system, asking if there was a
doctor in the room. There were half a dozen, and they began to
hurry forward, but they were already too late. Bob ushered everyone
back whilst cradling the old man’s head. Max tried to utter a few
words, but they were little more than a whisper. Bob leaned in to
listen. Then he leaned over Max and whispered in his
ear.
“ You should have paid me the five million, Max. You can’t
spend it now.”
Max’s eyes widened in horror as he listened to the words, then
he breathed his last breath, his expired body relaxing into Bob’s
arms.
Chapter 11
Atkins Garretson Palmer, College Hill, London: Thursday,
6pm.
Andrew Cuthbertson was sitting at his desk pondering his
options. He had noticed his colleagues staring at him all
afternoon. It seemed that a couple of people had addressed him and
he hadn’t answered. He hadn’t even heard them; he was absorbed in
his own thoughts. They were concerned that the usually ebullient
Andy appeared so withdrawn. He knew that in the next half hour the
place would begin to clear and he could have the floor to himself.
He needed to do something, but he didn’t know what to
do.
After the meeting with Josh that afternoon, Andrew had decided
to call the blackmailer off. Perhaps he could threaten him with
exposure if necessary, but he had to try to keep him away from
Josh, at least. Andrew had never believed the man would kill
anyone, anyway. He was wealthy in his own right, he had connections
at cabinet level, and he was well respected around the world. When
Andrew had asked him why he was doing this, there had been no
explanation in reply. He was told simply to supply the information
required or his wife and daughter, and his employers, would hear
about the girl in Bangkok. In fact, they would see the photographs
of the very young girl looking scared and bemused, not to mention
bruised, after Andy had finished with her. Andrew had been stunned
at the threat. How could anyone have found out? Why couldn’t they
have held the Partners’ conference somewhere else, somewhere where
young girls weren’t offered to you for sale as if they were a fake
Rolex?
Andrew had been so caught up in his own misery that he had not
noticed the stir in the office. The senior equity partner on the
floor was being hemmed in by staff, and eventually he gave in and
picked up the phone.
Andrew walked over to see what was happening. The senior
partner said into the phone, “It’s true then? …… All right. Thank
you. I’ll let my people know.” He replaced the receiver, clearly
shaken. Eventually he looked at the expectant faces and addressed
the office.
“ Please listen, everyone. It seems that the rumours are true.
The ‘Twittering’ is accurate, for once. Sir Max Rochester collapsed
and died at Blacksmiths Hall an hour ago.” There was an audible
gasp. Sir Max was this group’s largest client.
Andrew wandered back to his desk in a haze. “It has to be a
coincidence, it can’t be true,” he said to himself. Then he looked
at his watch. Sir Max’s forty eight hours had expired four minutes
ago.
Chapter 12
Ashburnham Mews, Greenwich, London. Thursday, 8pm.
Dee turned the laptop around so that I could see the screen.
My bank account looked healthier than ever before. I had over two
hundred and fifty two thousand pounds sitting in my current
account.
“ OK, Josh, it’s all there. Now we just wait for instructions.
I guess he’ll text something in the morning, just to make sure that
you’re going ahead with it.”
Dee was right. With sixteen hours to go we were ready, but I
doubted whether Bob would call. He seemed to want to create as much
anxiety as possible. He would probably wait until just before noon
to contact me and then make me jump through hoops to transfer the
money.
I was still considering how I would react to giving away a
quarter of a million pounds when my cell phone rang. ‘Unknown
Number’ showed up on the screen. We had placed my BlackBerry
doctor in the room. There were half a dozen, and they began to
hurry forward, but they were already too late. Bob ushered everyone
back whilst cradling the old man’s head. Max tried to utter a few
words, but they were little more than a whisper. Bob leaned in to
listen. Then he leaned over Max and whispered in his
ear.
“ You should have paid me the five million, Max. You can’t
spend it now.”
Max’s eyes widened in horror as he listened to the words, then
he breathed his last breath, his expired body relaxing into Bob’s
arms.
Chapter 11
Atkins Garretson Palmer, College Hill, London: Thursday,
6pm.
Andrew Cuthbertson was sitting at his desk pondering his
options. He had noticed his colleagues staring at him all
afternoon. It seemed that a couple of people had addressed him and
he hadn’t answered. He hadn’t even heard them; he was absorbed in
his own thoughts. They were concerned that the usually ebullient
Andy appeared so withdrawn. He knew that in the next half hour the
place would begin to clear and he could have the floor to himself.
He needed to do something, but he didn’t know what to
do.
After the meeting with Josh that afternoon, Andrew had decided
to call the blackmailer off. Perhaps he could threaten him with
exposure if necessary, but he had to try to keep him away from
Josh, at least. Andrew had never believed the man would kill
anyone, anyway. He was wealthy in his own right, he had connections
at cabinet level, and he was well respected around the world. When
Andrew had asked him why he was doing this, there had been no
explanation in reply. He was told simply to supply the information
required or his wife and daughter, and his employers, would hear
about the girl in Bangkok. In fact, they would see the photographs
of the very young girl looking scared and bemused, not to mention
bruised, after Andy had finished with her. Andrew had been stunned
at the threat. How could anyone have found out? Why couldn’t they
have held the Partners’ conference somewhere else, somewhere where
young girls weren’t offered to you for sale as if they were a fake
Rolex?
Andrew had been so caught up in his own misery that he had not
noticed the stir in the office. The senior equity partner on the
floor was being hemmed in by staff, and eventually he gave in and
picked up the phone.
Andrew walked over to see what was happening. The senior
partner said into the phone, “It’s true then? …… All right. Thank
you. I’ll let my people know.” He replaced the receiver, clearly
shaken. Eventually he looked at the expectant faces and addressed
the office.
“ Please listen, everyone. It seems that the rumours are true.
The ‘Twittering’ is accurate, for once. Sir Max Rochester collapsed
and died at Blacksmiths Hall an hour ago.” There was an audible
gasp. Sir Max was this group’s largest client.
Andrew wandered back to his desk in a haze. “It has to be a
coincidence, it can’t be true,” he said to himself. Then he looked
at his watch. Sir Max’s forty eight hours had expired four minutes
ago.
Chapter 12
Ashburnham Mews, Greenwich, London. Thursday, 8pm.
Dee turned the laptop around so that I could see the screen.
My bank account looked healthier than ever before. I had over two
hundred and fifty two thousand pounds sitting in my current
account.
“ OK, Josh, it’s all there. Now we just wait for instructions.
I guess he’ll text something in the morning, just to make sure that
you’re going ahead with it.”
Dee was right. With sixteen hours to go we were ready, but I
doubted whether Bob would call. He seemed to want to create as much
anxiety as possible. He would probably wait until just before noon
to contact me and then make me jump through hoops to transfer the
money.
I was still considering how I would react to giving away a
quarter of a million pounds when my cell phone rang. ‘Unknown
Number’ showed up on the screen. We had placed my BlackBerry
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