Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) (24 page)

“Close family can request that information. Ernest was your father, Jonas your uncle.” William blushed bright red and said whilst shaking his head,

“Ben, I’m sorry. I haven’t got used to Ernest and Jonas being part of my family. Thank you for reminding me. I started reviewing the information that Ernest had left, but hadn’t dealt with himself. Amongst this pile was company information on CHC including a list of current shareholders and non-executive directors. I came across two names that surprised me.” Turning to Annabel, he said,

“One was a gentleman called John Anderson, the other was Frederick Aldhelm, or to give him his full title, Bishop Frederick Aldhelm, our boss. Now John Anderson, any ideas?”

Annabel answered,

“Dad, I think. Where Freddie went
,
Dad tended to follow. They must have quite a few shares to be registered with company’s house. Why would they have invested in CHC?”

“Your father and Freddie knew each other? How?”

Annabel looked surprised,

“Didn’t Freddie tell you? He was married to Georgia before she died.” William interrupted,

“I know that. Freddie and I and before her death Georgia, have been good friends for many years. How does that connect your dad?”

“Georgia was dad’s sister. Freddie is Uncle Freddie. When I decided to become a vicar Freddie was a great help. We decided that he should become plain Freddie or I might have problems if people were aware that my Uncle was the Bishop. Freddie is a great family friend; one who dad respects.”

William sat down in the Captains chair and looked thoughtful. The clock in the office chimed seven o’clock, startling all of them out of their individual thoughts. Ben looked at William and said,

“We need to know why they would have had such a large shareholding” Turning to Annabel he asked,

“Would your Dad realise what a wealthy man he was? Can you ask him why he bought so many shares?  I think we should reconvene tomorrow morning for two reasons. One, I’m meeting Jemima in a while and I don’t want to be late and you two need to talk to each other and Annabel needs to talk to her dad and William to Freddie. Shall we continue this here tomorrow morning?”

Juanita looked worried, Ernest thought. He knew that he wasn’t her first assignment and he doubted his unfinished business was any more challenging than anyone else’s.

“What’s wrong? A problem shared is a problem halved or some other nonsense.”

“We’ve got company.” Juanita said and saw the blank uncomprehending expression on his face.

“Let me explain how it works here. Each guide has his or her own section of limbo. We work from there, we house our subjects there.” She gestured around the room, an accurate facsimile of his bedroom.

“Everything that we do starts and ends there. We shape it; mould the notional area to the requirements of each project, all that we are is defined by our section and the section that belongs to each of us depicts us as we want to be seen by other guides and God. My section of limbo has a flavour of my Andalucian heritage. However, when we are working; as now, it is essential that we each have complete privacy.”

“Why?” Ernest asked.

“Would you want every facet of your life laid bare in front of a stranger? What if a friend or acquaintance were here? What if they could view everything about you? Not just the edited version you had treated them to in life, but everything? Here we know everything.  What if your grandchild was here?” Interrupting Ernest said,

“Grandchild?  I haven’t got any grandchildren and I’m not going to be having any
,
now that I’m here.”

Continuing with a half smile on her lips, Juanita said,

“Just because you died before you could meet them, doesn’t stop the possibility that they will exist at some point in the future. Limbo is a multi-layered, multi-dimensional area that allows many, many guides to occupy the same notional space, but in different dimensions. Time here isn’t linear. Unfinished business is being resolved from every day since time began, past, present and future, simultaneously.  We each still have the space we need to resolve whatever needs to be resolved; isolated from everything else. For the last couple of days, I’ve had a vague, undefined feeling that something had changed. I couldn’t pin it down, but I was sure we weren’t as alone as we should be. If I’m right in what I suspect and somehow we are sharing this part of limbo with another guide, no problem; I can get them moved. If another guide or pseudo guide is coming into our area we need to know who and why. The who will be easy, shadow dancing is what I died doing. Why they are here will become clearer when we know who they are.  While I go skulking you can exercise your vast intellect. Why did you and Jonas both have to die? What have you discovered or were close to discovering? Watch Felicity. I’ve authorised watching rights for you on earth.”

***

              You have to love Pablo, Felicity thought. The text she had just received had said, ‘3.’ The cell phone it had been sent from would by now be at the bottom of a lake or reservoir; having only ever sent that single text. Pablo bought fifty or sixty of these use and throw cell phones every month and only ever made single calls or sent single texts. This was; he had once told her, his compromise between the need to connect with customers worldwide and security. The Junglas would love to capture him; which was why his excessive precautions were less paranoia than necessity.

              The ‘3’ texted to her phone confirmed what had been discussed through intermediaries three weeks ago when she had travelled to Colombia on a business trip. Even though she was family Pablo met no one other than trusted lieutenants and hookers so they always dealt remotely. His assertion that it was for her security they maintained a distance was doubtful. More likely he wanted to enhance his power by his behaviour. CHC had numerous legitimate South American interests including palm oil plantations for the production of biodiesel, drilling mud for the petrochemical industry and as a plasticiser and steriliser in the manufacture of PVC. So, Pablo had agreed that the market was there to be exploited and was confident in her plans to do just that. Three tons of Colombian pure. Family was family and business was business, both she and Pablo knew this. He was responsible for getting the cocaine to Southampton docks; at that point he had fulfilled his part of their contract. The remaining fifty per cent of the agreed monies was then due.

              A number of approaches to distribution had been tried over the years with varying degrees of success.  Felicity employed a small team who’s sole job was to dream up new ways to move cocaine around the country. Her grandfathe
r’
s favoured method had been the bio-diesel tanker.

              Felicity had thought that this method was clumsy and left them open to detection. Worse though, the cocaine remained in CHC liveried tankers until collection. One slip, mechanical failure or talkative customer could be awkward. Since her grandfather’s death, she had changed the whole emphasis of the distribution from CHC to their customers. Each of the gangs she supplied, three in all, two English and one Irish, had been instructed to set up a legitimate water cooler business in their area’s. Have no direct association with the running of the company, funding of it or staffing. Leave that to a trusted associate. Deniability. The cocaine will come to them dissolved in water and disguised as water. All they had to do was to extract the pure cocaine and then cut the drug to the degree they wished. CHC could get the product to the customer with speed and efficiency, save time and effort on cutting the drug and offer their customers the chance to enhance their profits by cutting the cocaine as far as they wanted. Brilliant. They were all clamouring for as much cocaine as she could supply, now she would test if their clamourings were genuine.

              Felicity needed to alert her customers to the vast quantity of cocaine they would have access to and would need to pay for. The three gangs had no idea that a major industrial company was their supplier and had been for many years. They thought that a more powerful, ruthless gang controlled the UK cocaine market and allowed them to buy into the franchise. There had been attempts to take over her business, the business she had run since her eighteenth birthday. Her grandfather Charles had said he would deal with this problem. He needed to make a very visual example of the transgressor. He had told her this was one aspect of the business she didn’t need to be involved in; yet. The other gang bosses would be at these punishment events, cocky and exuding confidence at the beginning. Looking sick and terrified by the end. Then they would discover that their colleagues transgressions were going to cost them an additional fifty per cent on the cost of their next delivery, non-negotiable. You didn’t need to make many examples before the message sunk in.

              For CHC to maintain their anonymity and a professional distance from the gangs she used a trusted third party to maintain contact with them, monitor payments and advise delivery dates, Thrasher. He objected to having to dirty his hands on these ‘barbaric thugs’ as he called them, but he liked the regular ten thousand pound bonuses, so he did as he was told.

              Removing an earring she placed her mobile phone to her ear and waited for Thrasher to answer. The voice when it came was nervous and sycophantic,

“Felicity how may I help?”

“Time for some hand dirtying. Call London, Manchester and Belfast and let them know we have a large delivery due in a couple of weeks. They are each responsible for a ton, fifty per cent by the end of the week. Tell Manchester no excuses this time or I’ll move their quota to Newcastle or perhaps Birmingham.”

“Anything else I can help you with?” Thrasher asked.

Felicity didn’t answer straight away. When she had left Thrasher waiting for almost half a minute in silence, hanging, not sure what to do, she answered.

“William Bacchus.”

“Ah.”

Felicity’s patience, fragile on a good day, which today wasn’t, snapped.

“Ah? Ah? I told you to find out why that interfering vicar was made the sole beneficiary of Sanderson’s will. Please tell me you have good news for me?”

Thrasher cleared his throat before saying anything.

“I think, believe that William Bacchus is related to Ernest Sanderson. Sanderson was using a barrister at the same chambers as William’s mother worked at…”

“Old news, and?”

He continued, his words spoken with such speed, they sounded as if they were blending into a single elongated syllable.

“I’ve sent a team to Dorset to burgle his house and shop, and
photograph the documents he received at the reading. They are on there way now. I should have a definitive answer in a day or two depending how long they take to get the information we need.” Thrasher gasped and then said,

“I’ll call as soon as I have any new information.”

Felicities response was icy,

“Twenty four hours.”

              Hanging up on Thrasher she allowed herself a wry smile, maybe he wasn’t as dim witted as she had thought. A burglary, was this a sign of initiative?

Pacing around her office, she placed a call to the Right Honourable Alexander Cortez MP, uncle Alex.

The voice that answered was confident with a rich cultured timbre,

“Alexander Cortez.”

“Uncle Alex, it’s Felicity.”

“I’m a little busy can we do this later Felicity?”

“No. I have three tonnes arriving in two weeks and I need a little diplomatic assistance to ensure everything goes to plan. Same as usual, you make sure the border guards are striking or whatever you have to do to ensure our cargoes are offloaded without incident. Payment will be increased by twenty per cent as the quantity has been increased. I’ll give you a firmer date nearer the time. OK?”

Alexander Cortez replied mocking her,

“Would you like the Prime Minister to help with the unloading, the Transport Secretary to clear the roads over the whole of the country?”

              The sound of him dragging on a cigarette delayed his next barb, offering Felicity an opportunity to interrupt.

“Uncle Alex, sarcasm doesn’t become you. All we need, as ever, is a cooperative border guard. Why else do you think Charles bought you your seat and then bribed the entire government and opposition to haul you up the slippery pole of legislative power? He wanted an insider. Placed to assist the family as required and show a little gratitude and loyalty when asked. Did you never wonder why you are in the Home Office? However
,
I’m a realist. That’s why I pay you a vast retainer and little bonuses when you provide these services. I assume we won’t have a problem?”

Nervous now, Alexander answered,

“Three tonnes though, that’s a lot of gear. It’ll take hours to offload all of that.”

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll believe that this is a routine delivery. Uncle Alex it’s fine, arrange your man
,
and pay him whatever
,
then go back to politicking, OK?
”