“Christ, so much for anonymity,” Mako muttered as they headed down the corridor.
“All I want to do is get you into bed,” Marcus replied to Mako.
The bell hop leered at this remark as he slid the plastic key card into the lock.
The suite was luxurious, complete with a vast bed, a gigantic flat screen television and a Jacuzzi the size of a small swimming pool. However all they could do was tend to Mako’s face and hand, and then collapse fully clothed on the bed falling asleep almost instantly. Another night without making love.
The next morning, they woke early, ordered room service, and started to undress.
“First time I’ve undressed after sleeping,” Marcus muttered pulling on a bath robe.
“Try being a woman. Stockings, lingerie, bustier. We do it all the time,” yawned Mako.
After they showered and had breakfast, Marcus took the tray outside. “We need total privacy,” he said as he hung the do not disturb sign on the door.
“Newlyweds with that sign on our door? They will give us a wide berth,” said Mako nonchalantly. “Now what’s the plan?” she asked as she hunted for something in their bag.
Marco had the laptop from Nisten under his arm, peered into the small business alcove with a printer that came with the suite and put his computer on the desk.
“I need to print out my version of FALL OUT to compare alongside your father’s and Robert’s copies. I kept a copy in my online files along with a budget that I can access. We also need to see what’s on this,” he added, holding up the USB stick he had found in the door stud at Nisten. He inserted the red USB into the laptop. “That’s odd,” he said as he tried to access the content.
“So is this,” said Mako. She had pulled out of their bag the certificate she had been so insistent Marcus take from the house. “OK, you first. What’s your odd?”
“This USB… it’s partly protected,” Marcus said looking at the screen.
“What do you mean… partly,” she said only half interested and intently looking at the certificate.
He spun the laptop round so it faced her. “See?” Mako turned from her seat without getting up. “Access is security protected… except it isn’t quite.”
The screen flashed a collection of random jumbled symbols that morphed into a tiger and then back again. Above it was one sentence, which kept on appearing no matter what he typed.
HER SECRET FRESH FOOTWEAR_ _ _ _ _
“OK let me think…” Mako said from her seat, but she really was only half paying attention. “Now you come look at this.”
He went over to the table by the window where she had laid out the certificate.
“What’s the big deal?” asked Marcus.
“The one in the bookshop in Habkern…” she started. “Where you met that lunatic?” he interrupted to be sure.
“Outside… right. This certificate is supposed to be the same, but it’s not. The lettering is the same, but the date and the seal are…well, wrong.”
“You sure?”
“This date next to the seal is August, but the one in Xavier’s shop is May. And I know it was May. I remember. So why did my father change it? And the seal itself is completely different. The one I got was red with a star shape cut into the wax with a red ribbon underneath. This is gold with what looks like a Minotaur with wings at the center and a blue ribbon.”
Marcus leaned over and stared at the seal as the significance dawned on him.
“It’s a Taurus,” he said slowly. “You mean a bull?”
“Yes… well… no… it’s an award… in fact the Taurus is the annual movie world award for stuntmen. Bill won a few,” Marcus stopped talking.
“What’s wrong?”
“The date. It is usually in May. This is August 15th. That was the day Bill disappeared. This document… It has to be about Baines.” Marcus lifted the thick vellum paper up to the light. There was something inside. What he held in his hands wasn’t a single sheet but rather two identical sheets glued together. “How do we separate the two sides?” she asked.
Marcus thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. He walked over to the closet.
“Every good hotel room has one… and just what we need,” he said pulling out the steam iron.
After a few moments he carefully applied blasts of steam to the edges of the vellum document and started to peel the two sides of the certificate apart. Inside was a pair of nearly identical typed sheets of paper.
“It’s part of an insurance document,” Marcus said after his first read through. “And maybe Bill’s death sentence.”
“How? What do you mean?”
“It’s part of the bond taken out with your father’s company. It’s an ‘Essential Element’ clause.”
Mako shrugged. “What’s that?”
“An ‘Essential Element’ is usually a rider to the policy taken out on a star or director who’s critical to funding. If during the shoot that person becomes hurt or somehow incapacitated and is unable to complete the film and withdraws, the bond would trigger.” He looked up at her.
Mako nodded that she understood.
“OK. So, this ‘Essential Element’ clause states quite clearly that should the director or the named star of THE LAST COMPANY be unable to fulfill their services, the bond could be called,” he said holding up the first sheet. “However next to the standard clause is a hand-written note that adds Bill Baines as the named stunt double and stunt coordinator with the words ‘insert this, L.M.’ under it. The other page,” Marcus said now lifting the second sheet, “is the same but now with the handwritten clause about Bill inserted as typewritten text.”
Mako saw where this was going.
“Bill was the named stunt double and coordinator. That means he specifically had to be the stunt double for our star,” added Marcus.
“So Bill not being available was the same as if the star himself or the director wasn’t available. The death of Bill Baines breached the ‘Essential Element’ clause,” said Mako understanding his logic.
“Ba-da-boom,” he said dryly.
“But why write it in? It looks like an afterthought. I assume L.M. is Louis McConnell. Didn’t you know about it?”
Marcus took a deep breath. “No, well, not really. We all just assumed the production couldn’t go on after Bill’s disappearance or the loss of the rushes… not to mention the whole local crew just left. The star quit. I had meetings with your father, told him what had happened. But the exact nature of how the bond was triggered, that would have been between the Executive Producer, Louis McConnell and your father. Remember, I was just a kid… and damned frightened at what had happened.”
“But why?” she asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Paying back the money didn’t make anyone rich. It just reimbursed what had been expended. The movie would have closed down anyway, even without his death. So why do it? Why kill him?”
Marcus thought for a moment, “…Suppose it was an added bonus to someone to have Bill dead? What if that was all just a side show?”
“That’s murder and fraud… and needed my father’s compliance, Marcus,” she said resignedly. “And for what? And why did my father keep these two copies?”
“As protection… and maybe salvation? He knew you’d find it.” Marcus saw the doubt on her face, and he couldn’t blame her. “OK let’s leave that for now. Help me with this, Mako,” he asked trying to take her thoughts away from the repercussions raised by the documents. “What the hell is HER SECRET FRESH FOOTWEAR?”
She sat in front of the ever-changing image, thought for a moment, then a faint smile came over her face.
“A new shoe. Nü-shu. N-U-S-H-U,” she spelled out. “God, he knew I would find all this.”
“And what the hell is Nü-shu?” Marcus asked as he typed in the letters.
“It’s practically extinct now. It came from southeast Hunan. It was a secret script, a complete system of writing known to very few and only used by women.”
Again, he was astonished at the depth of her knowledge. “What, you mean as in letters of the alphabet?”
“Sort of. Chinese is logographic, a character represents a word. Nü-shu is phonetic with about 1,500 characters representing a symbol. It’s virtually unknown outside the province.”
“And you know this because…?”
“My mother. Her family was from that region of Hunan. She taught me their history and how to decipher it. I can read it. My father knew that.” That sunk in for both of them. This was all deliberate and leading somewhere.
“What was it used for?” he asked her.
“Telling secrets. In the days of arranged marriages, and subservient females with bound feet, women were just chattels. They certainly weren’t allowed to receive an education or learn how to read or write.
So many years ago, and in great secret, the women from the Yongjiang Province developed their own script. They wrote about their fears and hopes and criticized their lords and masters in secret letters to other women. I suppose they became the earliest voices for women’s rights. The writing was a symbol of rebellion against domineering men. Nu-Wa and I used to tease my father that we would only write to each other in Nü-shu.”
As Marcus hit enter, the words Tiger of Malaya Corporation appeared with an arrow key in the bottom right hand corner. “So now we have our Tiger,” he said clicking on it.
What followed were page after page of dates and numbers. They started a month after the collapse of THE LAST COMPANY and ran for years afterwards. Each entry was prefixed by the small outline of a rising sun followed by a date, and two sets of figures in US dollars; reported and actual.
The reported sums were paid into something called Golden Eagle Trust, an account in the Philippines. The difference between actual and reported was paid into Tiger of Malaya Corporation’s Swiss bank account.
“So, what does reported as opposed to actual mean?” asked Mako.
“At a guess Tiger of Malaya is either taking a commission or skimming. The difference between actual and reported on this first page looks about 5%,” started Marcus.
“So how much…”
“We’ll get to the totals. Let’s try and make sense of it all first. It looks like of the total reported money deposited to Golden Eagle Trust in the Philippines, it kept 30% and 70% was paid via the same bank to six numbered accounts, although not in equal amounts,” said Marcus with Mako now leaning over his shoulder following the numbers on the screen.
“So of that 70%, I can see two accounts got 30% each, 60% in all, and the other four each received 2.5% making 10% to get to the 70%. But it’s crazy as the funds from all six then bounced back via a series of offshore accounts to the Tiger of Malaya Corporation in Switzerland. Why bother to do that and not send from Golden Eagle Trust all 70% back to the Tiger account in Switzerland?” asked Mako.
“No idea but now we know the journey the money took. Let’s add up the amounts involved. Time for some math.”
“I’m good at that,” brightened Mako as she turned on the calculator on her mobile. “Right let’s go.”
It took the better part of the rest of the morning to do the calculations. Marcus read out page after page of numbers as Mako punched them into the calculator, checking, and rechecking as they went along.
“What’s the answer?” he asked her after they had finally gone through all the spreadsheets on the computer. He got up and walked to the fridge. “Soda or there’s a coffee, tea whatever.” But Mako was not listening.
“Jesus, Marcus. The total here is just under $500 million. The skim at 5% is around $25 million. The 30% kept by Golden Eagle Trust is around $140 million with $330 million going to accounts in the Philippines.”
“And the six individual accounts from the Philippines?”
“No idea, just numbers. But it looks like all went back to the Tiger of Malay Corporation’s Swiss account.” Mako looked up at Marcus. She looked dog-tired, the effects of her near-death experience etched in lines in her face and dark rings around her eyes.
“Clearly the dates and the insignia mean something. The big question is, where’s all the money coming from?” he wondered aloud.
“FALL OUT is pretty clear on what. Guns, weapons, and shit like that,” said Mako. “It stinks. Damn him. My father knew I’d chase this down. The clues in the house, on that USB… no one else would get the Nü-shu clue. My worst fears and what does he do… points me towards finding out the truth? What for? Just to crush any traces of affection I might have had for him? Suppose I couldn’t have a real drink? I’m all in.”
“Sure. They even have your favorite. Cointreau on the rocks coming up.” He poured the drink along with a double vodka for himself.
* * *
He sat down beside her, handing her the drink. “Cheers.” Mako raised her glass in salute.
“You know maybe he wasn’t asking for forgiveness or absolution. Maybe in his mind what he did was right? He thought he could convince you. He wanted you to know. He left a clear path for you to follow in case he couldn’t tell you himself,” reasoned Marcus.
“That’s seriously screwed up logic. If true I’m not sure I want to know,” Mako sighed heavily.
“Yes, you do,” he replied firmly.
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Anger, disappointment, disapproval. He knew you could live with that. It’s not knowing the truth that would eat at you for the rest of your life… ‘Here I am’, is what he is saying. ‘Take it or leave it… but face it.’ That’s why he asked you to come to London… you sensed there was something he wanted to tell you and you wanted to know.”
“And you…?”
“Mako, I have lived with the guilt that someone died because of a spur of the moment decision I made,” he said, the weight still heavy on his conscience.
“Albeit for the best intentions,” she added, trying to lighten the load.
“I’d like to think so… I really wanted that movie to get made, wanted to climb a peg or two up the career ladder. Was letting Bill try and play ‘Rambo’ one of the rungs?” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows with a sigh.
“You said Bill was jumping at getting out there and dealing with the bad guys, and he had real experience, for chrissakes. You were young. No one is cautious in life till they screw up. You were on a roll; this was your break… Bill was the only one of you who knew about the ugly side of life, about death,” Mako said, still trying to divert the guilt.
“Maybe that’s why we were chosen? Callow youth, eager and gullible. These papers hidden in the certificate; your father kept them for a reason… Bill was killed. Maybe he wanted you to find out why, how, and by whom?” He emptied his vodka glass.
“That’s your journey.…” She leaned over and put her arms around him.
“Both our journeys. I need to read those screenplays. You take a rest. You look beat,” said Marcus leaning to give her a gentle kiss. Mako quickly faded and fell into a deep sleep giving Marcus the privacy he needed. Before picking up the scripts, however, he rang the number in France.
“Hi Garance, It’s me. Any progress?” Marcus whispered when the line was answered.
“Un peu, a little,” the voice replied continuing with an update.
“OK, thanks. She’s asleep. She knows nothing. Let’s keep it that way,” looking over his shoulder all the while to make sure she was asleep.
He spent the remaining hours before they had to leave for their flight reading the three versions of the scripts; his, Robert’s, and Stefan’s. By the time they returned to the airport and were settled in their seats, and with Mako still half asleep, he knew what Sam was pointing his finger at.
And it wasn’t arms dealing.
54
BEL AIR, LOS ANGELES
“Not there, what do you mean not there?” said Louis trying to control his anger.
“I went out to Kelso’s place in Topanga first… as you instructed.
Problem dealt w
ith. I came back for Cara, but she was gone.” Jonathan was standing in front of the ornate desk in Louis’ office. A shaft of sunlight cut through a gap in the long red velvet curtains that remained drawn. A delicate cup of espresso sat untouched on the leather topped desk.
Jonathan had not been offered a seat; his mantle of reliability was slipping. He registered the flick of frustration in his boss’ voice.
“She left before I got there. Without the dog.”
Louis barely resisted hissing back ‘screw the dog’. He loathed small animals and was always unnerved that a man, who easily inflicted pain and even death, was so concerned about the welfare of small canines. He looked back at Jonathan, waiting for more details.
“Neighbor saw someone pick the dog up around 8:30.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Louis sighed with undisguised sarcasm. “Did the same neighbor see Cara leave?” he inquired.
“The gardener next door saw her getting into a car.”
“That’s it?” Louis clenched his teeth. “Why am I having to drag out everything one phrase at a time Jonathan?”
Jonathan did not react. “He said the man was well built, tall… and that his facial features were… like mine.” Jonathan stopped as he saw the implication of what he had said dawn on Mr. Louis. They both knew who had Cara.
“I’ll go,” Jonathan said firmly.
“Jonathan, I can no longer be sure of your success. You would never get near Haribon. I’ve got someone else on it.”
Jonathan remained impassive. Louis reached over for the phone and pushed one of the intercom buttons.
“This coffee’s cold. Bring me another,” he ordered tersely and turning to Jonathan in the same tone added, “Why are you still here?”
He waved him away. The meeting was over. He was being dismissed like a schoolboy. As he stepped out of the office, his future now in doubt, Jonathan made a decision. He would go after Haribon himself.
* * *
Fall Out Page 25