Philian Gregory

by Simon J. Stephens

  “They shot Jones.”, he told Dexter as he entered the office, “Threw him in the pool, then fled on a bike. Don’t ask me what it means.”

  “What about us?”, Dexter asked.

  “That depends a little on what the files told you.”

  “All personal. A catalogue of Jones’ life of debauchery from his youth onwards. Some dates, some hints at others involved, but very much a personal record. And trust me, you don’t want to be looking at those photos unless you have to.”

  “Which actually helps us.”, Dave replied, “You put them back in the safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then this is what we’ll do.”

  When the police arrived, Dexter was on his own. That is, he was alone with the body of Jones.

  “They rushed me in the office.”, he told the senior officer who had sat him down and waited for paramedics to give him the all clear, “I was setting up a presentation to show Mr Jones. A project that we wanted him to be involved with. The lights went out and I was heading for the door when two men burst in, waved a gun at me, and demanded to know who I was.”

  “Go on.”, the police officer was frantically scribbling notes in his pocketbook.

  “I explained who I was and what I was doing there, and they muttered something to each other which I couldn’t understand. I don’t speak Spanish, I’m afraid. Then one of them took out a syringe from his jacket and pointed for me to kneel down. He pushed the needle into my arm and that’s all I remember. I came around, walked through the house and then saw Mr Jones in the pool. That was when I called you.”

  “And you didn’t hear or see anything else?”

  “I wish I could help you more,”, Dexter replied, “but even if I had, I don’t think I’d remember it now. My head feels like it’s been filled with cotton wool. Whatever they gave me, it’s taking a while to wear off.”

  “The paramedics say you’re showing signs of being given a very mild anaesthetic.”, the policeman explained, “They tested your blood here and picked up traces. I can’t remember the name of it, but it leaves no lasting harm. They can take you to hospital if you want, but you just need a good night’s sleep to let it wear off.”

  “I’d much rather go home.”, Dexter replied, “Are you done with me yet?”

  “I still have a few more questions,”, the officer said, “we can take more details from you tomorrow, but it would help us if you stayed a little longer. Do you feel up to it?”

  “Yeah, may as well get it over with now.”

  “Good. Now, this presentation that you were due to make to Mr Jones. It was for something called Harrison Hall, was it not?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Can you explain what that is?”

  Dexter told them and gave them a potted history of meeting Professor Richard Harrison and offering to help him out while he was in the country.

  “And this Professor Harrison was in the room with you when the intruders came?”

  “Actually,”, Dexter feigned a shocked look of understanding, “he’d just popped out to go to the toilet.”

  “And the two men who attacked you, they were wearing balaclavas?”

  “That’s what I told you. Balaclavas and dressed fully in black.”

  “So, it’s possible that one of them may have been this Professor Harrison?”

  “I don’t get what you mean.”

  “We’ve already begun our investigations and, even at this early stage, it seems that your Professor Harrison doesn’t exist. He’s disappeared without a trace and the paperwork he left behind seems to have been forged. In short, we think he used you to get access to Jones.”

  “Did he pay you for your work?”

  “No, we still had to agree terms.”, Dexter sighed, “We met at the hotel and when I explained I was a property developer, he told me about his proposal and I agreed to do some basic work. We were going to put the details together when we returned to England. Are you telling me that it was all a set-up?”

  “It looks that way.”

  “I should have been more cautious.”, Dexter sighed, “But you don’t think about things like that when it all seems so genuine. I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”, the police officer closed his notebook, “You aren’t the first person to have been taken in by a conman and you won’t be the last. I wouldn’t hold your breath for any fee though. As I say, this Professor Harrison has disappeared.”

  “Fortunately, I didn’t spend too much time on the project. But what was the motive? I told you the safe had been opened when I woke up, was it simply a robbery?”

  “That’s what we’re looking at,”, the officer called over one of his colleagues, “although they left behind some interesting documents that make us think this may be some sort of a revenge thing. Mr Jones seems to have been fortunate in some respects, as those documents raise a lot of questions. They may even explain the ‘C’ that his killers branded onto his chest. I’m sorry you had to see that. Now, my colleague here will drive you back to your hotel. You can come by in a day or so to collect your things. We’ll speak to the hire company about the car. We will probably have to impound it, but we’ll arrange another one.”

  “That’s very good of you.”, Dexter shook hands with the officer, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t have done more to save Mr Jones. He seemed such a nice guy.”

  “Believe me,”, the officer smiled as he walked away, “if you’d seen what we’d seen, you might well change your opinion on that. You have a safe journey and we’ll see you again soon.”

  Without bothering to put on its flashing lights, the police car whisked Dexter back along the narrow lane and deposited him at the door of his hotel. Tired and weary, still numb from the effects of the drug that had been intended for Jones, he stumbled up to his room and lay on the bed. Dave would be out of the country by now. All that he’d taken from the property were the two hard-drives that had stored the images from the CCTV cameras and which would tell the police a very different story. They’d talked about wiping them but Dave wanted to try and get a handle on the people who’d killed Jones. He had his suspicions. The ‘C’ that he’d seen branded into the chest of Jones was the biggest clue, but it all stacked up quite reasonably. The Circle was cleaning up. They’d already had their secrecy compromised and it seemed that they weren’t taking any more risks. That also explained their leaving the files to be found. They obviously knew that the damage Jones could do was only in the information he kept in his head and that his own personal records were just that, a store of memories to titillate and excite him. By killing him, they’d taken away any threat that his memories might present to them.

  Dexter would hang around for another week and tie up any loose ends on the deals he’d been doing. Things hadn’t quite gone according to plan, but it had been a useful experience for both of them. They’d review their strategy when they met in London, but Dexter was certainly beginning to veer towards Dave’s initial advice. It might be better to quit now, while they were ahead. To continue, only promised more danger.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “They bought it then?”, Dave asked as he took a seat opposite Dexter in the hotel foyer that was pleasantly quiet and which they’d chosen for its absence of cameras.

  “Seems that way.”, Dexter replied, “They’ve called me a couple of times, but there’s no suspicion on their part. They think I’m just a foolish dupe. Which is fine by me. You obviously got back alright then?”

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about me.”, the private investigator replied, “I change identity as often as I change my socks. I was in the UK the following morning and back home by lunchtime.”

  “How long was I out for?”

  “No more than an hour,”, Dave called the waiter over as he replied, “Just enough time for me to clean up and remove any traces th
at might implicate me. Club sandwich?”

  Dexter nodded and the order was placed, to be accompanied by the largest black coffee that was available.

  “Mind you, I had a good look through the contents of the safe when you were sleeping. That was some sick dude.”

  “Tell me about it.”, Dexter sighed, “Those photos took away any sympathy I had for the guy. I won’t lose any sleep about what happened, and you were right, the photos were found by the police and they’ve put two and two together and come to five. They see it as some sort of revenge killing. And they share our views on Jones’ death being something of a righteous correction. Did you get anything off the CCTV?”

  “Nothing useable. Just a grainy image of the guy coming in from the outside staircase. Not enough detail and he seemed to know that he was being filmed. I ran the recordings back and checked out the grounds, and I can tell you that there were two of them. The other guy threw the power switches. After which, I assume he readied the moped and drove the killer away. Again, nothing to identify him, although he seemed older. Shuffled a bit in his gait. Struggled to climb the perimeter wall.”

  “Something of a waste of time then?”

  “Not at all.”, Dave smiled as he replied, “Don’t forget that those hard-drives had some incriminating images of us. Any extra information was only ever going to be a bonus.”

  “So, everything’s wrapped up neatly.”

  “With just one little codicil.” Dave leaned closer in and whispered to Dexter, “I should tell you that I wasn’t being strictly accurate when I told you that the safe only contained those folders. There was a decent sum of money there as well. Fifty thousand Euros, neatly bundled up. I took it.”

  “To cover your fee?”

  “Not at all. I don’t need to steal to get by. No, I donated it to a charity that deals with young victims of abuse. Posted it anonymously and presume now that it is being used to do some good.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”, Dexter cleared a space on the table for the food that was being delivered, drawing his own sandwich closer to him and halving it with a knife.

  They ate in silence. That was their accepted routine. It was so much easier to get the food out of the way quickly and not to have to stop between mouthfuls to respond to the other’s comments. Neither of them were in the habit of eating breakfast, so this brunch deserved the attention that they gave it and both cleared their plates quickly.

  “So, what next?”, Dexter emptied his first cup of coffee and poured another from the pot that the waiter had thoughtfully left with them.

  “Before we decide.”, Dave replied, “I need you to take a look at these.”

  He opened his briefcase and removed several newspapers, each of which had been carefully folded to make the news stories he was interested immediately noticeable. Dexter took the papers and read the articles through carefully. There were three in total, each one detailing the death of a middle-aged or elderly man. The third and most recent was the first to begin to draw parallels and speculate about there being a new serial killer at large. Each death was by gunshot and each victim had a large ‘C’ branded onto their chest.

  “The Circle cleaning up?”, Dexter asked as passed the papers back to Dave.

  “Looks that way. Same details as Jones, who they don’t seem to have got wind of yet. And the tip of the iceberg in my view. They’re certainly acting quickly. And their actions must have some sort of bearing on the direction we take from here.”

  “What’s your view?”

  “Truthfully, I think we need to step back. I know this isn’t about retribution for you, but it looks like justice is being done anyway. And the more these people are eliminated, the less our likelihood of finding a link to Gregory. Added to which, the branding on the chest is unnecessary, unless it’s there to ward others off. Anyone who’s linked to The Circle or who, like us, is in pursuit of them, is being told in no uncertain terms that it’s all being taken care of.”

  “And the timing?”, Dexter asked, “Is it because we’ve started to sniff around? Or is it just a coincidence? I just don’t get why they’ve left it so long. There must be certain members behind this, which tells me that The Circle may not be as historic as we first thought it was. That adds another dimension.”

  “But one that the official forces of justice need to pursue.”, Dave paused to frame the right words, “That’s why we need to decide now. This isn’t a vigilante crusade against child abuse. Nor should it ever be for us. We can’t get in too deep.”

  “You’ve still got some names and details to pursue.”, he continued, “I can’t stop you going there. However, for all your solid facts, I have twice as many reliable whispers and rumours that tell me that we are heading into dangerous territory. I can only pull so many favours, but those I have make me reluctant to go on. When you were playing the role of Samson, Reynolds hinted at bigger things happening, right? Well, I’m getting similar hints from my sources. This may be more than a clean-up for clean-ups sake. It may be a purging of the past to set a stronger foundation for the future.”

  “You want to quit?”

  “Oh, please. Quit is such a negative word. It’s not about quitting. It’s about calling it a day. And yes, I need to step away from this now. And I advise you to do the same.”

  They talked some more, but Dave wouldn’t be pressed on the details of what he was hearing. Dexter didn’t push it too much as he’d come to like and respect Dave enough not to annoy him. Besides which, he was erring towards the same decision. Philian Gregory was out there somewhere, of that he was sure. But finding him was a near impossibility and, even if they did track him down, what could they do to help? The prognosis pointed more to Dexter joining Gregory in exile, wherever that was and whatever it meant, and to do so, sort of negated the point of the whole project.

  “I’ll leave it with you.”, Dave dropped a couple of notes on the table to pay the bill before reaching out to shake Dexter’s hand, “You’ve got my number if you need help, but don’t be upset if I choose not to reply. For what it’s worth, I’d recommend that you step away now. While you can. Think about my own approach. It takes a lot to make me move on and that should give you a hint that we’re not, in my opinion, just looking at a historic thing here. It’s live and it’s dangerous. Only you can make that decision though. Good luck.”

  As he watched Dave walk calmly out of the hotel, Dexter emptied the coffee pot and drank down the tepid liquid that remained. He knew that Dave was right. The whole thing had spiralled out of control. It was supposed to be a manhunt to find and help Philian Gregory, somebody to whom his connection was not far short of tenuous. Murder, robbery and deceit were never part of the original deal. Maybe Dave was right? They’d come a long way, seen some solid results, but now might well be the time to stop. When all was said and done, Bob Dexter remained as nothing more than a property developer. There was enough going on in that part of his life to keep him busy. Indeed, with certain new developments, his business demanded a little more attention. He decided to sleep on it. There were still two names to pursue but they might well lead to others in this infuriating cycle that he found himself in. To go on now meant more than just following up on those two people. He’d give it twenty-four hours and then take the fork in the crossroads that he felt was right. If any guidance were to be forthcoming in that period, he’d take it as a sign. Otherwise, his decision would be just another punt. Though hopefully, the right one.

  As it happened, the guidance he sought came within hours of his arriving back at his office in the centre of London. It came in the form of a two o’clock appointment that the twins had made on his behalf, confident that Dexter would understand their reasoning. His visitor arrived dead on time and Dexter welcomed him into his office.

  “Jeremy Saunders.”, the immaculately dressed and confidently smiling candidate reached out his hand to shake Dexter’s.
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br />   “Come in, come in, and please, take a seat.”, Dexter beckoned Saunders to the chair he had carefully positioned in front of his desk, returning to his own seat as the visitor settled.

  “Forgive me if I’m a little behind with things.”, Dexter told him, “Everything’s been a bit hectic of late and I’ve not been back in the country for long.”

  “Anywhere nice?”, Saunders asked.

  “Spain. And yes, very nice. And a very successful trip for the business as well. You know the country?”

  As if primed to impress Dexter, Saunders replied in Spanish, which he spoke with an impeccable accent and a confident fluidity.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”, Dexter laughed, “But you could have been saying anything. I can’t do languages. Or should I say, I’ve never felt compelled to. Still, might come in handy.”

  “So,”, he continued, “my secretaries tell me that you’ve been recommended to me as Project Manager for my new scheme in London. Your CV is impressive. As are the references that I’ve managed to secure from previous employers. You were at Oxford, I believe?”

  Saunders confirmed the fact and gave a potted history of his career to date, following his graduating with a first, which was swiftly followed by a Masters.

  “I’m one of those people,”, he concluded, “for whom the world was very much my oyster. I dabbled in a few things, travelled quite a lot, made some good moves and some serious mistakes, but every time, I always returned back to project management roles. It just feels right for me. The perfect fit for my skills and, although it’s not the most lucrative of occupations, it gives me real job satisfaction.”

  They talked through the rest of the formal interview questions and Saunders fielded every one of them perfectly. As they moved onto discussing the specifics of the development that Dexter needed managing, the answers continued to be spot on.