by Marcus Alden
‘I don’t know, maybe he sold it or donated it; that’s not really important. The painting is what was recorded in that book along with my family name. But just because one of my relatives is recorded in a will as having lived in Hampshire doesn’t mean all my family lived there. They could have split off into other counties generations later.’ Dan carried on talking. ‘Hub contacted my grandfather in order to buy the land from him, but he didn’t want to break it up; it’s all written in those letters. The letters stop in December after he lampoons Hub and refuses to talk to them anymore. Five months later his funeral is announced in the local paper, a memorial plaque is placed in that church, and Maybury swears he died in a care home leaving £45,000 to me.’
‘Bollocks,’ Sarah said with a mouthful of food.
‘I agree, the funeral didn’t even take place, remember? The vicar said there was nobody there, literally no body,’ Dan said.
‘So why announce a fake funeral? Why mention it at all?’ Sarah said. She took a sip of coffee. Dan, too excited to talk, hadn’t touched his food.
‘Yeah that didn’t make sense to me either to start with, but it does when you look at the last communication between Hub and my grandfather. My grandfather was adamant he wasn’t going to sell.’ Dan showed Sarah a folded piece of paper with his workings out on. ‘Atmore couldn’t exactly send in the thugs to a retirement complex to beat him into submission, could he? He needed him closer. But if an 84-year-old man just disappeared from his flat one day you’d have teams of people searching for him, wouldn’t you?’ Dan paused to have a mouthful of the cooked breakfast.
‘But if that person died months later after moving out then it would be normal,’ Sarah said piecing the clues together.
‘Equally, you can’t announce his death as soon as he had left the retirement village because it would look suspicious. But you would need to announce it at some point to avoid any questions as to where he was. It’s very plausible for a dying man with no relatives to change his mind and sell the land after all. The funeral was a charade to stop any inquiries. I’m sure if we search the local papers in Oxfordshire we’ll find the same obituary we found in Hampshire,’ Dan said. He forked in some more baked beans.
‘So, you’re saying Atmore took your grandfather and kept him hostage for five months so he could force him to sign over the land?’ Sarah asked.
‘Well, the letters stop in December but I don’t know if he was taken then or what happened to him. Atmore didn’t get any signatures did he otherwise why would Maybury have contacted me in the first place?’ Sarah nodded. ‘That’s why we have to go back to Maybury. He’s the only link we have.’
* * * *
Dan and Sarah stood at the front desk ready to check out. To the side of them was a big TV mounted on the wall. The latest headlines flashed on the screen. They stood with their eyes fixed in disbelief.
‘Financial world rocked by corruption scandal. An anonymous whistle-blower has exposed a trail of corruption that links Robert Atmore and Sir Jonathan Mellor, minister for transport, to the new high-speed rail line. The damning new evidence suggests Robert Atmore is behind the rail company Hub, who won the government approved contract to build the rail line. Our source indicates that Atmore, who is revered in the financial industry, has funded illicit deals, obtained land illegally, and bought his way into senior power at Westminster. We go now to our correspondent who is at the London Stock Exchange for us. What does this mean Nina if the information leaked is proved to be true?’ the newsreader said.
‘Well Peter, should this information be confirmed, and I must stress that these reports are still unconfirmed, it would mean the contract set up between the rail construction company Hub and the government was corrupt. It also throws serious doubts on the credibility of billionaire businessman Robert Atmore and his influence in the financial world. The leaked information, which was uploaded anonymously online just hours ago, states that the contract was awarded to Hub illegally by Sir Jonathan Mellor. As you can see from this video footage, reporters surrounded Sir Jonathan’s house this morning as the police arrived to escort him away for questioning. As yet he has not made a statement regarding the allegations. The lengthy document lampoons Robert Atmore and I quote ‘bully and, in one case, kidnap and murder land owners in order to clear the path for the new high-speed line. Not light allegations by any means Peter,’ the reporter said.
‘Indeed, and what about Robert Atmore? Has he issued a statement in response to these allegations?’ the newsreader said.
‘It is expected that the police will be seeking to question Mr. Atmore regarding the allegations, but as yet there is no confirmation of this or indeed of his whereabouts. The hunt for Robert Atmore and the truth continues.’
‘Thank you, Nina, and now we’ll go back to the studio where we have the chairman of Construction Networks England ready to talk to us on the phone. Thank you for waiting––,’ The newsreader said.
Dan and Sarah had focused so much on the TV that they hadn’t noticed the people come and go beside them at the reception desk.
‘Sir, is everything alright?’ a member of the front of house team said. Dan turned, still stunned at what they had just heard on the news. ‘You gave your key to me already sir, is there anything else I can help you with before you leave?’ the man said. Dan realised that they hadn’t moved and were clogging up the space in reception where a Bangladeshi family had gathered to check in. The grandma, dressed in a traditional sari, chided two children who were beginning to play up.
‘No, we’re fine, everything’s fine,’ Dan said. Distracted, he looked at Sarah. ‘Adrian was the source. He had worked it all out like we said.’
‘But why isn’t Maybury being investigated? Surely he is the one that––.’
‘I don’t know. We need to go there now. How long is it from here to Winchester?’ Dan asked.
‘It’s an hour from Waterloo. But, according to Will, Maybury doesn’t live in the centre of Winchester and my car is a pile of ashes, remember?’ Sarah said thinking of the flames that had risen out of it.
‘Don’t worry about that, I have an idea of how we can get to Maybury’s house. I just hope we can get there before he’s arrested. Once the police have him we won’t be able to get anywhere near,’ Dan said.
Chapter 18
Dan and Sarah hurried through the ticket barriers of Winchester station. Dan scanned the line of cars waiting for passengers.
‘Who is it again that’s picking us up?’ Sarah said.
‘Don’t ask. Ah, there they are.’ Dan pointed to a gold-coloured Rover 25 that was parked half off the pavement on a wonky angle. Sat in the passenger seat was Mrs. Finkley chewing on a toffee. Her hair was not brushed and her clothes were skewed like they had been put on inside out. Mr. Finkley waited by the petrol cap and fidgeted on the pavement moving back and forth, checking for a traffic warden. He squinted as he searched for Dan. Sarah noticed Mr. Finkley’s scraggy hair and darting movements.
‘We’re going with them, seriously? And how is it that you know these people?’ Sarah asked. She let out a small laugh in disbelief which she squashed back down so the odd couple wouldn’t notice.
‘I stayed at their bed and breakfast the day I met you,’ Dan said.
‘Really? That must have been an experience.’ Dan and Sarah approached the skewed parked car.
‘Hello there again Daniel, we were surprised that you’d be returning so quick to us. Margaret is in the car. As soon as you rang and said you needed to be taken somewhere she leapt up and got dressed. She even turned off the TV,’ Mr. Finkley said. Sarah went to open a passenger door, but Mr. Finkley beat her to it and stood around until she got in so he could close it again. Dan went to the other side of the car and opened his own door.
‘No antiques programmes on today. That’s what I told John,’ Mrs. Finkley said twisting round in her seat; she chewed on a toffee. The words were garbled as the sweet passed from one cheek to the other clinking over her
teeth. Her large eyes stared at the new guest. Mrs. Finkley poked her glasses back on her nose before looking to Dan. ‘Hello dear,’ Mrs. Finkley said.
‘Hi, how are you?’ Dan’s question seemed to go unheard as Mrs. Finkley looked over to Sarah and eyed her up and down.
‘Aren’t you pretty dear? You keep hold of this one.’ Mrs. Finkley looked to Dan. ‘It’s not easy to find a good man these days,’ Mrs. Finkley said. Sarah smiled though she wasn’t sure the odd woman sat in front of her had much experience with men; her methods had achieved Mr. Finkley as a husband. Sarah attempted to reply, but Mrs. Finkley started talking again.
‘And you look after her young man, you hear me? Got to treat a lady right,’ Mrs. Finkley said as she nodded her head up and down at Dan. She chewed her toffee.
‘Sarah and I––.’
‘No need to explain to me dear. Where’s John?’ Mrs. Finkley’s attention moved on to search for her husband. Dan looked for him too. ‘There he is Mrs. Finkley,’ Dan said. He pointed to the man with a beige jacket who talked to a traffic warden. Mr. Finkley used his hands as he explained the parking situation, though the warden looked more and more bewildered as Mr. Finkley spluttered out words. Mr. Finkley slinked back to the car like a child that had received a detention.
‘Where did you go John, I’m waiting?’ Mrs. Finkley crossed her arms.
‘I know dear, but the traffic man said I can’t park here. I told him I have a disabled badge.’ Sarah faded out the couple’s inane conversation. She smiled; she thought they were adorable, but also barking mad. Sarah looked to Dan and raised her eyebrows. He looked back at her.
‘Don’t say anything,’ Dan whispered.
‘I wasn’t going to,’ Sarah replied.
‘So, Daniel, where is it we’re taking you to?’ Mr. Finkley asked. Dan reached forward and handed Mr. Finkley a scrap of paper with an address Will had found for him. Mr. Finkley searched the car for his glasses. He found them after some fumbling in and out of the glove box. Mr. Finkley adjusted the glasses onto his face.
‘Ah Littleton, it’s not far,’ Mr. Finkley said as he held the scrap of paper far away from his face to read the small text.
‘Not to hassle you, but we are in a hurry so if we can go as fast as possible. There’s a man we must speak to at that address; it’s urgent,’ Dan said.
‘Righto captain, loud and clear,’ Mr. Finkley said in a regimented tone.
Mr. Finkley started up the engine; it made an uncomfortable clunking noise and whirred into action. The wonky car jolted downwards as the back tyre slipped off the pavement and hit the road. The car shook them about. Watching Mr. Finkley pull out into the main traffic was cringe worthy, but Dan tried to forget where he was and concentrated on where he was headed.
‘Ooh, what an adventure.’ Mrs. Finkley rubbed her hands together. Her words intermixed with the slapping of the toffee in her cheeks. Sarah looked back to Dan in disbelief. Dan looked back at her.
‘I’m not saying anything,’ Sarah said hiding her amusement at the strange situation they were in.
‘So, what is it that brings you back to Winchester Daniel that is so urgent?’ Mr. Finkley asked.
* * * *
‘William, has anyone seen William?’ That boy generates enough stress to give me a hernia,’ the schoolmaster said looking at the crowd of choir boys dressed in red gowns with white ruffs. The class stood talking under their breath in the college courtyard as they waited for the last boy. The sound of a squeaky door flung open and rapid footsteps clobbered on the ground. An out of breath and red-faced Will ran towards the group. ‘William, if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a hundred times. Why do you keep us waiting again? Public performance deserves the utmost respect. Every time you are late you are not just letting us down you are doing a great disservice to yourself,’ the schoolmaster said.
‘Sorry sir I really am, I––,’ Will spluttered.
‘We’ll deal with your tardiness later, what is done is done, now join your group.’ The schoolmaster addressed the whole choir. ‘Now boys, you have the chance today to take something great and make it spectacular. I have shown you the way, now you must make it shine. To sing is to breathe; it’s one of God’s greatest gifts and one which we must harness. Our audience expects excellence, and excellence they shall have. Now that the entire group is ready we’ll walk over to the cathedral. And remember, when you are out wearing the uniform you are representing the college to the public.’
Jennifer looked down at her watch and saw her anxious face in its reflection. Maybury had arrived and turned the office over in a rage. He shouted into his phone with an intensity she had not heard from him before. Jennifer heard the shunting of drawers opening and slamming, and the sound of glass smashing. She reached for her mobile and typed a text to Harrier.
‘Last chance, give me Atmore.’ Jennifer hid the phone away and eavesdropped Maybury’s conversation.
‘You know what this means don’t you? How do you think this will look for me now? I’m not putting up with this, you tell Atmore to make it go away or I'll––.’ Maybury went quiet. ‘Damn right I'm threatening you. I’ll find you myself. Tell him to ring me direct!’ A sudden smashing of glass coincided with the absence of Maybury’s irate voice. Jennifer heard Maybury’s footsteps pound towards her office. Maybury flung the doors open and marched in carrying a pile of papers. His face was red with anger. Jennifer looked back to his office; books were strewn on the floor and anything that could be picked up and thrown lay on the floor.
‘Is there anything I can help with?’ Jennifer spoke as if nothing had happened. Maybury looked through her. Jennifer’s mobile started vibrating in the drawer. She looked back to the computer screen in front of her and tried to ignore the noise that reverberated in the enclosed wooden drawer. Jennifer tried hard to conceal her nervousness, but she couldn’t help gulping to catch her breath under the pressure of Maybury’s stare. Maybury stood motionless; his anger boiled inside of him at the realisation that Jennifer could have had some other role than just being his secretary.
‘Answer it then, be my guest,’ Maybury said. Her boss put the papers down he held. Jennifer looked up at him and caught another gulp of air.
‘What do you mean?’ Jennifer tried to pretend she was innocent, but her eyes had given it away. She was unable to hide what was obvious to Maybury.
‘The phone, answer the phone!’ Maybury picked up the computer monitor in front of Jennifer and threw it to the floor. The cable wrenched from the display and the screen flew across the room and crashed on the other side. Maybury cleared her entire desk with a swift motion of his arm and sent papers and stationary flying. Jennifer put her arms up to shield her face from the debris. Maybury stepped closer and stood over her looking down; the mobile still buzzed in the drawer. The enraged man fought his burgeoning desire to strike her. Instead, Maybury gripped Jennifer by the neck and made her stand up. Holding her still, Maybury moved his face closer to hers and spoke.
‘I won’t hit a woman.’ Maybury was so close Jennifer could feel his breath on her face. ‘But whatever you’ve done, you back-stabbing bitch, I hope you pay for it.’ Maybury threw her back down to the swivel chair; it rolled back with the force and hit a cabinet.
‘You’re finished,’ Jennifer said, her voice unsteadied. ‘I’d run if I were you. They’re coming for you too.’ Maybury had already started towards the door with his papers, he slammed the door behind him. On the landing, other people had gathered to hear the commotion and pretended to be walking away when the door opened.
‘Get out of my way.’ Maybury pushed past the onlookers. He shuffled down the curved stairs and slammed the front door.
Jennifer got up and felt her neck. Still shaken, but able to think clear enough to have a plan, Jennifer fetched her mobile from the drawer. Two missed calls displayed on the screen. She glanced at it and knew it was them. She had been waiting for them to call. Jennifer pressed the letter H next to the number. Harrier answered.
‘You and I both know Atmore won’t protect you, and I’m sure the police would love to do a full-scale investigation on you two if they had the opportunity––,’ Jennifer paused as Harrier spoke. ‘If you do as I say there’ll be a note pinned to the prayer board in the cathedral at 12 noon. It has details of an offshore account worth millions and how to claim it,’ Jennifer said. Harrier spoke again, but Jennifer interrupted him. ‘Don’t bargain with me, I’m not interested. But I’m sure you will find the money handy if you need to disappear. It’s yours if you give me full access to Atmore. I want names, numbers, addresses, his entire client base, I want to know every detail of his life, what he eats for breakfast, you understand me, everything?’ I have a secure server you can upload to.’ Jennifer gave Harrier the details. ‘If it’s there by 12:00 the money is yours,’ Jennifer said. Harrier spoke again. ‘No, wait nearby. Don’t approach me or I’ll run. I’ll place the note on the prayer request board. Collect it after I’ve left. Any deviation from the plan and you’ll get nothing. There will be people watching you,’ Jennifer said. Harrier objected to her last sentence. ‘You don’t get to choose, you either do as I say or I won’t cooperate. The choice is yours.’ Jennifer kept quiet and waited for the answer she was looking for. ‘Good, I’ll be waiting. You have until 12:00.’ Jennifer ended the call and let out a deep breath. A smile crept across her face. ‘Idiot.’
Jennifer tapped the touchscreen and found the phone settings. She pressed reset to wipe the device; the phone powered down. Jennifer removed the sim card and cut it into small pieces with a pair of scissors. She slid the shards of sim card into an envelope and took it along with her phone, bag, and jacket. Jennifer looked at the mess Maybury had made; shattered glass; books; and the broken computer monitor lay on the carpet. The former assistant snorted and turned away. She left the office for the last time and walked under the stone Westgate.
Jennifer looked around for somewhere to dump the mobile and, noticing a drain at the side of the mini roundabout, she felt in her pocket for the phone and shards of sim card. She walked near the edge of the pavement and pretended to adjust her shoe; she slipped the mobile and the fragments of sim card through the bars of the drain cover; they splashed into the sewage and sank. Jennifer walked up the hill away from the town centre and towards her luxurious rented house. She would miss its sumptuous furnishings and high ceilings. Once through the front door, Jennifer kicked her shoes off and sped up the cream carpeted stairs to her walk-in wardrobe. She pulled a small wheeled suitcase from a shelf and put her belongings into it. She crossed into the en-suite to grab her toiletries and piled them into the bag. Looking around the house a stranger might have thought it was unoccupied; the personal effects were so sparse. Jennifer shed her work clothes and changed into a black dress. Jennifer zipped the suitcase up and did a sweep of the room to make sure she hadn’t left anything she wanted to keep. On the bedside table a half-finished cup of tea rested on a novel she had been reading; the bookmark poked out of the pages. She grabbed the book and stuffed it into her bag. Jennifer picked up her personal mobile and its charger; one that wasn’t connected with her assignments.