“If we go ahead with this,”, he spoke casually and paused often, “I have a guy I’m thinking of bringing in to oversee the project. He’s an old acquaintance whose been out of the country for a while. Ex City trader, very sharp guy.”
“Would I know him?”, Samson asked.
“Unlikely, unless you had any dealings with LMBA. Or if you watched too much television. Guy called Philian Gregory. He was a suspect in the death of his old girlfriend but that’s all been cleared up now. Needless to say, he’s come out of it squeaky clean. All a bit hush hush from the police’s side. Think they feel embarrassed about naming and shaming an innocent man.”
“I think I remember that one.”, Samson evidently did, given that he had now changed his demeanour noticeably and was ready to probe for more information, “Wasn’t aware that he had been cleared though. Is he back in the city now?”
“Yeah,”, Dexter remained calm as he proffered his information, “he’s back. Contacted me looking for digs and I grabbed him at that opportunity. Really gifted guy. Think he’ll do well, and this is the sort of project that should be right up his street.”
“I’d like to meet him.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. If not with this one, then certainly with another. I’m glad you thought of us over this. It might well be a goer.”
Despite any further probing by Samson, that was all that Dexter was willing to offer for now. They talked around numerous other subjects and parted on good terms. If this was the Geoff Samson who had something of a sordid past, he hid it well. If it wasn’t, then at least he could be ticked off the list.
Back at his office, he gave a few brief instructions to the Summers twins before choosing to finish early for the day. In his line of work, you could work 24/7 and still have a backlog of things that you needed to do, so it didn’t really matter that he was taking a few hours to himself. He had capable people supporting him and they flourished when he wasn’t breathing down their necks all the time. Besides, he had plans.
The call came a little earlier than he had expected. Sam Summers had watched the hack being performed and had monitored its course through the systems that held all of Dexter’s data. He’d only agreed to let the firewalls down if he could be there to ensure that no permanent damage was done and he felt vindicated in this as he directed the hackers away from any sensitive data and into a bank of records that he was happy for them to enter.
“They pulled the details.”, he told Dexter, “About ten minutes ago. Just the one file, and yes, exactly as you predicted. I’ve put the firewall back in place and made it look like a successful response from the machine to the attack.”
“Thanks Sam.”
“Anything else for now?”
“No, I’ll take it from here. Put the database back to where it was and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
That might have been confirmation enough, but Dexter needed to know the extent of the threat that Philian faced. And to know that, meant a trip into the lion’s den and one that he had to make alone as Dave had made it perfectly clear that this wasn’t one for him. Nevertheless, it made sense to tip him off which Dexter did by leaving a cryptic message before heading out into the late evening traffic.
Westward Point was a small development of luxury apartments that Dexter had carved out of a semi-derelict bonded warehouse once fed by Croydon airfield. He’d left it empty on purpose, having been advised that there were a number of high-profile businesses who were planning to move their offices nearby. Once you had tenancy agreements in place, it was difficult to change them. Sometimes, it made sense to hang fire and let market forces lift the potential return to offset the months of vacancy. None of which was to say that the units were not looked after. They were highly secure apartments, monitored by numerous CCTV cameras and protected by the latest developments in impregnable architecture.
As he drove past the complex, he glanced briefly to the side and noted the lights on in just one of the units. He’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was the speed at which access had been gained by unauthorised visitors. As he parked up in a dark side-street, that information came to him via a feed from the alarms system into his mobile. He’d instructed the monitoring agency to ignore any activations that evening but the alerts were fed to him automatically, irrespective of this. As were the CCTV images.
What he saw confirmed all of his suspicions. The two men were dressed in black. The scanning systems that were integrated into the security systems picked up that each was carrying at least one gun, a knife and an assortment of other weapons that were less subtle than the others but which could be used with terrifying effect. They worked their way through the various locks and entered the apartment that the hacked system had led them to without a sound. Cautiously, they moved from room to room, the video images clear as they signalled to each other to move on. Having discovered the apartment empty, they stood together in the living room and discussed their next moves.
“He’s not here.”
“Clearly. But what worries me most is that there’s no sign at all that he has been here.”
“A set up?”
“I don’t know. Either that or he got wind and made a rapid departure, covering his tracks well. We need to take something back though. Sweep the place for anything unusual and then let’s get out of here.”
They’d find what they were looking for if they were as good as Dexter believed them to be. The remains of the A4 pad, containing trace evidence of the fact that Philian had been there, along with a number of other, smaller items that Dexter had pocketed when he’d handed over the other apartment to Mr Wan. It would be enough. At least, he hoped it would be.
The following day, he pre-empted things and made an early call to Geoff Samson. Questions were being asked just now, that was an inevitability, but Dexter had to ensure that he provided the answers before those questions drew uncomfortably close to the truth.
“I think we might have a deal.”, Dexter came straight to the point.
“That’s great.”, Samson hadn’t even had time to unpack the notes from his briefcase, which he now hurriedly retrieved.
“Just one proviso though.”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t want to haggle too much over the price,”, Dexter had done this too many times before, “but we both know that a ten-percent reduction is the norm, so I’m taking that as read. It’s still a little over the market value but it works for me. Agreed?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”, Samson knew better than to argue the point and the deal was fine even with the reduction.
“Good. Now, as to the timing. Ordinarily, I’d close as soon as possible. Finance isn’t a problem, nor can I foresee any legal tangles. But, in this case, something has come up that means I need a little time.”
“My client will want to know more than that.”, Samson needed to know too.
“The guy I was telling you about, Philian Gregory?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid he’s let me down.”, Dexter sighed as authentically as he could, “I checked with a few sources I have in the force and it appears he isn’t as free from suspicion as he advised me he was. On top of that, he’s upped and left, without a trace. Made me look a complete idiot and put a bit of a block on my ability to move quickly on this property.”
“Has he been in touch at all?”
“Not a sound. I checked the apartment this morning and he left nothing. But hey, let’s not get too hung up about that one. A lesson for me and something of a kick in the teeth, but I’ve had worse done to me. Meanwhile, I need to find somebody else to oversee this development, so I’m proposing a million down now as a deposit, with a view to closing next month. I trust that will be alright?”
“Can’t see it as a problem.”, Samson replied, “I’ll start on the paperwork and get back to you if there’s an issue. I think it will be fin
e. Shame about your guy. Maybe he’s guilty after all?”
“Enough of him.”, Dexter snapped, “Let’s move on. I’ve got some good people I can tap. Send me what you need me to sign and I’ll sort it out straightaway. Call my team with the transfer details and we’ll put the deposit in a holding account. And, thanks for tipping me off on this one. If you get anything else, come to me with it and we can start talking bonuses.”
The call was ended and Dexter relaxed a little. He’d fed out the bait, had watched it being taken and had managed to distance himself from all that he’d done. And it had worked. Not only was Philian Gregory very hot property, but his life was in danger. If it had been the police who’d turned up looking for him, that would have been a different story. As it was, whoever wanted to get to him so badly was choosing to do so in their own way. And Geoff Samson was in contact with them, fully aware of what they intended to do.
Chapter Nineteen
Paul Philips’ star was moving rapidly into the descendant. Children’s television demanded younger and younger presenters and he was moving the wrong way through the years. He didn’t need to work. He was already a very wealthy man and remained a household name, although the latter was more about people wondering where he was now. If they searched, even casually, they’d find him on one of the more obscure satellite channels, or as the patriarch of a fictitious village inhabited by puppets, where his age and seniority actually worked in his favour.
When the call came, Philips was in just the right frame of mind to accept it; personal appearances were drying up, age was conspiring against him, and parties that he had once been a certainty to attend now failed to yield an invite. He’d had a good career and didn’t regret the shifting media world that had chosen to reject him, nor did he need the money. It was the attention he craved. That had always been the attraction ever since he’d first discovered amateur dramatics and found himself able to project a new persona that was in sharp contrast to the shy and nervous creature he had always been. With confidence came opportunity and with opportunity came all the trappings of fame and fortune. Without them, the future didn’t seem quite so appealing.
It was only a brief call. The substance would be revealed in more detail at the meeting he’d agreed to attend tomorrow. They seemed very keen to engage him however, and that lifted Philips’ spirits no end. He’d give them his best performance and pull out all the stops to ensure that they had no option but to let him front the new game show that they were devising. He hadn’t heard of Millennial Productions, but a brief search on the web led him to a professional looking website that gave a brief introduction to this new start-up company. They must have backing, he’d thought, since his services wouldn’t come cheap. That said, if it was a chance to return to the public spotlight, then maybe, just maybe, he’d compromise a little on his fees.
The taxi dropped him outside a modern office complex that was shared by a number of small businesses. The concierge greeted him and directed him to the rear of the marble foyer where a pair of lifts waited to take him to the third floor. At the next checkpoint, he buzzed and was admitted into the type of reception area that he was all too familiar with. The furniture was new, the office equipment gleamed and there were few signs of any personal touches having been added by the handful of employees who sat beavering away in their cubicles.
“Paul Philips to see Anthony Parker.”, he announced with a smile.
“Certainly, Mr Philips.”, the young receptionist showed no sign of recognising him for what he was, but wasn’t that what this meeting was all about? “I’ll tell him you’re here. Please, take a seat.”
The leather sofa squeaked as he settled into it, it’s newness making it slippery but still manageable. This was all grist to the mill for Philips and he relaxed and picked up the latest copy of one of his favourite trade magazines. He was barely past the first page when he heard his name booming down the corridor.
“Paul Philips, as I live and breathe.”
The voice seemed too bold and solid to have escaped the mouth of the shuffling figure who advanced towards him. Parker was the same age as Philips, give or take a few years, but life had treated them differently and they looked to be decades apart. Where Philips, with a little help from minor procedures, had a smooth complexion that was just the right side of a healthy colour, Parker’s face was lined and lived-in, it’s world-worn countenance testament to too many years of exposure to the sun.
“It’s an honour to meet you.”, Parker extended his hand as Philips rose, “After all the years of being in thrall at your shows, now, here you are in flesh and blood. Thank you so much for coming, please, follow me to my office.”
It was the view from the office that first hit you. These premises were new and had been designed to help smaller businesses in their early stages, but no compromise had been made in their location. The sun glittered off the Thames and a few boats could be seen to manoeuvre their way down the great river.
“Come in and take a seat,”, Parker indicated a pair of chairs set casually around a small table, “and can I get you something to drink?”
“Just a coffee please.”, Philips replied.
“You sure?”, Parker smiled, revealing a gleaming set of pure white teeth, “I’m having a whisky myself. Don’t worry, your having a drink won’t affect our talks at all.”
“Okay,”, Parker yielded, “I’ll join you in a whisky. Thanks”
With the drinks before them, Parker went straight to the point.
“Bottom line is, we want you to present a new show for us. At the moment, we have a couple of formats that we’re looking into and, as you can see, things are at a very early stage. But don’t be fooled by our small size. We’re a new company but we have substantial backing. Thoughts?”
“Well,”, Philips tried to restrain his enthusiasm, wanting to play hard to get to keep the fees up and to nourish his own pride, “you’ll need to give me a little more detail. I’m certainly interested in making a mainstream comeback, but it has to be with the right vehicle. Can I ask, why am I in the frame?”
“A very good question.”, Parker lifted a small briefcase onto the table, opened it and removed an assortment of glossy brochures, “Perhaps these will help. This one details the ethos behind Millennial Productions. We see a niche market that isn’t being fully exploited and that’s why we’ve come together to make things happen. The whole TV thing is a little formulaic at the moment. It’s a little stale due to the same companies delivering variations on a theme and there’s not a lot of originality. That’s part one of what we want to do. We want to throw the rule book out and do things that nobody would ever dream of.”
“And to do it,”, he continued, “we aim to target the pre-millennial generation that grew up in the simple days of three channels and no recording devices. Which is where you come in. The audience we want is the one that you nurtured through childhood. They’ve all grown up and done whatever they’ve done in life. You, however, and please forgive me if this offends, have remained in your same role.”
“But it’s what I do best.”, Philips took the offence that Parker hadn’t wanted him to and folded his arms defensively.
“Oh, I don’t disagree.”, Parker lowered his tone and put on his humblest face, “You’re currently fronting some successful shows and I know your contracts are fairly secure. What we’re talking about here is you choosing to embrace another challenge. Think about it, the kids who grew up watching you are now the middle-aged generation that influences popular culture and who craves new attention-grabbing media content. The existing television channels aren’t offering it to them and they’re filling their time with drinking in anything and everything that they can access on the web. I don’t criticise them for it. In fact, our main backers have made their fortunes from this change in entertainment consumption.”
“Go on.”
“We want to tap into that generation’s
love of nostalgia. They’re buying vinyl records again, they’re baking, they’re even ballroom dancing. Doing things they didn’t even do when they were young. Any thoughts as to why? I’ll tell you. It’s because the quantity of new stuff is overwhelming them and sowing seeds of discontent. We believe they now want quality over quantity and a return to those days of simple security when chips came from the chip pan and when you were allowed to play out until dark.”
Philips smiled as Parker made his pitch, relating to a lot of what was being said, but also reminiscing on the contrast between his own childhood and that which was being portrayed. He said nothing as he thumbed through the brochures. There was something in what he was being sold and he couldn’t help but like it.
“What do you think?”, Parker asked as he swapped the empty glasses for full ones.
“The thought process makes sense.”, Philips chose his words carefully, “And you may be right, there is a gap in the market. But, I’m still not totally clear on what this magical format that you have involves. That’s my first concern. However, with regard to your notion of my reinventing myself. Yes, I think I could go with that. I’m not young anymore and I sometimes feel lost amongst the kids running the studios. They still respect me, but I’m not always sure they understand what I add to the shows.”
“Which is exactly why we’ve contacted you.”, Parker’s voice softened as he leant towards his visitor, “Your audience has always been the younger generation. Now, here’s a chance for you to reveal that you are more than a favourite Grandpa and that you have grown, developed and matured as much as that audience you first spoke to. And you’ll have a chance to offer something revolutionary that will make you more than just another presenter. We believe that we can get you up there with the top names again. Make you an A-Plus celebrity. And, of course, you’ll be reaping the financial rewards that that will bring.”
Philian Gregory Page 17