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Authors: Wayne Andy; Simmons Tony; Remic Neal; Ballantyne Stan; Asher Colin; Nicholls Steven; Harvey Gary; Savile Adrian; McMahon Guy N.; Tchaikovsky Smith

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Vivisepulture (18 page)

BOOK: Vivisepulture
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     ‘I hadn’t thought about it that way.’

     ‘Well, it’s rare but it happens, and the company takes it very seriously.  So does the law.’

     ‘That’s why we’re heading for this bank, right?  They’re using a bootleg essence.’

     ‘They might be.  There are suspicions, but nothing like proof.’

     ‘Which one?  Distillate, I mean.’

     ‘Credulity.’

     ‘A financial outfit wouldn’t stoop that low, surely.’

     ‘We’re talking about
bankers
.’ 

     ‘Oh.  Right.  Silly me.  But hasn’t BD got a section dealing with this kind of stuff?  Why are we going in?’

     ‘We get jobs like this from time to time.  We do the recee and if we find something we whistle up a security team.  The cops and the lawyers can take care of it after that.’

     ‘So
how
do we do it?  I’m assuming we don’t just walk in and ask.’

     ‘Main thing is we stay only long enough to get the readings we need, ‘cos we won’t have the protective gear, obviously.’  He smiled thinly.  ‘You get to play spies today, Bob.’

     ‘Life’s never dull with you, is it, Craig?’

     ‘We have our moments.  Get out a couple of sniffers and I’ll show you how to set ‘em.’

     They parked several blocks away, switched their company tunics for off-duty jackets and walked to the bank.

     ‘You sure these are going to work muffled under our coats like this?’ Duthie said, patting the slight bulge his hazard detector made.  

     ‘They’re very sensitive; they’ll still register.  So just act natural when we get in there and watch for my signal.’

     The bank looked like a thousand others; a brick box, its windows plastered with posters of cheery cartoonish family groups embracing bags bearing £ signs.  Interest rates figured large, followed by asterisks that corresponded to scarcely readable  footnotes spelling out the reality.

     They entered separately a minute or so apart, Anders going first.  He made for one of the vacant ATM machines and took his time checking his account balance.  Duthie went to the other end of the room, plucked a booklet about mortgages from a spinner and pretended to be interested by it.  

     There were a moderate number of customers present, most of them queuing.  An ersatz wood door opened and a man in work clothes came out, followed by a suited official.  They shook hands and the client left, stuffing a sheet of paper into his pocket and smiling, though not as broadly as the bank employee watching him go.  Over the next five minutes the scene was repeated several times.  Customers exited interview rooms accompanied by kowtowing clerks and went away grinning.

     Anders signalled Duthie and they sauntered out.  Back on the street they made for an adjoining car park.  

     ‘We set them for purple, remember,’ Anders reminded his young aide.  ‘If that’s the colour that shows, they’ve been using Credulity.’

     Glancing about to be sure they weren’t being seen, they got out the sniffers.  Their displays showed lines, not unlike the mercury tube on a thermometer, and both of them were about twenty-five per cent purple.

     ‘Feeling particularly gullible, Bob?’

     Duthie considered it.  ‘Not sure.’

     ‘Lend us a tenner ‘til next week.’

     ‘Sod off.’

     ‘You’re OK.’ He slipped his meter back into his pocket, as did Duthie.  ‘Seems we didn’t have enough exposure to be affected.  I reckon they’re releasing it in those interview rooms.  Probably get the marks to wait in there for a while before a suit goes in with his sales pitch.’

     ‘What do we do now?’

     ‘Push off and report.  Then we’ll - 
Shit
.’

     ‘What’s the matter?’

     Anders nodded towards the street.  There stood a man about his own age, well dressed to the point of flashy and coloured with just a trace of fake tan.  He had turned his head, saw them and stopped.  He hesitated, perhaps wrestling with whether to carry on.  After a few seconds he headed towards them. 

     ‘From the bank?’ Duthie whispered.

     ‘No, he’s not one of them.’

     ‘Do you know him?’

     ‘Yes.  Now button it and let me do the talking.’

     The stranger reached them.

     ‘Hello, Craig!’ he boomed in forced heartiness, extending a hand.

     Anders gave it a light, glancing slap.  ‘Fancy seeing you here, Jerry.  Doing a bit of business locally?’

     ‘Yeah.’

     ‘In that bank, perhaps?’

     ‘Bank?’  He looked at the building in question, registering surprise at its existence.  ‘No, not there.  Further up the high street.’  He waved vaguely in the direction he had come from.  Then he seemed to notice Duthie for the first time, or made out that he had.  ‘Who’s this then?  New boy, is it?  Little helper for you?’

     Duthie’s polite smile began to resemble rigor mortis.

     ‘Robert Duthie,’ Anders said, ‘my assistant.  Bob, this is Jerry.’

     ‘Jerry Grogan,’ the other filled in, ‘Essential Essences PLC.  Here, have my card.’  He thrust it at Duthie and instantly lost interest in him.  ‘So, still with the old firm are you, Craig?’

     ‘Still there.’

     ‘Been a long time.  Ever think of making a change?’

     ‘Not really.’

     ‘Plenty of opportunities out in the big bad world, you know.  At Essential, for instance.  Very go ahead company, building a nice customer base.  Always room there for somebody with experience like yourself.’

     ‘I don’t think so, Jerry.  I’m happy where I am.’

     ‘Pity.  Still, the boy’s got my card if you should ever - ’

     ‘Right.’

     An awkward silence descended.  

     ‘Well,’ Anders said at last, ‘we’ve got to push on.’

     ‘Course,’ Grogan replied.  He looked relieved.  ‘We really ought to get together for that drink some time.’

     Anders didn’t say anything.

     Grogan made a pistol gesture with his hand and pointed at Duthie.  ‘Mind how you go, kid.  Don’t let him work you to death.  See ya, Craig.’

     ‘Yeah, see you.’

     Grogan went back to the street and was soon out of sight.

     ‘You were cold as a witch’s tit to him,’ Duthie remarked.

     ‘He only spoke to us because he couldn’t avoid it.  Did you notice that?’

     ‘Yeah, and granted he was a bit of a git, but - ’

     ‘He used to work at BD.  We started there together, in fact.  He left under a cloud a few years back.  Bounced around the trade a bit and wound up with Essential.’

     ‘Who I’ve never heard of.’  Duthie was staring at the card.

     ‘One of the independents.  On the fringe of the business, if you know what I mean.’

     ‘You said he left BD under a cloud.’

     ‘They weren’t able to prove anything.  But they knew he was bent.  We all did.’

     ‘How can you fiddle in this job?’

     ‘Lots of ways.’  He counted off on his fingers.  ‘Bypassing the system and connecting people for backhanders, messing around with the billing, falsifying the records so customers were listed as having a different, less powerful essence than the one they were actually being supplied with, contrary to their licence.  It got to the point where he was suspected of outright theft.  Canisters were going missing from the depots.  It all came to a head when a brothel got raided and the police found the place had been illegally piped up for Joy.  It’s not
funny
, Bob.  These distillates are tightly controlled for a reason.  Some of them are dangerous.’

     Duthie wiped the grin off his face.  ‘Sorry, chief.’

     ‘The question is, what was Grogan doing here today, of all places?’

     ‘Do you think he maybe -’

     Anders’ phone rang.  He excused himself and answered it.  The conversation was brief and one-sided, with Anders doing most of the listening.

     ‘The boss,’ he explained when he hung up.

     ‘Another job?’

     ‘No.  We’re wanted at head office.  Pronto.’

 

Befitting its status as the biggest, longest-established company in the industry, 

British Distillate’s headquarters was imposing and brash.

     Even before they finished parking, Anders realised he had been summoned to something special.  He recognised plenty of familiar faces among the other people arriving.

     Duthie did, too.  ‘Lot of our fellow inspectors here.’

     ‘Looks like all of them.’

     ‘Does this happen very often?’

     ‘Hardly ever.  Come on, let’s find out what’s got Francine’s knickers in a twist.’

     There must have been fifty or sixty people in the cafeteria, one of the HQ’s largest spaces.  Virtually every field operative from Anders’ department was there, exchanging greetings, trading speculations.  Anders and Duthie found seats near the back.

     The racket died down when Francine Mason came in.  She was not young, but young for the position she held.  Grown a little plump, and slightly shorter than the norm, she power-dressed and wore her dark hair long.  If Executive Director Mason was a stick of rock she’d have
Company
running right through her.

     She mounted a low dais on one side of the room.  When she spoke, nobody had trouble hearing her.  ‘Thank you all for coming.  I’ll try not to take too long.  The authorities, and the company, believe that there’s a new source of illegal distillates.  We’ve seen a steep increase in unlicensed and even forbidden essences in the last few months.  Typically it’s clandestine piping-up.  But the police have been seizing a worrying number of distillates in canisters, including some of the most dangerous.  And of course now that the underworld’s worked out how to manufacture distillates itself, we don’t even know if the stuff they’re peddling is properly formulated.  So it’s doubly risky.’

     Somebody stuck their hand in the air and she nodded to him.  

     ‘Any idea who’s doing it?’  Anders knew the man only by name.

     ‘We’ve got various leads,’ Mason told him.  ‘But whoever it is doesn’t seem too choosey about who they sell to or who they steal from.  We’ve had cases recently where consignments of Courage intended for the military were diverted to street gangs.  There’s also been the disappearance of a shipment of Hope donated for charitable work overseas, and an incident with bootleg Gluttony that … ’  She made a face.  ‘Well, let’s just say it ended unhappily.  So this situation is our priority at the moment.  I’m going to farm out as many of your routine calls as I can to back-up crews.  They’re not as highly trained or as experienced as you, but - ’  There was a rumble of protest.  ‘Under the circumstances,’ she assured them, ‘the union are OK with that, and I promise we’ll have you back to normal as soon as we get this thing cracked.’  That quietened them.  ‘Meantime, I want you concentrating on call-outs that might have some bearing on the bootleggers.  You’ll be briefed before you leave today, and given new assignment sheets.  Just stay seated and we’ll get through it as quickly as we can.  Thank you.’  

     A forest of arms went up and she began briskly fielding questions.

     ‘It really never is dull round here, is it?’ Duthie said.

     ‘I think we could do without this kind of excitement.’

     ‘Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud, Craig.  Don’t you ever long for a bit of adrenalin?’

     ‘Not as much as you obviously do.  I’d prefer to get on with the job we’re supposed to be doing rather than playing at cops and robbers.’

     ‘You reckon it could be risky then?’

     ‘Could be.  Mind you,  we’ll only be expected just to take readings, check connections, that kind of stuff.  Anything needed beyond that, we speed dial the police.’  

     ‘Pity.  A bit of action might brighten things up.’

     ‘The recklessness of youth.’

     ‘I’ll have you know that I’m - ’

     ‘Hang on, here comes Francine.’

     She gave them a fleeting smile as she sat.  ‘Craig.  Robert.’

     ‘Francine,’ Anders returned.  

     Duthie seemed a mite overawed and just nodded.  

     Mason wasted no more time on niceties.  ‘I think that visit you made to the bank today might have some bearing on all this.’

     ‘So do I,’ Anders replied.  ‘There was something I didn’t mention in my report.  After we came out we bumped into Jerry Grogan.’

     ‘
Grogan? 
Interesting.’

     ‘You said it.’

     ‘He was at the bank?’

     ‘Not far from it.’

     ‘Doesn’t mean he was involved.’

     ‘No, but - ’

     ‘We have to tread carefully, Craig.  Whatever Grogan’s reputation, Essential’s an accredited company.  We can’t go throwing mud without proof.’

     ‘I’d say Grogan being in the area’s all the proof you need.’

     ‘You know it’s not.  But I’ll pass what you’ve told me to the appropriate authorities.’  She sighed, and her tone softened.  ‘I’m not saying I don’t think there’s something in it, Craig, but we’re operating in a different world since the government in its wisdom loosened the regulations on this industry.  We had it good for a long time.  The so called big four, that is: the Divine Corporation, Quintessence, Chi, and us.  Now we’ve got a swarm of independents like Essential nibbling at the edges.’

     ‘What do we know about Essential?’

     ‘Not much.  They’re small, basically a niche supplier.  Sharp operators.  Our sales people certainly aren’t among their fans.  But as far as we can tell, they’re clean.’

     ‘It doesn’t mean their employees aren’t freelancing on the side, the way Grogan was here.’

     ‘We don’t know that.  And frankly I’m more concerned about unregistered criminal outfits selling anything to anybody.  Can you imagine what terrorists could do with some of the distillates if they got hold of them?  Doesn’t bear thinking about.

But we’re not going to sort things out sitting here.’  She took a sheet of paper from the folder she was holding and handed it to him.  ‘Your assignment.’

     Anders glanced at it and seemed impressed.  ‘Unusual.’

BOOK: Vivisepulture
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