by Jen Cole
“A prospectus. All listed companies are required to produce one, outlining their purpose and general operations. This is the H Group’s. They describe themselves as a small investment company, specializing in conservative investments for a select clientele. Most of their shareholders have no idea what’s really going on, but they’re happy to receive regular dividends and they give the H Group an air of legitimacy. Look at their logo on the cover page.”
“A fancy H,” said Jo. “Yes, it does look similar…” she leaned closer. “Except the serifs on Danny’s are extended into elaborate curlicues.”
“Things change over time. The logo on this prospectus could easily evolve to become the logo on Danny’s jacket.” He spoke grimly and Jo stared at him in horror.
“If that’s true, it means BEAM will fail to bring down the H Group. They’ll end up not only controlling this world but the next one too!”
“It may just be a coincidence,” Richard growled, and Jo straightened up.
“Well, there’s one way to find out… Danny,” she called to the host who was circling the red leather settee critically, like a snob at an art show. “I’m ready to ask my second question.”
Fitani strolled over. “Yes?”
“There’s a small company in our time called the H Group. It appears to be innocuous, but has disguised tendrils into companies and businesses all over the world. Richard’s organization, BEAM, has collected evidence that the H Group intends to take over the world’s primary industry, with the ultimate aim of controlling all commerce. He can provide you with the evidence he’s collected to make it quicker for you to identify them.
“My question is, when The Great Destruction occurs in seventy-eight years time, will the H Group still be in existence?”
Fitani’s jaw dropped. “How on earth do you imagine such a ludicrous question will help you to escape the clutches of the Hunter?”
“Richard has helped me to escape the clutches of the Hunter, so by way of repayment, this question is for him,” Jo replied calmly.
Fitani sighed and turned to Richard. “Show me what you’ve collected.”
“The evidence is in encrypted files on non-networked computers at BEAM headquarters,” said Richard. He gave the address of the building.
Fitani tilted his head and his image froze for a second. “Got it.”
“But the computers aren’t connected to any network.”
“Trust me.”
“The encryption…”
Fitani laughed and then turned to Jo. “This is a lot of information and links to corroborate and track through seventy-eight years,” he said. “It’ll take my team a while. I’ll get back to you with your answer as soon at they get back to me.”
“Fine,” Jo agreed.
Agitatedly, Richard took a step towards the game show host. “How long is it likely to take?”
Fitani regarded him coolly. “As long as it takes.”
Richard made a sound of disgust and moved to the French windows. “I need some air.”
~~~~
CHAPTER 42
Closing the glass doors behind him, Richard moved to the balcony rail. The people in the park below registered only as blurs. He felt sick. In just seventy-eight years the world would end. It was no time at all.
He’d had such dreams for humanity. He’d pictured the people of Earth becoming wise, finding ways to travel between stars, settling on other worlds and making humankind immortal. Instead they were going to blow themselves up in seventy-eight years. If he had children and grandchildren, they would die before their time – either in a nuclear explosion or worse, from starvation or radiation poisoning. Only a few remnants of humanity would struggle and survive in places untouched by the devastation. And their fate – enslavement by the very company he’d failed to defeat.
Richard’s head spun and he leaned dizzily against the rail. What was the point in going on? Never had he been so close to understanding his father’s actions. But there was Jo, and now he knew she felt for him what he felt for her. She was the point in going on.
He straightened and sucked in a huge lungful of air. Jo needed him and it was the only thing that mattered right now. He turned and walked back into the room to see her pushing her notepad into a pannier bag. The game show host was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Fitani?”
“Gone.”
“What about your third question?”
“I’ve asked it.” A blush was rising to her cheeks.
“Jo, my plan – I needed to know where the Hunter was. Is that what you asked him?”
“Sorry, it was something personal. Nothing that can help us right now.”
“But we could have turned the tables on the Hunter – caught him by surprise.”
Her look of contrition melted his frustration and he sat and took her hands. “It’s okay. It would have been good to take the battle to the Hunter, but waiting for him to come to us will do.”
“Go on.”
“You’ve told me the Hunter likes to operate independently from his troops. That works in our favor. When he’s on his own we can snatch him. If we tie him up in my apartment, he won’t be able to communicate with his agents and you’ll be safe until the game is over.”
Jo frowned doubtfully. “It sounds terribly risky. Not only does he have a lot of agents, he’s smart and very intuitive.”
“And hopefully by now, very tired,” Richard argued. “Don’t forget, he’s been chasing you all this time as well as working out strategies and coordinating his troops. No doubt he’s had some sleeping time, but he sounds like a ‘hands-on’ sort of person who wouldn’t want to leave things to others for long.”
“You’re right about that. And his modus operandi so far has been to deploy agents to cover the most likely places I’d be, while he tries to anticipate unconventional moves on my part and peels off to follow his hunches. If he sticks with that strategy and he is getting tired, it might just be possible to catch him by himself with his guard down.”
“You agree it’s worth a try then?”
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
Richard checked his watch. It was close to ten. “At quarter to eleven, you’ll walk to the cafe down the road from here. You’ll be in your photography outfit with Marilyn’s clothes underneath and you’ll go to a table and order a coffee. I’ll follow in my car, but when I come in I’ll sit at a different table.
“After the 11.00 a.m. broadcast you’ll go to the restroom, strip off the track pants, hoodie and wig, and walk out looking totally different. Then you’ll return to the apartment and sit tight. I’ll stay in the cafe until the Hunter shows up. When he leaves, I’ll follow him. As soon as I get the opportunity I’ll knock him out and bundle him into the boot of my car. I grabbed a roll of duct tape from my house this morning, for that purpose. I’ll bind him while he’s unconscious, drive him home and…”
“And what? Heave a bound man out of your car and carry him into your house without anyone seeing? And if by some miracle you do manage that, what then? Chain him up in your nonexistent basement? How are you planning to keep him constrained for two and a half days?”
He shrugged impatiently. “I’ll think of something. The main thing is to get him under our control.”
“Richard this plan has so many holes in it I can’t even begin to count them.” Jo felt her throat tightening. “What if someone sees you attacking the Hunter and calls the police? You could end up in jail charged with assault and kidnapping. Or what if the Hunter’s agents are near and they grab you? As time goes by and you fail to contact me I’ll be dying a thousand deaths wondering what’s happened to you.”
Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small phone. “Here’s something else I grabbed from home this morning. It’s an untraceable phone. BEAM has a supply of them for emergency communication with our Community Leaders. I also changed the SIM card in my own phone, since at nine this morning the Hunter will have learnt my identity.”
Jo’s eyes widened. “Learnt your identity? Then if he sees you in the cafe he’ll recognize you!”
“Not if I hide behind a newspaper.” He pushed the phone towards Jo.
“You want me to call if I don’t hear from you? How will that help if you’re captured? They’d hardly leave you with a phone. Richard this is not going to work. We need to think of something else.”
“Well we can’t keep running. The more time the Hunter has to corner us, the more likely he is to succeed. Unless you can think of something better, I want to try this.”
Jo stood abruptly and began pacing the apartment. Richard stayed where he was, watching her. Finally she came to stand in front of him. “I’ve thought of something that could make your plan a little less dangerous.”
He waited.
“Do you have the Find my iPhone feature enabled?”
“I don’t think so.”
Jo sat beside him. “I can set it up for you. Then you can log into your iCloud account with a computer and have your phone’s location displayed on a Google map. Here’s my deal – and it’s the only way I’ll go along with this plan.
“You hide your iPhone somewhere on your person and put the untraceable phone in your pocket or any obvious place. If the Hunter’s agents do catch you, they’ll take that phone and I’ll be able to find you by tracking your iPhone on my laptop. God knows what I’ll do about it, but at least I’ll know where you are.”
Richard laughed and Jo gave him a punch on the arm. “That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”
“Okay, okay. Set it up for me. I need to go check my email.”
“Give me your iPhone.”
He handed it over and went to retrieve his laptop. Both were soon engrossed in their separate activities.
Richard’s first priority was the report on Brooks and Blatman. It had arrived with an email, attached as an encrypted file. He frowned as he read it. This was not good. He typed a few queries and instructions, encrypted them and sent them off, noticing that Jo was approaching with her laptop.
“I need your username and password.”
“My username is SayersR,” he said, typing it in. “I’ll change my password to something you can remember.” His mouth twisted wryly. “How about Fitani?”
Jo laughed. “That’ll do.”
“While I’m at it, I’ll set that as the password for my laptop too, in case you need to use it.”
Jo left him to finish up, and headed off to clear away the breakfast things. When he finally shut the computer lid she pointed to the two phones she’d left on the coffee table.
Dutifully he scooped them up and dropped the cheap untraceable phone into his pocket as he wandered off to the bathroom. Where to hide the iPhone? A knife sheath was strapped to his calf, but he wasn’t about to substitute a phone for his knife. Finally with a shrug, he slipped the phone down the front of his jocks, thankful he’d ignored society’s dire warnings about wearing tight underwear. And as far as any radiation from the phone, he thought with grim irony, bring it on. Starting a family is no longer on my list of things to do.
He returned to the living area and saw Jo had donned the now clean track pants and hoodie, and combed out the blonde wig. By her feet sat a glossy cardboard carry bag emblazoned with the name of a women’s clothing store.
She looked up and smiled. “I found this in a drawer of plastic bags. It’s perfect for carrying my quick-change clothing. So I’m all set.”
He checked his watch. “We have about twenty minutes before we need to leave. Let me bring you up-to-date on the Brooks and Blatman investigation.”
“You’ve had word?”
“I’ve just received their preliminary report, which will probably also be the last, but it paints a clear enough picture. It seems that for some months Simon Brooks has made larger withdrawals on his accounts than alimony to his first wife, a new home for his second, and the private school fees for his kids, have warranted.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Gambling. Apparently he has a penchant for horses, dogs – anything that runs. A few months ago he took out a second mortgage on their new home, and has had trouble with the payments. A little while back he resorted to loan sharks.”
“I don’t get it. How would killing Dad help his situation?”
“This, I’m sorry to say, is just the kind of scenario the H Group excels in sniffing out and using to its advantage. With their influence on the boards of supermarket chains, they pull a few strings. Suddenly a substantial bonus is dangled in front of Brooks, conditional upon his being able to close a deal with the Shepparton fruit growers at the new reduced buy prices. Brooks would be desperate for that bonus and quite aware the only thing between him and it was your father. With your dad out of the picture, the other farmers would soon crumble and sign.”
“But there’s a big difference between wishing someone dead and actually organizing it,” Jo objected. “Brooks is a white-collar executive. What would he know about hit men?”
“Probably not a lot, but the same can’t be said for the unsavory money lenders he’s in deep with, and it’s odds on one of them would have given him Blatman’s contact details if it meant speeding up Brooks’ repayment.”
“So the H Group’s laughing. With Dad’s death the Shepparton farmers will cave in to the supermarkets and reduce their profit margins to almost zero. They’ll be ripe for the picking and the H Group will send in its stooges to buy them up. Even if Brooks is caught for the murder, he’s just a Supermarket employee with a gambling addiction. The H Group is in the clear.”
Richard nodded. “That’s exactly the way they operate – by manipulating others. Their own hands stay clean and they scavenge from the mess left behind.”
Jo sat down, appalled and sick. “And Brooks has got away with it – unless we can tie him to Blatman. Even then we’d have to prove Blatman sabotaged the tree shaker in order to murder Dad.”
Richard sighed. “I’m afraid there’s more bad news. He lifted the lid of his laptop and pressed a key to wake it up. The address Fitani gave us for Blatman is the home of a man called Graham Hodges. He’s a thirty-two year old part-time postal worker, employed by Australia Post for the last twelve years.” He turned the laptop so she could see the photo BEAM had sent him. “Graham Hodges has a clean record. Not a single complaint.”
Richard waited as Jo peered at the very ordinary looking man in a postie uniform. “I guess Fitani steered you wrong.”
“No!” Her response was immediate and unequivocal. “Danny may be a lot of things, but as far as Play or Die is concerned, he’s a stickler for the rules.”
She pointed at the screen. “If that man lives at the address Danny gave us then he is Morris Blatman. When you think about it, a postie is a great part-time job for a hit man. He’d be able to set up postboxes under fake names to manage communication with clients, and with his official vest and scooter he could go practically anywhere. Who pays attention to a postman? If he has to occasionally dump a sack of letters at his house to give himself time to perform a hit, he can deliver them on his next day off with no one the wiser.
“I’ll bet you his home is far better than the average part-time postie’s, and what about his car? Get your agents to check out his standard of living and keep watching his movements. Eventually they’re bound to catch him trying to kill someone. Then at least we’ll be able to put him behind bars.”
Richard cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Jo I think you have the wrong idea about BEAM. We’re not affiliated with the police or any law enforcement agency. Our sole purpose is to protect small business where we can, from unscrupulous moves by the big guys. Currently we’re doing our best to bring down the worst big guy of all – the H Group. When I told them we might be able to lay your father’s death directly at their door, my bosses were happy to give me some leeway in deploying our resources, but now that it’s obvious we can’t pin a murder on them, those agents will be called off a
nd used elsewhere, probably already have been, and I’ll be expected to come in and make a full report before being sent off to another posting.”
Jo’s expression of hope died and her shoulders slumped.
Richard hastened to reassure her. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Even if I have to quit my job, I’m seeing you through this game. And later we might be able to do something about Blatman ourselves. At least we know his real name and where he lives.”
Jo looked up, her face set. “You’re right about BEAM. Thanks to them I’ve learnt things I could never have discovered by myself, but I can’t expect them to go on solving my problems. And it’s not fair to drag you along any more either.”
She stood up. “Richard, you’ll never know how grateful …” Her voice cracked and she swallowed. “But it’s time we went our separate ways. You’ve risked your life enough. If you were killed trying to help me, I’d never…”
Again her voice broke and he stepped towards her but she held her arm out stiffly. “When you told me you suspected the H Group of murdering my father, I had no qualms about accepting your help. After all, you were the one who’d got him involved with them. But I know Dad. Even without you or any knowledge of the H Group, he would have put up a fight against the supermarket chain and the end result would have been the same.
“You don’t owe me anything Richard and I don’t want you risking your life any more.”
She gave a little laugh. “Don’t worry. I was surviving the game before you came along, and I’ll keep on surviving. I’m tough. I’m going to the cafe by myself for the broadcast, and afterwards I’ll return to collect my gear. Please don’t be here.”
Richard ached to gather her up but he could see the effort it was costing Jo to take this stand and he couldn’t break her defenses and pride.
He nodded. “If that’s what you want. Marilyn’s not likely to be here when you get back either. Knowing her, she’ll go straight to the office when she arrives in Melbourne, so just leave the key on the bench for her.”
Jo gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.”