The Newsmaker (Volume One Book 1)

by Tom Field

  “Who?”

  Ward knew immediately that Fulken had no idea who was behind this plot, because he had never met him face to face.

  “The guy giving you instructions, the English guy, the money man. His name is Ashurst-Stevens.”

  Silence on the line again.

  He could hear the light tapping of keys on a keyboard and knew that Fulken would be searching for information on Ashurst-Stevens online right then.

  He left a ten second gap in the conversation so that Fulken could digest the information that he was no doubt looking at.

  “That surprised you didn’t it?” he asked.

  “Indeed it did.”

  “So how about you tell me where and when the bomb is due to go off and it can save us a load of time and energy?”

  He heard Fulken laugh,

  “And let me guess my friend, then you let me live?”

  “No,” he replied, “I’m going to kill you regardless.”

  No reply.

  “You are afraid of me, I can hear it in your silence,” Ward said.

  “I would be stupid not to be afraid of you,” Fulken replied, “You seem to have single handily wiped out all of the FFW sympathisers in New York.”

  “You can add London to that too, but you had already run off before you could find that out.”

  “I still can’t put your face to a place, how about you help me out?” Fulken asked.

  Ward thought about this for two brief seconds before deciding that another gamble was in order,

  “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

  No reply.

  “Nothing?” he asked, in the process buying a few more seconds to think.

  No reply.

  “Think back to the FFW,” he said, “You aren’t remembering properly.”

  Ward could almost hear the wheels in Fulken’s brain turning.

  “You want some help?”

  “Yes please my friend, humour me.” Fulken replied.

  “I’m the one who way back set you up to be caught by us.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m the one who is behind all of this.”

  No reply.

  “Think about it,” Ward said, “You have led me to every single FFW cell in both London and here, and now they are all gone.”

  No reply.

  “You’ve single handily done more damage to the FFW than the CIA have managed in the past five years.”

  “You overestimate the value of my faith to me my friend,” Fulken replied.

  “No,” Ward said, “We evaluated it perfectly.”

  “Explain?”

  “We knew you would jump at the money we have paid you to set off those bombs. Your faith means nothing to you, we knew that when we brought you over here.”

  Silence on the line again.

  “But the faith of the members of the FFW cells is unquestionable,” he continued.

  “You used me to get to them?” Fulken said, thinking out loud and not asking a direct question.

  Ward thought this was a good point to move the conversation back to another point. Leaving Fulken with a lot of things to chew over when the call had ended,

  “What I don’t understand is how you can’t remember me,” he said, “It’s not like we have never met.”

  Silence on the line again.

  “So I will ask you one more time, walk away now, tell me where the bomb is, and your family might just live.” Ward said.

  “I’ll take my chances my friend,” Fulken replied and the line went dead.

  He smiled to himself. He had given Fulken enough information to confuse him and he knew right now, that Fulken would be analysing every part of their conversation, playing it over and over in his head for the next few hours. That would mean that he would be distracted, and when distraction entered the equation, mistakes always got made.

  He hailed a cab and made his way back to Park Avenue. Tackler opened the door to the apartment when he arrived and he looked confused.

  “Everything OK?” he asked.

  “Yes and no,” Tackler replied as he moved out of the way for Ward to enter the apartment.

  Inside, Walker and his son were still sitting on the sofa. Ward looked at McDermott who was still standing to the side of the sofa like a sentry, focussed, alert and ready for action if required.

  Lawson was texting on his phone.

  “Why don’t you take those two out to stretch their legs and to get some air for an hour?” Ward said to McDermott.

  McDermott nodded. Walker looked terrified again.

  “Don’t worry,” he said to them, “He is probably the one man in the whole world that all of the bad guys are afraid of. You will be completely safe.”

  Walker looked instantly re-assured.

  The two Walker’s stood up, and in identical rhythm, and with the same hands, scooped up their jackets and put them on.

  “How long and how far?” McDermott asked.

  “A couple of hours and not too far,” Ward said, “I might need you to move at a moment’s notice.”

  McDermott nodded his head and led the way out of the apartment with the Walkers two steps behind him.

  “What’s wrong?” Ward asked Tackler.

  “I’ve found out where the three competitors that I identified will be tomorrow at 10:00am,” Tackler replied.

  “Tell me?”

  “Well, Herrera will be in the Chrysler building attending a charity event that his organisation sponsors for homeless children.”

  “The likelihood of it being him?”

  “In terms of financial gain, high,” Tackler replied.

  “Next?”

  “Theodore Chambers has a meeting arranged at the United Nations with an ambassador from Argentina.”

  “Chances?”

  “In terms of financial gain, probable.”

  “The British guy?” Ward asked.

  “Sir Andrew Higgins has an appointment with a host of different network producers,” Tackler replied.

  “Where?”

  “Believe it or not, It’s at the USBC News headquarters.”

  Ward looked confused.

  “How does that work?” he asked.

  “Most companies do it. They have steering groups who regularly meet and discuss new technology, methods and shared satellites. It was the turn of the Swan Media Group to host it, but it was changed to USBC News last week,” Tackler replied.

  “Will Ashurst-Stevens be there?” Ward asked.

  “Yes. He has an interview planned.”

  “Likelihood?”

  “Extremely high I would say, wouldn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” Ward said.

  “Only maybe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Surely by blowing up his own building it would look like an attack on him also so he has a double alibi?” Tackler asked.

  Ward ignored him and looked across at Nicole-Louise.

  “Where is Ashurst-Stevens now?” he asked.

  “He’s still at the Masa restaurant. If he’s having one of their five hundred buck, fifteen course meals, he will be there a while yet,” she replied with clear disdain in her voice.

  Ward looked at his watch. It was eight fifteen. He took out his cell phone and dialled McDermott’s number.

  “Hey,” McDermott answered.

  “I need you back here immediately,” he said.

  “Three minutes, I can see the building from here.”

  He hung up the phone.

  “Fulken’s cell has lost signal I take it?” he asked Nicole-Louise. She nodded her response.

  “The money for Gilligan’s wife?”

  “Already done. The payment transfer was made from an account I set up, which has now been wiped and never existed. She’s stuck with it.” she said. The warm smile that accompanied it, for a brief moment, made Ward appreciate the values of the human race again.

  “Thank you, Nicole-Louise.”

  The buzzer rang a
nd Tackler got up to buzz down for the front door to open. Thirty seconds later, McDermott was walking in with the Walkers no more than two paces behind him.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I need you to move the team,” Ward replied.

  “Where to?”

  “This van will be parked somewhere ready to move. Somewhere close to one of three places.”

  “The three places?” McDermott asked.

  “The United Nations, the Chrysler Building and USBC News Headquarters.”

  “How close?”

  “Well Ashurst-Stevens knows that we have pretty much pieced all this together and so does Fulken.”

  “How would he know?” McDermott asked.

  “Because I’ve just told him.”

  Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

  “You told him?” Tackler asked.

  “Yes. And his silent responses to what I told him, told me I was right,” Ward replied.

  “You spoke to him?” Nicole-Louise asked.

  Ward nodded.

  “OK,” McDermott said, “How close do you think?”

  “No more than a mile,” he replied, “He will know we are all looking for the UPS van, and there would be no point in increasing the travel time. It just increases the chance of getting caught before he reaches his target.”

  McDermott nodded,

  “I’ll get them rolling now,” he said, “But they will need me out in the field to co-ordinate this with them.”

  Ward nodded.

  “You two will have to stay here until I am done,” he said to Walker and his son. They both nodded but the increase in anxiety visibly spread across their faces.

  “It will be fine,” Ward said, “These two will protect you.”

  Nicole-Louise smiled.

  Tackler looked like he was about to protest but changed his mind when Ward glared at him.

  FORTY

  Ward made his way to Leno’s coffee shop on Lexington and walked in at eight forty. Eloisa was already in a booth with two steaming mugs opposite each other on the table. He walked up to her, leant down and kissed her gently on the lips, and then slid into the opposite side of the booth.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said.

  “Likewise.”

  “Have you nearly sorted this thing out?”

  “It’s a lot clearer than it was.”

  “When can we spend time together?” she asked.

  “As soon as this is over, I’m yours,” he replied with a smile.

  Eloisa looked awkward for a moment.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This thing I spoke to you about on the phone earlier, it really can’t wait,” she said.

  Ward thought back to their conversation about the next problem that Eloisa wanted solved.

  “Then if it can’t wait, you had best tell me all about it.”

  “God, I love you so much,” she said, “You really are the most selfless man in the world.”

  Eloisa reached into her bag and pulled out a large brown envelope.

  “Everything is in there.”

  He put the envelope on his lap without looking at it.

  “His name is Michael O’Leary and he needs stopping,” she said.

  Ward nodded.

  “We should go away soon,” Eloisa said, “I need a break and I know for sure that you do.”

  “Still on for the old movies tomorrow night?”

  “I have to fly to Michigan first thing tomorrow for a conference,” she said, “But we will go somewhere hot like the Bahamas and sit in the sun all day drinking cocktails when I’m back.”

  They finished their coffees and spoke about the Bahamas and laughed at how they would have the waiters’ running back and forward to their sun loungers all day long. After thirty minutes, they stood up and walked out of Leno’s and hugged in the street. Ward hailed a cab and he opened the door for her to step in. He kissed her on the lips and closed the door and watched the cab drive up Lexington and out of sight. He hailed a cab and said to the driver,

  “Masa at West 60th and Broadway.”

  He arrived at Masa and stepped out of the cab, leaving a hefty tip to the driver who had a very accurate view on how the New York Mets had been performing.

  The entrance to Masa was bright and shiny; lots of chrome, with a big sign that simply said ‘Bar Masa’ hanging down, and a declaration that it served modern Japanese cuisine to the bottom left.

  He walked into the restaurant. To the right there was a long bar with every stool taken. There was an open area where you could watch the chef’s preparing the food, and the main dining room had a large group of individual tables that covered most of the floor and to the left; there were more spacious and secluded tables. Where the real money ate or rather just ordered the most expensive food on the menu, regardless if they liked it or not.

  As he walked in, the floor manager looked up at him,

  “Good evening Sir” he said, looking Ward up and down.

  He suddenly realised that he was most definitely not dressed for a night out at one of New York’s most expensive eateries.

  “Good evening,” he replied, “Sorry about my attire, I’ve just stepped off of a plane.”

  The floor manager smiled. A practiced smile designed to cause no offence whatsoever.

  “Do you have a reservation?”

  “I’m part of the Ashurst-Stevens party,” he replied, “Can you tell him that Mr Chennell is here.”

  The floor manager smiled and said,

  “Please wait here.”

  He turned and walked towards the money tables. He disappeared from sight and Ward stood there waiting for a good three minutes. He started to wonder if Ashurst-Stevens would try escaping out of a rear door, when the floor manager returned.

  “Follow me please Sir,” he said and turned, leading Ward into the main restaurant. They walked past all the other diners, a number of them taking a second glance at him in his inappropriate clothing, and they came to a large, pine table with eight chairs around it. The guests that Ashurst-Stevens had been eating with were all walking towards him as he got to the table.

  “Hello again Mr Chennell,” Ashurst-Stevens said, offering his hand as Ward reached the table.

  Ward ignored the offer.

  “Lawyers and bankers, so incredibly boring,” he said, “Now, what can I help you with?”

  “You can tell me where the next bomb is planned to go off?” Ward said, in a very matter of fact tone.

  Ashurst-Stevens studied him for a few seconds.

  “I’m not sure what you mean. I thought that we had given you our full co-operation and use of our extensive resources?”

  “I’ve got everything worked out. I’ve got it down to three places; you could just save me a lot of time if you told me which one it is, so we can find Fulken and the bomb prior to any distress being caused.”

  “Distress?” Ashurst-Stevens asked.

  He knew at that exact moment, that Ashurst-Stevens was going to see this through to the end, regardless of the consequences, because he had no choice. Backing down now would definitively prove that he was behind it all. So Ward considered a different approach.

  “I get that we have nothing specific on you in relation to the bombings, and that you want to see this through, but there is no way you will get to either Herrera, Chambers or Higgins,” he said.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Yes you do,” Ward said, “I can see it in your eyes. The whole plan relied upon everyone being focussed on Fulken and the FFW, but it was always about you and your empire.”

  Ashurst-Stevens looked both surprised and impressed at the same time; Ward saw this as encouragement to continue his approach of antagonising him.

  “It wasn’t that difficult really,” he said, “Once I had met you, your character flaws were obvious. That’s how I knew.”

  Ashurst-Stevens laughed out loud,

  �
�My character flaws?” he said, “I wasn’t aware that a billionaire could have character flaws. Let’s measure my success in life against yours shall we?”

  Ward ignored the response and carried on.

  “Hiring Lucas was a mistake. That’s a flaw right there. You go for the cheapest option all the time. That didn’t work out very well for him.”

  As he finished his sentence, his phone vibrated. He took it out of his pocket, willing it to be a message from McDermott that they had found the van, but it was just a text from Lawson saying that he was getting bored.

  Ward continued.

  “Everyone who died was an innocent person with family and loved ones. There’s a flaw there.”

  “I have no idea what you are on about, but I will amuse you,” he replied, “So, hypothetically, why would that be a flaw?”

  “Because that made me an enemy.”

  “I have more powerful enemies than you, that’s for sure,” he replied in an arrogant tone.

  Ward ignored the baiting.

  “So, the person you want will not be where you want him tomorrow morning, and you have no way of getting hold of Fulken now, that I am sure of, so playing this out to the end all now seems a little pointless,” he said, “And as Barnard said, his testimony in a court of law will carry an awful lot of weighting. He’s writing it up right now as we speak.”

  Ashurst-Stevens smiled,

  “You think with my friends, even if I was involved in this ludicrous plot you speak of, that I would ever get to a court of law?” he asked smugly.

  Ward knew that nothing would be resolved through simple communication so he gave up.

  “Maybe I have you all wrong?”

  “I think you do,” Ashurst-Stevens replied.

  Ward stood up without saying another word and walked out of the restaurant.

  When he got outside, he called Lawson.

  “Hello?”

  “I want you to come and meet me, I’m at Masa. Nicole-Louise will tell you where,” he said.

  “I know it,” Lawson replied, “Me and Abbi have booked a table there.”

  Ward hung up and dialled McDermott.

  “I need something done quickly.”

  “What is it?” McDermott asked.

  “I need you to kidnap Ashurst-Stevens for me. And I need it done now.”