by John Holt
“Yes I know about them,” Duncan replied. In fact Duncan knew all that there was to know about Anthony Shaw. He had made it his business to know. Over the previous few months he had prepared a dossier on him. He had been reading it just before Shaw had arrived. It contained everything. There were details of his parents, and his grandparents. There were details relating to his family, and his friends. Next were details of his schooling, and College education. He had been Captain of the school football team. He excelled in most sports including tennis, and basketball. He had college degrees in Geography and Economics. His specialty was land economics, valuations, and development. For the past two years he had worked as a freelance researcher, mainly in relation to land, and development. In that connection he had carried out research for a number of industrialists, and developers. Duncan had concluded that he would be ideal for his purposes.
“Anthony,” Duncan said. “We were very pleased with the work you did for us, on those small projects.” Shaw looked up surprised that Duncan knew so much about him. “I shall certainly speak to my people about you, and I’m sure that we will be able to do something for you in the not too distant future. Perhaps in my Research and Development section. How would that suit you?”
Shaw, now totally relaxed, looked pleased. He had no idea why he had been asked to attend this meeting, but it was beginning to look most beneficial. “Thank you, Mr. Latimer,” he said. “That sounds fine. Anything you can do would be very much appreciated.”
“Leave it with me,” Duncan said. “In the meantime I have another little matter I would like to discuss with you.” Shaw looked puzzled. “It’s nothing to worry about, I assure you,” said Duncan, as he began to laugh. He stood up and walked over to the corner of the room. “Can I fix you another drink? I’m having another.”
Shaw looked up. “Fine, thank you,” he stumbled his words, becoming slightly nervous again. Duncan looked at him, and then turned back to fixing the drinks. A few moments later he returned with the two glasses. He placed then on the coffee table, and sat down.
“We are thinking of some kind of marketing operation,” Duncan started to explain. “In connection with some construction works we are planning. It’s early days yet, and the precise form hasn’t yet been determined. One thing though, we need some research to be carried out in the area in and around Rosemont Valley.” Duncan went over to his bureau, and took out an envelope. He returned to where Shaw was seated. He opened the envelope and took out a map, which he placed on the table, and opened it. He looked at the map for a few moments. “There. There it is,” he said, pointing. “Rosemont Valley, have you ever been there, Anthony?”
Shaw looked at the map. “No sir, I’ve never been there,” he replied. “It certainly looks like a very nice area, judging from the map.”
“Oh it is, Anthony,” Duncan responded. “It is a very beautiful area. There is the river running through the valley, the rolling hills to both sides. Then there is the forest, which stretches down to the lake. You’ll like it up there.” He paused for a moment carefully watching his young visitor.
“Do you fish by the way?” he asked. Shaw merely shook his head. “Pity,” Duncan continued. “Never mind, I’m sure that you will like it there anyway.” He folded the map, and returned it into the envelope. “We would like you to go up there for a few weeks, and find out some information for us,” he said, as he handed the envelope to Shaw. “We need to know everything about the current land ownership. Names, addresses, acreage, and the land type, that kind of thing,” Duncan explained. “In addition we shall need to know details regarding land values.”
Shaw wondered why the information was required, but said nothing. He knew better than to question why clients wanted certain information. That was their business, he reasoned. They didn’t need to give him their reasons. He probably would not have fully understood them, anyway. It was all to do with marketing, or something. Besides, whatever it was, the project sounded quite exciting, and interesting. And he would be well paid for his time and trouble. And, as a bonus, it really did look like a beautiful area.
“One more thing,” Duncan continued. “I need to know about the development potential in the area.” Shaw looked puzzled. “I need an opinion, a professional opinion, as to what development could be possible, assuming that there were no zoning restrictions. What I need is your opinion of not only what is possible, but more importantly, what kind of development would be the most suitable.”
The project sounded right up his street. It would not be a problem. Shaw knew exactly what was required, and exactly how to go about it. There was, however, just one little problem. “One question, Mr. Latimer,” he said. Duncan said nothing but waited. “What can I tell the people?” he asked. “I mean they are bound to query what I am doing, and why.”
Duncan had been expecting that question, and was fully prepared. “If you are asked you are merely carrying out a government survey. Just a general, random sample, that’s all. It was nothing of any major importance. There was no need to be alarmed, or concerned.” He paused for a moment. “Tell them that it is connected with a land census. That should satisfy them.” He paused once more. “If that still fails to satisfy, then just refer them to the Governor.”
The Governor, Shaw thought. This must be important.
“Do you have any further questions Anthony?” Duncan asked.
Shaw had no more questions. He knew exactly what was required. “That’s fine Mr. Latimer, I understand perfectly.”
“There’s just one last thing, Anthony,” Duncan said. “You haven’t told anyone about this meeting have you?”
“Oh no sir,” Shaw replied.
“Not left any notes lying around have you,” Duncan continued. “An entry in a diary maybe, or perhaps something written on a calendar?”
Shaw could visualize his diary lying open on his desk at home. He could visualize the page with today’s date on it. He could clearly see the entry written down for today, the nineteenth. It was short, simple, and of little significance. ‘Latimer. Marshall Building.’
“No, no there’s nothing like that,” he replied. “I remembered what you had said. That you wanted this meeting to be kept highly confidential, just between the two of us.”
“Good,” Duncan replied. “I knew I could rely on you. You’re a good man, Anthony. I’m definitely going to speak to the people in my staff department. I’m sure we could make good use of you.” He stood up. “Now if there are no more questions.”
* * *
Duncan reached down and unlocked the lower drawer of his desk. He carefully took out a leather folder. He placed it on the desk in front of him, and opened it. Inside was a small bundle of letters. He untied the string holding them together. There were six in total. They had all had been written by Shaw. All gave details of his progress on the survey. And now the final report had arrived. He placed the letters into the briefcase, together with the brown envelope. Once the documents were securely locked inside, he placed the key back into his pocket.
He then unlocked another drawer in his desk, and took out a telephone. He quickly dialed. The call was answered after two or three rings.
“Duncan here,” he said. “I have the document I mentioned. Four o’clock sharp.” Then, without further comment he replaced the receiver. He then repeated the operation four more times. On each occasion there was no response from the other party.
He dialed once more. The call was answered almost immediately. “Latimer,” he said. “Have the suite ready for four.” He then hung up. He replaced the telephone inside the drawer, and locked it, placing the key into his jacket pocket. He stood up and put on his coat, and walked towards the door. He stopped and looked back into the room. Everything looked all right. He turned, went through into the outer office closing the door behind him and locking it.
Jackson heard the sound of the lock clicking and looked up. “Is there anything I can do for you sir?” he asked.
“No, nothing,” Dun
can replied. He then advised him that he would not be back that day, and that all appointments for the rest of the day, and the day after should be cancelled.
* * *
Chapter 10
The Marshall Building
Two hours later Duncan arrived at the Marshall Building in the center of the city. He went straight to the fourth floor, to apartment 407. He tapped on the door twice, then paused, and then tapped once more. The door was opened and he was ushered in. Four other men were already there.
Duncan looked around. “Where’s Reynolds?” he demanded to know. The man who had answered the door replied that he understood that Reynolds was on his way, and was expected in a few minutes. Duncan grunted, and walked past the man, over to the cabinet in the corner. On top of the cabinet were a number of bottles on a tray, a pitcher of water, and some ice. He began preparing a bourbon for himself. He looked around at the others, debating whether or not to get them drinks as well. He decided against. They can get their own drinks.
He placed two cubes of ice into his glass, and filled the glass with the spirit. He swirled the glass a few times, and then took a large sip. He refilled his glass, walked over to the desk, and sat down.
He looked at the men seated in front of him – Jeff Randall, Richard Taylor and Martin Berry. He smiled and shook his head. He knew that everyone had a price. Everybody could be bought. These three men had been cheap, very cheap. He looked at each of them in turn. Jeff Randall, the Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce, had been more than willing to be included in the same circle as Mackenzie and Reynolds. It was more than he could ever hope for, to be part of the big league. Sure the payment of seventy five thousand dollars had been a big help, but it wasn’t everything. Duncan had also been a big help with a personal problem.
Next was Richard Taylor, the illustrious Chief of police of Rosemont Valley. His payoff had been one hundred thousand dollars. There wasn’t much that he wouldn’t do for money. Bribery and corruption were no strangers to him. In fact, you could say that, along with breathing, they were a way of life.
Lastly there was Martin Berry, the Mayor of Maidstone County. He was more than willing to help in whatever way he could. His price was also one hundred thousand dollars.
Duncan shook his head. Did he really need people like them? He had to admit that the answer was, sadly, yes, for the time being at least. They were all necessary investments, which were well protected. Duncan had seen to that by arranging certain insurance policies, certain documents relating to past events. Blackmail was not a nice thing, but it certainly came in handy on occasion. He had full control on these three men. In the future he wouldn’t need them perhaps. Then he could, and would, take whatever action was needed.
There was the fourth man, Mackenzie, standing over in the corner of the room, well away from the others. John Thaddeus Mackenzie, Senator and would be President of the United States. He had certainly been a lot more expensive than the others, although only indirectly. Duncan wondered how much it had been so far. He guessed that it had been at least a quarter of a million. But they had only just started. There was a long way to go yet. He estimated that the total cost would probably be twenty or thirty million by the time they had finished. So be it, the estimated cost was miniscule compared with the expected returns.
Duncan looked at his watch. Five minutes had gone by, Reynolds had still not arrived. Duncan stood up and started to pace the room. As he did so he continually clenched and unclenched his hand. Reynolds was always the last. It was intolerable, Duncan thought, becoming more, and more, angry. Who did he think he was? He looked at his watch again. Ten minutes had now elapsed. Suddenly there were two gentle taps on the door, silence, and then a third tap.
Duncan turned to face the door. “At last,” he exclaimed. “Let him in, quickly.”
The door was opened, and Frank Reynolds, the Governor walked in. “Can we get started now, gentlemen?” Duncan asked sarcastically. “Now, that the Governor has finally decided to grace us with his presence.”
Reynolds looked over at Duncan, and glared, but said nothing. He knew better. The five men quickly took their seats, and waited for Duncan to proceed.
Duncan opened his briefcase, and took out the document that he had received earlier that day. He placed the document on the desk in front of him. “All right Gentlemen,” Duncan raised his hands, calling for silence. “We have business to attend to.” The rest fell silent, waiting to hear what Duncan had to say.
“Here is the report that I was waiting for Gentlemen. It gives the full details of the land ownership that we wanted. There are details of acreages, land use, development potential. Everything is here. Mr. Shaw appears to have done a very good job.”
“So how is it looking?” asked Jeff Randall.
“I’m glad to say that things are looking pretty good, and these preliminary investigations appear to be quite promising,” Duncan said, as he tapped the report. “And of course, as you already know we have established our preliminary base.” Reynolds looked up, and looked impassively at Duncan.
“Ian,” Richard Taylor raised his arm, as though he were a small school boy in a class room.
Duncan grinned, and looked at him. “Yes, Richard,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”
“About that base, the compound we have,” Taylor replied. “A lot of people are asking all kinds of questions. Exactly what is its purpose? What is it used for? I mean why do we need it?”
Duncan looked at the other men seated in front of him. It was obvious that they all had the same question on their mind. “Good question, Richard,” he responded. “Good three questions, in fact.” He laughed. The others remained silent. “Strangely enough, it isn’t actually used for anything,” Duncan continued. “There is absolutely nothing up there, nothing at all. Just several trees, in fact a great many trees, enclosed by a high wire mesh fence, nothing more. In fact it is all a gigantic ruse, an illusion. A great big bluff if you like.”
The others were mystified. What was Duncan talking about? “What do you mean a bluff?” asked Taylor.
Duncan turned to face him. “Richard, you play poker don’t you?” Taylor said nothing, but continued to look puzzled. “Don’t you ever bluff? I am sure that you do. Most good poker players bluff all the time. You bluff to throw the others off guard. To get them to believe something that isn’t really true, in order for you to obtain some kind of advantage. Is that correct?”
“So why is it there?” Randall asked, slightly impatiently. “I mean if there’s nothing there, and it serves no purpose, then why bother?”
“I didn’t say it served no purpose, Jeff,” Duncan replied. “In fact I believe that it will serve a very useful purpose.” He paused. He could see the puzzled look on their faces. “You don’t know its purpose do you? More importantly, the good people of Rosemont Valley are not aware of its purpose either.”
Richard Taylor shook his head, and frowned. “Ian, I’m sorry. I don’t know about the rest of us,” he said, as he indicated the others. “But I’m none the wiser. Could you please explain the whole thing, in simple terms?”
“Sure I can Richard. Just for you I’ll try to make as simple as I can,” Duncan replied sarcastically. “Nobody knows what is happening behind that wire fencing up at The Ridges. And it is precisely because of the secretive nature of the site, that questions will be raised. I hope that the unknown will cause rumors to start to spread. Stories of secret military establishments, maybe experiments of one kind or another being carried out. Perhaps there might be talk of a chemical plant. Those rumors might prove to be very persuasive, and could result in the property being sold, to us.”
“Suppose those rumors don’t start,” said Berry. “What then?”
Duncan started to laugh. “Martin, I’m sorry.” He coughed once or twice, clearing his throat. “There is absolutely no possibility that the rumors won’t start, just as I imagine.”
“How can you say that, Ian?” asked Jeff Randall. “How can you
be so sure?”
Duncan laughed once again. “Easily, Jeff,” he replied. “I know that those rumors will start. I am one hundred percent sure, because,” he paused mischievously. “Because I intend spreading them myself.”
From the back of the room came the thud of a slow handclap. Duncan looked up. Reynolds was sitting in the corner of the room. “Very clever Ian, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”
Duncan laughed. “Frank, you better ease up on the drinking, I think. You know that you can’t take your liquor. Remember what happened the last time.” He looked at the others. “What do you think fellows?”
“Okay Ian,” said Mackenzie, attempting to diffuse the situation. “You have the Report. We have our compound. What about it? What is this all about?”
Duncan looked directly at Mackenzie. “John, I plan to make us all rich, very rich. It’s as simple as that.” The others said nothing. Mackenzie opened his mouth to make a comment. Then he thought better of it, and said nothing. “Not only that. My plan will provide the finance to get our man into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.” He paused and pointed to Mackenzie. “Right John,” he said.
Mackenzie said nothing.
“How are we going to get so rich, Ian?” asked Martin Berry. “Buying up some land, so what? Seems to me that all we will be doing is spending money, not making it.”
“I had exactly the same thought,” commented Jeff Randall.
Duncan looked at the two men. He then turned to face Richard Taylor. “Richard,” he said. “Evidently you are not as curious as our two friends here.” Taylor said nothing. “What about you John?” he asked facing Mackenzie. Mackenzie said nothing. “All right, gentlemen,” he said. “Let me explain. “Mr. Shaw has identified a number of sites, in this report. Sites that he considers are prime areas for development. He suggests that we concentrate on those areas.” He paused and looked directly towards Reynolds. “These areas are, in Mr. Shaw’s opinion, just crying out for development, if only the State legislature would allow.”