Stealth

by Stan Mason

  ‘I believe we’re two birds of the same feather,’ replied Abbott, even though he thought that he was going over the top with such a remark.

  ‘Indeed,’ repeated Crozier casually. ‘Two birds of the same feather. I like that. I’ll be frank with you, Abbott. I have a problem which I would like to overcome. There’s one person blocking my way to get to a more serious appointment in this bank.’

  ‘There is?’ questioned the subordinate, puzzled with regard to the direction in which the conversation was going. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Mr. Waverley!’ came the reply. ‘If, for some reason, he was to be transferred, relocated, promoted, found guilty of some misdemeanour, or

  If he resigned, I would move a rung up in the ladder. Ultimately, you would climb the next rung behind me. It would be beneficial for both of us. How would you feel about that?’

  ‘It sounds very favourable, sir. But how do you intend to do it?’

  ‘That’s where your ingenuity comes in, Abbott. Think about it. Do some research. Look for any misdemeanours perpetrated by the man and come back to me. Everyone has a skeleton somewhere in his closet. Find it. Make it sooner rather than later. There’s no time to waste.‘

  ’Where do I start?’ bleated Abbott, totally at a loss.

  ’I’ll leave that up to you. Write down a plan and follow it through. But don’t mention any names. We mustn’t be implicated in anything nefarious. This is between you and me. It mustn’t go any further for obvious reasons.’

  ’You have my word on that, sir,’ responded the junior weakly. ’Mr. Waverley rang in sick yesterday. And he’s not turned up today.’

  ’Go through his records. Check his files. Do anything you want to do but don’t get caught doing it. As I said, there must be a skeleton somewhere in his cupboard. When you’ve found it, come back to me.’

  Abbott rose from his seat and walked towards the door. ’Leave it with me, sir.’ he uttered, his mind going in a whirl as he thought about the request. He left the office as Crozier swung round in his executive chair to face the window again.

  ‘Well,‘ he muttered to himself. ‘You’ve started the ball rolling, Ernest. Hopefully you’ve set the cat amongst the pigeons. Let’s see how it runs!’

  His eyes went upwards to the clouds once again. No... he couldn’t tell the difference between a cirrus cumulus and a mackerel sky. However that problem wasn’t his concern... ambition was... and his next aim was to move one more step up the rung of the ladder to be promoted within the banking hierarchy. There were too many dull, uninteresting glum boring bankers in the business. It was times some new refreshing light came to the fore at a higher level... and, as far a he was concerned, he was the one!

  Chapter Four

  On the following day, Waverley waited in the restaurant for Paula to arrive. He took a window seat so that he could see her coming and he kept glancing at his watch although his eyes barely recorded the time. She was late but he regarded such things as a woman’s prerogative. Ten minutes passed before he saw her arrived at the edge of the square and head towards the restaurant. Shortly, she entered a little flurried and sat down heavily opposite him.

  ‘I’m awfully sorry,’ she apologised. ‘It’s been one hell of a morning. I did all I could to get away.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, hoping to calm her down. ‘You’re only ten minutes late.’

  ‘Lucky you’re not the Director of The Carlton Theatre Group,’ she managed to say trying to catch her breath. ‘He would certainly have had something to say about it.’

  He laughed easily at her comment. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose you are lucky!’

  She inhaled deeply and settled down as the waitress came over to take their orders.

  ‘I’ll have a Waldorf salad,’ she told the woman after picking up the menu and glancing at it briefly.

  ‘I’ll have the same,’ added the banker carelessly without even bothering to scan the menu,

  ‘Would you like anything to drink?’ asked the waitress.

  ‘Nothing for me,’ added Paula firmly. ‘I have work to do this afternoon,’

  ‘I’ll just have a glass of water,’ returned Waverley quietly,

  They waited until the waitress wrote down their orders on a notepad and left before they continued to speak.

  ‘What’s so important you want to talk to me about?’ he ventured, although his mind felt as though it would refused to listen to anything new.

  ‘I could have gone to your house to talk to you,‘ she told him solemnly, ‘but I wanted to establish a new environment. Somewhere we could get together in private. Somewhere neutral.’

  ‘I understand that but you’re teasing me,’ he challenged directly. ‘What’s on your mind.’

  ‘You’re all churned up at the moment,’ she went on unabated. ‘Anyone can see that. You’re tense, worried, deflated, depressed and miserable. After what happened to you, it’s not unexpected. I want to help you to restore your confidence... bring you back into the real world again.’

  ‘Are you in politics or something?’ he snapped, becoming tired of her prevarication. ‘Only you’re starting to talk gobbledy-gook.’ He looked directly into her eyes almost menacingly before continuing. ‘I’ll ask you again. What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Don’t misinterpret me, Neil. I’m trying to do the right thing by you, My main aim is to get your back to your normal self.’

  ‘It’s not something you have to do!’ he countered abruptly, resenting her interference into his life. ‘My problems aren’t your problems. Just because my wife left me, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll get over it in due course.‘

  She cheered up at his response and leaned forward over the table. ‘That’s a good start!’ she uttered with a happy expression on her face. ‘It’s essential that you face up to your dilemma by yourself. But before I go any further, there’s one question I need to ask you.’

  ‘Fire away,’ he told her, his blood-pressure returning to its normal level. ‘What do you want to know that’s so important?’

  ‘What’s your main ambition in life.’

  He looked at her with surprise showing on his face. ‘Ambition,’ he uttered. ‘That’s a strange question! Why should you want to know that?’

  ‘Humour me for a moment,’ she went on boldly. ‘Do you want to further your career as an actor? You’re pretty good at it even though you’ve never had a speaking role.’

  He threw his hands into the air in desperation. ‘Spare the thought!’ he said in a loud voice causing other diners to turn their attention towards him. ‘Actors make so little money. I’d starve to death. What makes you ask such a stupid question?’

  ‘You told me that you play cards,’ she continued, ignoring his remonstration. ‘Do you think you could make money as a professional poker player?’

  ‘What is this?’ he countered angrily. ‘It’s not as though I’m a good poker player. I don’t understand where you’re going with this!’ He could feel his temper rising as she continued to barrage him with stupid questions about his future. He hadn’t known the woman for very long and now she was pressing him for personal information which he didn’t even know about himself. What was his main ambition? Well he could think of a few things but was it really her business? It was all becoming too much for him in his sultry mood and he began to regret having agreed to dine with her.

  ‘It’s very difficult for me,’ she told him. ‘I know so little about you.’

  ‘Well then let’s talk about something else because, at present, I have no ambitions.’

  The waitress interrupted them as she came over with their orders on a tray. She placed the Waldorf salads on the table in front of them before leaving. As soon as she had gone Paula continued her onslaught.

  ‘Okay,’ she continued slowly. ‘I’ll get down
to brass tacks but I need to ask you another question before I do.’ He stared at her bleakly wondering what she was about to ask him this time. ‘What’s your actual job at the bank?’ she enquired firmly. ‘I know that you’re the Assistant Manager but what is it that you actually do?’

  He smiled at her before replying. If I told you that I’d have to kill you,’ he joked but she failed to be amused.

  ‘I’m serious,’ she retorted sharply. ‘I want to know every single detail.’

  ‘You’re not going to rob the bank, are you?’ he continued jokingly.

  ‘No,‘ she responded bluntly, ‘but if I’m right, you are. You see I’m going to suggest something that will make your hair stand on end.’

  He stared at her believing she had lost her mind. Rob the bank! An Assistant Manager in a major London branch... she had to be delusional!

  ’What on earth are you talking about?’ he demanded in shock.

  ‘If the situation’s right, I have a really good plan,’ she returned smartly. ‘A fabulous plan which can’t go wrong.’

  He paused to reflect the situation and closed his eyes to think about the situation carefully, He had gone to lunch with a woman whom he didn’t really know and she was telling him that she had a plan for him to rob his bank. It was in his mind to stand up and leave the restaurant immediately but somehow he resisted the temptation and simply sat in his seat without moving. He stared at his salad glumly not wishing to hear any more yet he felt that the woman would continue anyway regardless of his feelings.

  ‘Go ahead... I’m listening!’ he told her intending to humour her and dismiss anything further that she had to say.

  ‘I suggest that before I tell you any more, you ought to take a holiday. Somewhere abroad.’

  He stared at her bleakly. ‘What use would that be sitting on a foreign beach all by myself?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of you going by yourself.’

  The situation was becoming more intriguing but he decided to go along with it for the moment. ‘Who’s going to accompany me?’

  ‘Me of course,’ she respond audaciously.

  His face showed his amazement. ‘With you?’ he spluttered in disbelief.

  ‘Separate rooms of course. There’s a lot more I want to talk to you about but not here... not in public.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he told her blandly. ‘What are you up to, Paula? You’d better come clean!’

  ‘You know you’re a very nice guy and you’re too affected by the fact that your wife has left you, so I don’t want to take advantage. This is strictly a business proposition. I’d like you to understand that. Strictly business! You’re a good man but I’m going to change you from good to bad and we can both benefit from the change.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he challenged angrily, his temper beginning to rise again. ‘A leopard doesn’t change his spots.’

  ‘They can if they’re only painted on,’ she retaliated curtly. ‘Think about it! What good are you going to do mooching around your empty house thinking about your wife sleeping with another man. It’s pointless! Take a week’s holiday with me and relax on a Spanish beach.’

  ‘You know, Paula, you’re crazy! I hardly know you except for your membership of The Carlton Theatre Group. We’ve met only a couple of times. Now you’re asking me to go abroad with you. I’m really not interested in your plan or a holiday!’

  ‘We could get to know each other much better if you did,’ she riposted. ‘It will give us a chance to get down to brass tacks.’

  ‘Brass tacks! What does that mean?’ He was becoming tired of the discussion and he had lost his appetite, toying idly with his salad at the end of a fork.

  ‘Your next ambition, Neil. You don’t realise but I have your future in my hands.’

  ‘Do you, or anyone in your family, have a record of mental instability?‘ he asked rudely,

  ‘You’re not taking me seriously!’ she rattled sharply becoming angry at his response. ‘I’m trying to help you to enjoy a really satisfying life.’

  ‘A really satisfying life,’ he repeated with contempt, ‘Tell me, what’s in it for you? You must have an agenda of some kind. You wouldn’t go to a lot of trouble for nothing!’

  ‘I’d share all the money you obtained with you, of course,’ she said calmly. ‘It’s going to be my future too. And, when you get over the grief about your wife, you might even consider a relationship with me. I don’t want to end up an old maid. In any case, I like you.’

  His mind reeled at her revelation. She wanted a relationship with him... at least that was what she intimated. Well, after all that had happened in the recent past, he was not in the mood to become involved with another woman. In fact he had decided that he would never start a relationship with anyone else, not after the departure of his wife who had betrayed him Whatever Paula Stratton had on her mind certainly wasn’t on his agenda.

  ‘Why don’t you think about it?’ she went on regardless, tucking into her salad.

  ‘I already have,’ he returned. ‘If you want a holiday abroad please do so but count me out.’

  She disregarded his comment and carried on. ‘Don’t take too long to change your mind. You see, I can provide you with a solution to all your problems. But first we need to get away.’

  The waitress came over with a glass of water and placed it on the table in front of Waverley, smiling at him before she went away. The banker took a sip and stared at Paula vacantly. She was very insistent, although he wasn’t certain what she wanted from him, and he recognised that he really needed to find a solution to the way he felt.

  After they had parted and went their own ways, he considered the situation more clearly. Perhaps a vacation abroad for a week might help him but he wasn’t going to concede his position that easily. He would think it over and then make a decision in the cold light of day. After all, there was no hurry... no hurry at all!

  ***

  At the end of Selvage Street in Charnley Wood stood a building which served as a local police station. It was quite small with a staff of five police officers, located just outside the Metropolitan Police area. Established in a mainly residential district, the calls for assistance that normally came through related mainly to burglaries, general theft, minor assaults, domestic matters, traffic violations and general misdemeanours. The area was completely bereft of any murders, rapes or crimes of any importance which annoyed Jim Marley beyond reason because he had joined the police force for action and excitement and, although he had been appointed the senior man at the Charnley Wood police station, he had never faced anything like his expectations in his duty as a police officer. It was simply a quiet local police station. Naturally there were incidents which caused certain elements of alarm such as the assault one evening outside the local inn when two men fought each other with knives but, apart from the odd incident here or there, nothing exciting ever occurred. In his youth, he had watched films on television which showed car chases, police in action carrying guns, and successful arrests, while the detective charged with the case always managed to solve the crimes however complicated or ingenious they happened to be. Marley was enthused by such programmes and he wanted to be part of it. As a result, having been influenced so heavily in that way, he discarded the chance of becoming a doctor, which went heavily against his parents’ wishes and applied to the authorities to become a policeman.

  After a number of years in the service, he had been promoted to a senior officer in a small police station mainly because he had become a thorn in the side of his superiors at his last three posts yet he still hoped to continue to rise in ranks. As time went on, his personality let him down and he became disliked intensely. It was his attitude towards his work and his colleagues that was the problem. He was never a team player... always eager to forward theories despite opposition from those highe
r up the scale. His views were still influenced by the television programmes he had seen in his youth and his theories often turned out to lead to a dead end in real life. It soon came to the notice of his superiors that he was, to say the least, greatly adventurous in the way he conducted cases. Subsequently, he became overlooked for promotion within the main police force and, in order to divest themselves of the man, his superiors sent him to the small police station at Charnley Wood on the edge of London allowing him to become the senior officer there where he could do no harm. It was the only way they could really get rid of him.

  Marley entered his office one morning to find Trenchard, his assistant, sitting in his chair behind the desk. He snorted at the man’s impudence but, as soon as he saw him, Trenchard leapt out of the chair to make way.

  ‘It’s going to take you a few years before you can sit in that chair permanently, Trenchard,’ uttered the senior man sternly.

  ‘Sorry. Mr. Marley,’ apologised his subordinate. ‘Just warming it up for you. No offence taken I hope.’

  Marley ignored the comment and sat down to face him. ‘What’s new?’

  ‘There’s been a hold up at the Banco des Agricole,’ he informed him.

  ‘Banco des Agricole,’ repeated the police officer. ‘That little foreign bank in the City.

  ’Yes,’ responded his assistant trying to be helpful. ‘It’s that small one in the City of London. Owned by the French. They deal mainly with commodity customers. It’s all over the news.’

  Marley picked up a file with details of the monthly report. ‘How much did they get away with?’

  ‘Two hundred pounds so I’ve been told.’

  The senior man looked up at him with surprise. ‘Is that some kind of joke?’ he asked suspiciously. His junior had never played pranks on him before but he was the kind of wayward person who might do so at any time.

  ‘It’s true. That’s all they got away with. I think it worked out at two hundred-and-twenty-two pounds and fifty pence.’

  Marley blew out his cheeks with disbelief. ‘Sounds like real amateurs to me,’ came the response. ‘Any idea who did it?’