End It With A Lie

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End It With A Lie Page 6

by Peter M. Atkins

CHAPTER 5

   

  Having a clear picture in mind of what he would do with this fortune was one thing, being in the position to do what he pictured was another, and the two hinged on the most important factor. He had to acquire it first. To do that, Simon would need some legal advice.

  He looked at his watch and decided it would be around eleven o’clock the previous night African time. The African had suggested in his letter that time was short. If that was the case, then Simon just had to rely on the man’s need for speed.

  Five o’clock this afternoon would be around four in the morning African time. Hopefully, if the African was an early riser and on the ball Simon might have the information tonight.

  He left the electrician’s office, replaced the key below the house brick, and then with time to kill he walked towards the town’s main business area.

   Beth was sixteen years younger than Simon and they’d met in the crowded bar of the North Bourke hotel a few months earlier. A bush poet’s night had been held, and due to the lack of seating Simon had been forced to ask if he could sit at her table.

  She’d been unsure at first, but after a hesitant first step they’d talked for nearly an hour during which time he didn’t say a word out of place. He’d been clothed as an outdoor worker, and although she could see that his calloused hands were ingrained with soil of some sort, his fingernails were clean, and that to her was good sign.

  They’d had good rapport, while Simon endeavoured from the outset not to send any signals that might suggest he expected anything more than friendship. He’d been down many roads before, and believed he understood relationships well enough at a glance to know that the distance between the two of them was too great.

  Simon was not one to view prospects with a critical eye, but he did face facts. The facts as he saw them in this case were that his boat, his old blue Ford and his close to nature life style were way too far removed from her gleaming B.M.W, her stationary well to do career and the established neighbourhood that she sought in Sydney of all places. To him there would be too much compromise, and compromise in Simon’s eyes led to pressure. The last thing a relationship needed, he thought

  They had enjoyed each other’s company at the bush poet’s night, and after that a day out catching yabbies. Since then they had met on the few occasions that Simon had been in the town. He’d discovered that he loved her as a friend, but that was as far as he would like it to go, as he was planning to be sailing the Whitsunday passage soon. A point he’d gone out of his way to make plain on several occasions, and one he hoped she would understand without need for an in depth explanation.

  The right man for her was out there somewhere, and Simon secretly wished for her sake, that whoever he was he’d get his act together and turn up.

  He crossed the main street and pushed open the door to Beth’s reception area where he spoke across the room to Lynette who was working at her computer.

  “Hello young one. How’s your day?”

  Lynnette was a dark haired beauty whose smile was as broad as the day is long, and it shone. Not only from her white even teeth, but also from her shining large pupil brown eyes. She was about twenty-two he guessed and a lover of life. Her father owned a large sheep station about a hundred and fifty kilometres west of Bourke.

  “Hello Simon,” she said with some surprise. “Must be a bit of cocky in you eh? Straight into town as soon as it’s rained. Or did you miss me?”

  “No and yes,” he answered.

  She moved across the room and looked up at him. He saw with the help of the overhead lights her eyes change until they glowed like polished copper. “Who’s the lucky girl then?”

  Simon grinned.

  “It’s business, so I don’t have the luxury of choice.”

  She laughed.

  “I’ll accept that. You got out of that one pretty well didn’t you?” She called over her shoulder as she walked back to her desk. She spoke to Beth on an intercom before she returned again to stand behind the counter before him where she said, “She enjoys her time with you Simon.”

  He held her gaze for a brief moment before he looked toward Beth’s office door.

  “Is she free at the moment, or will I be interrupting?”

  “She has a bit on today, but she’ll make time for you. Go on in.” Simon walked across the room and was about to knock when the door opened. Beth met him and drew him into her office. She didn’t return to the chair behind her large desk, leaving them to sit facing each other in the two client’s chairs.

  “How’re things Simon?”

  “I’ve been taking it very easy,” he smiled, “Just a spot of fishing and some quiet time in the bush.” He paused for a moment before he added, “I have to make the most of it while I can. I received a letter in the mail yesterday telling me that der boat is ready for sea. How about you?”

  She considered his question as she wondered at his reaction if he ever had to choose between the ocean and the bush. “Pretty quiet. You know how it is, life in a small town where not much happens. I like the country lifestyle, but it would be nice sometimes to be able to nip into the city for the theatre and the restaurants.” Simon pictured himself at the theatre, trying to work out an opera.

  She laughed and Simon saw beauty as her face beamed in the shaded office light.

  “I’d love to know the thought that just went through your mind?” She said, still smiling.

  “Can’t give too much away,” Simon grinned.

  She amazed him again and as usual caught him off balance. He still didn’t know if she could read his mind, the look on his face or if she just knew the right time to throw semi questions like that into conversations.

  They chatted.

  “Are you busy for lunch?” He asked.

  “I’m free now until 2 o’clock. There’s plenty that I should be doing, but to tell you the truth I am hungry.”

  The restaurant was within walking distance and they had time.

  The building itself was an old, well-manicured structure with a bull nosed awning. Its interior was decorated with old style furniture. Each piece covered with lace doilies and ornaments of fired pottery.

  It was quiet as the lunch hour rush hadn’t started and they chose a table whose window gave them a view of the street outside. When they were both seated and had given their orders for lunch, Beth looked at Simon.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” Simon said.

  “You’ve something on your mind. What is it?” Simon smiled into his wine glass, not quite sure of his feelings when he was read so easily. He would like to have had the opportunity to ease the topic into the conversation.

  A shy grin amplified his tanned dimples.

  “Ah, I need a favour actually. I’ve decided to write a book and I need help with some of the legal angles of the story.”

  “Love to help you. What do you need?” She probed.

  He told her as much as he felt she needed to know. Most of what was true; after all it was only a story line. Like one that might be seen on film at the movies.

  Only in this case he was the author, and the actor.

  More deception as the day wore on and aimed at this beautiful trusting woman. He felt his appetite for lunch leave him.

  “What I need to know is the procedure to move the money into Australia legally, that is, after the books character has acquired it.” He looked at his food, then back into the large pools of pupil, which stole away the blue in her eyes.

  “You’re in luck Simon; I’ve spent the last year studying corporate law.” She lowered her voice into a business tone of quiet discussion and Simon hoped to remember all the information in her answers.

  He’d better. He could not afford to make mistakes. Prison and loss of his freedom was a thought that sickened him.

  “The central character must be confident the fortune can be imported into his country and into legitimate business. He must be able to lose all the money in a corp
orate structure,” he said when she’d finished.

  “In other words, launder it,” Beth suggested as she looked at him questioningly. Simon was taken aback as he was struck by the implication of the words. He played for time by reaching out for the wine bottle before he answered,

  “Yes. I suppose that is the correct term, isn’t it?”

  “Sounds like your character might need a good solicitor either way,” she smiled again.

  “Either way?” Simon asked.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Well if he’s successful in his bid he will need a corporate lawyer, and if he’s not, then he may need a more than an average defence lawyer.” She sipped her wine before she added, “If you meet him in real life let me know. I’d love to get involved practically in corporate law.”

  Simon noted her statement, and then laughed as she joked.

  “Either way.”

  He walked her back to her office, where a light breeze touched her hair and with the sunshine a new blue in her eyes.

  “You know Simon, when you first mentioned this book, I wondered if it might be an autobiography?”

  Their eyes locked and he smiled at her.

  “No. It’s just a novel about a bloke whose quest is for a worthy cause.” Simon reached out his hand and Beth took it in hers as Simon said in his quiet appreciative manner, “I enjoyed lunch and your company. Thanks for your help.”

  He turned away and for a moment she watched him go until he rounded the next corner. She sighed, and as the breath escaped her lips it carried with it the unheard words.

  “Take care Simon.”

 

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