The Hack

by Will Patching

  Gary, whose plan included a little speech to the Board of SimmpleTravel, was mortified by what he read. The Crusader had yet another photograph of him on the front page, under the headline ‘Boss’s coke overdose: A guilt trip?’ The picture showed Gary lying unconscious, a tube in his nose and a drip in his arm.

  ‘Christ Susie, they had a photographer at the hospital. How the hell did they know?’

  He continued reading the article. It accused him of being unfit to govern the company. He was apparently self-obsessed and his actions left the company rudderless while he overdosed on drugs. The company’s shares had plummeted to such an extent the Stock Exchange had suspended dealing.

  All that was bad enough, but there was much more. Inside the paper were articles speculating on George’s guilt. A serial killer was taking revenge on child molesters in Thailand and George was one of his victims. As Gary read the story even he started to doubt his boss.

  Surely not. He could not understand how any man could find a child sexually attractive, he preferred his women to be big and busty like Susie.

  He read on, discovered the existence of a man called Fan, purveyor of orphans for sex. The thought disgusted Gary and the article commented on the vicious circle of abuse. Apparently Fan himself had been an orphan, his name an abbreviation of the word, a nickname indicating his lack of parentage. This man Fan would, the police believed, confirm George’s guilt, confirm why Fan provided the little boy for George. The boy himself was still missing, but either individual could condemn George.

  ‘You okay love? It’s just bullshit, isn’t it?’ Susie brushed Gary’s hair from his eyes and then held his face in her hands, kissed him. ‘You’re better than them y’know.’

  ‘It’s not that, babe. I’m...’ Gary could barely say the words, the thoughts a betrayal of the man he loved like a father. ‘I’m beginning to think George was guilty.’

  ***

  ‘I’m sorry Benjamin, but we would like your resignation today.’

  Sir Benjamin, never normally at a loss for ‘bon mots’, could not speak, let alone find the right words. He clutched the phone to his ear, massaging his temples with his other hand. The voice continued.

  ‘I thought it best to call you early,’ it was not yet 8.00am, ‘to warn you. To give you the opportunity to compose yourself.’ The voice, detached and matter of fact waited for some response – didn’t get it. ‘This has come as a shock to you Benjamin?’

  He finally found his tongue. ‘Too bloody right. I’m the Chairman. I’ve been at the helm for three years and my contract says I have another two more to run. You can’t just toss me out!’ Arrogance buoyed him up, it must surely be a sick joke, a mistake.

  ‘Of course. There will be the offer of a generous severance package which, given the circumstances, I’m sure you’ll wish to waive.’

  ‘What? You are insane, John. You may be the bloody Chief Exec but I tell you now there is no justification for terminating my contract. And if you try, it will cost you.’

  ‘Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. You overrode my fund manager’s decision. You insisted he not only hold SimmpleTravel shares while the rest of the market was selling, you instructed him to buy, on your authority. All against company practice. I returned from Hong Kong last night to find your investment decision has cost the company over eighty million pounds. The shares are suspended. I doubt any of the money will ever be returned. That company has had it.’

  ‘Believe me, you are wrong. The attorney is coming to the SimmpleTravel Board meeting today. He thinks we can sue the US Government for hundreds of millions of dollars.’ Sir Benjamin still needed to believe this. He had a fortune at stake.

  ‘Have you heard the news today? Your precious SimmpleTravel is likely to fold. Their acting MD is in hospital, he overdosed on cocaine.’

  ‘What?’ Sir Benjamin slid his hand across his forehead, the sweat beading there. ‘Gary Knight? You’re joking, he’s...’

  ‘It’s no joke. There’s a picture of him in his hospital bed, front page of The Crusader. I understand he and Simm were the driving force behind the company. I’d suggest the investment is now worthless.’

  ‘No. I’ll talk to him, there must be an explanation, John. He’s allergic to sleeping tablets. I’ll get answers today.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m not interested. SimmpleTravel shares were suspended for two reasons, the rapid fall in price combined with a series of large purchases from offshore trusts. I think it best you resign this morning. The Stock Exchange Commission will be investigating. I do not want the company name tarnished. We cannot have our Chairman under suspicion.’

  ‘What? What? What? They’re investigating me?’

  ‘Not yet, Sir Benjamin... Your resignation letter today please. And waive your severance package. I think we understand each other now.’

  The phone died in Sir Benjamin’s hand. He stared at it, open mouthed. He could not believe it. The bastard was blackmailing him. He wondered who could have blown the whistle and then realised – his own bloody stockbroker did the majority of his business with the company and now had no allegiance to Sir Benjamin. At least, he thought, there was no paper trail leading to him. The trusts were set up to ensure that.

  And then he remembered, he had couriered that note to his stockbroker.

  Damn!

  Well he would resign. And waive the severance pay. He would clear the decks, get fully involved with SimmpleTravel, help Gary resurrect the company and pursue the court action to ensure he walked away with a handsome profit.

  Sir Benjamin hurried to get ready and headed straight to SimmpleTravel’s offices, only stopping to buy a copy of The Crusader before grabbing a cab. The full scale of the disaster started to worry him as he read the article. But there was still no evidence. Nothing concrete to confirm George’s involvement with child sex.

  He dashed from the cab into the SimmpleTravel office and was leaning over the receptionist’s desk, haranguing the poor girl again, just as Gary Knight arrived.

  ‘Gary! What the bloody hell is this claptrap all about?’ Sir Benjamin waved his copy of the rag at the acting MD.

  ‘It’s true, I’m afraid. I’m resigning in about twenty minutes, it’s the first thing on the Board meeting agenda. I’m clearing my things today.’ Gary went into his office and Sir Benjamin, stunned, followed.

  ‘There’s no need to be hasty. By all means offer to resign but we can get through this. For George’s sake.’ Sir Benjamin felt panic rising. He had lost George and could not afford to lose his number two, the only remaining truly bright spark in the company. ‘We’ll rise, phoenix-like. We can work together, joint MDs if you like. Just hang on. Don’t do anything rash.’

  Gary, who was packing his personal effects into a cardboard box, stopped and pointed to a photo of himself with George, arms round each other’s shoulders, grinning at the camera. ‘I loved George. But now, I’m not so sure he was innocent. The newspaper, the Thai police, even the CIA seem to think he was guilty.’

  ‘It’s all lies! There is no evidence, it’s purely circumstantial. Christ Gary, think man. If the CIA or FBI had anything on him it would be public knowledge by now. They have nothing.’ Sir Benjamin, as he said these things, drew comfort from the words. He was pretty certain he now had the means to confirm the US security agencies had no evidence.

  Gary continued packing, then his secretary buzzed him. ‘They’re waiting in the Board Room for you.’

  ‘Let’s go, Sir Benjamin. But my decision stands.’

  The US attorney was the only new face at the meeting and Gary introduced himself as he gave out the agenda. Then he said, ‘At this time, the company is under severe pressure. Our shares were suspended at close of business last night. Company sales are at an all time low, running at less than five percent of the norm. Ours is a high-tech business, a virtual company, we trade on our brand and have successfully built that over many years. There are few staff, fewer assets. We built our value on an illusion of stre
ngth. This week has punctured that illusion. With George’s death, the rumours surrounding the company, the press articles this week and my own stupidity, I feel compelled to resign.’

  The silence which had greeted the first part of Gary’s carefully prepared speech erupted as, led by Sir Benjamin, the Board implored him to stay.

  When they quietened, Gary continued, ‘It’s very kind of you all to express such support in the face of my own crass idiocy, but my decision is final. I believe my departure will be best for the company, for its continued survival. I recommend the Board appoint Sir Benjamin, good friend to George and loyal supporter of the company, as temporary MD, assuming his other commitments allow. I am sure he will soon find a replacement to pick up the reins.’

  There was uproar as Gary left the room, head down to hide the tears.

  Sir Benjamin stood up and waved them to quieten. ‘I will take up where George left off, in fact I propose to tender my own resignation as Chairman of Worldwide Life this morning to ensure no conflict of interest, and to allow me to take the reins here until we can find someone to fulfil the void left by George and Gary.’Sir Benjamin’s magnanimous gesture was greeted by murmurs of support. He had them.

  ‘Now, to business. Today we have Mr Hardy with us. He has acted for George’s family and the US interests for the company for many years. I believe he has prepared papers for an action against the US Government regarding this vicious smear that has all but destroyed our brand and ruined the company.’

  Sir Benjamin sat. Maybe he would even begin to enjoy this. He needed some good news today.

  The attorney, a stout man wearing a houndstooth jacket, was out of place among the sombre grey suits. ‘I believe we may have a case. The CIA communication inferring George’s guilt is genuine, according to my sources.’ He tucked his fingers under his braces, threw them a self-satisfied smile and went on, ‘Hence, the US Government has effectively accused this company of illegal activity, an allegation which has caused damage to this business and destroyed shareholder value. Yet there is no evidence to substantiate the claim.’

  Sir Benjamin interrupted, ‘So we sue. How much can you get for SimmpleTravel shareholders and over what timescale?’ His greedy eyes pinned the attorney down.

  Hardy’s discomfit was visible. ‘Well, if we sue...’

  ‘There is no if. We must!’ Sir Benjamin was red faced, the thought of inaction, no big legal payday, sending his blood pressure and heart rate soaring. He realised he had shouted as his fellow directors stared at him, tried to calm down and said, ‘We must clear George’s good name.’

  ‘Yes, of course. But unfortunately, Mrs Simm is indisposed. She’s suffered a sort of breakdown, which incidentally strengthens the appeal, if not the legal substance, of our case,’ he shark-smiled at them, ‘but she holds fifty-one percent of the shares. We need her votes to take action. And as she is in no fit state to vote personally...’ He tailed off, could see the reaction he was getting as the Board realised the implications of what he was saying. ‘I’m afraid whatever we may agree is irrelevant. Mrs Simm gave Gary Knight authority to act in her stead. And he has resigned.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll vote for her shares.’ Sir Benjamin felt he would burst if this pompous little man did not get on with it.

  ‘Sadly, Mr Knight’s resignation does not allow a transfer of authority. Before Mrs Simm became indisposed, she was adamant only Gary Knight would act for her.’

  ‘So spit it out man. What the bloody hell do we do now?’

  ‘I took the opportunity to discuss the matter with George’s offspring. Sadly, they have nothing positive to say about their father. His son’s exact words were: May he rot in hell. They both made it clear that, should their mother be committed as insane and the shares accrue to them, they will vote against legal action. Clearly they feel no love for Mr Simm or this company.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Sir Benjamin knew George and his children were estranged, but this?

  ‘All is not lost. Mrs Simm may recover.’

  Ian, the IT Director piped up. His eyes swivelled, making only fleeting contact with Sir Benjamin’s chin. ‘Why do we need a shareholder vote? Surely the Board can take legal action. After all, this is just a business decision, isn’t it?’ A murmur of agreement floated through the boardroom.

  ‘Good point.’ The attorney explained. ‘Except that any legal action must be voted by a shareholder majority. They are the beneficial owners of the company and can claim consequential loss from the US Government. The case is pretty thin and there is no clear precedent, but I believe we can argue that the CIA report maligned the company to such a degree that it torpedoed its business.’ The attorney looked around the room, and smiled again. ‘I am as keen as everyone here to take action. Even though there is no guarantee we would win, my own firm works on a no win no fee basis, for forty percent of any settlement. Very reasonable, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

  ‘Is there nothing we can do?’ Sir Benjamin was nauseous. He had tens of millions of pounds riding on a successful legal action. Possibly it was now all hinging on the mental well-being of a mad woman.

  ‘Pray for Mrs Simm’s recovery. My sources tell me the President is planning to make a statement tomorrow exonerating George. It’s possible the shares will recover without resort to formal legal action.’

  Sir Benjamin fumed his way through the remainder of the meeting. Things were not going his way at all. Gary’s resignation was a disaster, he would have to convince the boy to stay on. He stopped outside George’s office and found Gary going through Simm’s things. His frustration and anger sizzled through the air as he barked, ‘I said I’d do that, Gary.’

  His tone caused Gary to look up. He swivelled his head and studied Sir Benjamin, making the older man feel like a bug in a collector’s jar.

  ‘There’s nothing here, you know. Just a few personal items, photos, diary, his pens and bits and bobs. I’ve been through his safe and checked his computer, which the police are planning to collect this morning.’

  ‘His computer?’ A rush of acid burnt Sir Benjamin’s stomach.

  ‘Yes. They want to inspect the hard drive, check for pornographic images, specifically children. There’s nothing. I’ve already checked it out.’

  ‘You sure, Gary?’

  The relief in Sir Benjamin’s voice was obvious.

  Gary must have picked up on his tone. ‘Do you think he was guilty? You were his friend.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘I don’t know any more. Sorry to let you down.’

  ‘You can still stay.’ Hope surged, the shareholder vote could be secured if Gary stayed.

  ‘No. I’ve made my decision.’ Gary shook Sir Benjamin’s hand before he left. ‘I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I have a little money not tied up in the company.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I was a multi-millionaire on Monday. I’m probably worth less than a million now. C’est la vie.’

  ‘Don’t worry. The shares will recover.’ Sir Benjamin wished he could feel as certain as he had yesterday. He would give anything to go back, to undo the folly of his instruction to his broker as he had grasped for millions of SimmpleTravel shares. ‘Goodbye Gary. I’m heading off too. I’ve got things to do.’

  He went to his club. The Fixer met him in a private videoconferencing suite.

  ‘Some good news, sir, some not so good. We cleared the building. All disposed of except one.’

  ‘Damn.’ It was barely 10.00am and Sir Benjamin had a scotch in hand. Was nothing going to go his way today? ‘What happened?’

  ‘Sir Jeremy Green got in the way, sir. He died trying to save the girl. I doubt we’ll ever find her, mind you, we nearly scared her to death. I’m afraid we had to blow the door off her flat. Looks like they changed the locks before our boys got there.’

  Sir Benjamin wondered how much damage the girl could do if she surfaced with no evidence, just claims against George and Jeremy? Both now dead. He would ensure the Palace was stripped and cl
eaned, leaving no evidence there. Who would believe the little strumpet? And there was nothing to connect her with him. ‘If she does reappear, we’ll have to deal with her at that juncture, I think.’

  ‘Little cow stuck a knife in one of my guys. I’ve spent most of the night cleaning up. He’s in a very discreet private hospital, no questions asked. At least he’ll live, which is more than I can say for that girl if we ever find her. She won’t be so lucky a second time. If she’s got any sense she’ll lay low.’

  ‘Okay. If you find her you can treat it as a personal favour I think, since I’ve already paid for her.’ Sir Benjamin twitched an enquiring brow at the man.

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure, sir.’

  ‘How’s Thailand?’

  ‘Sam and Jock are doing fine. Location’s sorted. The boy genius is in place, sir. The lads are sorting out the sister just in case the lad plays up. Your internet man is due to meet up with them today. Then they can get started on the computers. I haven’t spoken to them for a few hours but I reckon things are ahead of schedule.’

  ‘I’m going to speak to Thailand now. Well done.’ Sir Benjamin dismissed him and closed the door. He needed confirmation. Did George keep the Candyman files, or any other incriminating evidence of their operations on his laptop? And what did the CIA and FBI have on George, if anything?

  Young Johnny O’Sullivan was going to be very busy indeed.

  Sir Benjamin sat at the desktop computer and clicked on his Skype link. Within minutes he was face to face with his team in Thailand.

  ***

  Kylie waited in the solicitor’s reception under the watchful scowl of the old dragon who had interrogated her when she first got there, just after 9.00am. The office smelt fusty and was dim in the morning light. Kylie felt downhearted. Surely this man would not take her seriously without Jerry there. She kicked her heels against the base of the bench seat, subconsciously beating a rhythm of frustration at being kept waiting.

  ‘Stop that!’ The dragon snorted at her and Kylie just managed to resist the urge to tell the woman to ‘Fuck off!’ her survival instincts reining her back in the knowledge the old cow would undoubtedly chuck her out.