The Black Seraphim by Michael Gilbert Page B

be covered by an extension eastward of Wessex Instrumentation Limited, which is the building you can just see beyond the far hedge. They’ve been after it for years. It would suit them very well. Access to the road and all the services. Maybe a housing estate as well. The buzz is that the Planning Committee has already informally given them the green light.”
    “What’s stopping them?”
    “What’s stopping them is that the land belongs to the Cathedral. And they don’t somehow fancy having a factory overlooking the gardens of the Deanery and the West Canonry and the Theological College.”
    “One sees their point,” said James. “Who’s behind it?”
    “We know who’s in front of it. It’s Gerry Gloag.”
    “That pseudo-military character we saw in the pub?”
    “Maxwell Gloag and Partners, Surveyors and Estate Agents. The biggest in this city, and there aren’t many bigger in the county. They’ve gobbled up a lot of the smaller firms.”
    “Including Henry Brookes,” said Amanda. “They picked him up two years ago. He then retired to what he fondly imagined would be the more peaceful occupation of being Chapter Clerk.”
    “Was he an estate agent?” said Peter. “I never knew that.”
    “Not a very good one, I should think. Too nice.”
    “It’s no business for a gentleman,” agreed Bill. “Gerry Gloag would cut your throat and smile distantly while he was doing it. He was the man who fronted the supermarket deal, too.”
    “And swindled Mrs Henn-Christie,” said James.
    “So how did you know about that ?” said Bill.
    “They were talking about it at tea.”
    “I suppose you could say they swindled her,” said Amanda. “In the sense that they made more money out of it than she did.”
    “It was the south end of Station Road,” said Bill. “It wasn’t much of a site, because that road was the main way out of the town to the west and was normally jam-packed with traffic. There were a few old shops in it.”
    “Five tatty little shops,” said Amanda. “With sleeping quarters over them, except no one could sleep in them because of the racket.”
    “Four of them were empty. Gloag picked them up for peanuts. The only one they had any trouble with was old Mrs Piper. She and her family had run their little sweet shop for ages. They had to pay quite a bit to get her out, I believe. When they had the lot, Gloag bought the freehold from Mrs Henn-Christie and sold the whole thing to the supermarket chain.”
    “So where does the swindle come in?” said James.
    “The swindle was that Gloag knew and Mrs Henn-Christie didn’t know that the new bypass had already been approved. It siphoned all the westbound traffic out of Station Road, and that turned it into the best shopping site in town.”
    James thought about it. He said, “If Gloag guessed that the bypass was coming, it wasn’t really a swindle. It was smart business. He outguessed the others.”
    “He didn’t guess,” said Bill. “He had inside information. His closest friend is Leo Sandeman, and Leo is chairman of the Roads Committee of the Council.”
    “That does look a bit dirty. Have you got any proof?”
    “No real proof. But I’m certain of one thing: Gloag must have backers. He’d need a fair amount of cash to set up a ramp like that. And he wouldn’t be putting his own money into it. He’s only an agent.”
    “And it’s the same crowd who are after Fletcher’s Piece?”
    “That’s my guess. They’ll make a packet if they get it.”
    “Over Father’s dead body they’ll get it,” said Amanda.
    “Your dad enjoys a fight,” agreed Bill.
    “I’m afraid he overdoes it sometimes. He had a punch-up with Superintendent Bracher this afternoon. I was eavesdropping from the dining room. Very wrong of me, I suppose.”
    Everyone agreed that it was very wrong of her and urged her to tell them all about it. When she had done so, Peter said, “If Len Masters is a sneak thief, I’m a rotten judge of