Innocent Conspiracy

by David Archer

  “Our advertisers? Oh, wow, I don’t know. Probably quite a few of them, to be honest. An extra seventeen million pairs of eyeballs every day, we’re talking about the potential for another few hundred thousand sales.”

  “I need a complete list of all of your advertisers, John,” Sam said. “How soon can you get that to me?”

  “Um, let me get hold of Annie,” Martin said. “She handles all that, and I can have her email the list right over to you. Give me fifteen minutes, okay?”

  *

  The list of advertisers came through on schedule, and Sam called Jade into the office. He had printed out the list and passed it over to her.

  “Something new,” he said. “It turns out that several of the advertisers are going to benefit heavily from the sudden increase in traffic that Web Wide Awards is getting. We need to figure out which ones are most likely to see a significant upswing in revenues. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Well, yes, but I’d like to ask Darren to help me out, if that’s okay. And I might need to ask Indie for help, as well.”

  “Call her if you need her,” Sam said. “That’s the reason we keep her on retainer.”

  “Then I’ll get on this,” she said. She took the stack of papers and left the office, headed for her own cubicle, or possibly Darren’s.

  Sam turned back to his computer and started looking through the list, himself. Canterbury Soft Drinks was the biggest advertiser, but they were also the one who had nearly pulled out on them. That didn’t necessarily mean they couldn’t be involved, but it did lend them a bit of credibility.

  The next biggest advertiser was actually one of their competitors. Starbright Awards, the European competition to Web Wide Awards, also owned the Starbright Streaming Service. They boasted over twenty million subscribers worldwide, and streamed hundreds of Internet-based television programs and other videos directly into homes all over the world. They even carried a number of the independent programs that had won the Web Wide Award, and it was a safe bet that their ads on the award company website were responsible for a lot of those subscribers. A sudden upswing in traffic for Web Wide Awards was likely to mean an upswing in subscribership for Starbright.

  Sam made a note to himself to check them out more thoroughly, and then was surprised when Jenna announced that Jade and Darren wanted to speak with him.

  “Send them in,” he said.

  The two of them came in and sat in front of Sam’s desk, and Darren said, “Sam, there’s one advertiser that we think looks suspicious.”

  “Starbright?” Sam asked.

  Both Jade and Darren grinned. “That’s the one,” Darren said. “I noticed in Summer’s report that Morton said he had considered merging with them at one point. The purpose of that merger, I would suspect, was so that Starbright could take better advantage of the traffic that Web Wide Awards already has. If we’re looking at advertisers who would benefit from a sudden boost in traffic, they would come out on top of the list.”

  “I agree,” Sam said. “I was just thinking along the same lines, myself.”

  “Well, anyway, I asked Denny to see if he could find out anything. He’s supposed to get back to us pretty shortly, but I got a hunch we might be onto something, here.”

  “Then, let’s dig into it and find out. I really want to know who was behind this, as soon as we possibly can.”

  “You got it,” Darren said. Jade only smiled as the two of them left the room again.

  *

  Denny Cortlandt was getting frustrated. If he was told he had to jump out of an airplane behind enemy lines, crawl on his belly through mud for twenty miles, find a single left-handed blind shoemaker and drag him back to the U.S.A., his only reaction would be one of excitement. Adrenaline would kick in, and no matter how bad things got, he’d only be having fun.

  Sitting at a computer, on the other hand, was one of the few things that he honestly dreaded. He was exceptionally good with them, and could generally find whatever it was he was looking for, but he hated the thought of sitting in one spot for hours at a time, pounding on the keyboard and doing nothing more exciting than reading what somebody else thought about his topic of research.

  Checking out advertisers was even more boring than usual. Starbright Awards, the one he was currently looking at, was situated in London. Like Web Wide Awards, they were known for providing a lot of information to the public on the shows they followed, but most of theirs were based in Europe. They did follow some American shows, and had even given awards to a few of them, but most of their award business seemed to be concentrated on the east side of the Atlantic.

  Their revenues, however, were more substantial than Web Wide Awards’, because, while they also learned a large part of their money through advertising, they had also expanded into a streaming service of their own, and part of the award they offered included a contract for the winning shows to be included in their lineup. The streaming service was subscription-based, and they had more than fourteen million subscribers throughout the U.K. and the European Union. They had recently began expanding the service into the U.S. and Canada, which explained why they wanted to advertise on a competitor’s website.

  To Denny, that made them stand out as probable suspects in this particular case. While the vast majority of the people who worked for the company probably knew nothing about it, Denny would’ve bet one of his secret identities that someone at Starbright was somehow involved in the shooting of Max Petrelli. The sudden boost in popularity of Web Wide Awards and their partner companies, like the magazine as such, meant a lot more people on this side of the pond were finding out about the Starbright Streaming Service. They were already boasting almost 6,000,000 subscribers from the west, but Denny suspected that number was growing rapidly since the traffic had increased so drastically over the last week.

  The question was how to make sure. He sat and stared at the company’s website for several minutes, then reached over and picked up a phone. He dialed a number from memory, and then waited for the call to connect.

  “Lord Chamberlain’s residence,” said a male voice.

  “Put the bugger on,” Denny said. “Tell him it’s his favorite nephew.”

  There was a loud laugh from the other end of the line. “Denny, is it really you? What in the world are you up to these days? I haven’t bloody heard from you in a year.”

  “I’m a spy, uncle Devon,” Denny said. “Do you really want to hear from me that often?”

  “Well, a postcard would be nice once in a while. Surely you can take a moment to send one from whatever exotic locale you might be snooping around. What can I do for you, lad?”

  “Listen, I’m working as an investigator in the States,” Denny said. “We’re trying to find out some information about a company in London, and if I remember correctly, you should be pretty familiar with the bloke who owns it. Think you could dig up a bit of dirt for me?”

  “Well, only it depends on who we’re talking about. What sort of company is it?”

  “It’s called Starbright Awards,” Denny said. “They give awards to…”

  “Oh, yes,” Devon Chamberlain replied. “That’s Ben Hickam’s company. I get them on my telly, some wonderful programs. What is it you think they’re up to?”

  “Did you hear about the boy who was shot on the awards program a few nights ago? Happened over here, in Denver.”

  “Oh, yes, very sad. Although, I understand the lad is going to live, is that right?”

  “Yes, he’s doing well at the moment, though someone does seem to have tried again. We’ve come to the conclusion, however, that the shooting wasn’t actually about him. It seems to be an attempt to actually build up the company behind the awards, and Mr. Hickam ’s company is one of the biggest advertisers. What that means is that he is likely to benefit from the fact that the company is getting a lot of new traffic to their website, ever since the shooting happened. Right now, it appears that somebody hired a professional assassin to make the att
empt on the boy’s life, and since Starbright stands to make a lot of money off advertising to all the new traffic, that puts them high on my suspect list.”

  “Well, what is it you’d like me to find out? I can’t exactly call Ben up and accuse him of attempted murder, now, can I?”

  “And why not? Surely it’d get someone’s attention, right?”

  “Why, yes, and if you’re correct about them, it might get me the kind of attention I don’t want. If you’re trying to get me killed, you can give it up. You’re not in my will, lad.”

  “What? After all I’ve done for you? Look, I don’t want to be in your will, and I don’t want you dead, I just want to know if someone in the company might be conspiring to boost our client in order to improve their own sales rates over here.”

  “And how the bloody hell, pray tell, am I supposed to find that out? Have you a plan laid out for me?”

  “Uncle Devon, when did you ever need anyone to lay out a plan? As I recall, you were one of the most successful bloody investigative reporters the Times ever had. Surely you can think of some way to probe the mud for me, can’t you?”

  There was sputtering on the line for a few seconds. “Well, fine, then,” Chamberlain said at last. “But you’ll bloody well owe me a favor.”

  Denny grinned. “That works for me,” he said. “Let me know what you find out, right?”

  “Shouldn’t think it would be too difficult,” Chamberlain said. “I’m due to meet Ben at our club for whist in half an hour, anyway. I’ll call you when I get back home tonight. It’ll probably be after eleven, will you be up?”

  “Uncle, I’m in Denver. That will only be four o’clock this afternoon, for me.”

  “Well, good. Hate to think I might wake you.” There was a click, and the line was dead.

  Denny replaced the handset and grinned. “Sly old bugger,” he muttered.

  He got up from his desk and walked down the hall to Sam’s office. Jenna looked up and smiled, then announced him. Sam told her to send him in.

  “I’ve been checking out Starbright, as Darren asked,” he said as he sat in the chair in front of the desk. “They’ve been doing some expanding lately, got their own TV service going, and they’ve been working hard to get subscribers over here to get even bigger. Since they advertise with our clients, and those ads are likely getting an awful lot of attention lately, I rang up my uncle Devon in London. He knows just about everybody over there, and as I thought, he knows the owner of that company well. They’re playing cards tonight, and he’s going to see what he can find out. I should hear back from him at some time in this afternoon. He’s going to dig around a bit, see if he can find out just how likely they might be to be involved in this thing.”

  “Denny, are you sure that’s a good idea? These people, whoever they are, don’t seem to be shy when it comes to murder or attempted murder. You could be putting your uncle in danger.”

  Denny scoffed. “More likely, I’ve put his friend Ben Hickam in danger. Hickam owns the company, and uncle Devon is no man to mess with. He spent nigh twenty years untangling the politics of Parliament to uncover all sorts of governmental corruption for the Times of London, and more than one tried to shut up and died for their efforts. He’s a master at getting people to admit to things they’d rather keep quiet; in fact, they often don’t even remember that they said anything at all.”

  Darren Beecher had walked in as they were talking, and he suddenly grinned. “Uncle Devon?” he asked. “And he was a reporter for the Times? Are you telling me Devon Chamberlain is your uncle?”

  Denny look surprised. “You bloody know him?”

  “Only by reputation,” Darren said. “Anytime we were working with Scotland Yard, it seemed like one of his articles would be in the file. Sam, this guy not only covered a lot of the major corruption stories in England, he actually caught quite a few of the culprits involved, handed them over himself to Scotland Yard. Quite an amazing fellow.”

  “He sounds like it,” Sam said. “Remind me to see that he gets something for doing this.”

  “Aw, bloody no!” Denny said. “The old fart’ll be calling us every day looking for work if we do that. This way, he’ll only want a favor in return one day, and I can live with that.”

  Sam smiled. “Okay, I’ll let you manage him, then. Let me know what he finds out, okay?”

  “Will do,” Denny said. “It’ll be in my report by the end of the day.”

  19

  Lord Devon Chamberlain, who was afforded the title for no better reason than the fact that his father had been a Duke of some small area that nobody bothered to remember anymore, walked into the Travellers Club a few minutes after eight in the evening, fashionably late as was his habit. Benjamin Hickam, David Darwin, and David Cross were waiting for him around the whist table, and one of them had already seen to it that his whiskey sour was waiting.

  He sat down, picked up the drink and took a sip, then greeted his friends. “Ben, David, David,” he said. “Do you know, I always feel just a bit ridiculous saying that. You should put Benjamin between the two of you, so that I won’t feel quite so stupid the next time.”

  “Not much chance of that,” David Cross said. “You manage to make yourself feel stupid for the silliest reasons, Devon. Who are we to take away a good one?”

  “Oh, and that’s why you are such good friends. It’s also why, if truth be told, I so enjoy taking your money at these little games.”

  “Oh, shut up and deal,” Ben Hickam said. “You’re last in, so you deal first.”

  Devon grinned as he picked up the cards and began shuffling. He enjoyed playing whist with his friends, and the penny ante bets they made only helped to make it more fun. He finished shuffling and let the cards fly, demonstrating that he was still the fastest dealer among them, just as he had been when they were all recruits in the Royal Navy.

  “Hearts is trumps,” he said. “It’s to you, David.”

  David Darwin arranged his cards carefully, taking far more time than was necessary. The two Davids were a team, while Devon always partnered himself with Ben.

  “Good heavens, Darwin,” his partner said, “Will you toss out a card already?”

  “Well, it’s got to be the right one, dunnit?” Darwin asked. “We don’t want to be feeding these blighters our tricks, now, do we?” He huffed a couple of times, then tossed out the ace of clubs.

  Hickam was next and laid the deuce, followed by Cross with the trey. Devon tossed out the five, making Darwin groan.

  “Chamberlain, you broke that run,” he said. “Every time we start with ace through four, David and I end up winning.”

  “Well, it’s glad I am I didn’t have the four, then,” Devon said. “You took the trick, so you lead again.”

  “Bastard,” Darwin muttered. He laid out the five of diamonds. Ben dropped the queen of diamonds on it, Cross laid the seven, and Devon followed up with the nine.

  “Ours,” Ben said, pushing the cards toward Devon, who stacked them neatly and laid them beside his glass.

  “Your go,” Darwin said. Ben laid out the king of diamonds, Cross added the four, Devon dropped the deuce, and Darwin chuckled as he took the trick with the five of hearts.

  “I saw that coming,” Cross said. “Far too many diamonds in my hand, I knew somebody was short.”

  The play continued, and the two Davids took the hand with eight tricks, for a score of two. It was Darwin’s turn to deal, then, and he shuffled the cards with as much noise and fanfare as he could manage. Somewhere, he had learned the trick of slapping a card down so that it made a loud noise, and Devon noticed several of the other members glaring their direction.

  “Darwin, can you be a bit more gentle? I think you’re beginning to annoy some of our fellows, what with making such a racket as you deal.”

  Cross nodded. “He’s right,” he said. “It’s bad enough when you slam the cards during play, but when you do it as you deal, it sounds like a small war in here. Had more than enoug
h of that, long ago.”

  “Which it might be,” said Lord Fancher from a couple of tables over, “if he keeps that up. Down the racket, Darwin, you’re making an ass of yourself again.”

  Darwin grumbled under his breath, but laid the rest of the cards out quietly. Devon took the opportunity to look at his partner across the table.

  “So, Ben,” he said conversationally. “Did this horrid shooting in the States cause your company any grief?”

  Hickam seemed completely unfazed by the question. “And why should it?” he asked. “D’ye think I care much what the Yanks do?”

  “Daresay not,” Devon said, “but they seem to be sort of a cousin to your firm. Awards, all that rot. Just wondered if it’s going to affect your move into the States.” They picked up the cards and began sorting them.

  “Can’t see why it would,” Hickam said. “We don’t depend on the Yank market, but we’re bound to pick up a lot of them as subscribers. I could bloody care less who gives awards for the vids, that only costs me money. Putting them on the telly, that’s what stuffs my bank accounts.”

  “Good point, that,” Devon said. “I had been thinking that that poor lad getting shot in the middle of their broadcast might cast some dirt on then, your competitors, but now I’ve been hearing a lot of stories that say it’s actually gone the other way. On you to go first, by the way. Diamonds is trumps.”

  Hickam laid out the king of hearts, and Cross followed it with the four. Devon laid the six, and Darwin the five. Devon picked up the cards and laid them by his glass.

  “What do you mean, gone the other way?” Hickam asked.

  “Well, that bloody American company has been cast as some sort of victim, so that there has been an outpouring of support for them. I read today where they’ve gone up half again in their revenues and traffic. Don’t know about you, but to me that seems a bit odd, dunnit?”

  “S’pose it would,” Hickam said. “Be a shame to have some poor lad die to build them up, though.”

  “Oh, the boy’s alive,” Devon said. “Heard it on the news, they say he’s going to be fine. Probably make him a bloody superstar, what with the sympathy and all. And I understand that the company’s advertisers are the ones reaping the greatest benefit of all. You advertise on them, don’t you?”