Banker's Draft

by Clive Mullis

  ‘With Kintersbury’s contacts overseas she began to set up bogus investment companies, and Dumchuck used his influence to persuade investors to invest in these off shore companies with the promise of high returns, little knowing that these companies were nothing but a fraud. Information kept coming back on how well these companies were doing, and they were issuing guaranteed bonds, which were in effect worthless, for the investments and returns. This encouraged others to follow suit. Dumchuck persuaded the bank itself to invest long term, and then began to divert the money over. The bank’s resources began to dwindle, so the move to get the government to bail them out short term came into play. The same promises of a high return for the short term loan persuaded the Assembly to grant the loan, which they immediately invested into Gornstock Trust and Holdings, which then converted the money into solid gold. They melted the gold down and cast it into small fragments which they placed on Kintersbury ship, the Greyhawk, as ballast, which was why the Bagman had such difficulty in finding it.

  ‘The overseas companies are still in place, and the difficulty now is to try and follow the trail to get at the money that had already been converted. Fortunately, it’s going to be the job of the investigators from the treasury department to follow everything up, as they were partly to blame for not picking it all up to start with.

  ‘Kintersbury’s ship, Greyhawk, was due to dock today and the three of them were to board it and be spirited away to a life of luxury. For them the icing on the cake came after last night’s meeting with the Warden, which resulted in yet another loan from the Assembly in the form of guaranteed bonds. These were found in Dumchuck’s briefcase, so if nothing else, we’ve got Dumchuck bang to rights.’

  ‘So where did Radstock and Goup come into things?’ asked Rose.

  Cornwallis sighed. ‘Some time ago, the Bagman recruited Radstock as his eyes and ears within the Assembly. The Bagman had heard of his “preferences” and had used the information to coerce Radstock into doing what he wanted. The Bagman had then instructed him on ways to find out hidden information. Then one day, while speaking to Kintersbury in his office in the house, Kintersbury went out for a few moments, and so Radstock decided to practise looking. He found a little more than he bargained for as he unearthed a letter from Dumchuck explaining that his wife had sent the wrong information to Goup and asking what he should do about it. He found a note written on the letter saying that Kintersbury would deal with it. Radstock became worried and told the Bagman all about it, so he placed his agent into Goup’s office. Glenda had used Goup as her accountant for some time and they had got close, so close that they actually fell for each other, so when Kintersbury told her what had happened, she got Kintersbury to spirit Goup away and hide him in the dwarf tunnels. She then arranged the deception on the ship, just in case they were being watched, which they were; by us, in actual fact. But they had a few problems. They had drugged him to make him more malleable, but overdid it a little. A couple of her men had earlier been planted on the ship and took him off, just as the ship was about to leave, when we were distracted by Sparrow. They took him to Havelock Crescent, where they were to run away together when she had got all the money; but he had no idea that his Glenda was a master criminal and a prostitute. The presence of Radstock at Havelock Crescent when we raided was pure coincidence, but what a beautiful one it was.’

  By now Frankie’s head reeled, he could hardly keep up with the chain of events. ‘So how did we get involved?’ he asked, shaking his head.

  ‘Because the Bagman thought that potentially, it would be politically explosive. If his department investigated, then it would probably be swept under the carpet. He wanted it spread out so all could see. He used us, that is for certain, and he omitted to tell us that he knew it involved Kintersbury from the start; his argument being that we had already started to find out about him, so he wanted to see how all the strands were going to come together. Besides, he said he didn’t want to compromise Radstock at that moment, I assume because he’s got something else going on. He knew that Kintersbury was involved in the murder of Miss Knutt all along.’

  ‘What about Freddie the Weasel?’

  ‘Maxwell hired him, and Kintersbury gave him an old suit so that he would at least look the part. Unfortunately, when he had done his work; end of Freddie.’

  ‘They nearly got away with it,’ said MacGillicudy. ‘If it wasn’t for Dumchuck’s wife, then they would have.’

  ‘Yes, but she didn’t know anything about it. Dumchuck meant to leave her and set sail into the sunset with all his ill-gotten gains.’

  ‘What a nasty bunch of people,’ observed Rose.

  ‘Politicians and Bankers: in all honesty, what do you expect? They were going to bleed the city dry and to hell with everyone else, but at least the money should be recoverable now.’

  ‘Except for the little people like Brownlow, they will never get their money back,’ said Rose. ‘It’s always the little people who have to pay, and they’re the ones who can’t afford it.’

  Cornwallis nodded. ‘But at least they can rest easily at night knowing that their elders and betters are taking such good care of them,’ he replied, ironically.

  MacGillicudy laughed. ‘You are so right, Jack, you are so right.’ He slapped his thigh and stood up.

  ‘You off somewhere, Jethro?’ asked Cornwallis.

  ‘Back to the Yard. I only popped around to see what happened with the Bagman, still got tons of paperwork to do, thanks to you.’

  ‘That’s a shame. I was about to suggest we hit the pub.’

  MacGillicudy pulled a face.

  ‘We’ll do it tomorrow then instead,’ conceded Cornwallis, looking at the disappointment on Jethro’s face. ‘It’s late anyway; we’ll only get a couple of hours in.’

  As the door closed behind MacGillicudy, Frankie sighed. ‘Shame that, but that still leaves us three, and I’m sure we can do some damage in a couple of hours.’

  Cornwallis grinned. ‘That sounds like a good idea, but I want to shower first.’ He stood up and headed for the door. ‘Keep yourselves amused while I’m gone. I won’t be long.’

  The door closed and Rose stood up. ‘I’m just going to change, Frankie; I’ll use the cupboard next door.’ She picked up the bag she had brought with her from the Stoat, and she too headed for the door.

  Frankie took a long slow deep breath. A minute ago, there were four of them, and now only one. He finished the beer in his hand and thought about opening another when he decided to wait. He screwed up some scrap paper which he began to flick at the bin on the other side of the office, just to waste some time while his mind went through everything that had happened over the last few days, and he smiled; all in all it had been a good few days and he wouldn’t have missed it for the world. He stood up and thrust his hands deep in his pockets and paced, Rose seemed to be taking a bit of a while, he thought. He heard the cupboard door close next door and decided that he would have a stern word with her now, before Jack came back down. The investigation had finished and Jack would likely be a bugger to work with unless she got her finger out.

  His head spun around as Rose opened the door and came back in. Frankie took one look and stood transfixed.

  ‘Do you think this will do?’ she asked innocently, coyly biting her bottom lip. She took a slow spin around and then raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Frankie couldn’t find the words; in fact, at that moment, he couldn’t find anything.

  ‘I’ll just go and see if Jack is managing all right, if that’s okay with you?’ she said when he didn’t reply.

  Frankie just stared, and then nodded slowly.

  Cornwallis stepped out of his shower and wrapped a towel around his waist and then another around his head. He hummed to himself as he walked out into the hall and through to his bedroom; all in all, he felt pleased with the outcome, with the only really unfortunate incident being when Kintersbury disappeared into the Collider. He wondered if Kintersbury would be aware of what
had happened, whether his conscious self hovered somewhere between worlds, or if he had somehow popped out into another? As the Collider people said, the chances are that he now just didn’t exist, not died, but just stopped existing, like Gerald, but not like him. It was a strange concept to consider, and he wondered what the ramifications were going to be.

  He took the towel from around his head, wiped his face and shook out his hair, then threw the towel into the corner and used his fingers to comb through the tangles. He turned to his cupboard and selected some clean clothes and put them on the bed, he turned back around — and then stopped.

  Rose stood in the doorway.

  He looked at her, and she looked back at him.

  ‘I just thought I’d better say thank you for buying this and all the other clothes from the Elves,’ she said with a smile. She wore the purple dress that had made such an impression on him the other day. The one that seemed like a second skin, the fluid one, the one that moulded to her body in such a way as to defy the senses, the one that she couldn’t wear any underwear with! ‘Does it look all right?’

  Cornwallis closed his mouth and nodded. ‘Yes,’ he managed to say in the end, but it came out a little strangled.

  She smiled, and looked down to his towel. ‘I’m so glad, because otherwise I would have to take it off again, and I really shouldn’t do that when it’s all that I’m wearing.’ She stepped up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body up against his. The response from down below was only natural, and she looked down and giggled. ‘On the other hand…’

  Cornwallis’ towel fell to the floor.

  ‘…ooh, if that’s for me, then I suppose you’d better help me take it off, after all.’

  He kissed her and held her tight. ‘In that case, I suppose I’d better,’ he said breathlessly. A few moments later, the dress slid to the floor in a whispered sigh.

  Frankie opened another beer while he waited, and he was still waiting when he’d finished drinking it. He knew that up above was Cornwallis’ bedroom, and he sat there with a grin on his face. Soon he heard what he expected to hear, a little creak of the springs. His grin widened as he heard a few more creaks, and then lots of creaks — and then lots more creaks. He thought that one day he would tell Cornwallis to get a new bed, but maybe not tonight.

  He closed the door slowly and quietly and then headed down the stairs. He had a spring in his step, thankful that at long last, the two of them had come to their senses; life in the investigation business probably wouldn’t be the same again. He stopped outside Isabella’s rooms and thought for a moment, she’d had quite an ordeal over the last twenty four hours and he wondered how she was coping. He knocked and waited, and soon the door opened and Isabella stood there in her dressing gown.

  ‘I just thought I’d check to see if you were all right,’ ventured Frankie, with a touch of concern.

  She smiled back at him. ‘Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ve had a few hours sleep now and feel a lot better.’

  ‘That’s good. We’ll have a drink tomorrow to celebrate, and I’m sure you can come too. Incidentally, you shouldn’t answer the door wearing that at this time of night. Get a little chain so you can see who it is first.’

  Isabella nodded, and then thought, and then looked at Frankie. ‘Hang on a second.’ She closed the door and left him standing there for a few moments. He wondered whether he should just leave her be when the door opened again and she stood there once more, right in front of him. ‘Is this any better?’ she asked sweetly, and this time she wasn’t wearing her dressing gown.

  Frankie thought that he had died and gone to heaven as she pulled him inside; someone up there must really, really, like him.

  End

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  Also by the same author:

  Scooters Yard

  Under Gornstock

  DEDICATION

  To my wife

  ACKNOWLEDGeMENTS

  My thanks go to all those who helped me and put up with me not doing what I should have been doing when I was doing this.

  Also, thanks go to those that read and gave me advice, suggestions and encouragement, namely Lesley, Keith, Dave, Roy, Helen and Sarah.

  Not forgetting my long suffering wife and my son — they’ve had to put up with me.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Clive Mullis spent many years as a paramedic until deciding that there must be another way of making a living. He lives in Bedfordshire in the UK with his wife, son, and dogs.

  For more information, please visit my website http://clivemullis.com where you can also sign up to my newsletter.