The Newsmaker (Volume One Book 1)

by Tom Field

  “How about we meet for a coffee when you are done?” he asked, “Give me a break from saving the world.”

  Eloisa’s giggle seemed to shoot down the line like electricity. It always had that effect on him. This was the woman that he loved and wanted to be with, and he had yet to find one little fault in her, in the four years he had known her.

  “I’d love that,” she replied, “Where are you now?”

  “Park Avenue.”

  “Good, we can meet in Leno’s on Lexington, say eight forty-five?”

  “Perfect,” he replied “I’m literally only five minutes away.”

  “I can’t wait to see you,” she said excitedly.

  “Snap,” Ward replied and he hung up the phone.

  He knocked on the door and Tackler opened it,

  “I’ve never seen you so much in one day,” he said with a welcoming smile, still buoyed by the fact that Ward had held a private audience with him in the kitchen; building his ego and confidence up to unchartered levels.

  “What can I say?” he replied, “I missed you.”

  He walked into the room.

  Walker and his son were still sitting on the sofa, but they looked much more relaxed now. McDermott’s presence alone being all the comfort they needed.

  Nicole-Louise was sitting at her desk and spun her chair around,

  “Where’s Lawson?” she asked.

  “Shot hopefully,” Tackler mumbled, loud enough only for Ward to hear.

  “He’ll be here shortly, he’s just cleaning something up.”

  “Well, would you like to see all that I have found?” she asked.

  “Only if you tell me you have found something worthwhile,” he replied.

  Nicole-Louise shot him a stern look,

  “I’ve found everything,” she said, “Have a seat,” she added, pointing at the armchair nearest to her on her right.

  Ward sat down,

  “Can you give me the short and simple version please Nicole-Louise, we are pushed for time,” he asked in the nicest possible tone that he could produce.

  She looked offended but said,

  “OK.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Firstly, the money flow,” she said, “Short version. I told you it came from a subsidiary of Ashurst-Stevens and there were four million dollars transferred and two million pending, correct?”

  “Correct.” Ward replied.

  “Well there is actually six million dollars pending.”

  “Six?”

  “One impending transfer of two million dollars one of four.”

  “Another bomb?”

  “No,” she replied, “This is linked to be released by notification tomorrow, so it will be a bonus payment, or a pre-agreed figure upon completion.”

  “So, in simple terms, what can you prove?”

  “That Ashurst-Stevens will have paid the bomber a total of ten million dollars to blow people up,” she replied, “Simple enough for you?”

  Ward then felt bad for offending her earlier.

  “How clear is it?”

  “It would stand up in any court of law in the world.”

  “It won’t get to court,” he replied.

  Nicole-Louise knew what he meant and so dropped the point immediately,

  “The lawyer you spoke to has gone, I also know that,” she said,

  “How do you know?”

  She turned around and looked at the screen to her right,

  “Because if he isn’t, he is standing in this room now and I can’t see him.”

  He remembered the phone he had taken from Barnard and dug it out of his pocket. He handed it to Nicole-Louise and she put it down on the side.

  “Now,” she continued, “The advertising revenue and increase in paper sales, and other commercial arms of the Ashurst-Stevens Media Empire has increased by 1700% across the world for him.”

  “How?”

  “People love reading about death and destruction unfortunately.”

  “This is common?”

  “No, it’s unusual,” she replied.

  “Why?”

  “Easy. He leaks that the security services are chasing a bomber but they don’t know where he is, and that New York could be his next target, and people want to know what’s happening so they buy newspapers, log onto websites and the conspiracy theorists go into overdrive.”

  “So how does that make money?” Ward asked, fascinated to learn the answer.

  “Supply and demand,” she said, “If I am advertising a product on one of his news websites, on a normal day with two million visitors, I might pay fifty thousand dollars. But the more viewers, the bigger the target audience and then the cost of advertising goes up?”

  “By that much?” Ward enquired.

  “It rockets when you jump from two million visitors to fifteen million visitors a day. And most people click back on three or four times a day and so that fifteen becomes sixty million.”

  “And the price goes up to what?”

  “Around two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and the companies are desperate for an audience that big, so they line up to pay it,” Nicole-Louise replied.

  Ward remembered the activity on the advertising floor in London. Bad news was good news for Ashurst-Stevens.

  “That seems too simple,” he said.

  “Not really,” she replied, “People love watching a drama unfold. Think back to the OJ Simpson car chase. It’s the same here. Most people are willing the bomb to go off so that they can say they watched the drama unfold right before their eyes. Nine eleven was another example. People became addicted to it,” she added.

  “So, how much cash would 1700% convert to?” Ward asked.

  “I looked at that,” she said, “And I’ve calculated it to be around thirty million dollars worldwide.”

  All the money that Ashurst-Stevens has and he still wanted this all done for nothing, and makes a hefty profit on top of it; Ward thought to himself. It was clever. Fulken takes the risks and it doesn’t cost Ashurst-Stevens a penny, yet he is at least twenty million dollars up.

  “I’m in the wrong line of work.” he said to Nicole-Louise.

  “No,” she replied, “You are in the right line of work because we can steal whatever we want and they will never catch us,” she added with a smile.

  Ward looked at her; she had something on her mind, he could see it.

  “Suggestions?”

  “I’m sure that Mrs Gilligan could use some money to make sure her family is secure?”

  “I agree,” he replied, “A figure in mind?”

  “Oh, I’d say about four million should cover it.”

  Ward gave her a satisfied nod.

  “College can be so expensive now,” she added with a grin.

  “Take Fulken’s money?”

  “That’s exactly what I was going to do, it’s money already paid, so it will take no more than five minutes to move.”

  “Nicole-Louise, you are a genius,” Ward said, as he beamed at her.

  “I know,” she replied, “And that was the short version!”

  “Two more things I need you to do first,” he said.

  “Name them?”

  “I want you to go through that phone,” he said pointing to Barnard’s phone next to her.

  “What do you want from it?”

  “I want Ashurst-Stevens’ number and then I want to know where he is.”

  “Secondly?”

  “I want you to find me Fulken’s number from Ashurst-Stevens’ call records and let me have it immediately,” he said.

  “I’ll have that in ten minutes,” she replied and turned around, and began to tap on her keyboard once more.

  Tackler nodded towards the kitchen and then stood up and walked through the door.

  Ward followed him.

  “What have you got?” he asked him as he closed the door.

  “All the big hitting media players from around the world are in New York for this awards
ceremony tomorrow night,” Tackler said, “So there is an element of guesswork in what I have concluded.”

  “Go on?”

  “It’s not easy because Ashurst-Stevens has tried taking over pretty much every competitor out there,” Tackler replied.

  “But you have a name?”

  “The best I can do is narrow it down to three.”

  “Who are?” Ward asked.

  “Theodore Chambers the third. Ashurst-Stevens tried taking over his media company two years ago. He covers the U.S and South America. He almost succeeded but the deal fell through at the last minute.”

  Ward had heard of Chambers before. He assumed that he had caught a glimpse of his name on the news.

  “Next?”

  “Gerrard Herrera, a Spanish based tycoon who owns the networks and newspapers that cover most of mainland Europe.”

  “Relation to Ashurst-Stevens?”

  “The same,” Tackler replied, “He’s pretty much tried a hostile takeover of everyone in the media world. Ashurst-Stevens is huge.”

  “The third?”

  “Sir Andrew Higgins.” Tackler replied.

  “Another regal name?” Ward said.

  “They used to be partners thirty years ago, in a number of joint ventures. There was a falling out and Ashurst-Stevens has been chipping away at Higgins’ Empire for the last twenty years.”

  “So why him?” Ward asked.

  “Because the jewel in the Higgins crown is Millennium Media and it is building up a network to compete against the monopoly that Ashurst-Stevens has on sports both sides of the Atlantic,” Tackler replied.

  “And your best guess is that it is one of them?”

  “Yes. But it is just that, a guess.”

  “I knew you could find them,” Ward said.

  Tackler smiled and Ward could see the pride that Tackler felt. He could also see the reassurance wash over him that the one they were looking for was among those three names.

  “There is one last thing I need you to do,” Ward said,

  “Anything,” Tackler replied.

  “I want to know where all three of them will be at 10.00am tomorrow morning.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Ward patted him on the shoulder and they both walked back into the living area.

  Nicole-Louise turned around from her workstation as Ward walked in.

  “OK,” she said, “What do you want first?”

  “The phone, what did you get from it?” Ward asked.

  “Lots,” she replied, “I have Ashurst-Stevens cell locked in and he is currently having dinner at Masa, at West 60th and Broadway.”

  “And a number I might be interested in?”

  “I’ve got it,” she said, “They were different numbers, probably swapped sim cards, but I looked at who he called in Paris, London and New York over the last two weeks. No other calls were made to the numbers so it has to be him,” she added, handing him a piece of paper with the number written on it.

  “Where is it now?” he asked.

  “It’s about twenty blocks away, on Lexington Avenue by East 35th Street, but the signal keeps dropping in and out.”

  “Turning it off and on?”

  “Probably, at the moment it is off.”

  “Nicole-Louise, you are the best at what you do in the world,” he said, and then watched as Tackler raised both eyebrows.

  The apartment buzzer made everyone startle. Tackler pressed the intercom,

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me,” Lawson’s voice echoed around the room.

  Tackler hit the button to release the building door.

  Nicole-Louise continued,

  “So, I have four million dollars here ready to spend on college fees,” she said with a smile, “Would you like to do the honours?”

  Ward walked up to the desk and Nicole-Louise gestured for him to hit the return button on the keyboard to send the money.

  “Won’t she phone the bank to ask them about it?” he asked.

  “Already taken care of,” she replied, “The bank can only say it is authentic and not a mistake and the money is hers,” she added.

  “Definitely?”

  “Guaranteed.”

  Ward hit the return button. At least the Gilligan’s were financially secure now, even if their giant of a husband and father wasn’t there to hold them.

  Lawson knocked on the door; McDermott opened it and he walked in,

  “Where are we now?” he seemed to ask the whole room.

  “You will stay here with Nicole-Louise, Tackler and these two,” Ward said, pointing at the Walkers, “As soon as Tackler tells you where the three people we are looking for are going to be at 10am tomorrow, you call me and let me know. Mac, as soon as you know the three places, can you roll your team to each location and do the recon work?”

  McDermott nodded.

  “Where are you going?” Lawson asked.

  “I have a few calls to make and then a coffee date,” Ward replied.

  He understood everything completely now. It wasn’t so much about money; it was about worldwide control of the news. If Ashurst-Stevens took over even one of his main competitors, he would have total control over what people read and therefore in essence, what people thought. He wasn’t just an egomaniac or a man trying to build a mountain of wealth beyond the comprehension of a normal person. He wanted to be something else. He wanted to be the most powerful man on earth. He wanted to be The Newsmaker.

  THIRTY NINE

  “Have you finished killing people for the day?” Centrepoint asked as he answered, “I’m getting calls from all sorts of departments, and I have spent virtually the whole day cleaning up your mess.”

  “Almost,” Ward replied.

  “I’m being serious. Have you any idea of the body count you have amassed since you got on this in London?”

  Ward paused for a moment and started to mentally add up those who had been killed but soon gave up.

  “Two more, that’s all.”

  “They are?”

  “Fulken and Ashurst-Stevens,” he replied.

  “Again, I’m serious, Ashurst-Stevens is off limits.”

  “Are you for real?” Ward asked, “The guy is behind all of this, I have complete proof of that, and you want him left alone?”

  “It’s the bigger picture; he’s worth more to us alive.”

  “How can that be?”

  “Think about it. We can use him to control the news, cover our work up, and misinform people to assist our work.”

  Ward was a realist. He could see that there would be huge benefit in having that kind of control, and how it would probably save a lot more lives than Ashurst-Stevens had cost, but he kept thinking about Gilligan, and at how this moment in time, avenging his death, which was firmly at the feet of Ashurst-Stevens, was his priority,

  “I’ll see how it plays out,” he replied.

  “Where are you with Fulken?” Centrepoint asked.

  “I know where he is but I still don’t know where the bomb is due to go off. Ashurst-Stevens is having an expensive meal right now, and they are the only two who know where it is due to go off. I don’t think Fulken will break due to his training, so we are trying to find the bomb ourselves.”

  “Can’t you just go to where he is?”

  “No. We don’t know if he has the bomb there or if he has people helping him. What if he has support and the bomb is miles away, and we take him out, and we then have no lead at all if Ashurst-Stevens won’t talk.”

  “You are going to stop that bomb from ever going off, aren’t you?” The Old Man asked, “I need some justification for the trail of destruction you have left in your wake.”

  “Yes I am,” Ward replied and hung up the phone.

  He walked a little further down the street and took out the piece of paper that Nicole-Louise had given him with Fulken’s number on it. He dialled the number and got a network carrier message that said they were sorry but they were unable to connec
t the call right now, and so he hung up.

  He walked down Park Avenue and cut across on East 61st Street, onto Lexington Avenue. He got a cab down to East 32nd Street and got out. He knew Fulken was here somewhere and he strolled along looking for a potentially vacant building that could hide a ‘UPS’ van.

  In total, he spent thirty minutes walking up and down the Avenue. Come out, come out, wherever you are, he thought to himself.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled the number again. This time it rang.

  “Hello?” the voice said.

  It was Fulken without a doubt.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

  The voice on the end of the line went quiet.

  “Don’t be shy,” he continued, “I’ve put a lot of effort into finding you.”

  Continued silence.

  Ward could sense the fear.

  “You have nothing to say?” he asked, “That’s a disappointment.”

  “You? You are the man I saw on the cell phone?” Fulken eventually replied.

  Ward had no idea what Fulken was on about, but he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of the dialogue they were about to engage in,

  “No,” he replied, “I’m the guy who wanted you to see him on his cell phone.”

  “I recognised you, how do I know you?” Fulken asked.

  Ward was confused at this. He knew for sure that he had never met Fulken, or even been in the same room as him, but he continued to play along,

  “You forget, how hurtful,” he replied.

  Fulken went quiet.

  Ward could almost hear him trying to put his voice to whoever he had seen on their phone, and he wasn’t sure if it was computing with him or not, but he continued,

  “We took you in, gave you a chance of a good life and you turned on us,” he said.

  “There was no choice,” Fulken replied.

  He calculated immediately that the only thing that would make a man like Fulken not have a choice would be a threat to those people close to him.

  So he took a gamble,

  “You think after this your family will be safe?” he asked.

  No reply, just heavier breathing than Ward had initially heard.

  “Well they won’t. No matter where you think you will take them to be safe, we will find you and them.”

  “We?” Fulken asked.

  “I’m the guy who has taken out your American network and who is going to stop you from ever detonating that bomb. And after that, Ashurst-Stevens is next on my list.”