by Rory Pralte
He shook his head. He re-read the fax. “I have never seen this before!” Patrick exclaimed. Busse sighed. “Enough, Mr Chase.”
He sat upright. “Patrick Chase, I am arresting you on suspicion of being directly or indirectly involved in the killing of Michael Shoner of Skymar. You are not obliged to say anything. You will be held in custody for forty-eight hours for further questioning and will now be taken into custody.” He turned to the recording machine. “This interview has been concluded at 18:25 “ The subject will be placed in custody pending further investigations and interviews.”
Within ten minutes Patrick was placed in cell 5A of Hanover Central Police Station, tieless, beltless and without shoe laces, sitting in a sterile, tiled room, his head in his hands in total disbelief over the events of the last few hours.
RIO DE JANEIRO
There were many Germans living in Brazil. The tall, bronzed German moved his hand to caress the back of the lithe Brazilian beauty lying next to him , the midday sun oozing into their already well-tanned bodies.
“Do you want to eat in or out tonight, my darling?”
The girl stirred and, raising herself on her hands, her firm naked breasts bronzed to the same golden colour as the rest of her body, straddled the German’s body, in mock sex pose. She ran her fingers over the German’s chest, the blond hair flicking through her fingers and the face of her palms.
“Let’s eat in, Paul. We can send out for some food. Then we can go to bed early.” She giggled and writhed gently, her crutch grinding into the German’s, feeling his erection straining his small, tight, swimming trunks.
Paul Schmidt opened his eyes. He reached up and caressed the breasts, running his fingers over the tightening nipples. “If you carry on like that we will be going to bed earlier than you think, Maria,” and with her shrieking as he rolled over reversing their positions, he slapped her buttocks.
It was a good life, he thought. He’d been glad to get back home and resume a great relationship with a doting eighteen-year-old Brazilian. Good to get that business with Shoner settled. He thought briefly about his old friend Pyo. Poor guy; anyway, he’d done the best for him.
He stood up, pulling the girl to him. “Come on, let’s swim, I need to cool off.”
“Oh Paul, not now,” but before Maria could say more she was swept into his arms and he had soon dived into the glorious surf, together with her, shrieking with surprise and delight as he kissed her as they both disappeared into the warm, clear, sea.
HANOVER
After two days of intensive questioning and the intervention of the British Embassy, Patrick was eventually released from Hanover Central Police Station. With a lack of evidence, the police, although still holding him under suspicion, had agreed to release him and a weary, tired and defeated Patrick Chase was taken back to the Messe and told to return directly to England and report to the local police on arrival, as investigations were continuing.
Patrick wearily collected his belongings together at the motel and, checking out, he turned his car on to the autobahn, heading as fast as he could towards the Dutch border and the ferry to Dover.
He had spoken to Anne on the second day at the police station. With no deals in place he had told Anne that on his return they would have to call in the receivers. He didn’t go into detail about his arrest, he couldn’t. He just said he’d been busy in meetings.
LONDON
Within three months Patrick Chase’s life had been transformed. He sat looking at the Jobs Vacant advertisement in the Daily Telegraph. The company had gone. The house was safe, just, probably. His marriage was finished. He still lived in the same house, but not for long.
When he’d told her about the arrest and questioning, that had been it. She’d left to live with her sister in Cumbria. The house was to be sold and the proceeds split. He flicked through the adverts. It was not going to be easy to get a job, but he had no option. His mind wandered. Who the hell had killed Shoner? He had no idea. Christ, he didn’t mind business troubles but what had occurred was completely beyond belief.
RIO DE JANEIRO
From the office of his trading company just off the main road adjoining Copacabana beach, Paul Schmidt was purchasing some more shares in a Californian company. They’ll have a big shock at the next A.G.M., thought Schmidt. The death of Shoner had sent the shares plummeting and, through a series of intermediary companies, Paul Schmidt now controlled Skymar and was about to make significant changes, bigger than the one he had already perpetrated.
Unknown to a dejected and out of work Englishman very many miles away, some interesting and exciting future opportunities were about to open up.