“We’ll set up a corporate structure that will ooze respectability.” Horvath said.
Benson, who had lived on the outer fringes of society for all of his business life, could see a chance for himself to gain some of the respectability Horvath was now proposing to generate.
“What about me?” Benson asked. “There’s got to be a place for me somewhere, a title, Manager or Managing Director, CEO.” He closed his eyes and smiled.
“No!” said Horvath quickly. “This scheme will only work if we build it slowly. The company has got to be seen to be a fighter, a struggler, a little battler. Don’t forget that the finance and business weeklies and magazines will be interested in any successful new businesses starting up in this economic climate. The governments will also be sniffing around, they’ll be telling everyone what a great job they’ve done to create the circumstances that allow new businesses to grow and expand. They’ll actually smooth any obstacles in our way if I’m at the helm. They’ll fast track our progress, especially when they find out we are a cut-price outfit. I’ve seen it all before, I never thought I’d be a part of it.”
“Still, what about me?” queried Benson.
“I’m the only one among us, by any objective values, who has the credible clout, know-how and prestige to head up an organisation such as this,” declared Horvath pompously.
Cade could see Benson’s face beginning to flood with anger. “He’s right Mister Benson, the other companies would crucify us if we put a foot wrong. You really should start in an inconspicuous position. I mean, your name should be in an inconspicuous position,” he added hurriedly as Benson was turning his angry attention to him.
They were all jolted back to reality with the cold, monotonous tones of the Colombian, “All this squabbling is incidental. We do not care about your money laundering. We care only about the distribution of our product. Let us not forget whom I represent.”
The anger went from Benson’s face and Horvath took the opportunity to say “I will be the inaugural MD and your name, Phillip, will climb to the top over a period of time at the end of which I will resign.”
It was the first time that Cade had heard Horvath refer to Benson by a name, it sounded strange.
“How long will that take?” asked Benson.
“It will depend on our acceptance and our reviews by the powers that be. We’ll know the time, but it won’t be soon,” said Horvath and added, “I have already lodged a name and slogan with Corporate Affairs.”
He answered the mute question, “Put value back in your shopping cart—SHOP VALBAC!”
Chapter
25
“I don’t like the man, and I don’t trust him, Jim.” Danny was lounging in one of the client’s chairs in Mitchell’s office, sipping his coffee. He’d finished his Professional Year three years ago. He could have taken a job at anytime with one of the top five or six accounting firms, but it suited him to stay where he was. Jim Mitchell was a kind man, and a friend. At one stage the old man had hopes that Danny might become a son-in-law, that hope amounted to nothing but they were still very close.
He looked across his desk at the young man who reminded him so much of himself when he started out. “He’s been bringing good returns into the partnership. His earnings from the one account he looks after are almost as much as the dozen or so we look after.”
“Jim, that’s precisely my point. Don’t you think that’s odd and have you ever seen as much as a spreadsheet from Valbac Propriety Limited?”
“No, but they’ve been getting good press from all of the finance journalists and they are a profitable organisation.” Jim looked out the window, absently, at the building across the street. There was a frown creasing his forehead. Until recently, because of his financial insecurity he’d been loathe to pry too deeply into Cade’s affairs. Cade had brought with him an affluence which had helped to salvage his home and make their firm healthy.
The bank’s control had been removed and Mitchell’s quality of life had been restored to what he had enjoyed before the recession had bitten. They had even been able to employ a real girl Friday, a bright and attractive young girl. Jan had been with the firm twelve months, now, and she had the office running smoothly and efficiently. But Mitchell was uncomfortable with all of the points Danny had raised. He sighed and swung around to face the youngster and said “Of course you’re right. I’ll ask to see the VPL records, we’ll check them out together.”
Cade had been waiting, in the room adjoining Benson’s office, for the past two hours. Where was he? He heard noises from the office and realised Benson must have come in the back way. He knocked. “It’s John Cade, Mister Benson.” He heard the bolt slide back and he entered.
“We have trouble, Mister Benson.”
“What!” Benson stopped loading cash into a floor safe, he stood and wheeled to face Cade. “What is it?”
“It’s Mitchell, he wants to see VPL’s records,” Cade told him.
“Well, they’re in order. Aren’t they? You’ve made them safe. Haven’t you?”
“Only from our people,” replied Cade. “We took unqualified people from the street, bookkeepers, and we called them accountants. We pay them well and it suits them to be called accountants, but they wouldn’t know shit from clay. Our records wouldn’t stand a scrutiny from Mitchell.”
“OK. Stall him as long as you can,” Benson ordered.
“I’ll try Mister Benson but I’m not sure I can. He’s serious about seeing them.”
“John, you’re dragging your feet with those VPL records. I want a look at them. It’s over a month since I first spoke to you about them.”
“The MD took my copy to discuss something with the other directors, Jim, he’ll return it soon.” Cade was paying his regular Friday afternoon visit to Mitchell’s office to keep abreast of things.
“They’re not his records, they’re ours, VPL have their own copies.” Mitchell was annoyed that he was being jerked around.
“He ruined theirs, he dropped them in the pool and he wanted a bound copy to pass around. It’s no big deal, I’ll run you off a print.” Cade was relieved when there was a knock on Mitchell’s office door.
Danny Brannigan came through the door brandishing a bottle of Scotch and even the presence of John Cade couldn’t wipe a smug grin from his face. “I’ve done it. Let’s celebrate. I exchanged contracts this afternoon. I’m a householder. I’m the proud owner of a one bedroom weatherboard house in western Sydney.”
“You clinched it. Well I’m happy for you, Son. Sure let’s have a drink.” said Mitchell.
“Goes for me too, Danny, I’ll make an exception on an occasion like this. You must let me buy you a house warming gift. Are you considering marriage? I didn’t know you were attached, I thought that you were a career man.” Cade was all unctuous charm.
Danny poured four drinks and took one to the outer office where Jan was tidying her desk at the end of another week.
“What’s this?” she said as Danny placed the shot glass under her nose.
“Monkey’s pee. What do you think? It’s a little celebration drinkypoo. I bought a house.”
“A house!” she trilled. “That’s wonderful, but what for?” she grew serious. “Is there anyone?”
“An investment, you nut. I’m going to live in it, and do it up. Bring your drink into the office when you’re ready.” Danny returned to Mitchell’s office. Cade was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Mister Cade?”
“He had to go to the bathroom.”
Danny lowered his voice. “Have you seen the VPL spreadsheets yet?”
“No.” said Mitchell as Jan followed her drink into the room.
In the lavatory Cade was on his mobile phone. “Mister Benson this very moment is ideal. We are having a few drinks in Mitchell’s office and then we will be leaving for the weekend. I’ll be
able to keep him here under some pretext after the others have gone. Ring me on my mobile when it’s set up.”
Cade returned to the celebration.
“It’s only one bedroom and it’s rundown but I’m going to add two more bedrooms and brick-veneer it. I’ll put in a new bathroom and kitchen.” Danny was in planning mode.
“You want to be careful how much you spend on it. If you’ve bought it for an investment you don’t want to over-capitalise for the area,” said Jim.
“That won’t be a worry, it’ll be my hobby, my after-football-life hobby.” Danny said with a grin.
“I didn’t know you played football,” said Jan.
“What did you make of him limping in on Monday mornings with skin off his face?” asked Mitchell.
“I just thought he had some wild Saturday nights,” giggled Jan. Their tongues were loosening. Their reserve was dissolving with the whiskey.
Danny was the first to break up the party when he said “I’ve got to meet my brother, we’re going to the football stadium to watch the game tonight. I’m getting a cab, can I drop you somewhere, Jan?” he asked.
“At the railway station thanks Danny.” As they were leaving Mitchell asked Jan to ring his wife and get her to pick him up, he reckoned he was over the driving limit. They all were except for Jan who’d tucked away about half of what the men had. Between them they had knocked off the whole bottle of scotch.
“I’ll keep you company, Jim.” Cade offered.
“That’s not necessary,” said Mitchell “I’ll be OK, you run along.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it.”
They were on their own when Cade’s mobile rang. “Come on up,” he told it and rang off. “You don’t mind Jim? It’s a friend, we’re going out for dinner.”
“No. I don’t mind, but you don’t have to baby-sit me, I’m alright, you go.”
Minutes later the outer office door was pushed open without a prior knock. The Colombian marched in past the unoccupied reception area into the main office. Mitchell, a stickler for convention, was slightly annoyed by this minor breach of etiquette. It was an annoyance that wasn’t destined to last.
“Here he is now. Jim, I’d like you to meet Carlos Salazar. Carlos this is Jim Mitchell,” Cade introduced them. Mitchell offered his hand in formal salute but was immediately felled with a hard blow to a spot just under his left ear. He went down but wasn’t unconscious, as he tried to regain his feet Salazar picked up the empty whiskey bottle from the desk and smashed it over his head.
“Pick up the glass pieces. We will take them with us.”
“Fuck you! How are we going to explain that?” Cade was looking at the blood beginning to run from Mitchell’s wound. Up till now the murder of Mitchell was only something in his imagination. To be actually looking at the man’s body had reduced Cade’s mind to a chaotic mess.
“You take liberties with me, Efeminado.” Salazar fixed him with a stare. “He is going to have a traffic accident. Get some paper towels from the bathroom and don’t let any blood on the carpet.”
“His wife is coming to pick him up, I don’t know when, I don’t know where they live.” Cade was beginning to shout in panic.
“Then take his feet and we will put him in his car.” Salazar commanded. The car park was under the building, on the ground floor and could contain four cars. James Mitchell and Associates, Chartered Accountants occupied the whole of the small building. There was little chance of them being seen carrying Mitchell to his car but Cade was in a panic over Mitchell’s wife. “What if she comes? What if she sees us?” He was out of his depth.
Salazar smiled. “Then we will take care of her also,” he almost whispered.
They retrieved Mitchell’s keys from his pocket and placed him on the back seat. “You drive,” ordered Salazar, “and if you pick up the law, you are a dead man.”
“Where to?”
“To your car and then you will follow me.”
Cade followed Mitchell’s car to Wilberforce, a tiny town on the Hawkesbury River about fifty kilometres north-west of Sydney. Salazar stopped to give Cade instructions. “This road is called the Putty Road. It leads to a town called Singleton. It is a dangerous road and it is ideal for an accident such as this man will have. I have been here many times before,” said Salazar. “You will follow until I stop, you will then park your car off the road and come with me in this one. We will have the accident, we will then make our way back to your car along bush tracks. We must not be seen.”
They placed Mitchell in the driver’s seat; he looked dead already to Cade. Salazar removed the filler cap from the fuel tank, he then lifted the bonnet and set fire to the carburettor. Cade helped to push the car over the edge of the road and down the cliff. They crossed the road and made their way about thirty yards along the narrow track before the explosion lit up the surrounding bush. They finished the rest of their night in silence. Cade was in shock. For Salazar, conversation with this poor excuse for a man was beneath him.
Chapter
26
When Jan climbed unsteadily into the back of the taxi with Danny she placed her handbag and her lunchtime shopping on the seat near the door. That gave her the excuse to sit so close to him their calves, thighs and buttocks were touching. About an eighth of a bottle of whiskey and the imposing figure of the young man in warm contact with the whole of the side of her body was lighting fires of desire within.
From the time Jan first landed the girl Friday’s job at Mitchell and Associates she became attracted to Danny Brannigan. In the twelve months that followed the attraction grew stronger as the young man did nothing but enhance her opinion of him.
She sat with her forearm resting along the top of his thigh. Her elbow, now and again, dug into the soft sensitive junction of his lower abdomen and leg as the cab bumped and weaved its way through the traffic. Never had she wanted to give herself so completely to any man as she did to Danny. This was the man who would take her virginity. This was the man who would make her a functioning sexual entity, of that she was determined.
When Danny told her in the office that he’d bought a house she had dreaded his response to her question, “Is there anyone?” Even with her immense relief at his denial her mind was not set entirely at ease. She could not allow her apathy to continue for a moment longer. It was time, and this opportunity was not going to escape. She had never gone all the way with a date. She’d experienced plenty of fumbling teenage gropes at dances, and in the theatre. At the drive-ins more adventurous dates had taken her bare nipples into their hot mouths and brought her to orgasm with their hands while she, in turn, took them to their ultimate messy spasm.
Those episodes had been adolescent experiments, but Danny was a mature adult, a grown man, and his body was beginning to respond to Jan’s attention. He laid his arm along the top of hers and took her hand in his; he used his other hand to furtively adjust his penis. It was beginning to cause him some discomfort and embarrassment. Cute little Jan had had too much to drink, she was lying all over him, he eased away from her and she moved with him.
“Driver, would you stop at a newsagent please? I’d like to get the evening paper.” Danny’s voice was shaky. He needed some respite and a chance to compose his thoughts.
“Sure.” said the driver.
Jan leaned over Danny, he could feel a hard nipple through her thin blouse making tiny movements against his bicep.
“Here’s one, mate, will this do?” asked the driver.
“Yep,” said Danny, “does anybody want anything while I’m in there?” he asked. As he crossed the footpath the first few steps he took were a little awkward as he adjusted his underwear for a degree of comfort. He passed the woman cashier and picked a newspaper from a nearby stack to strategically hide his predicament. He then walked to the magazine section at the rear of the shop.
His discomfort hadn’t escape
d Jan. She watched his little dance as he crossed the pavement and smiled confidently to herself. He was so gentle and courteous and he could hold his own in any boardroom argument. But in the game of seduction, even though he was some ten years her senior, he was a complete ignoramus.
She kicked off her shoes and wriggled out of her pantyhose. She wanted no impediment, no obstacle that would pose a barrier to Danny’s libidinous juggernaut, whenever it began to roll. She was sure she’d get it in motion; the whiskey had given her the confidence she needed. She was beginning to feel invincible. She heard a gasp and looked up to see a pair of eyes in the rear-vision mirror. They didn’t acknowledge hers; they were transfixed by the expanse of creamy skin of her inner thighs in their field of vision. A hand came up to adjust the mirror.
Danny stood at the rear of the newsagent’s as far as he could possibly get from Penthouse and Playboy. He clutched Home Beautiful and Designer Kitchens to his erection. He remained there until he had himself under control. At the front counter he waited as the cashier counted change into his hand. He climbed into the cab as Jan was stuffing something into her handbag, her face was flushed.
“You sure took your time.” she pouted.
He placed the paper and the magazines between them. “I know. There was a crowd in there,” he lied. “What railway station can I drop you at?”
“Where are you going?” she giggled.
“You’re drunk, Jan.” he admonished. “Greystanes. I’m going to Greystanes to see my house again. I bought a house, remember? And then I’m going to the football stadium to meet my brother.”
“I remember. That’s why I’m tiddly. You remember?”
He did indeed remember. She was more than tiddly; she was pissed, thought Danny. She’d had half a dozen shots of whiskey at the spontaneous office celebration while the other three had polished off the remainder of the bottle. He realised that he was at least partially responsible for her condition and he was feeling a little contrite. She needed something to eat, and time to sober. And Danny was beginning to feel the edge of hunger himself.
The Cooktown Grave Page 12