The Cornmarket Conspiracy

by Sharon Hoisager

  The tunnel was only about three meters wide and three meters high. Other than the dark gray mud that lined the walls, and the small stream of water about two centimeters deep running down the middle, there was not much to look at. Clearly there had been no clandestine parties being thrown in this branch of the tunnel maze.

  Akeem growled some new command in Arabic and Rasul started walking. Annie followed behind, as her only other option was to run off into the pitch dark like a blind animal. They followed the stream, and the beam of light through the tunnel about two hundred meters, and then then Akeem switched to English.

  “Turn right here, through that opening in the wall.”

  Annie looked to the right, but could see nothing but gray mud. Rasul was obviously in the same boat, as he peered at the wall with the same look of incomprehension.

  “There, down low.” Akeem said.

  And then Annie saw it, a small opening about one-meter square. Akeem shined his light on the hole, and Annie could see that it opened into a much larger space. With no hope left, she dropped to her knees and crawled through the space, Rasul lingering behind.

  Behind her, she heard another scuffle, this one much more intense than the last. Rasul had obviously decided to make another last-ditch attempt to wrestle the gun away from Akeem. Annie could hear their gruff voices wailing in Arabic as the sounds of a high stakes fight for the gun was in play. She could hear crashes and blows of the struggle echoing up and down the tunnel. In the half light of the lantern, Annie could make out the feet and legs of the two as they thrashed and flailed in a mortal battle for the gun.

  Annie scrambled for a place to hide or escape from her new chamber in the tunnel, but could see nothing more than the mud floor a few meters around her where the light from the tunnel made a small circle and illuminated the floor. She crouched against the wall, watching the struggle underway in the tunnel from her limited vantage point, trying to make out who was winning the scuffle. Suddenly, two shots rang out, reverberating through the tunnel. Annie let out a shriek and thrust her hands to her face, too afraid to see whose body fell to the ground. She held her breath as tears flooded her eyes. She wiped her eyes and strained through the dim light to see who was left standing. For several seconds there was no sound.

  And then she heard his body fall. Rasul’s head hit the ground, and his face was turned in a grotesque angle straight toward her. She could look directly into his eyes, but knew he wasn’t seeing her. Annie sucked in her breathe and cowered into the dark hole even further.

  In a moment, the piercing beam from the flashlight turned on her and she recoiled at the glaring light. Akeem’s face appeared next to the light, scowling at her through the patches of light and dark.

  “Get inside, bitch.”

  Annie scooted backwards into the hole, and suddenly realized that this was no hole in the wall at all. She was now sitting on the concrete floor of a cavernous room, dimly lit by the light being thrown off by Akeem’s lone light source.

  Behind her, Akeem scrambled into the room. Once Akeem was in the room, the entire space was ablaze in light. Annie realized this was no abandoned tunnel after all. There were three makeshift tables, haphazardly assembled out of 2x4s and plywood, and a smattering of chairs that had been assembled with the same crude materials. The place was littered with trash — cans, paper plates, empty water jugs, and sacks from a grocery store, where obviously someone had brought in food and had stayed down here for some extended length of time. In the corner, an old cereal box had obviously turned into dinner for some rats. Someone had obviously spent some serious time down here.

  On top of the three tables, it looked like an electronics lab of some sort was in full operation. The tables had been pushed together, and on top of the largest were spools of electrical wiring, circuit boards, a mishmash of miscellaneous electronic devices, and three or four laptop computers. Taking it all in, Annie knew instantly what she was looking at.

  Annie turned and faced Akeem. For some reason, she felt a surge of strength in what she believed were her final moments, and wanted to look her killer in the eyes before he pulled the trigger.

  “I have no idea why you’ve brought me here to kill me. I told you, I have no knowledge of anything that would make me a risk for someone like you. Please let me go. I swear to you that I will never tell anyone about you or this place.” Annie was making her final desperate plea.

  “Shut up and sit down on that carpet.” Akeem glared at her and kept his gun aimed squarely at her head, with his finger on the trigger. Annie looked around, and saw a small square of old carpet along the wall. Affixed to the tunnel wall next to it was a long metal chain with a small metal bracket on the end. She sat down on the carpet as she was told, and Akeem secured the bracket around her ankle, imprisoning her in the dark alcove, twenty meters below the little Catholic Chapel above.

  As soon as the metal clamp was locked around her ankle, from outside the opening and down the tunnel, they heard a distinct clang, the sound of metal hitting metal. Akeem jumped and turned around, his gun waving wildly in the air, aimed at everything and nothing. Annie sucked in her breath, and sat motionless, listening for the sound of someone coming. She did not take a breath or utter a sound, waiting for some other sign that someone might be coming to rescue her. But no sound came. Was it someone in the tunnel? Or was it just some innocuous sound from far away echoing through the underground labyrinth? Akeem had obviously heard it too. He kneeled on the ground and tried to peer out of the hole, and down the tunnel, looking for someone to emerge out of the shaft leading down from the surface. The tunnel was too dark, and he could see no one.

  Just as Akeem started to stand, the sound rang out again, but much louder this time. CLANG.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Jeffrey’s plane landed in Paris at 9:20 p.m. at Paris’s Orly airport. With the exception of two pilots and a steward, he was the only one on the flight. The military level crew made routine flights like this on a daily basis for members of the British government, so no one asked very many questions. Given the current state of emergency, no one would question a quick visit to Paris anyway.

  Other than filing a flight plan, Jeffrey eschewed any formal travel arrangements once he landed in Paris. He wanted this trip to be as low key as possible, so he had reported that beyond the Paris airport, transportation would be provided by private car upon his arrival. Once he landed, he summoned an Uber for the half hour drive into the city. So far his impromptu trip was going according to plan. Within forty-five minutes of landing, Jeffrey’s Uber driver already had him entering the streets of Paris’s Latin Quarter, cruising along the streets circling the Sorbonne, surrounded by old buildings resplendent in their beautiful classic architecture.

  In a few minutes, the Uber driver had found the address Jeffrey had given him. Jeffrey looked down at his watch: 10:00 p.m. sharp. Surely this address wasn’t right. Why on earth would Annie want to meet him here on this dark Parisian street in front of an old church? He punched in the tip amount on his phone for the Uber driver, and got out of the car. A light snow was falling, and regardless of the circumstances, Jeffrey could not help but notice how beautiful the little church was in the moonlight.

  Jeffrey waited on the pavement outside the church, and after ten minutes, he was growing increasingly impatient and freezing cold. Surely there had been some sort of misunderstanding. He checked his text message again. For the now second time, he hit the icon to reply and hurriedly typed “I’m here. Where are you?” Again, there was no response.

  About ready to give up and summon his Uber back, Jeffrey pulled on the iron gates of the chapel courtyard and was surprised to find them open. For the first time it dawned on him that maybe Annie had meant to meet him inside the chapel. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

  Walking up to the tall front doors, he was surprised again to find them open as well. Who would leave a church open this late on a weeknight? Maybe it was left open for people needing to pray? Jef
frey had no idea if churches really did things like that, but he’d seen it in the movies, so it seemed plausible enough to him.

  Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, he could see the soft glow of candlelight emanating from the small alcove off to the right in the entryway. He pulled the door closed softly behind him, feeling a little eerie in a church alone this late at night. This was all starting to feel extremely uncomfortable for Jeffrey and he was ready to turn tail and escape with each passing moment. But his concern for Annie kept him moving forward.

  The church was empty, save for the stone Saints scattered around the small chapel. Each of his footsteps echoed in the chamber, and in the absence of any other sound, his own breathing sounded inordinately loud. He thought he could hear the soft creaking of old wood, settling in cold damp air.

  And then he saw him.

  The man was sitting alone at the front of the church in one of the short pews positioned up near the altar. The little pew the man was sitting on sat at a ninety-degree angle to the regular pews, and was the type usually reserved for the priests and other VIPs. He was dressed in a heavy black coat, but his face was turned away, looking toward the gilded altar. Jeffrey assumed he must be a priest, the caretaker of this ancient chapel. Who else would be in a deserted church this time of night?

  Not wanting to interrupt the priest’s quiet contemplation, Jeffrey waited a moment, and then softly cleared his throat to alert the man to his presence. The man did not budge or turn his head. For a moment Jeffrey thought he must be asleep.

  Moving up the center aisle, Jeffrey tried to walk softly so as not to disturb him. With each step, he could more clearly see the man’s profile, and an odd familiarity began to dawn on Jeffrey. In the dimness of the chapel, he knew his eyes must be playing tricks on him.

  At the front of the church Jeffrey stopped and bowed his head, like he thought one should probably do at the front of a church. Instead of prayer, however, his thoughts were tied up wondering how to garner the man’s attention. He needed to ask him if he might have seen a woman waiting in here, or around the premises.

  When he raised his head, Jeffrey recoiled in shock. He sucked in his breath, and almost fell backwards. There, now standing silently just a few feet in front of him, was none other than Fletcher LaForge, Jeffrey’s longtime friend and Wellington’s respected Deputy National Security Advisor. LaForge’s eyebrows were furrowed, and his face looked beleaguered and fraught. His eyes were cold, his jaw set, and his lips curled up in a look of disgust that Jeffrey had never seen before.

  “Fletcher, what are you doing here? Why are you here? What in the hell is going on?” Jeffrey was incredulous, trying to wrap his brain around what was happening.

  “Sit down, Jeffrey,” Fletcher shot back in a menacing tone.

  Jeffrey did not sit down. He took two steps toward Fletcher, who stood his ground. As he got closer, Jeffrey could see the man’s jaws clenching in a way he had never seen before. Clearly something was horribly wrong.

  “Fletch, tell me what’s going on.”

  Only then did Jeffrey notice Fletcher’s right arm thrust inside his coat pocket. Inside the coat, Jeffrey recognized the threatening, hard outline of a small hand gun, and the barrel was aimed straight at him.

  “What the hell, Fletch?”

  “I said sit down, Jeffrey, now.”

  Jeffrey lowered his body on the front pew, perching on the edge of the hard wooden bench. He stared at Fletcher, his mind unable to make sense of what was happening. As he gripped the front of the wooden seat, he realized his palms were wet with sweat.

  “Fletch, I’m here to meet Annie. Hell, I told you what she’s going through. She’s in danger. She texted me and told me to meet her here, tonight. I’m here to get her and take her back to London. But why are you here?”

  And then a light bulb went on in his head, and it suddenly dawned on him that that must be why Fletcher was here too. Annie must have summoned him here as well. But why? And then slowly, the full story started to dawn on him. The ominous realization of the gun trained on him made him realize that Fletch’s presence was not some kind of crazy coincidence, and this was not going to end well.

  “Jeffrey, you idiot, you’ve always been such a fool. You’re blinded by your friendships and your loyalties, always to the wrong people. You get tied up with losers who are too stupid to take advantage of their opportunities, and they drag you down. But you’ve been doing that since Oxford, so I guess no one should be surprised. I could’ve made you a partner too, you would’ve been filthy rich by now, but instead you tied yourself to losers like Wellington and Andrew Bolling. I could’ve brought them in on this a long time ago as well. But they were always so busy being do-gooders, that they missed the amazing opportunities right below their noses. Your guy won the election four years ago you idiot, but we’re the ones making off with the spoils of victory now.”

  Jeffrey just stared at him, uncomprehending. What was he talking about? What in the hell did Wellington and Andrew Bolling have to do with this? They had all worked side by side for four years. LaForge was a trusted member of the Prime Minister’s inner circle. They had labored in the trenches together and shared in the victories along with Wellington, as well as the challenges inherent in running one of the most important countries in the world. They had shared more than a few victory dinners, strategy meetings, golf games, late nights at the office, and weathered the ups and downs of political life together. Who was this nutcase standing in front of him right now, ranting about money and lost opportunities?

  LaForge could see from the look on Jeffrey’s face that he still wasn’t getting it, and it infuriated him. He walked up to him where Jeffrey still sat on the bench, grabbed his face in his left hand, and shoved him so hard backward that Jeffrey’s head snapped back and hit the back of the pew. It happened so hard and fast that for a moment Jeffrey thought his neck might be broken. A walnut sized knot swelled up on the back of his head and immediately began to throb. Only then did the full realization of what was happening completely dawn on Jeffrey Hunter.

  Jeffrey’s incredulity had now turned to rage. He stood up, ready to charge LaForge. The gun was the last thing on his mind at this point. In that moment, Jeffrey didn’t give a damn what happened to him anymore. He’d had enough. The terrorist attack, Andrew’s death, Annie’s disappearance, he couldn’t take any more evil people destroying his life.

  “Where is she? Where is Annie? She told me to meet her here…What in the hell have you done with her?”

  “You stupid fool, she didn’t send you that text. I did. Unfortunately for her, Annelise knew too much. Her illicit relationship with Andrew Bolling sealed her fate. Don’t be too worried about it though, mate. She really wasn’t very good at her job anyway.” Fletcher added the last little phrase with a sarcastic smirk on his face.

  Jeffrey dropped back to the hard church bench in shock. What was Fletcher LaForge saying? That Andrew had been murdered? That Annie had been killed too?

  “Let me lay it out for you, Jeffrey. While you and your old buddy Wellington have been busy having tea with the queen and passing useless legislation for the past four years, a few of us old friends from Oxford have been busy taking advantage of a handful of opportunities we were in a position to help arrange. While you and Wellington and your cronies thought you were fighting terrorism and protecting the country, all you were really doing was cleaning up after a few ‘economic incidents’ we were able to help orchestrate. Fortuitously for us, there were extremely lucrative financial rewards for those of us involved in planning and executing the incidents.”

  LaForge smiled mockingly at Jeffrey, showing his enjoyment at finally getting to tell his story to the one person who had been unwittingly playing a role in the entire scheme.

  “But what about the phone call I received that morning after the attack? The one saying it was a terrorist attack?” Jeffrey was still trying to connect the dots.

  “We had to throw you a red herring, something to
keep you busy and darting off in the wrong direction. We just threw Andrew’s name in the mix for fun.”

  Jeffrey stared in disbelief. “You mean Andrew was involved in this too?”

  LaForge laughed out loud. “Andy? Uh, no. In case you haven’t noticed, Andy is dead. He didn’t volunteer for that job. We had to get rid of old Andy because he was starting to put the pieces together. He was starting to notice the correlation between currency fluctuations and the terror attacks. He had begun to realize that a few investors were making obscene amounts of money on what were otherwise random acts of terrorism. Or at least what everyone thought was terrorism. He was asking too many questions. It was only a matter of time before he started researching who were the biggest beneficiaries of the currency fluctuations, and realize that the same group of people were behind the investments that were realizing incredible profits every time there was an apparent random act of terrorism. Of course, we didn’t coordinate every single one of the terrorist hits of the past few years, a lot of what has happened has been real. We just added to the mix, and reaped the financial gains where we could. Let me say, it has been a brilliant and very lucrative operation.” LaForge’s eyes were shining as he was finally getting the satisfaction of revealing his insidious plan to one of the few people who could appreciate its diabolical brilliance and accomplishment.

  “Are you saying you orchestrated the entire EuroStar explosion to kill Andrew?”

  “No, of course not. That was already in the works. We just made sure he was on the train. Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.” LaForge smirked again at his own cleverness.

  Jeffrey’s mind was scrambling to connect the dots.

  “Who else is involved? Who else did you convince to help you commit mass murder? Including one of your best friends? What kind of sick maniac are you?” Jeffrey’s fury was escalating as the enormity of the pure evil LaForge was revealing began to sink in.