A Servant of the Company

by Alan Cooke

  Diane kept her hand up to attract the attention of the chairman. ‘I would just say one thing, I am voting yes based on JJ’s convincing report on his meeting with the Colbourne man and the research into it which he has obviously done. We are putting our trust in him and him alone regarding the validity of the information.’ The chairman’s secretary taking the minutes duly noted Diane’s comment.

  ‘I take your point Diane, now before we come to any other business, there is just one more speaker on the agenda items, that’s you Diane,’ said the chairman glancing at his papers. ‘Anything to report from the NEC.’ He liked and respected her as a marketing manager although he hadn’t cared for the rumours of her sex life that had spread through the company some time ago. Fortunately it hadn’t affected her commitment to the company and her continuing efforts had been very beneficial.

  ‘I am in the process of preparing a report on my visit to the NEC Mr. Chairman, all present should have a copy within two days. At this stage I don’t think I need to extract anything from the total report.’ She felt exhausted and the opportunity to avoid any more involvement in the meeting was welcome, she just hoped that this would be accepted.

  ‘Very well Ladies and Gentlemen, I would ask the design, production and marketing teams to have a forecast for an ‘in the shops date’ together with revised projected three years turnover and profits. Thank you all for your attendance and valuable input.’ He was smiling and looking at JJ as he said those final words. As the meeting adjourned, JJ looked at Diane and surreptitiously gave her ‘the finger’. ‘Game, set, match and stuff you Diane,’ he muttered to himself.

  All Diane could think about was contacting Simon. She would ask him if the brochure had been a trick and was sure he would confess if that was the case. Somehow she had an idea that he would make a big joke of it, and they would both end up laughing at his games.

  She had tried all week to get him, but without success. On Saturday morning she had better luck although he sounded very tired when she called at ten o’clock. He was obviously with someone, and probably still in bed, but sure enough he confessed that it had been a joke in bad taste. They had both laughed at his antics, but he didn’t ask the consequences. She cut the call short and said she would speak to him again soon. Somehow she felt it unlikely that he would call her, and that she had just had her last conversation with Simon Colbourne. She didn’t feel at all bitter. His company had been enjoyable and she had learned something from it. Simon’s trickery would remain a secret and with luck it would see the final demise of JJ. It would be a challenge trying to overtly support a programme leading the Company to financial loss, while secretly preparing an alternative plan for recovery after the event.

  Six months later, her company having spent an enormous sum on developing a new range, with JJ leading the charge to the market place, the project failed abysmally. Colbournes did not change direction as JJ continually advised, and after being called into the chairman’s office, he had collected some personal possessions from his desk and left the building. That was the last time anyone in the company saw him. It was believed that he had emigrated to Australia where he would no doubt continue to cause harm and disruption to those he came in contact with.

  Diane was at the NEC soon after this, but there was no sign of Simon Colbourne. She did not want to restart the affair, but would have enjoyed telling him that she had just been elected as Chairperson of her company. He would of course soon read it in the trade journals and, if he was tuned into the right TV channel on the right date and time, he would see her leading a discussion panel with a team of other gifted female high flyers. Considering the events leading up to JJ’s demise, and her subsequent promotion, Diane pondered upon the possibility of a supernatural being pulling the strings in her favour. She only ever thought about religion when reports of atrocities being committed by one religious group on another such group were reported. Her thoughts then were always towards religion being a negative force in human development, but maybe there might be something in it after all. Simon Colbourne had not set her up with the bogus information to get her promoted, on the contrary, he couldn’t have cared less what had happened to her as long as his plan succeeded in damaging his competitor even if she had shared his bed. Somehow the plot had succeeded in diverting resources, both human and financial, into a no win situation. On this count Simon had succeeded. The damage to the company was severe, but at subsequent board meetings, Diane had excelled in quelling the infighting which usually followed a mini disaster, and her proposed action to recover lost ground had been accepted and actioned. Her leadership qualities were recognised by the board members, some of whom only entered the building for the monthly meeting. Their input was financial from the early days when the company started to become a major player in furniture production in the U.K.

  The chairman was not a particularly strong leader and was pleased to resign his position once he saw the tide of support generated for Diane. He wanted even less time with the company and more on the golf course. As a significant shareholder, he was now only interested in profitability, not the nuts, bolts and oiling of the company machine. Diane had already proved herself as a senior manager, and now had captured the hearts and minds of his colleagues. He had made the proposal himself that she should replace him in the chair and the vote that followed was unanimous.

  She had been overwhelmed by the speed at which the changes were taking place. The chairman’s proposal following his resignation speech had taken some time to sink into her consciousness, but once it did, she recovered and made a gracious speech in return. Thanking all present for their support she promised to try and live up to the retiring chairman’s standards and leadership qualities. She smiled at the outgoing leader, but had her fingers crossed under the table knowing that his leadership had brought them near to disaster with the JJ affair. ‘Would he have backed me if I had been the one to divulge the Colbourne saga, if so, would JJ now be in her position of chair elect?’ Diane asked herself this question several times in the next few days before directing her talents towards toppling Colbournes from the number one position in the industry. Perhaps she had something to thank Simon Colbourne for. His antics had helped get rid of JJ and ultimately brought the whole company under her control. She had tasted the sweet flavour of revenge when JJ left, perhaps it was now Simon’s turn to be on the receiving end with an appropriate judgement.

  CHAPTER TEN

  He had been busy and his team was expanding, the number of skills available increasing with each new recruit. Some time ago he had heard of a trial due to take place at the ‘Old Bailey’ and thought a visit might produce a positive result. Two men had been charged with the killing of a gangland leader and the area he had previously ruled over was in a state of anarchy. Rival gangs were fighting over his territory but this did not interest him, the information which excited him was about the dead man’s bodyguards who had been off duty on the fateful day. The voice had been slow and deliberate in its pronouncement of their innocence in the affair, and continued to tell his listeners that the two who were brothers were unusual as they were probably the only ones from their group who had never been in trouble with the law. Listening carefully to the conversation he had learned of the qualities of brutality and discretion of the brothers. More information came when he learned that they were both joiners, their additional source of income had been payment for doing the dead man’s dirty work. Apparently one of the brothers was intellectually challenged but protected by his elder sibling. He slowly sipped his drink, the conversation was getting really interesting now, he knew their names and in another few minutes and he would be able to write a dossier on the two hard men.

  The murder had taken place in the victim’s local pub, a regular haunt for all his team of wrongdoers. The pub name and location he soon learned as the conversation flowed as fast as the talkers’ drinks. When the conversation changed to football, he finished his drink and headed for the door. ‘They seem to be an admirable
pair,’ he said to himself and planned a visit to the trial to see if there were any gaps he might fill in. They pleaded guilty in order to receive a more lenient sentence and were sentenced to ten years imprisonment. The trial lasted for just one day. There had been some plea bargaining so that the imprisonment was reduced to ten years instead of life and that was that. He had to act quickly to recruit the brothers, he had seen them in court and recognised them immediately from descriptions he had heard in the pub. They were in the public gallery and were there as he was, just to see the outcome of the trial. He sat as near to them as he could without making it obvious, watching their movements and listening to any snatches of conversation they had. When the break for lunch came, he had followed them to a local pub and once again was able to hear their conversation. Glancing at the pair, he was sure he had seen one of them before, he had features which were not easily forgotten. He looked normal enough, it was when he smiled that his face really changed. Try as he might, he could not place the face.

  ‘They are excellent material,’ he said to himself, as they finished their drink and headed for the door, as it closed he put down his glass and left the bar. He watched as they crossed the road towards a block of council houses, following their movements until they turned into an entrance. Waiting for several minutes, he crossed the street, walked past the house and made a mental note of the number and then the street name. ‘Welcome to the Organisation,’ he said to himself. Apart from their joinery work, their income must now be substantially reduced. He could resolve that problem, but on his terms.

  Following a telephone conversation, the team had increased by two. If there was a need for some disciplinary work to be done, Bill and Ben, as they were known, would administer it to the letter and a problem would be solved. His plan for them was now complete in his mind, tomorrow he would issue instructions.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was time to recap on the Company assets. This he did regularly and found it an encouraging exercise. The services of a cross section of skills had been acquired, most of those practising them would probably have earned jail sentences if it hadn’t been for his manipulative expertise. When the time had been right, appropriate action had been taken, palms had been crossed, and they were on call when needed. To all of them he was a voice on the end of the telephone. Someone who gave instructions on behalf of a powerful organisation. The latest acquisition came from a visit made to Manchester where he had overheard a conversation between two local men of Asian origin. They were discussing their boss, a clothing manufacturer, who had started paying money to someone called Grimshaw. When the conversation level dropped to whispers, he had moved closer, keeping his back to the men. It had worked, there was a good reason for the secrecy. Grimshaw had told the boss that he should bring in drugs from Pakistan, using the bales of material as a cover. When he refused, Grimshaw had made a threat which terrified their boss. Mr. P’s daughter was now the subject of Grimshaw’s malice, fear overcame the anger which he felt when it was promised that his daughter would lose her virginity if he didn’t conform. Mr. P was a hard working man who doted on his only child, a seventeen year old girl who hoped to study Medicine when she applied to University the following year. He had agreed to do as demanded and a flow of drugs had found its way from Afghanistan via Pakistan to Manchester.

  He had conducted his usual research on Mr. P and his business before making contact, and he advised him that his Grimshaw problems could be resolved if there was mutual cooperation.

  So the phone calls had begun. Mr. P was now one of his new recruits. The planning had to be meticulous, and the amount of information required from him would cause Mr. P. some troubled moments. The threat made on his daughter was finally enough to dispense any fear and he set about the task of information collecting. It had taken courage for him to secretly take photographs of Grimshaw and the members of his gang. Giving their location at a given time was easy. Drinking in the ‘Green Man’ pub on the corner of the street opposite Mr.P’s factory, from eight p.m. every Friday and Saturday night until the early hours of the following morning was the norm. He had been asked to draw a map of the area, and the seating arrangements in the pub. Locations of any CCTV cameras in the streets within a mile of the pub were to be included.

  It had taken time, but he saw this as work which would lead to him being rid of Grimshaw and his fear for his daughter’s safety. Three days later his work was almost complete, once down on paper he checked every comment carefully. He was pleased he had remembered the Grimshaw’s territory in the pub. They commandeered three tables on the south wall, no one questioned this. Someone had in the past and ended up in the local hospital for questioning the Grimshaw’s sovereignty. The man had also been warned that he could not drink in the ‘Green Man’ ever again. Discretion had proved the better part of valour, and he had taken due notice of the warning. Anyone not acquainted with the rule, was soon advised by the landlord who had little desire for Police visits or damaged furniture. He was already providing free drink for the Grimshaw hierarchy.

  On the fourth day, his letter arrived at the agency address. Mr. P would have been surprised to see it being put into a jiffy bag together with other letters, and a label being prepared for a Mr. L. Dawlish at a flat in Wimbledon. Arif Rahman would then, as he did every week, take the envelope to the address and put it through the letter box. He had never caught sight of anyone in the flat, but could tell that his previous delivery had been collected by the sound of his package hitting the floor. He did wonder if this could belong to the voice on the telephone. There were so many letters coming in addressed to different names and companies. Sumi had told him that it must be a very big organisation that he worked for. They had so many companies, and they let them live rent free in the lovely flat. He did have to pay his own National Insurance contribution and Tax as the Company wanted him to be self employed, but he was tied to the Company. Life had improved, Sumi and the children were happy and at last they could save money for holidays. All that remained to maintain this standard was do exactly what he was asked to do, no questions, just do it. He would have liked to have met Mr. Dawlish and asked him if everything was going well, but he had a feeling that would never happen and it was not his intention to wait for visitors to the flat. So far there had been no complaints, and money had gone into the bank each month. Gas, Electricity and Council Tax bills he had delivered to Wimbledon together with the usual deliveries. There had been no comments from the Company and none of the supplies had been cut off, so everything must be alright. They were enjoying their new life. He had thought of asking for more responsibility as his input so far was limited to receiving and delivering letters. Sumi had dissuaded him, not because she didn’t want him doing extra things, but because she thought that the Company was so organised they might think he was trying to reorganise them. This was a dream come true, and she didn’t want to wake up.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ten days later he had his file on the Grimshaw outfit, and could now put together a plan to eradicate this appalling piece of humanity. This would be a test, not only for himself, but for other arms of the Organisation. Some time ago he had learned of a disgruntled ex-Army Warrant Officer highly skilled in explosives, and using his tried and trusted methods, had recruited him. So far there had been no need for his services and all the man had received was a generous retainer. That was about to change, his skills were going to be put to the test very soon.

  He had called Bill and Ben on their mobile phone but it had been switched off. It would not be long before they did their daily check for any incoming calls, and he would hear from them, or rather Bill would phone. Ben was far too simple to be able to understand even the most basic of instructions he might give, so it was unlikely he would ever hear from him. Bill was not particularly bright, but what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for in animal cunning.

  They lived in the same Council house originally occupied by their departed mother. Bill being the leader, was the org
aniser of anything that happened in the household. He cared for his brother as though he was a helpless child, which in a way he was. Helpless but on occasions extremely brutal. As jobbing joiners they were competent, Ben learning all his skills from his older brother. Although he was rather slow, he had a love of working with wood and had become the far better joiner.

  Ben thrived on the praise his brother gave him, and followed Bill’s instructions carefully, always repeating them back to make sure he had got it right. Neither of them were married and their social lives were divided between the pub and Eastern Exotics, a massage parlour in the same street. Before Bill had taken Ben there for the first time, he had spoken to Lily, the manageress of the establishment, and asked her to look after Ben and he would always see her alright for money. Lily was in her mid forties with dyed blonde hair which had been badly permed. She dressed in a business fashion of white blouse, black skirt and sling back high heel shoes. Somehow her efforts were rather unfortunate as both the blouse and skirt were made for someone several sizes smaller than she was. The result projected her ample bosom against fiercely resisting buttons, which looked as they had no chance of holding back the bulging flesh. The mini skirt fitted in a similar fashion and she looked every inch the ex-hooker that she had been some years previously. The street had been her workplace, and she had serviced many of the older customers in the pub next door but two. She was always cheerful, but constantly aware there might be trouble around the corner. That had been her life, she had lost count of the number of times she had been beaten, robbed or raped by customers during her working life. Running the massage parlour was her retirement job, and she did it well. Customers like Bill helped when she received payment for seemingly doing very little. In his case it was to look after his brother when he came in for the first time. She had experienced most things in her working life, but Ben was something else. Showing him around the establishment, she had introduced him to the three girls who were working that night, but he had turned them all down. She sent them back to the lounge while she talked to Ben.