The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  "Yeah, it sounds interesting, is it possible for me to take a look around the site?"

  "Sure, I can meet you up there as soon as the planning's gone through. I don't want to waste your time Jack, it's looking like a foregone conclusion, but you know what these council wallers are like, I've seen tranquilised sloths move quicker."

  Jack smiled, this guy was certainly a character, "Would it be possible for me to have a look round on my own, in the meantime, just to get a feel for the place?"

  "I don't see why not, just be careful up there though Jack, it's a death trap, and I must re-iterate, no offence to your colleagues, this has to be strictly between you and me, okay?"

  "Sure, you have my word."

  "Okay, I'll get you a set of keys cut and drop them off at your house, it's the big gated property on Moorland Road, right?

  "Yeah, there's a post-box on the gate, just drop them in there. Do you need a retainer?"

  "No, we can discuss finance once you've had chance to consider the project. Like I said, I would've trusted Tom with my life, and he always said that you were the closest thing he ever had to a brother, so your word's good enough for me. I'll put all my contact details in with the keys, and I'll give you a bell in three to four weeks’ time."

  "Thanks Mike, I'll speak to you soon."

  Jack hung up the phone and was silent for a long time. The guy sounded genuine, he thought, but you could never be sure. If this guy had done as much business with Tom has he claimed he had, they'd have him logged, that was a certainty.

  Jack picked up the phone again, "Christine, have you ever dealt with guy who was just on the phone?"

  "Mr Armstrong, no Jack, I've never heard of him."

  "Okay, check our records, the archive as well if necessary, and see if you can trace him. Check out Fisher Developments as well. Oh, and Christine?

  "Yes boss."

  "Not a word about this to anyone else, okay?"

  "My lips are sealed Jack."

  "Good, and get me a cup of coffee, a guy could die of thirst round here."

  4

  Three days into her stay at Jenkins's was the first time he’d left her on her own, even though she'd arrived on the Monday! Jenkins had only taken the week off to keep her company. This guy had genuine shit for brains. If the situation had been real, and she really had been taking a break from a guy she detested she’d have thought that Jenkins would have the acumen to realise that the last thing she needed right now was another guy buzzing around her. And how she'd kept him out of her knickers so far was a miracle. He must've tried every approach known to man and beast. She laughed out loud, "Oh this isn't funny." she said bringing her fist down on the sofa's upholstery. She had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to let him screw her at some point. The only reason he'd only gone out now was that he was in a huff, and under no circumstances did she want to jeopardise Jack's plan. Oh well, she thought, one last time. Whatever happened to the age of chivalry when all a girl had to do was flutter her eyelashes to get what she wanted. Philippa sighed; come on, she told herself, you're wasting valuable time. Knowing Jenkins, he wouldn't stay downhearted for long. No, he'd be back shortly to continue his wooing process having found some logical explanation for her rebuffing him for the fifty-first time! She giggled again.

  Philippa made short work of riffling Jenkins's cupboards and drawers. Jenkins's gaff was easy after Jack's. Jack had advised her to take things that he was unlikely to miss such as old letters and receipts, anything of personal interest. Anything she considered to be too risky she'd have to copy.

  Philippa stopped and smiled to herself; 'Miss Marsh you have just won tonight's mystery star prize' she heard an imaginary gameshow host announce. "Bingo!" she whispered as she examined Jenkins's birth certificate. It was possible that he could discover that this was missing, especially if he became suspicious of her motives for being here, but this baby was just too big a fish to throw back. She checked her watch; he'd been gone almost forty minutes. She decided she wasn't going to get greedy and started to tidy everything away. The letterbox went and made her jump. she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the postman walking back down Jenkins's path. She gathered all her information together and went upstairs to her bedroom, she got her suitcase and placed it on top of her bed. She opened the lid and took out her vanity case, she put it on the bed next to her suitcase and opened it. She quickly cut through a section of the case’s lining and deposited the information inside it, she then removed a needle that she'd previously threaded up with brown cotton, the foresight of which made her feel quite pleased with herself. She checked from various angles to ensure the bulge the papers made looked just as though they were part of the cases lining and when she was happy, she proceeded to stitch the tear in the lining back up. As she was halfway through, she heard a key in the front door's lock. Shit! She thought hurrying her needle work. 'Come on' she said to herself, 'five more stitches should do it.'. Four, three, two. The door opened. Philippa managed the last stitch but couldn't risk knotting and breaking the thread. Instead she closed the vanity case, put it back in the suitcase, and shoved the suitcase back under her bed.

  "Philippa?" Jenkins called out.

  "I'm up here." Philippa shouted back. She heard Jenkins's footfalls on the stairs and quickly got to her feet. She looked around frantically for her dressing gown, and thankfully spotted it. She dashed across the room and gathered it into her arms, just as Jenkins knocked on her door. He's worse than a bloody lap-dog Philippa thought desperately trying to compose herself. "Come in." she said.

  "What are you doing up here?" Jenkins asked looking around suspiciously.

  "I'm just going to take a bath, that's if it's okay."

  Jenkins nodded, “Sure."

  Shit, she thought the water will be absolutely freezing, "I'll make you a brew first though."

  "No, no, you carry on, I'm fine."

  "No, honestly, I'd like a word with you anyway, I'll just go and turn the water off first though.

  Jenkins raised his eyebrows, "Okay." he said, turning around and heading back downstairs.

  "I'm sorry I've been so uptight since I arrived Dave." Philippa said on entering the lounge.

  Jenkins shook his head, "No, you've been fine Philippa, honest."

  Philippa smiled, "Well, thanks for being kind Dave, but I do feel lot better today, maybe I'm starting to relax."

  "Well, they do say that it takes a few days to unwind, especially when you're working in a stressful environment."

  "Thanks for being so understanding Dave, I'll make us a brew." After putting the kettle on Philippa went back upstairs and retrieved her vanity case. She knotted and cut the thread, replaced the needle, put everything back in her suitcase and slipped it back under her bed.

  Philippa then proceeded to undress. This'll take his mind off any suspicions he may be harbouring about me, she thought with a smile. She donned her dressing gown and went back downstairs. She made their coffees and had to force herself to stop smiling before she carried them through to the lounge. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he saw her body covered only by the thin cotton material of her dressing gown. He'd probably think all his wooing of me has finally paid off, Mr shit-for-brains, she thought.

  "Dave, your coffee's here, sorry it's taken so long, I've just been getting changed." Philippa purred.

  Jenkins's reaction was a little cooler than she'd anticipated, and she had to admit to being slightly disappointed. He was having a good look mind.

  Fuck-in-hell, Jenkins thought, she's absolutely stark naked under that kimono-thingy, I'll swear she is. Jesus H. Christ, I can see her nipples sticking through it and everything. He took a gulp of his coffee. It was far too hot, scalding even, but determined not to ruin the moment, he forced the burning hot liquid down his throat. If he'd been a cartoon character, jets of steam would now proceed to burst for the from his ears. Oh god, that hurt he thought desperately trying to retain his composure. His ey
es were watering, but unfortunately it wasn't from of the sight of Philippa's shapely body.

  "You okay Dave, you look a bit peaky?" Philippa asked securing her hair in a large pony-tail.

  "No, no I'm fine." he said, "That's a nice dressing gown you've got on, Philippa." Suddenly, the material around the crotch of his jeans felt way too tight.

  "Thanks," she said, "It's from Lewis’s in Manchester."

  5

  Philippa arrived back at Jack's house at seven pm on Sunday evening, and was disappointed to find he wasn't home. However, she did find a note from him in the kitchen telling her that he'd had to go out, but he would be back by nine o'clock at the latest. Philippa felt tired as she carried her suitcase upstairs. Would this nightmare ever come to an end? She thought wearily as she placed her suitcase on her bed. She opened it and immediately removed the vanity case. First things first, she thought, what a way to spend a week’s holiday. She just hoped and prayed that all this was going to be worthwhile in the end. She wished Jack was here, she needed him to hold her. She removed Jenkins's papers and placed them on the bed before double-checking the lining. She'd retrieved them all, so she gathered them up and took them to Jack's study. As she approached the study door, she had a strong feeling that it was going to be locked. He doesn't trust you anymore, she thought, but to her relief she found it was open. Philippa placed the papers on Jack's desk and secured them with a paperweight. She noticed that it was one of those little plastic orbs that contained water and faux snowflakes. As an afterthought she picked it back up and shook it. She was delighted to see the children with permanent grins on their faces get covered in a whirl of snow. She put it back atop the papers and went and got a shower.

  6

  Jack felt riddled with guilt as he drove to work. He'd returned home last night to find Philippa in a terrible state. She'd got the necessary information on Jenkins but only at a price. He'd guessed she'd probably have to sleep with Jenkins in order to make the situation look realistic, but he'd been so preoccupied with nailing those two assholes that he'd conveniently put it to the back of his mind. He suspected that Philippa was coming towards the end of her tether, and his gut instinct told him that time was running out. Even if Philippa didn't crack, he felt sure that either Quilter or Jenkins would soon realise that he was up to something. Jack flinched as the vehicle behind him sounded its horn. The lights are on green Jack, he told himself, come on get with the programme. Jack raised a hand to acknowledge his error.

  This morning's meeting was vital to his plans, the board were going to discuss the Spanish venture. How the fuck was he going to get everyone he wanted to protect onto the working party? The short answer was that he wasn't. They'd agreed in principle that it should be six strong. The question was could he convince the other board members to increase that? He'd try his best, but he would not risk jeopardising his plan just because of sentimentality. Gerald was his main priority. Jack indicated to pull into the estate. He held out a hand to Danny Dawson who waved back. Again, feelings of guilt regarding Philippa washed over him. How could he have let that asshole, Jenkins, anywhere near her? Perhaps he was the one who was losing it? The wind howled as Jack's Jaguar crushed gravel on the estate’s driveway. He'd just have to make it up to her once he'd taken care of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

  Jack's mood was purposefully low as the officers all took their seats in the boardroom. Jack brought the meeting to order, "Thanks for coming everyone. As you are all well aware, the purpose of this meeting is to discuss the Spanish venture. Everyone nodded, Derek Cheesman somewhat agitatedly scratched his ear. Jack paused and stared at him until he’d received his full attention. As we've previously agreed, a working party of six should go and reccce areas in and around Valencia. At this early stage in the proceedings are we all agreed that we should keep an open mind as to the nature of business activity we want the working party to consider for us?” Everyone nodded their agreement.

  "That's great, so the main things left to decide are firstly; who goes on it, and secondly; when does it go? I suggest early next year, just after the election, perhaps?"

  "Bollocks! Sorry Christine." Quilter said.

  Christine looked up from her notes and smiled.

  "You know damn well the working parties’ findings could have a bearing on the election.”

  Jack shrugged, "Well when do you suggest the working party should go then Dave?"

  "As soon as possible," Quilter snapped, "and here’s my list of nominees. It was my bloody idea, when all's said and done."

  Gerald and Harry Robertson exchanged glances.

  Jack read the list. "I've no problem with that list, but I'd like to add one extra person."

  Quilter nodded, "Who?" he asked.

  "Gerald." Jack said.

  "Gerald!" Quilter repeated in astonishment. "But what about the election?"

  Jack shook his head, "Let me worry about that Dave. Gerald has decided for the, fifth time I think it is, to retire from the board."

  Several chuckles went around the room, but Gerald looked distinctly forlorn.

  "Yeah, Gerald has been considering the prospect of living abroad for some time, long before Quilter's idea about the Spanish venture." Jack said looking directly at Quilter, who stared directly back at him. The atmosphere was becoming tenser by the minute.

  "Gerald won't exactly be a fully-fledged member of the working party, but he will assist in an advisory role. That leaves the small matter of who should take over the overall running of the estate. I think the natural choice would be Harry, does everyone agree?" Everyone mumbled their agreement. Jack looked at Quilter who nodded. "What about Gerald's role on the board?"

  "Well with less than three months to go until the elections, I suggest we install a temporary officer, then whoever wins gets to appoint someone on a permanent basis. Is that okay with you Dave?”

  Quilter got the distinct impression he was being railroaded into something. However, he couldn't fathom exactly what it was because nothing Davies had suggested, so far, seemed to be of detriment to him. He supposed that maybe it was just the fact that he didn't like that smarmy git being in control of his idea. "It just depends on who it is." he said grumpily.

  "Maggie Townsend." Jack proposed, just about managing to keep a straight face. God, if he laughed now, he could blow the whole thing sky-high.

  Christine stopped scribbling, "Excuse me Jack," she said, "If bloody Maggie Townsend's good enough to be considered for the post, then why aren't I?"

  "Because," Jack retorted, "You were both mine and Dave's first choice to head up the working party.”

  Quilter smiled, "that's a bit of a wild choice, isn't it Jack?" he said. Jenkins nudged Quilter under the table.

  "Not at all," Jack replied, "she virtually runs that club single-handedly. Although Tom was brilliant at operations, some of his managerial appointments left a lot to be desired. Geoff Crompton is a prime example; we all know that without Maggie he’d sink like a stone."

  Everyone murmured their agreement.

  "Yes," Gerald said pushing his glasses up on his nose, "she's always struck me as a capable young woman."

  "Okay," Quilter said, "I'll go along with it, until after the election that is.”

  "Great, let's all get to work then." Jack said passing Christine the amended list of nominees. "That's your team." he said with a broad smile.

  7

  Jack was still smiling as he drove home that evening. However, he told himself not to become too complacent because he was well aware that, that bastard Quilter could smell deception at two hundred paces, but Quilter had nothing; Quilter and Jenkins knew that Gerald had screwed up, so that took care of him, even Gerald, although he had genuinely been considering re-locating abroad, thought he was going because of the leak. Furthermore, he believed that by now Quilter had actually convinced himself that the Spanish venture had been his idea all along. Matt was the only person he’d not been able to get nominated for the working party, but he felt
sure he could sort that out. "I'm going to cut your fuckin' heads off." Jack hissed as his Jag picked up speed.

  8

  "There's something not quite right about all this." Quilter said to Jenkins over a beer in Sounds that evening.

  "And you're always telling me that I worry too much." Jenkins replied.

  Quilter shook his head before taking a gulp of his beer.

  "Everything's working out just fine Quilter. You know damn well he blames Gerald for that leak, and as for him appointing Maggie as a temporary board member, that's a fuckin' God send man." Jenkins finished off his pint.

  "Hmm, let's just think of the possibilities." Quilter said reflectively as Jenkins ordered another round.

  "Go on Dave, I'm listening." Jenkins replied. Although in truth he was far more interested in studying Maggie Townsend's rear as she bent over to reach a mixer from the bottom shelf. Quilter was deliberating with himself, anyway, Jenkins concluded glancing round to his boss before returning his gaze to the much more appealing view that was Maggie's backside. God, he wouldn't mind some of that he thought with a sigh. In fairness though, he couldn't complain, his cousin every other weekend, plus the occasional romp with Philippa. He was hardly going without, now was he? Nevertheless, he still wouldn't mind. Maggie looked over to him, "Are you being served Dave?" she asked.