch, Dexter settled back in his chair and let the estate agent talk him through the deal. At regular intervals, he interrupted the salesman’s flow with pertinent questions timed to break down the smooth and rehearsed speech and help him discover the truth behind it. In fact, the deal was a pretty good one. The properties being offered were the perfect fit for Dexter’s portfolio, although the price was way off the mark. That had never been a barrier in the past though, so the call was concluded with an agreement to meet at the site the following day.
The meeting was the usual fayre for Dexter. A tour through the various units being offered, a detailed folder with all the specifications for him to take away and the obligatory lunch afterwards, where the real sales pitch would begin. Dexter cut that pitch short by expressing a genuine interest in what was being offered and promising to get back to Samson within a few days. Various attempts at closing the deal on the spot were rebuffed and Samson gave way in the end. That allowed the rest of the lunch to be dominated by general conversation, much of which was steered by Dexter.
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