The City Dealer

by Neil Rowland

  “Don’t you see any merits to Pitt? Doesn’t he have any positive qualities?” Pixie stated.

  “My dear, have you lost your senses?” Sep replied, shocked. “Are you sceptical? Didn’t you see him take my child into the woods that evening? Don’t begin to doubt the evidence of your own eyes. If we can’t trust your own eyes, then what can we trust? Can I ever doubt that he raped my daughter?” he implored.

  “That’s the crux of the matter,” Pixie said. “I saw them vanishing into the trees together, you know, but nobody knows what took place after that.”

  “Young lady, we have a damn good idea. Are you suggesting somebody else carried out the attack in there?” He was puzzled and considered it for a moment. Then he tried to compose himself, to enjoy their journey and to concentrate on the road ahead.

  “You immediately blamed Pitt, but you didn’t fully investigate. Sometimes we can’t guess the truth. Terrible things are going on, strange events, that need deeper explanation. You looked at the facts,” she argued, “and took them at face value.”

  “Emmy ran back into the garden, screaming and bloody. She was in no doubt about what happened. Meanwhile Pitt had disappeared from the scene,” Winchurch reminded her. “Do you need something more specific?”

  She registered his paternal sorrow. “I admit that Clive fled the scene, knowing he would be accused... with no way to explain himself. Who wouldn’t have run away in those circumstances?” she suggested.

  “A man with nothing to hide?” he suggested.

  “Or with no-one to hear his version of events,” she replied.

  “That’s an unpleasant and improbable idea. What sort of evidence do you need?” he objected, fidgeting.

  “It may have been a trick to remove him from the picture,” Pixie argued.

  “It was the action of a desperate criminal,” Sep insisted.

  “The truth is stranger than we can imagine,” she argued.

  “Really, I’m not a fanciful gentleman,” he insisted.

  “What if a deception is going on? You are missing that, and accusing him unjustly.”

  “My daughter is one person who has a clear idea, and I don’t tend to contradict her,” he insisted, introducing an extra shot of speed.

  “How can we peer into that dark scene? Then claim to know what happened?” Pixie said.

  “She saw Pitt clearly enough,” he replied.

  “Are you sure, Sep? It must have been crowded within that copse, by the time they arrived at the centre. Excuse me for reminding you, but wasn’t Emmy blindfolded... before she was forced to...”

  “She saw him quite well enough!” Sep declared. “Yes, this evil wretch led my girl away from the house and he attacked her in the trees. Why are you employing one detail to exonerate him?”

  “Did you think if some other guy, or guys, may have been hiding in the woods... waiting for them in there? Is it too far-fetched?” she suggested, terrified by her boldness.

  “Not possible. Who exactly may have been there? Nobody else was with them,” he objected, revving unevenly.

  “If it was dark and, as you admit, she was forced to wear a blindfold.”

  “Emmy has told us that Pitt was responsible for this. He bound her, tore off her clothes, hooked her into the tree... my god... how many more times? ...and then he exploited his power over her and committed these evil deeds. She didn’t need to confirm that with her eyes!”

  “Any accusation of rape kills Pitt’s credibility,” she reminded him.

  “Well, young lady, that’s his doing. There are few more terrible crimes,” Sep told her.

  “Emmy literally says that Pitt was the only guy in there? She didn’t feel that something else was wrong?” Pixie pressed.

  “For goodness sake, she didn’t. Pitt was all over her that afternoon. Wouldn’t leave her alone, would he? Twice her age, the man is. You can remember that. He even punched a couple of her uncles... my wife’s brothers, back in the house... when they dared to object to this behaviour. We found my wife’s brother laid out... flat on his back on the four-poster. No offence, Pixie, but he should have known better to even get involved with my daughter. Why was he messing around with a teenager like that?”

  “Not to begin with. He just wanted to speak to you. When he first arrived at your garden party. It was literally only later in the afternoon that this situation developed.”

  “When they first set eyes on each other? How did he get such an influence over the girl? After they had been drinking and taking highs. Doesn’t she have any sense of danger or self-respect?”

  “You needn’t remind me,” she told him.

  “All my eminent guests looking on ... them snogging together, laughing and playing around. What a ghastly word ‘snogging’. Including a member of the present cabinet, the Chinese ambassador, some directors of the Swiss hedge fund no less... as well as old colleagues and members of the family,” Sep recalled, grimacing over the wheel. “What a dreadful scandal. What a shame on the family. How are we going to live that down?”

  “Clive was definitely not his usual self that day,” Pixie remarked.

  A suspicious air developed around the banker. “They found matching strands of his hair. Wool fibres from his golfing pullover, worn on that very afternoon. What more circumstantial or forensic evidence do you require, to convince you?” Sep asked, fighting to keep control, as he caressed his dream machine around another corner.

  “I’m sure you have lots of evidence against him,” Pixie said.

  “We certainly do,” he told her. “So I’d keep a lid on that pot of whitewash.”

  The BMW darted under an archway of trees, which spread across the lane, plunging them into seconds of darkness; before dazzling sunlight burst back.

  Pixie began to recognise the route from the notorious garden party, as she edged her neck awkwardly to the side.

  “Why is he running then, young lady? If he’s the innocent victim of a set up?” Sep added.

  “Did you think he was capable of such a terrible deed? You know, before he was working on the BIP negotiation?”

  “I trusted him, Pixie. He’s responsible for serious theft. Furthermore we want all our intellectual property back. Before he takes his final bow from the markets,” Sep vowed.

  “I had to stand about sipping my champagne, trying to make small talk, knowing my former boyfriend had humiliated me, you know... in front of everybody at the party, including those important people you referred to,” Pixie remembered. “His behaviour was outrageous... I was literally mortified. But I was so shocked because, to tell the truth, this was not typical or predictable.”

  “He conducted himself sublimely in character,” Winchurch insisted.

  “How will you know he isn’t a ‘danger’?” she asked, picking up on his previous remark.

  “Pitt has more dangerous enemies than just me. Now we see how this self-appointed saint, this mill trash... the son of a northern building society manager, really enjoys being the quarry of big finance,” Sep said, with contempt. “If it hadn’t been for me where would he be, anyway? Why he’d be stamping god damned savings books.”

  “Anyway he’s a capable man who would succeed in any career.”

  “He’s a malign and violent criminal,” Sep replied. “He’d be running a bloody Christmas club.”

  “Clive didn’t always feel comfortable with his colleagues here...because, you know, most of us come from a very different social, and economic, background,” she recalled honestly.

  “What about it?” Sep returned. “Didn’t we offer him a career?”

  “We tend to be a cult unto ourselves, sir. A school away from school. Yet he had a constructive relationship with the team. After all you made him an associate. His marriage lasted. He was a father,” Pixie reminded him.


  “With all respect, young lady, are you the best authority on his marriage?”

  “He enjoyed my company,” she ventured.

  “A keen eye for the ladies was all that linked him to the human race,” Sep argued.

  “Maybe you touched on his weak point,” she agreed.

  “Pitt has more than one weak spot, I can assure you. He doesn’t know who he is up against. He’s going to fully re-compensate, as certainly as we retrieved his shares and dividends. I’m sure his true opinion about women was lower than for rest of us.”

  “He could be moody at times, preoccupied, which is not surprising... but he’s no misogynist. You claim that he hates people, but actually he is shy in a group. He was most happy concentrating on his job, to be honest. And he excelled in his work...he was literally one of our most outstanding people.”

  “You’re sadly deluded. Don’t try to make me laugh Pixie. It is painful for me to laugh these days.”

  “When we were together he became more unpredictable. He was under strain...isolated. But I was never afraid of him. Clive never resorted to violence, or the threat of being violent... never mind sexual violence,” she argued.

  “What do you think that proves?” he wondered.

  “How can such a charming and attractive guy turn into a rapist? How can you say he hated women? He was always caring towards me.”

  “Is that so? If you aren’t his greatest love, you are certainly his best apologist,” Sep replied. “How does my daughter feel about his charming ways? Perhaps you are going to ask her later. Assuming she is in any fit condition to talk to you.”

  Pixie’s blood froze: she stared rigidly into the congested exit lane.

  Sep’s shrewd eyes sought hers. “How can you be so misled about this guy?”

  “Nobody will offer a positive opinion about Clive,” Pixie argued.

  “You want to identity with this king snake, do you?” he hissed.

  “I dare say he would like to come forward...to volunteer the truth.”

  “You at least would be one girl to speak up for him,” he suggested.

  “I’m trying to think why Clive resorted to violence with Emmy. She gave every indication of consenting, if that was on his mind.”

  “A girl has the right to refuse at the last moment, doesn’t she?” he retorted.

  “But it doesn’t make any sense to me,” she said.

  “No sense? Pitt told Emmy that he was seducing her to get revenge against me. On hearing this she refused and then he attacked her. That is precisely how it came about, if you really want to know. He cynically used my daughter in that way.”

  “That’s what she told you?” Pixie asked, shaken.

  “Precisely what she told me,” he insisted. “Do you need to listen to the recording?”

  “Well, after all it’s her word against his. There’s a recording? Emmy had a string of aggressive boyfriends, an abortion that was in the media... involved in a brawl in a night club. The latter incident was trivial I appreciate and exaggerated out of all proportion to...”

  “Nobody has ever claimed that Esmeralda is a good girl,” Sep interrupted. “We know she isn’t her mother’s pride and joy. But even bad girls shouldn’t be attacked by a brute like Pitt...deliberately harming and manipulating her to damage her father.”

  “Rather crude when he had more sophisticated means. That doesn’t sound like the caring man I knew, not in the least.”

  “What do I care about that? His crime has more than washed away our girl’s little sins. Her previous conduct will never detract from the contemptible treatment she suffered.”

  “Agreed. But after this sex attack Pitt’s campaign against the deal was nullified. Are you entirely confident about your new friends?” she asked. “Are the guys with the billions necessarily your best allies?”

  Winchurch continued to glare ahead, while roaring along a high-hedged lane, going much too fast. The freshly raked past made him wrathful against the accused and the woman who defended him.

  “Even if he was put up to this, I could never forgive him,” the banker admitted. “Not that I believe for a minute that he was.”

  Sep had to constantly adjust his seating position. These luxury end German saloons were not meant for physically smaller people, he considered. He had a tartan cushion under his rump, which he used during shooting breaks in Scotland. Winchurch felt uncomfortable in his Piccadilly hunting tweed jacket, which was meant to denote leisure time.

  “Emmy also dabbled in drugs. You may as well know that. Often she got them through my own employees,” he admitted. “I would sack them all, if I could catch them all. You know that it goes on. That was another scandal that I had to deal with.”

  “Clive objected to drug abuse, and any other form of abuse...you know, which had corrupted our corporate culture here,” she said.

  “My daughter enjoyed shocking people. He probably noted the discotheque business, but did he know about her other activities? He obviously didn’t know the damaging effects of rape, any more than we, her parents, before this hateful deed.”

  “Why didn’t you contact the police?” Pixie suggested. She was tense even as she tried to float into the soft seat.

  “To be dragged through the media and legal system again? Put Emmy at the centre of another lurid scandal? To become the salacious subject of a yellow press splash?” Winchurch replied. “No thank you, my dear.” He bounced somewhat from his seat - over the country bumps - but kept a grip on the wheel, and the BMW was automatic.

  “Don’t you have full confidence in the police?”

  “To a degree, but I love my daughter, and I want Pitt apprehended quickly. He badly let me down and I’m going to have his guts,” he pledged coldly.

  “The ZNT security people are more or less assassins. You must realise that,” Pixie told him. “Doesn’t Clive have the right to due legal process? Anyway these security companies have not been successful so far,” she pointed out.

  “More time for Pitt to recover his memory,” Winchurch suggested.

  “Undoubtedly he must have suffered a trauma.”

  “Can Pitt exercise such influence over you, after so much time, in his absence?” he asked.

  “If you’re hunting him out of revenge then you’ve, literally, lost your power of reasoning,” Pixie warned.

  “Is that a warning? I remember how he treated you. Atrociously. A typical chauvinist. During your affair. Misguided as you must have been. I could almost blame you as well. But anyway we’ve arrived now.”

  “Oh yes, is this the place?”

  24

  There was a signboard at the perimeter, spelling a legend of The Septimus Winchurch ZNT Research Hospital, half hidden along an otherwise obscure and bumpy lane. He threw the car up a sloping access road, where singed hedgerows were superseded by irrigated exotic shrubs. The financier drove up the gravel entranceway into landscaped territory, where the rough surface transformed into melted liquorice tarmac. Some four hundred metres further along they approached a security building, complete with barrier and uniformed guard.

  “You have security at a hospital?” Pixie asked.

  “There’s security at any hospital, my dear, if you’d care to check,” Sep explained.

  Pixie was mortified at the stupidity of her misplaced question.

  A youthful guard brought his fluffy face to the driver’s open window, nodding dutifully at Winchurch and casting an admiring glance over Pixie. Friendly greetings were exchanged before the guard raised a striped pole and waved them through.

  “A good job well done, young man,” Sep praised, with a royal wave. “We shall see you again!”

  At which he fulfilled a showy skid and powered ahead into the visitors’ car park. He was known for his gallantry to new and youthful members of staff at al
l levels of the organisation.

  “Why did you want to rebuild and sponsor a whole hospital?” she asked.

  “You consider me vainglorious? Doing my Napoleon routine? Short men, you understand,” he jested.

  “Surely you were taking on a lot, with your holding in BIP...combined with your day job, as it were,” Pixie said.

  “Not for me,” he replied, knowingly.

  There was no shortage of parking space, and he skewed the BMW carelessly around. In a sense he didn’t own the car, but the taxman would never enjoy it.

  “The original hospital building was here. Crumbling since the days of Gladstone and Disraeli. We established a charitable trust. How could I sit out in my garden with an easy conscience?”

  Winchurch killed the engine softly, with his senatorial thumb. They sat in deep rural silence; interrupted only by gurgling hosepipes and an alarming peacock screech.

  “Yes, this hospital received generous support from our talented fashion designer. Did you ever meet, Victor at ZNT? He makes quite an impression. Then we were able to build two new wings. Yes, following complete restoration, using old outbuildings for storage and supplies. If you ever go to Moscow or Budapest you can visit his shops, or his factories. The new board has a strategy to take over the NHS. At least the more profitable departments,” Winchurch argued. “They will be grateful to get universal health care off their backs.”

  Clive had been admitted as a patient at the hospital. He was sent there after his criminal activity was first detected, following his “delusional mental dysfunction”. This took place exactly after he counter-argued the deal, and then was found hacking in to Winchurch’s encrypted files.

  The company tried to nullify him in a show of forgiving and understanding. So Clive was admitted to this very institution for unspecified treatment and rest. Pitt’s criminal behaviour had removed him from the fire sale of British Imperial Pharmaceuticals, along with its numerous brand names, products, knowledge, investments, scientific research, not to mention workforce.