Thursday

by David Ridgway

  “The depression over Iceland has also deepened and is slowly moving in an easterly direction towards Norway. Wind speeds have increased to storm force, reaching speeds of 55 knots. Snow is falling along the whole of the weather front, making visibility virtually nil. All shipping is advised to avoid all sea areas to the north and east of Great Britain.”

  The presenter then began to read through the various sea areas and it soon became apparent that the weather fronts were bringing a vast amount of high wind and rain.

  As David went into the kitchen on Tuesday morning, he heard the 7.30 am brief weather report. Somewhat laconically the presenter announced that snow was expected along the west coast from Cornwall, through Wales, northern England and Scotland. In Ireland, the forecast was for rain. There was no specific mention of the wind increasing.

  “It seems we’re back to the same old weather,” his father remarked. “More rain on the way.”

  “It’s a bit unusual to have snow in Cornwall,” David commented.

  “By the way, Michael,” his mother cut across their conversation to address David’s father. “Did you get any chance to see whether Le Grove Investments could assist the Richmond Music Society?”

  “I had a potential new client in only yesterday,” Michael replied. “He needs to find a home for some cash, but he will be looking for some form of return. I’m talking further with him today and will be starting to map out a programme for him.”

  “I’m only looking for about £1,000.”

  “Yes, I know.” Michael put down his paper. “Mind you, your mother might want an investor for her blessed library, as well.” And with that, he carefully folded the Daily Telegraph, put it into his briefcase and shrugged on his overcoat. He was ready to leave for the day.

  “Come on, David! Or you might be late for school.”

  “It’s not even eight o’clock yet, Dad. You seem to be keen to get away this morning! I don’t need to be in until 9.30, so I’ll walk.”

  Michael gave Sarah a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and turned to the door. David went back upstairs to check the movement of the weather fronts. They were both moving inexorably towards the east. In the south, the warm, wet air coming off the Atlantic was hitting the cold anti cyclone, which was making it snow, but in the north the temperatures were also plummeting, along with snow and high winds.

  It won’t last long, David thought. Not in the south west. Different matter in Scotland, though.

  He saw that in the north Atlantic the depression after passing the north of Scotland was now moving slowly towards the Norwegian coastline. It was sucking down an increased amount of cold air from the Arctic and that was creating the exceptional snowfall. As yet, however, the wind over Scotland was only approaching gale force. David decided to text Jackie, advising her to take a coat as the weather was changing rapidly.

  “Hi Jackie. You OK? Seems ages since Sat. When RU next free? Can do 2mrw. Let me know. BTW, take a coat today. Wthr changing. Rain coming. Talk soon. XXXX”

  He sat at his computer desk wondering what she really thought of him. She certainly gets me going, he thought. I hope I do the same for her.

  His phone pinged. Crikey, that was quick. Her text was short and to the point.

  “Can meet tomoz at 6 for abt hour. Got to be home for just after 7.”

  “How about Costa in Richmond?”

  “Gr8. CU there.”

  David picked up his books, put them in his bag and went downstairs. He called ‘Bye’ to his mother and went to school.

  In the Gloucester Palace Hotel, three people were taking breakfast. Sebastian sat in the dining room, watching the couple at the table near the door. The man was a partial acquaintance, having been introduced several months ago, but there was no specific contact with him. He was recommended by a friend in Soho. In his mid-forties, he was well dressed in a Savile Row suit, with a white shirt and club tie. His black shoes were highly polished. Despite the turnout, however, everything appeared to be slightly used and that, thought Seb, is because he’s wearing yesterday’s clothes.

  It was the same with his companion, a pretty lady, young enough to be his daughter, but old enough to be independent. She was wearing a short black skirt, together with a white, almost transparent, blouse. Her black bra was deep cut, showing a considerable amount of cleavage. She was smiling a lot, obviously in his thrall and enjoying her ‘morning after’. They were sitting side by side and his left hand was idly stroking her right thigh. As she sat down, her skirt rode up, giving Sebastian a rather unnecessary view of her thighs, especially when her companion’s hand pushed the hem of her skirt up even further.

  Their shenanigans were rather putting Sebastian off his food. Betty invariably cooked a decent breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage and tomatoes with toast and tea. Real coffee was also available plus orange juice, as required. He was trying to formulate in his mind the amount of money that he could start to ‘invest’ with Le Grove Investments. His meeting with Michael Varley had been interesting but, as yet, unproductive. He knew that Michael sailed close to the wind in certain respects. He had, after all, stayed at the Gloucester Palace twice. The first time was back in the summer, when one of the girls brought him back. And then in November he stayed the night with his secretary.

  Their discussions had focussed solely on the money that Sebastian was now ready to invest. In addition, he was wondering whether Michael would be able to shift any of the illicit funds that were getting out of control under his office floor. He also wondered whether Michael might be persuaded, perhaps even blackmailed.

  His mind was again distracted as he watched the man put his hand under the tablecloth once more and onto the young lady’s thigh. She opened her legs slightly and he slid his hand up further. She opened her legs even more and her skirt rode up so far that the tops of her hold ups were completely exposed. She glanced across the room and saw Sebastian watching them. Instead of pushing her friend’s hand away, she opened her legs even wider. Her skirt was now but a circle of cloth around her waist and, because she had no knickers, she was displaying a cleanly shaven pussy. She smiled at Sebastian, put her own hand into her lap and with her middle finger, she gently ran it up her slit, before putting the finger into her mouth. Sebastian watched. He didn’t react. He didn’t even acknowledge her smile.

  As her companion now put his middle finger into her, she whispered into his ear and reached under the table with her own hand. She put it on his trousers, feeling his erection and began to pull down his zip. Having seen enough, Sebastian rose from his table, picked up his paper and walked slowly out of the dining room, leaving the couple to enjoy whatever breakfast they desired.

  He sat down in his office and began to make a few calculations. He was trying to work out how quickly he could shift the stash of dirty money hidden under his floor. Of course, some of it belonged to clients and his percentage would need to be taken into account. There were only so many so-called employees on his books that he was able to utilise, but it would be stupid to pay them more than the going rate and bonuses could only really be given at Christmas. He soon reached the conclusion that, on the basis he didn’t receive any further cash, it would take over two years to move it all. And, of course, with more cash coming in all the time, that time lag was going to shorten and become an increasing problem.

  As he sat there, thinking about his situation, he realised that the safe under the floor was itself too small and that he may well have to construct a secret strong room in the cellar. He wondered whether Fred would be up to the task and decided to go down to look at the cellar rooms that morning. What he needed was a false wall, with a secret door, behind which he could store all manner of illicit goods. It would need suitable space with good shelving, but above all a foolproof access.

  He stood up and left his office, walking to the stairwell of the building. The stairs themselves passed around the old-fashioned lift with access onto each floor through a sliding door. The inside walls of the stairs encased th
e lift itself. On the left of the lift shaft, there was a door which opened onto the stairs that led down to the cellar. On the right, there was a similar door, which opened onto the stairs leading up to the first floor, at the top of which was another door. On each floor of the hotel, therefore, the doors not only offered fire safety, but also acted as excellent draught proofing.

  From the cellar, on the lower level, there was access to the carpark at the rear of the building. The lift, which had a single split/sliding and automatic door, operated on each floor.

  Sebastian went down the stairs through the left-hand door to the cellar, where the layout of the rooms was very similar to the ground floor. He passed through the door at the bottom. There was a passage on his left, which led past the kitchen and the laundry, to the rear of the building. In front of him, there was a large space between the lift and the front of the building. This was immediately below the reception area on the ground floor. On his right there was a storage cellar.

  He turned left and walked down the passage past the kitchen and the laundry to the rear of the building. At the back, there was a pair of doors, leading to a small loading bay outside, allowing access for delivery trucks. There was also a separate door which opened onto a small landing before leading down a few steps, giving pedestrian access. Beyond these doors was another storage cellar, which appeared to offer Sebastian some potential. Both cellars could also be accessed from the front and the rear as there was a connecting door between them.

  The whole building was supported by the central lift shaft and stairwell, but Sebastian immediately noticed that the kitchen was larger than the equivalent room on the other side of the building, which made the laundry somewhat smaller. With a growing sense of excitement and realisation, he concluded that he might be able to construct a new, separate room, which would be under the lounge and games room. The water supply and soil pipes for the building were at the back behind the laundry, so they would cause no problems. The electricity, telephones and gas supply came in through the front of the building, straight from the street, into the cellar where the fuse boxes and gas meter were conveniently situated. Again, these would not be in the way.

  Returning once more to the open space, he stood facing the lift door. He realised that there was potential space, under the stairs, from which he might access a newly constructed hideaway between both the storage rooms. The wall to the left of the lift was bricked up, as far as he could see. He considered that the wall could be removed and the space behind turned into a walk-in cupboard. The left-hand wall of this cupboard might then conceal the entrance to his secret room. He went back up the stairs to his office on the ground floor and decided to telephone Le Grove Investments in order to pursue the urgent need to invest his ill-gotten gains.

  After putting all the photographs onto his laptop, Andy downloaded a large selection onto a removable file and was now trying to make contact with the world of advertising, to see whether he could live up to the promises he had made to Alice. He was finding it far more difficult than he had imagined. He quickly realised that he needed a go between, a person who could not only see the potential of the portfolio but would also know those people behind the doors that were currently closed to him.

  The photographs were sorted into three specific categories, each of which were filed separately. First, there was a file of basically fashion shots of the many outfits Alice had worn, taken from different angles and showing off her long, shapely legs, her beguiling face and her upright, somewhat arrogant carriage. They were good photos, but not especially different from a million others.

  The second file was definitely more pornographic. Although now rather dated, he knew there was still a market for topless girls, naked girls and girls in various erotic poses. The file was actually much smaller than he had expected, but he hoped that, if this was the line to be pursued, then he would be able to take many, many more. But even as he indulged himself in that thought, there was a creeping realisation that it was Alice who was now in control and that it was she who would dictate the future.

  In the past, Andy was always able to dupe the various girls that he had photographed with his major purpose of getting them into bed. When that happened, it was invariably a deep anti-climax for him, as the girls had invariably been far too easy and had shown no class whatsoever. Alice was definitely different. Her whole demeanour demonstrated class and control.

  Andy’s third file was a very personal one and made up of the best from the other two files. It only had eight photographs in it, but Andy had stared at each one for minutes at a time. They showed the change that came over Alice from the reticent, rather concerned woman, whom he had met in the Costa Coffee, right through to the sophisticated lady who had cut short the session on the Sunday afternoon, leaving him frustrated, intrigued and concerned that he might have lost her.

  He was considering his options when he had received the call on the Monday morning to take Sebastian Fortescue Brown from the Gloucester Palace Hotel to Le Grove Investments in the city. He didn’t know Mr Fortescue Brown at all well, although he had driven him on a number of occasions, albeit infrequently, over the past year. Andy realised that his client knew people all over Soho, but there wasn’t a real opportunity to open up the subject of his dilemma during the journey either to the city or back to Kensington.

  His thoughts were interrupted as his mobile chirruped in his shirt pocket.

  “Andy?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Sebastian Fortescue Brown from the Gloucester Palace Hotel. Are you free this morning?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Andy. “Where do you want to go?”

  “I need to be back in the city by 11.30 am. Can you do that for me?”

  “Certainly can! I can be at the hotel in about 25 minutes. That’ll leave forty minutes to get you to the city. Will it be the same address as yesterday?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’ll be waiting outside.”

  Andy put the files and his laptop into a holdall and, picking up his car keys, he left his house and walked quickly to where the cab was parked. He would have to push it to get from Kennington, over the river and up to Kensington, but with good use of the bus lanes, he was over Vauxhall Bridge in no time and speeding along Grosvenor Road and the Chelsea Embankment. Turning up Beaufort Street and Drayton Gardens, he avoided all the potential congestion at Victoria, Sloane Square and South Kensington. He arrived outside the hotel just as Sebastian exited through the front door.

  They set off to the city along Cromwell Road, cutting down Hans Road and onto Belgrave Square. He then drove down Grosvenor Place and up Buckingham Gate to Birdcage Walk, past the Houses of Parliament and up the Victoria Embankment and so to the city. They arrived at Le Grove Investments at 11.20 am.

  Although Andy wanted to seek advice from Sebastian, he felt that he should wait until the return journey, when his passenger would hopefully be more relaxed. He knew he would have to park up for some time.

  As soon as Sebastian finished ordering the cab, he immediately called Le Grove Investments. Alice answered the phone and dealt with the request for an immediate meeting. As Michael Varley was already beginning to fret about his speech, she felt a meeting would be a welcome diversion. She would also have an opportunity to type up his notes and amendments, putting the whole presentation into a satisfactory format. She was in a very relaxed frame of mind, because Michael, the evening before, signed the letters concerning her salary increase, without so much as a murmur.

  Upon his arrival, Sebastian was ushered into Michael’s office. Alice made coffee as the two men were exchanging pleasantries. After taking the tray into Michael’s office, she then left them to their meeting.

  “I’m a little surprised to see you back so quickly,” Michael remarked. “New clients normally take a week or so to mull over the necessary details.”

  “The proposals you’ve outlined are not so difficult to understand, especially while interest rates remain so feeble,” replied Sebastian
. "Anyway, it’s not just the immediate investment that’s on my mind. Yesterday, you encouraged me to speak openly, to give you as full a personal financial position as I could. This I did and, very quickly, we reached a conclusion as to the format of investment that would be both tax efficient and might also offer a reasonable return. You also indicated that there were further possible opportunities, including property investment.

  “As it happens, I have other matters I wish to raise with you and I wonder whether it might be possible to do this in a more relaxed atmosphere over a spot of lunch.”

  “Of course,” Michael replied. “I’ll just ask Alice to arrange a table. It shouldn’t be too difficult in the middle of February. Have you ever eaten at the Sauterelle?”

  “Oh! I’ve heard of that. It’s at the Royal Exchange.”

  “That’s right. And quite convenient for us here at Le Grove Investments.”

  Alice was able to secure a table immediately and both men left for lunch. Sebastian felt rather nervous as he turned over in his mind the words he might use in broaching the question of his growing capital. He completely forgot to tell Andy that he would be at least a couple of hours.

  As he walked into the Grieg’s sandwich shop at Victoria Station, Milton was really surprised to see Pamela already sitting at a table in the far corner with two other Transport for London staff members. She saw Milton come through the door and waved to him. The two men with her turned to see a handsome, well-built West Indian coming into the shop.

  “Who’s he?” asked one of the men.

  “He’s a good friend,” replied Pamela. “Don’t start any trouble, because I reckon he could make mincemeat of you both.”