The City Dealer

by Neil Rowland

  “Sep brought his detectives in to speak to you. Did he want to question you personally?”

  His hands still shook. Maybe he should quit on the coffee.

  “No. They talked to us again, that’s all. You know... you had appeared outside the entrance. Your audacity very much surprised them. But it was a fleeting encounter.”

  “Your willingness to cooperate makes me feel safer,” Clive admitted.

  “Oh, but I gave a negative attitude towards you,” she replied.

  “That will protect you,” Clive said. “It may give us a breathing space.”

  “The security people did a sweep around the City. Where on earth did you get to that evening?”

  “Back to my home and family,” he told her. “Or so I imagined at the time.”

  “Did you really believe your life hadn’t changed? That your wife would be there waiting for you,” she sympathised.

  Clive face grew troubled. “I wasn’t so well informed,” he reminded her.

  “You poor man,” Pixie sympathised. “You didn’t even have any home to go to.”

  “I’ve lost my mind. Now you understand what’s happened.”

  She stretched her elegant limbs in the pink satin pyjamas. “Anyway you managed to avoid his security people on the day.”

  “Pure luck,” he commented. “How did Winchurch ever invite a bloke like me, his enemy number one, to his precious garden party?” Clive asked.

  She smiled and toasted him ironically with the orange juice. “Of course you were not invited to this event. You gate-crashed the party...after you got the details from me. Naturally I was the person he invited. He’s always had a little thing about me. I told you about his celebration plans.”

  “Since when did he invite employees anyway?” Pitt said.

  “It was a victory party,” she said. “How do you imagine? Yes, the ZNT deal was a life saver. We were permitted to rub along with the rich and powerful.”

  “Oh yes, they reward us like Champions League footballers,” Clive objected.

  “Everyone fully deserved their free drinks in the sunshine... City standard catering, which was a big thank you to Winchurch Brothers’ staff for loyalty and, no doubt, professional discretion. It was a lovely party, before you know what...or you know who, came along,” she recalled, munching on another triangle of toast.

  “Sounds like the office party from hell,” Pitt grumbled.

  “Quite. But in the spring sunshine, with champagne flowing, excellent catering, first class entertainment... well, it was all quite glorious, actually.”

  “I’m happy for you,” he commented.

  “Everybody was, you know, invited; there was a swing band playing, people were thoroughly enjoying themselves,” she recalled. “Before Lucifer dropped in. Until you showed up, that is... lurching over the lawn towards us.”

  “What were the circumstances?” he replied.

  “Septimus didn’t expect you to turn up,” Pixie considered.

  “I don’t remember anything about his smashing little do.”

  “As I remember, there was only security at the gates. Minimal security, just to check invitations,” she said. She had to squeeze her mind to gain these details.

  “This showed his confidence at the time,” Clive remarked.

  “Perhaps. It must have been simple for you to breach ...to just clamber over the wall around the estate somewhere. I used to do the same at school. After all he’s not a Victorian land owner with game keepers. Not this generation of Winchurches,” Pixie reminded him.

  “He must have known I had information against him. Regardless of the fact I was fired and my face didn’t fit any longer.”

  “Remember you were out of a job. You knew a lot about ZNT, but you didn’t possess the evidence. He underestimated your knowledge... your capability. He relaxed too soon. That was his mistake.”

  “I was toast,” he argued. He dropped a slice back on the plate to demonstrate.

  “You were just out of a job. Not yet criminalised.”

  “Really? So they all just looked out and noticed me coming up the lawn,” Clive wondered.

  “That’s right. You looked quite menacing. Literally fired up. I suppose from the effort of finding the house and then getting over the wall. My reaction was embarrassment, to be honest... regret at informing you of the party.”

  “Do you think that Sep was following my activities?”

  “He knew about your campaign... that you had a type of HQ off Clerkenwell Green,” she explained. “Sep felt in an insuperable position. Only those guys on the same team understood your intentions; had any idea of your case. To the other Winchurch people you are just an embarrassing loser, or some type of crank, following a personal vendetta.”

  “What am I supposed to have done at this bloody garden party?” Pitt wondered.

  “You confronted Septimus. You challenged him.”

  “Must have thrown him off balance,” he replied, shielding his eyes.

  “He heard you out, but more or less laughed in your face. Well, that isn’t really his style, but he grinned and bore it.”

  “What was I really trying to achieve?” he wondered.

  “After that you seemed much taken with Emmy. You didn’t leave her alone all afternoon, actually. I mean, she literally didn’t leave you alone either. I did my best to ignore you, out of pride and disgust, but I was actually furious with you.”

  “Your reactions would deflect any suspicion,” Clive argued.

  “That was a natural reaction, which helps us. Sep’s false memories of that day will give us some time and cover,” she thought.

  “Right. Then if I attacked the girl, as they claim, then I must have the cops on my trail?”

  “If the police had ever been involved,” she commented.

  “But if a guy intends to commit a crime, then he doesn’t make it so obvious. If he plans to rape a girl then he doesn’t advertise the fact. Not by flirting with her and carrying on in front of the guests.”

  “There was that show down scene with Septimus on the lawn. After that you were upset, agitated... until Emmy came down to see what the kerfuffle was about. You seemed to have a magnetic effect on her. It was one of those disturbing moments in life. That’s how it looked.”

  “That’s nonsense, because I’m a dedicated family man. Although by then I didn’t have a family,” he mused.

  “Septimus was livid when he saw you together. You had finally succeeded in getting through to him. You were hurting him, via his daughter. You’d engineered a breach of the family firewall.”

  “Didn’t she want to listen to her father?” Pitt said.

  “She literally told him to go throw himself into the lake. You couldn’t bring down his business, but you were damaging him as a father.”

  “Could I be as devious as all that?” Clive mused. “Why didn’t I keep my mind on the job at hand? Where was my focus on the details? My reputation in the company?”

  “You got drunk and loud with Emmy. That alone wouldn’t get people’s attention. You were kissing her with your arm around her waist.”

  “Bloody hell. God spare us. That was enough to get attention,” Clive agreed, shamefaced.

  “That was as much as I could tolerate. We were supposed to be a couple. When you didn’t apologise I literally slapped you across the face.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you, not at all,” Clive objected, leaning back.

  “I literally lost my cool,” she admitted. “I didn’t hurt you, because you found my action amusing. The pair of you didn’t care about the powerful people there... who witnessed this outrage. Politicians, diplomats and business people. Emmy thought it was a great laugh.”

  “We were definitely making a bit of a scene,” he admitte
d.

  “All the Winchurch employees were looking on. They made a show of trying to ignore you. Sep kept a hawkish eye on you throughout...clutching his flute of Pol Roger in cold fury. Before long he mustered security staff to expel you. I can see them squaring up to you,” she said, suffering a tremor under her eye. “You managed to beat them back in the wine tent. There was a dreadful rumpus, to be honest. The party didn’t go as swimmingly after that.”

  “No wonder I’m not as popular in the office,” Clive remarked.

  “Sep was in touch with his ZNT friends. But it wasn’t possible to get their thugs over in time. Sep persuaded his guests to go back into the house. Then I noticed you striding away with Emmy... into the trees at the bottom of the garden. I remained standing outside for a while, looking out... because I was concerned, even though nobody else stayed around to witness. I somehow hoped that you would return to your senses,” Pixie argued.

  “Whatever got into me? I never imagined I was capable of such behaviour,” Clive said. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheeks, as if to erase his shame.

  “It was getting dark. I was on the terrace, watching out. Sep went back into the house, reluctantly...he had such an expression on his face... compelled to look after his guests.”

  “Didn’t he want to chase after us?” Pitt wondered. “What was wrong with the bloke? This is his daughter we’re talking about!”

  “Sep despaired of influencing her. What good would it do him? I told him what I had seen. He contacted the security director, yet again, saying that matters had gone far enough. But we spotted Emmy returning, running up the garden, towards the terrace. She was naked and screaming, with streaks of blood on her chest and stomach....it was just terrible, Clive.”

  He was stunned and stared at her, almost as chalk faced as she. “You may as well continue, love...give me the whole picture!” he prompted.

  “Finally Sep’s chaps arrived, carrying weapons, and spread out into the trees... were looking for you. Some of these guys were ZNT personnel. But although they were searching for hours, they couldn’t track you. You’d managed to disappear from the scene.”

  “What happened to Emmy?” Clive agonised. “They reckoned I was a monster? She was put through a sexual attack, at my hands? Why are they sure about the scenario? Maybe she went off into the woods with me, but how can we say what happened then? We don’t know that the girl was raped,” Pitt argued.

  “Don’t be ridiculous Clive. How do you think they know?” she replied.

  Her assertion threw him. He ran fingernails over his scalp. “True enough,” he replied, trying to focus. He tried to fill the bottom corners of his lungs. “But I don’t remember these events. I’m totally horrified and confused by what you’ve described. As if you’re describing the antics of some deranged maniac.”

  She wanted to touch his hand, but drew back. “Don’t torture yourself Clive. We can bring back lost memories.”

  “Some comfort,” he said bluntly. “But there’s something I need to tell you about. Right, but I don’t know how you’ll react. Then I’ll have to be completely up-front with you, Pix. Not every detail is lost from my mind, as a matter of fact. Strange as it may sound to you... if I ever met Emmy Winchurch again I’d recognise her.”

  A flutter of confusion passed over her features. “How exactly could you recognise her? Would you mind explaining that to me?” she challenged.

  “All right, I’ll do m’ best. I would definitely recognise her. Even though I don’t know exactly. I couldn’t properly explain it,” he admitted.

  “You’d better make a start,” she suggested.

  “I saw her face in my sleep,” he admitted. “Flashes.”

  “How can you be sure? Describe her to me?” Pixie challenged.

  “Nice brown eyes, long hair... with a sprinkle of freckles over her cheeks. It’s quite specific, wouldn’t you say? She looked at me boldly in the dream, and she has a mouth, as they say, made for sex. Does that sound anything like her?”

  “That’s accurate, but I wouldn’t talk about her like that. Do you think it’s appropriate? You’re not with your friends now. All right?” Pixie said.

  “Why am I seeing her in my sleep? Have I seen a photograph of her?”

  “Did you ever look at her portrait on Sep’s desk?” she speculated.

  “That could be it, except I’ve never really looked around Winchurch’s office suite. We always met elsewhere... to accommodate other people. I’ve no idea if he keeps any photos of his family on his desk.”

  “You broke into his office,” Pixie revealed. “I helped you. You were trying to figure out security codes. In the process, you may have seen a photograph of Emmy.”

  “A predictable behaviour pattern,” he argued. “In the circumstances.”

  “It makes more sense to think you were not yourself,” Pixie said.

  “There was definitely something amiss with my life.”

  “Not a regular day,” Pixie agreed.

  “Definitely they’d been warping my brain big time,” Clive argued. “It’s appalling to believe I harmed her. That I may have raped Emmy.”

  “A girlfriend works in the Royal Westminster Hospital. I’ve asked her to bring a syringe with her, last night. We are going to take a blood sample from you. Do you agree to that?”

  “What will you do with my blood sample?” Clive replied.

  “She’s the girlfriend I went to the theatre with last night. Yes, it proved to be useful in the end. No I certainly wouldn’t talk to her about this. I only talked in an abstract way. From a blood sample she can look for levels of steroids or hormones. These can be used to affect personality and behaviour. After all ZNT have acquired pharmaceutical expertise. My friend works in that area and she’ll give us feedback.”

  “Just go for it,” he implored. He leant back and heavily expelled breath.

  “She’ll get the results back to me, as soon as possible, maybe in a few days,” Pixie offered.

  “That’s a smart option Pix. There’s nothing to lose.”

  “We’ll just pop into the bathroom then, to take a blood sample. Then I can make myself up, ready for work.”

  “I supposed you’ve got a syringe, do you?” he asked. “Then I assume you want me to roll my shirt sleeves up.”

  21

  Clive took a seat in one of her modernist chrome armchairs. She had a deck view over the park. Hot sunshine gleamed like a hungry tiger’s eye.

  “Can you explain me to myself?” Clive urged, reeling from her account.

  “Would you really want me to do that?”

  “Then what else do you have?” he asked.

  “You hacked the Winchurch systems. Honestly I knew you were good, but not that good,” she admitted. “The other guys hated you, but they began to respect you.”

  “I wouldn’t have to be that good, Pix,” he insisted. “I’m not some teen genius in his bedroom! It would only be a matter of tampering with black boxes, or even social engineering. It doesn’t take genius to achieve that, I can assure you.”

  “Not unless you are a specialist,” she told him.

  “No, you just talk to the engineers. I had access to PENTEST and would just leverage weaknesses in the system,” Clive explained.

  “So you wouldn’t have to use proxy servers?” Pixie asked.

  “No, not as such, as I was categorised as code staff. Why would I consider an attack? Not while I had legitimate access. Why position risk? I had a back door into the system, using naming conventions. So presumably I created an account... with elevated rights... leading back to nothing in that case...with a hall of mirrors to hide my tracks,” he argued, trying to retrace his steps.

  “This came out over dinner one evening,” she recalled.

  “Well you’re the ‘head and shoulders’
girl. You are the expert on risk. So who better to discuss this with?” Pitt wondered.

  “That evening we considered seeing a movie. Taking a walk down to the Everyman. I was scared by the implications.”

  “No, I don’t suppose we were in the mood for a movie,” he told her.

  He followed a super jumbo, floating like a balloon into Heathrow, crossing from one time zone into another.

  “You admitted looking at documents. Septimus moved money around, setting up off shore accounts, inventing revenue streams. You discovered segregated parts of the network. These hadn’t been audited, or logged and made non-accountable. ”

  “Very interesting, because I would be adept at finding misappropriated funds.”

  “That’s what made Sep so incredibly bitter about you.”

  “Clive Pitt, the grateful Halifax grammar school boy, an inside threat all along,” he said.

  “You made copies, you indexed and annotated. You siphoned away the evidence... somehow...somewhere. You’d enough to cause an earthquake in the City and beyond. Presuming you could circulate the information - to get the attention of regulatory bodies.”

  “I was the guy with the capacity to damage him. This strategy was dangerous, but I don’t suppose the authorities keep a hot line for whistle blowers,” he commented.

  “There were names there... important people, some of them had been given state visits here. Literally guards of honour by royalty. They are the sponsors of operas and football clubs of course... they spend their pocket money on these hobbies, speculating on the currency markets, buying up bonds, five year and ten years...and picking up cheap stocks as a sideline.”

  “These are high value customers... global business people and financiers,” Clive agreed. “We fully know who we’re dealing with.”

  “But we were both afraid. It was enough to turn our hair grey,” she conceded. “We thought what good can this do for us or anyone? What is the use?” she recalled.