by Linda Coles
Sebastian nodded and rested his head back as the Jeep pulled out of the lodge complex and they made their way out for the day. After a long flight yesterday, it didn’t take Sebastian long to nod off as the warming sun rose further in the sky and they travelled to their first destination of the day.
It was a little over an hour later when the small group finally came to a stop and they prepared to leave on foot. They took a rifle each, and Tanaka took the AK-47. Albert and Sebastian hung back a little to give him some room to look for spoor, evidence that animals had been through recently. Tracks in the dirt were easier to see than other clues, but each small sign signified what or where the animal may be, what direction it had gone in. Tanaka took his time reading the signs until he was happy there was something to follow. Quietly, he raised his arm and signalled the others, being careful not to make any unnecessary noise and spook other animals, which could in turn spook the actual animals they were hunting.
Staying downwind, Albert and Sebastian kept close together, walking slowly through the low scrub bushes, tuning into their surroundings with their eyes and ears, staying alert at all times. Just because they couldn’t see an animal nearby didn’t mean there weren’t any hiding, and the last thing they wanted was to be surprised and attacked as they stumbled across something dangerous. Tanaka had his AK poised at the ready just in case.
Slowly, they crept forward, and after thirty minutes tracking in the dirt, Tanaka stopped up ahead and alerted the others to stand still with a raised hand. Albert whispered to Sebastian that up ahead was a watering spot with an impala nearby, nervously listening, deciding whether to flee or not. “Do you want to take the shot, Mr. Stevens?”
“Yes, of course. Good practice for tomorrow,” he whispered back, and they moved forward slowly towards the water. Sebastian engaged a bullet for fire, crouching down behind a fallen tree to take aim. Kneeling in the dry dirt, the hot sun on his shoulders, he was in his element, his passion for hunting racing through his body like a high-speed train. He loved the dominant feeling it gave him. Through the crosshairs, he could see the animal clearly; its slender, angular head and deep golden coat were the perfect picture of nature’s beauty. Then he pulled the trigger.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The trip had come to a close far too quickly. Sebastian rested his head back in his first-class seat, the long journey home back to Manchester in front of him. He loved his hunting trips away, but he always loved returning to his other passion—work. He’d hardly spent any time at all thinking about it while he’d been away, and with only intermittent internet access out in the dry country, it was a good excuse to enjoy what was around him and have some time out.
But his thoughts returned now to his everyday life and catching back up with things, and that meant dealing with the fallout from Jason and his merry men. No doubt they’d been plotting and scheming like vengeful children while he’d been absent, lawyers dragged in and threats made, though it’d do no good. His mind had been set some weeks ago and Jason had brought the date forward with his own greed, for which they were all now paying. No matter; if nothing was going to change on his side, there really wasn’t anything else to do. It was done and they were out. He pressed the hostess call button and an attractive woman approached his seat. While she was no Amber, or Valerie for that matter, she was elegant and efficient, with a smile that was natural and friendly.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Stevens?” she asked brightly.
“I’d love a sandwich, chicken if you have it, and a Coke, please,” he said, trying his own best smile out on her.
She wasn’t taken, it seemed. She replied coolly, “Certainly sir. I’m sure that can be arranged,” and then went off to check.
He glanced back at her as she made her way back to the little galley area, her narrow hips the centre of his attention. Another reason he’d be glad to get back to Manchester: he’d missed that aspect of fun and a whole week without was long enough. While he waited for her to return, he pulled up the video that he’d asked Robert to take while they were up in the helicopter hunting the two rhinos and watched it again with the volume turned down low. From the phone’s little screen, he could see himself leaning out the side of the big metal bird, rifle in hand and two rhinos running for their lives below. He’d got them both eventually, and he and the other guests had all celebrated that night back at the lodge with copious amounts of whiskey and stories, each hunter trying to outdo the previous one. That was the camaraderie of big game hunting he loved so much: getting the beast you desired and telling the tale of how you did it, the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of getting your trophy. Or in his case, trophies—plural. No one had managed to outdo him.
As the short clip came to an end, Sebastian had an idea for the angle he was going to use for a speech he was due to give later in the week. The dinner guests were expecting to hear about his business prowess, and in particular, his expertise in raising venture capital, so why not include other forms of raising finance, something that would be particularly useful for the not-for-profit sector? After all, the money from the rhino auction he’d paid so handsomely for was going to conservation and preserving endangered species, and a sizeable donation of $300,000 US was not to be sniffed at. And he could perhaps include the video clip as an example of how he himself had helped the conservation fund. People loved real-life stories, and they’d like that one, he was sure. Besides, the extra publicity was always a good thing and he loved being in the news: it suited him. He smiled at his plan as the hostess returned with his sandwich and Coke.
“Enjoy, Mr. Stevens,” she said, handing him a small tray filled with his order. Then she was gone again, and Sebastian was back to watching her hips.
Chapter Forty
Philippa was eating a bowl of cornflakes at the kitchen table and peering at her laptop screen, reading a news article at the same time. She’d come across the name before, more because of his infamous reputation as a businessman rather than because the world loved him, like they did Branson, for example. It seemed he was a ‘Marmite’ character: you either liked him or loathed him. And while Philippa hadn’t previously had much of an opinion of Sebastian Stevens, after reading this article, she certainly did now. It had been the scathing headline that caught her eye—Try Killing for Funding. If that wasn’t going to make you stop and read, nothing would. Philippa put her bowl down on the table, afraid she’d spill the remaining contents, and read the whole article again in disbelief. When she was done, she sat back a moment. How disgusting that a man could do something so senseless and suggest others do it for fundraising. She scrolled down the page to the comments section. Even though it was still early, there were plenty of them, all angry, and they were getting more and more heated as the list got longer.
Stevens had obviously hit a nerve with his speech last night, and either his skin was so thick he didn’t care who he upset, or he was stupid enough not to know others would be upset. And to show the video just after dinner was in extremely bad taste. The organisers had apologised for not knowing the content of Mr. Stevens’ speech beforehand, and would be putting guidelines in place for further guest talks in the future to prevent something like this ever happening again. It had been a PR disaster for them on that front, and the hordes of social media voices had ramped up into frenzy during the night.
She changed sites and looked at her own newsfeed. That, too, had been lit up with comments and opinions as people read the story and jumped on board. And so soon after the last hunter that had been in the news recently, with her throat slashed. It was in her friends’ conversations that the comments had been the worst; the news sites moderated comments before they were posted, but not here, not between friends. Many suggested what they’d like to do with his rifle for money if they ever had the opportunity. If anyone had been in support of Sebastian Stevens, they were keeping their heads well down.
She glanced at the clock on her screen and headed upstairs for a shower. Standing under the
warm jets, she shampooed her hair and thought about her mission. Of course, now she’d have to kill Sebastian. She’d gotten away with Fiona’s death so far, which had been a blessing, but there was clearly a lot more work to be done. It wouldn’t be quite so simple to insert herself into the life of a man like Sebastian. A simple friend request would never work; this would need a lot more research and planning. And soon, before the fire went out of the situation. She needed to make a statement through him, to send a message to others involved in this barbaric sport, and raise awareness of the need for it to be stopped. With so many people angry at him, the police would have a tough job weeding out the serious threats. Besides, a man like Sebastian would have his fair share of enemies anyway, so no one would be looking at a woman called Philippa.
Nevertheless, she had to act quickly, hatch her plan and make it work. When she got home from the clinic tonight, she’d work on finding a way into his life—then work on destroying it.
Chapter Forty-One
She’d barely slept all night. Thoughts had kept rolling around in her head as she tried to think of plausible ideas on how to get into the creep’s life. While she knew she could get into his digital life fairly easily via other means, it was his physical life she was after, though she drew the line at getting physical with him. She shuddered at the thought of such an arrogant and obnoxious man sweating and grunting on top of her—she couldn’t go that far—but she was willing to do other less intimate things, whatever those might turn out to be.
She lifted her head off the pillow to check the bedside clock. It read 4.31 am, way too early to get up, but she was never going to go back to sleep, if ever she’d even been there at all. Might as well put the time to good use, she thought, and climbed out of bed. She padded downstairs to make a mug of tea, then grabbed her laptop and took them both back to the comfort of her still-warm bed, propping all her pillows up behind her. No need to get up properly yet, but there was still work to be done.
“Right. What else can we find out about you? What’s the golden key to the door of Sebastian going to look like? What form will it be in?” She tapped the keys and started a Google search of him again, but this time, she looked at mentions of him from ten pages back rather than the more recent or newsworthy. She’d already looked through those and found nothing of any real use. “There’s got to be a gremlin or two on you somewhere, a passion I can take advantage of perhaps.” Philippa browsed and read, sipping her tea and trying to digest as she learned, looking for clues and a possible answer to her little problem. There were pictures of him at events; she noted with interest that every single one of the women he was photographed with had long, dark hair. “Good to know,” she thought.
Searching further, she located his offices. She deduced from various interviews that he lived in the trendy, affluent, upmarket side of Manchester—Blackfriars, near Spinningfields. No surprises there—where else would Mr. Bachelor of the year live? Not that she’d be applying to be his bride anytime soon. She entered Blackfriars into Google, and wasn’t surprised with what she found. A top-end apartment area for the extremely wealthy who liked to stay close to the town rather than out somewhere in the greener parts of upmarket Altrincham, Bowdon and the rest of Cheshire. The luxurious apartments came with a price tag of around £1.5 million, a lap pool, high-end gym and spa on site; no need to slum it with the general public someplace else. She could imagine him popping down for his workout. Men of his age and ilk generally kept in shape. It was the older guys who spread around the middle as they got older and cared less.
With her new knowledge of where he spent most of his time during the day and when he spent time at home, she’d put a plan together before the day was out and start the ball in motion. Time was at a premium. She had to be quick. The first thing she needed to do was get up to Manchester and take a look at his life in person, see exactly where he lived and worked and where the opportunities to infiltrate were, because there would be some.
She glanced at her clock. It was 6.15 am. She became thoughtful again. “What the hell. I’ll have to go today,” she said to the empty room, throwing the covers back and clambering over the bed. “I’ll call in sick on the way.” She showered, dressed quickly and left for the station.
Forty minutes later, balancing a hot coffee and a raspberry muffin in one hand and her bag in the other, she stood waiting on the platform to head into Euston and then catch a train north to Manchester Piccadilly. At least the morning sun was shining, making her feel a bit better about what she was going to have to do again—though not the actual deed itself, not today. Today was all about gathering intel, finding the weak spot in his sad life and doing something with it for the greater good. The rumble of the approaching train brought her attention back to the present and she concentrated on getting close to the automatic doors for a speedy entry and hopefully a seat. When the train finally stopped, a mass of people stepped forward at the same time and while she didn’t want to push and shove her way in, she wasn’t going to be left standing either. The doors opened and she found herself in pole position for a seat directly opposite. She quickly claimed it as her own, taking care not to make eye contact with anyone as she did so. Needs must on a commuter train around London. It was a free-for-all. Today was no different.
People sat either side of her and more stood with their backsides positioned haphazardly just at her head height. The doors beeped closed, shortly followed by the train lurching forward. They were off, and she let a breath out as she tried to rearrange her coffee, breakfast and bag without any mishaps. The coffee tasted good, the caffeine welcome after a sleepless night, and she broke the crunchy top off her muffin and chewed thoughtfully. It wasn’t a long journey into London, only thirty minutes or so, and she used the time to think. Hopefully she’d be able to spread out a bit more on the next train heading north, and even though she fancied a nap for the two hours ahead, she couldn’t afford the time. Instead, she’d have to be content with travelling like a sardine in a tin with everyone else. Someone’s swinging bag caught her on the arm and she looked up. A man mouthed his apology, and she looked away nonplussed. The next thirty minutes couldn’t go fast enough.
Chapter Forty-Two
Philippa stood looking up at Sebast Suites. The tower dominated the skyline, the water from the nearby river reflecting, twinkling, but definitely not inviting on the glass-covered exterior. Inside the building, many of the richest companies had office space and enjoyed the luxurious river views and the no doubt sumptuous interior. But Philippa wasn’t there to enjoy either of those. She took a seat on a bench nearby to watch people coming and going. The huge gilt doors were too gaudy for her taste, but that didn’t matter: she’d never be working there. She made herself comfortable to sit and watch. Women in tight pencil skirts and blouses pretended they were on a Suits set, heels as high as Donna’s and faces just as beautiful; the men looked much the same as Harvey. What these people must spend on their wardrobes each month was probably more than she paid for her mortgage. And that was her choice, doing the job she loved. She was not one for being cooped up in a high-rise typing all day.
She’d only been watching for half an hour or so when she spotted him in the lobby through the giant glass windows that ran along the bottom of the whole building. His tall commanding figure in a deep navy-blue suit and white shirt had her mesmerised momentarily as she watched him approach the front doors and step outside into the sunshine. It seemed she wasn’t the only one watching, though. Heads both male and female turned to see as he passed, and if Sebastian noticed, he didn’t show it. That surprised her a little; but his lack of arrogance now might be because of his recent publicity, she thought. Maybe people were watching him not for his good looks and physique but for how he’d so famously screwed up.
He strolled down the walkway towards a row of trendy shops and coffee houses and she stood to follow from a distance, taking care to stay well back. Not that he’d notice her, not yet. But he wasn’t going far, it seemed. He sli
pped inside a café a moment later. Philippa stayed outside, not wanting to go in with him, but she could see he wasn’t alone. She decided to go back and sit just outside Sebast Suites and wait there for his return.
“I wonder why he’d meet someone in there rather than his office?” she wondered. “It’s literally only around the corner. Perhaps he wanted to get out of the building.” The thought puzzled her, but as she was just getting to know him and hadn’t got much else to go on, she didn’t have the answer. Maybe he always did that. Taking her seat again, she prepared for a long wait. Then she got one of life’s little surprises. Coming out of the main entrance, looking stylish in her own pencil skirt, was a woman she recognised, a woman from university, a woman she’d drifted apart from some years ago, a woman called Georgia. She looked stunning, stylish and beautiful, and she was headed right towards Philippa, although she hadn’t seen her as yet. Philippa wondered what to do: should she make herself known or avoid a collision course? As a believer in fate and making things happen, she went with the first option. Georgia turning up at that precise moment was surely a message, an opportunity, and she wasn’t about to ignore it. She stood and waited for the woman to get closer.
“Georgia?” My goodness, it is you!” she said, beaming. The woman stopped, confusion written across her beautiful face.
“I don’t believe it! Philippa? So it is!”
The two women embraced and giggled as though the years hadn’t gone by and they were still attending lectures or studying for exams.
“Hello, Georgia,” she said, pulling back from their embrace to look Georgia up and down and admire how she looked. “You look stunning! Though you always were the glamorous one of the two of us.”
