Banshee Hunt

by Curtis, Greg

  “We think so. But still the rumour's out there and it's making the rounds. They're saying monies have been paid and agreements reached. Meetings have been held. Recordings made. Some of our people have been asked by the authorities for information. Naturally we've said nothing so far since it's only a rumour. But soon it'll be with Interpol and they'll ask. They always ask us because they know we're such a good source of information. And they'll have warrants. Naturally as a responsible organisation we would want to comply with all such legal requirements. Even if they perhaps implicate other honest American citizens in criminal activities. And when that happens – well the feds will be everywhere. I'd hate to be left holding the bag when the music stops.”

  “So would I.” Except that Brucknell clearly thought he was the one holding the bag. No doubt he was thinking about running far and fast. “Recordings?”

  Just how far had this deal progressed James wondered? How much money had changed hands? Whose names had been signed to what pieces of paper? And despite the fact that this guy was obviously as guilty as sin and cracking wide open, how did this find them their banshee?

  “Of course it wouldn't have to go down that way.” Yasmin smiled reassuringly as she ignored his question. She'd shown him the stick, now came the carrot.

  “If it could be shown that there was an open, and transparent consultation process under way. A stated requirement for an external audit. If interested parties were made to register their interest publicly. If perhaps another company could be shown to have made a competing expression of interest. And that monies weren't paid save as fees. Those things would obviously take away any thought of impropriety by the authorities.”

  “Of course I would assume that that happened? The documents will show it won’t they?” Yasmin asked innocently.

  Brucknell nodded but said nothing. He was beginning to look as though he couldn't speak.

  “Good. Because then if the authorities came to us and asked us for what we knew we wouldn't have to tell them anything untoward. It'd be wrong to pass on what are after all no more than rumours.. We won’t show them third party transcripts and recordings. In fact it'd be immoral. And we are a very moral company.”

  She was laying it on thick James thought. Threatening and implying things without a single shred of evidence of anything, and expecting the man to simply cave in. They had nothing and even if Brucknell didn't yet know that he would surely have to wonder. He'd ask for proof. He'd already asked about the recordings. He wasn't a stupid man. And yet for some reason he just seemed to be caving in front of them. Was she doing something to him? How? Her magic he thought wouldn't allow her to unless he was also a wizard of some sort. But he couldn't think of any other reason why the man would be having a melt down in front of them.

  “Assuming of course that any such deal has been arranged.” Brucknell eventually tried to bluster his way out of his mess. But he still had the look of a hunted animal. And he still wasn't asking for proof. Where was his logic?

  “Oh yes, of course assuming that. But you know these Asian gangs. Triads and the like. They're very insistent that this happened. And they are very particular about their record keeping. Very business minded. And very competitive. Actually they fight like cats and dogs. It's not just about money. It's about honour and pride. If one organisation makes a gain, the others lose accordingly. They can't have that. So when one gains a competitive edge the others want it. So they spy on one another just to make sure that no one pulls ahead. You know the sort of thing. Recordings of meetings and pillow talk. Phone calls taped. Interrogations. Paying off informants. They really are quite industrious when it comes to these things.”

  “And you're saying that you've got some of these recordings?” Brucknell finally came out of his shock far enough to challenge her. To ask the questions he should have asked right from the start.

  “Some?” Yasmin managed to look politely surprised. “Why I suspect we have all of them. Multinationals like oil companies have to be just as industrious as those who try to prey on us. It's a quiet war out there. They see us as sources of revenue, trying to control the local labour markets to ensure that only the people they want are hired, using their influence with politicians to make our approvals difficult, and sometimes even charging protection money. And of course half of them are in league with terrorists and the other half run weapons as well as drugs. Both things they think a respectable oil company could help them move.”

  “We in turn see them as a danger to our business. We have to watch them just as closely as they watch each other. These crime families do pose a significant threat to us as well after all. And sometimes things just fall into our lap. Gossip. Like these unfortunate rumours. Sometimes evidence too. Why do you think Interpol keeps coming to us unofficially?”

  “Evidence?” Brucknell stuttered it out.

  “In this case it seems one crime syndicate saw another one about to make a significant advantage over them and they knew they couldn't get in on the action. Their rival would have been making ground in virgin territory. There were potentially billions of dollars in the offing. If the deal went ahead it would have shifted the balance of power. So since they couldn't get in on the deal they decided instead to make sure that their rivals couldn't prosper. So they gave everything they had to an American company they knew could make use of the information.”

  “I see.”

  He did see James thought. He saw that he was being blackmailed. But he still hadn't asked to see the proof. Only asked about it. Something was very wrong there.

  “I thought you might. However what you might not be aware of is that we have a number of subsidiary companies that specialise in making things go away. It's necessary when you deal overseas with so many authorities and organisations, many of whom don't like Americans. A lot of them blame us unfairly for all sorts of things.”

  “If you were interested we could perhaps offer some services to make this go away? But only if you're interested of course. And we'd have to be convinced that these were all just scandalous rumours of course.”

  Brucknell nodded. He was interested, presumably because he thought he had no choice but to be. He was being blackmailed after all.

  Still, why wasn't he asking to see these recordings James wondered? Surely it had to be some sort of magic at work? It didn't seem likely when Yasmin's magic was meta and there was no one else with magic in the room. But he couldn't think what else was happening. She uttered a few quiet hints of danger and the man turned into a frightened rabbit. Then she dangled a carrot in front of him and he seemed to almost leap for it like a drowning man for a lifeline. Did she perhaps have a charm on her?

  “Well then that's something that perhaps one of our subsidiary companies would be happy to arrange for you. We have one that would be just perfect for putting the right spin on things. Finding the right documentation. You know – the stuff that accidentally seems to get misfiled and lost. It happens so often. But they're very good at recovering it. Correcting any little factual errors that can make things so embarrassing. Making the awkwardness go away. In return for a little consideration of course.”

  Had she just said that James wondered? Openly? Was he sitting in the same room as her? Had she just extorted a politician's aide in front of him? Or was he misunderstanding what she meant? Because it could mean anything. Except that judging by the look on the aide's face it meant only one thing. The same thing James thought it did.

  “Consideration?”

  “Oh nothing like that. We're loyal, upright and honest citizens. We'd be happy to offer our services for free. We'd be happy just to have your boss' gratitude. And maybe from time to time his ear. Purely so we can talk informally about things. For example about business opportunities in the state. There are certain drilling rights we might be interested in. A few untapped reserves that could be profitable. And there's always a few pesky rules and regulations that need updating to make them suitable for the modern oil exploration business. I'm sure he'd
appreciate the opinion of an industry expert. And of course if this rumour does turn out to be true it might be nice to get a little advance warning. Purely so we can advise of course. And perhaps put in a counter bid.”

  They didn't want any of that of course. It was just a ruse to make him think they were corrupt, in the hope that he wouldn't realise that the one thing they did want was a name. A name he would give them without thinking.

  “Of course.” Brucknell looked decidedly sick as he said it. Probably because he realised he had no choice. He was being hit with both the carrot and the stick. If he refused, everything went public and he was screwed. He would probably go to jail for the rest of his life. If he agreed, everything went away and he was in heaven, as long as he gave up the casino and everything else they wanted to his new friends.

  “Well I can see that we've taken up enough of your valuable time.” Yasmin stood up unexpectedly and James belatedly followed suit. Was the meeting over? They hadn't got the answers they wanted yet.

  “Here's a card for that company I mentioned. They really are brilliant at making these little upsets in the PR world go away. In fact you could say they're wizards. Problems just disappear like magic.” She dropped a gold embossed card on the aide's coffee table beside them.

  “And I do look forward to hearing from you soon. In fact given how precipitous things are, very soon.”

  “Precipitous?” Brucknell suddenly looked like a man who knew he was in the hairs of a sniper's scope.

  “Well the rival organisations can be handled. But with Interpol all around, things become trickier. Already they have people sitting in interrogation rooms answering questions. It won't be long before they start obtaining warrants. Once that happens what can be done becomes far more limited. Documents in our possession have to be handled correctly. Those which have been misplaced need to be found quickly. Our people need to start work immediately. I would suggest that this time tomorrow might even be too late.”

  “But we'll need more time!”

  “You don't have more time I'm afraid. Unless we act very quickly everything will be out in the open. Though of course since none of this has anything to do with you and it's all just lies and rumours I'm sure that you have nothing to worry about. The recordings will all be shown to be fakes. Embarrassing of course, but no more than that. The scandal will simply blow away and you'll be exonerated. Who knows, your boss might even be re-elected.”

  She didn't mean a word of it though and all of them knew that. Brucknell was once more starting to look remarkably ill.

  “Anyway it was lovely to meet you, and I do hope that we can be of service.” She reached out a hand and the aide took it. He even managed to shake it. And James' hand in turn.

  “Come on Honey.” Formalities apparently over with, Yasmin looped her arm through James' once more. “I really do want to get some shopping in before dinner.”

  With that she dragged him out of the office and then out along the corridor, all while James wondered if they'd actually achieved what they'd set out to do. They had upset an aide profoundly but they still didn't have a name. And he still didn't know how she'd done it. Belatedly he tried to explain that to her as they once more walked the halls of power.

  Yasmin's answer caught him by surprise as she spun him around suddenly, pushed him against a wall and kissed him on the cheek, leaving James reeling – presumably as she wanted.

  “You really are slow aren't you?” She slapped him lightly on the cheek as if checking for signs of activity, but also whispered quietly in his ear.

  “He was spelled. Recently and powerfully. I saw a little of the magic with Sza. But this, it's even more powerful. As if she was spelling him every day. I could see it on him the instant we walked in the room. And while I couldn't remove the effect, I could transform it a little. From creating a sense of greed and ambition in him, to one of complete terror. In short I just reversed it.”

  “Reversed it?” He hadn't known she could do that.

  “Like the Chinese say, fear and desire are two sides of the same knife. The banshee spent ages transforming a normally, impossibly cautious man, into someone who had so much ambition and desire in him that he would do anything to get ahead. But it was all still always poised on a knife edge. All I had to do was turn the magic a tiny little bit to make him think that his gamble had failed, and his own nature did the rest.”

  “From now until the magic wears off, he's going to be living in complete panic. Absolutely terrified that all the risks he's taken have come undone. And that'll make him do anything we want. By now Brucknell's pacing the floor, screaming incoherently at the walls, probably living with visions of the electric chair in his head. It's only going to get worse.”

  “We've just done two things. First the plan ends. There won't be a casino after this which means the banshees just went out of business, at least in the US. And second we scared that aide utterly senseless. He'll be sending us everything he has within a few hours, thinking we have most of it anyway and desperately hoping we can save him from twenty thousand years in the slammer. More fool him!”

  “Ah?” James couldn't think of anything to say as she held him so close her lips in his face.

  “Go on, you can say it!”

  “Say what?”

  “You married up!” She laughed demurely, obviously happy with what she'd achieved.

  Suddenly James was finding it hard to think about anything except how gorgeous she was. Especially this close to him. She was warm and soft and she smelled good too. Which was why it came as such a shock when she backed away and then started once more leading him arm in arm down the corridor.

  To anyone looking he supposed it would have looked as though a couple had just shared a private moment. And in a place like this the natural response would have been to look away. Certainly no one said anything as they passed the reception. Nor as they left the building and started walking down the stone steps to the concourse. Yasmin was still holding his arm tightly as they descended, maintaining her fiction of their marriage.

  “Oh and you can also say one other thing. That it was a brilliant plan. Better than trying to force it all out of him at gun point.”

  “I wasn't going to do that!” James defended himself. Why did everyone keep thinking he was some sort of gun toting thug?

  “Oh really? Was this going to be one of those ones where you broke his nose instead? Because I have to say I don't think that would have gone down well here.” She mocked James a little.

  “I wasn't going to do that either!” James protested.

  “Then what were you going to do? Those seem to be your only two moves lately.” She laughed gaily at him.

  That was too much and something in James snapped. But instead of yelling at Yasmin as he should he grabbed her up in his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth. And then he kept kissing her despite being almost certain that it was a terrible mistake. She didn't resist though he noticed. In fact she even seemed to melt a little into his embrace. God did she feel good in his arms!

  Nor did she complain when he finally let her go.

  “So the Iceman's got a spark of fire in him after all!” She smiled, her hazel eyes almost glowing in the afternoon sun. “Nice to finally see it.”

  “Now you can buy me a drink.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mornings were usually a good time for James. The time when he first opened his eyes and for a second remembered nothing of his former life. Nothing of everything that had gone wrong. It was only when the memories came flooding back that his mood soured.

  This morning though was different.

  For a start it wasn't his bed he was lying in. His sheets were simple and white. These had patterns of some sort. And the wallpaper was wrong too. His room had vertical stripes of tired brown running down the walls. The room he was in was papered with a diagonal pattern of gold flowers. The wall was further away from him than it should normally be too. The bedroom was much larger than his. And the
n there was the life sized Barbie doll he was wrapped around. Actually he had his arm around her waist and his face buried in her milk chocolate breasts while her long black hair covered him.

  It took a moment for him to make sense of that. To bring back the memories of the previous night. And when he did he knew who the doll was. He just couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

  “Yasmin?” he asked cautiously, not sure he even wanted an answer. But he didn't really need one. He knew her. He knew her mocca coloured skin. And the long contours of her body. He knew the gentle curves of her breasts – though not from quite this close. Never from this close. That was up until the previous night. The somewhat confused memories of their time together suddenly started rushing up at him.

  “You're awake then.”

  James knew her voice as well, though not the lack of sarcasm in it. “I … um … that is …” He tried to say something intelligent but that was all that came out.

  “I know. It happened. It's not the end of the world.”