Robert Young - Gatecrasher

‘Fine. I don’t care if its cash or not Frank. Just leave her the fuck alone and you can have the thing,’ snapped Gresham.

‘Excellent decision George. I’ll be in touch.’

And he was gone.

On the third ring Slater picked up the receiver as he noted that Gresham, now slumped in a chair, eyes closed, looked broken. The memory stick would have got them the cash they needed but there may have been other ways to get cash if that had failed. Now his boss had cut their options down to one in his desperation and he looked like he was beginning to question the wisdom of his rash decision.

‘Jools?’ he said into the phone.

‘Keith? Where’s George?’

Slater held the phone out to his boss who took it from him almost hesitantly, as if afraid of what it might do to him this time.

‘George here.’

‘George. Nobody home.’

‘Shit,’ he murmured and raised a hand over his eyes. After a pause he spoke again. ‘Stay there until he gets back then alright? Lights are on aren’t they? Then he’s probably just popped out.’

‘No, I don’t think he’s coming home any time soon George.’

‘What?’

‘He’s left you a note.’

‘He’s what?! What does it say?’

‘Says “George. Call zero, seven, seven, eight, nine…”’ but the words trailed off as Gresham stared off into space.

The little bastard.

What the fuck did he think he was playing at?

Monday. 3pm.

His schedule was a busy one and allowed little time for relaxation. His working day began when most people were waking up and ended after they had all gone home again. Unless there were some meeting or function to attend he would snatch a quick lunch to eat in his office or between appointments.

Today he had few actual engagements booked in to his diary and he was trying to make headway with the Malaysian project. Two junior ministers from the Department for International Development sat on the other side of the table from him in the corner of his office poring over files and schematics, columns of figures and graphs. Asquith was starting to get the feeling that the more he looked the less he saw.

The ringing phone was a welcome distraction.

His secretary greeted him. ‘Sorry to disturb you Minister but I have a personal call on line three. Insists that it’s important. Name of Griffin.’

The call was patched through and Asquith put his back to the two men in the corner. ‘Andrew?’

‘Not quite but that should serve as a clue. Are you alone?’

Asquith turned around. ‘Gentlemen would you give me a moment? I’m most terribly sorry. Take a ten-minute breather shall we? This is all getting a bit much.’

If they were offended by the dismissal neither man showed it and shuffled quickly out of the office with Asquith smiling his polite gratitude at each of them.

‘Who is this?’ he barked into the phone as the door closed.

‘I represent certain interests Mr Asquith. Certain interests who are familiar with certain transgressions of your past.’

‘That’s nonsense!’

‘You could argue the technicalities of that with the gentlemen of the press if you’d prefer.’

‘Don’t threaten me.’

‘Well strictly speaking I’m not threatening you. The interests that I represent might not like that choice of word either. They seek only your co-operation in exchange for their own. Let’s look at it as more of a statement of facts. Allow me to list these facts for you.

‘Number one. You were, Mr Asquith, involved, knowingly or otherwise, in the shipping of illegal armaments to rebel organisations of Sierra Leone who were engaged at the time in a brutal civil war with that country’s government. This was clearly in direct contravention to international law not to mention morally reprehensible. As a result you are directly tied to breaking several UN Resolutions, profiteering from an illegally waged war and, last but by no means least, the trafficking of conflict diamonds. Fact two. You are responsible for the award of numerous highly lucrative construction and engineering contracts to be carried out in Malaysia. Fact number three. You will award these contracts to the following tenders:’

Asquith listened as the voice set out the terms of the blackmail to which he was to be subjected. It was immediately clear what was happening. Of the various tenders that had been submitted for the Malaysia contracts the names of the companies he was hearing had submitted the weakest or most expensive. They were the least likely to succeed. Or had been.

‘Number four, Mr Asquith. When the interests I represent are satisfied of fact Number three you will be sent a memory stick which contains evidence pertaining to fact Number one. This is the only copy of the data in existence. You will do with this whatever you choose. Is this clear Mr Asquith? Are you comfortable with these facts or would you like me to reaffirm them for you?’

‘There will be no need for that.’

‘Excellent. We will contact you in due course.’

Monday. 3.30 pm.

To Campbell this felt like a siege. They had been in Sarah’s flat since early Saturday morning, having packed up and fled the cottage almost immediately.

Campbell reasoned that Sarah’s anonymity was safe. Whoever the man at the cottage had been, Daniel had told her, he could know nothing about Sarah. How could he? He must have followed Campbell down to the cottage and waited for his moment but the chances that he knew anything about Sarah were minimal.

Since their return they had slept fitfully, read, and found various things to pass the time. Sarah had taken much convincing to go into work and looked nervous and scared when she left and would probably be on edge all day and watching over her shoulder. She had conceded that he was right however and that they must do something rather than sit and wait. That meant that she had to go to work. There she could help him, there she could be of more use than waiting at home.

He had made one brief trip out on the Sunday to leave the note for George and had returned inside two hours. Now as the day slipped by in silence Campbell’s mind raced. Would they send someone else for him? Had they been followed back from Cornwall as they had evidently been followed down there? Would Sarah return? Maybe she would lose her nerve and run to the police or would somebody get to her before she got back.

There was a buzzing sound like an angry wasp and the mobile phone handset flashed and moved slightly across the wooden surface of the table in front of him.

Snatching it up he pressed answer and lifted it to his ear.

‘Hello?’

‘Daniel. Its George.’

‘George. Hello there,’ his attempt to sound relaxed was almost convincing.

‘You wanted me to call.’

‘I did. I think we need to talk.’

‘Well spotted. What do you think you’re up to sunshine?’

Campbell noted an odd tone to the man’s voice. There was still the gruff threatening manner that he had encountered before but gone was the menacingly playful tone. There was something slightly hesitant now, something apprehensive lurking there. Campbell remembered the way he had spoken to him after Gresham had tried to threaten an ex-girlfriend and was surprised that the man wasn’t baying for his blood down the telephone.

‘Just trying to work out what the hell is going on George,’ said Campbell.

‘It’s got nothing to do with you lad.’

‘Well that isn’t true is it?’

‘I just want that stick back.’

‘See, I don’t quite get this George. From what I can see from the data on it, there just doesn’t seem to be anything that might be in your line of work. I mean no offence of course but you know what I’m getting at.’