Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) (42 page)

“Tiny. There’s something you need to know before we continue, no secrets, ok?” William was unsure how he would react, but knew he had to tell him.

Tiny said,

“OK”

“Jemima is Jemima Cortez. Sister to Felicity Cortez and granddaughter of Charles Cortez. I appreciate that this is counterintuitive, but she is one of our biggest assets. She had no knowledge of the drugs and has no role in the family business. She wants them stopped more than we do. Ok?”

The silence at the other end of the line lasted for a full thirty seconds until Tiny said,

“I believe in taking as I find. If she’s a friend of yours that’s good enough for me”

William let his breath out and said,

“Thank you.”

***

              Jemima woke trying to remember where she was. The room wasn’t familiar, but that wasn’t unusual, as she had spent so many nights in hotel rooms around the world. The woozy disconnected feeling was familiar from her ‘party, party’ days. Two years of globe hopping from one party to the next, one continent to another. One week, Bermuda or St Kitts, the next St Tropez or Monaco, a few days later Marrakech. Then it palled, the thought of another champagne cocktail, canapé or clingy socialite experimenting with her sexuality was more than she could bear. Then Felicity had called ordering her back to London, Grandfather Charles had died. That was one corpse she wanted to be sure was dead.

              Her phone beeped with another text from Ben. She keyed the passcode and opened the messages app. Scrolling back to the first text she read:

‘William’s has lost Annabel. Off to find her, expect to be back before you wake.’

The next one followed on:

‘Annabel still missing, not under sofa, so have called in reinforcements! Ernest and Juanita’s arrival is imminent.’

Then five minutes before, which was what she thought had disturbed her:

‘Annabel’s been kidnapped and is heading towards Southampton. I’ve hired Tiny and some of his SAS friends. Two on the way to protect you. Will be see you soon. William.’

              Jemima lay there stunned. Why Annabel? She could understand Felicity trying to slow her down. William or Ben were also plausible targets, but Annabel? Felicity and the family were getting worried, maybe even scared. Did Felicity know that she knew how the Cortez family had been importing its cocaine for decades and not once been connected to the importation? Had Ben worked it out from the pages she had left him on her laptop?

              With care, Jemima began to haul herself into an upright position, taking care not to bang or jar her damaged leg
and plastered wrist. Once upright she eased the bed covers to one side and leant out from the bed, attempting to snag a part of the wheelchair that was beside her bed. The effort left her sweating and nauseous and no closer to the wheelchair. She saw a set of crutches propped up on the other side of her bed, grabbing one of the crutches, she man-handled it across her lap and holding onto the base of the crutch she tried to use the hand grip to snag the wheelchairs handle. Throwing the crutch at the wheelchair while still attached to it, she managed to get the handgrip over the armrest of the chair and pulled the chair towards her, at least that was the plan. The wheelchair jammed against the visito
r’
s chair and stopped throwing Jemima backward towards the edge of the bed. As her body went passed the point of no return and she began to tumble backwards, a strong hand grabbed her shoulders and lifted her back into a sitting position.

              “Miss Cortez? I’m John and this is Matt.” He pointed at his colleague across the room.

“Mr Bacchus sent us to make sure that you remained safe. Falling backwards out of bed isn’t safe. Please don’t do it again.” He smiled pleased with his joke and stood waiting for her to respond. Jemima looked at the two men and saw huge muscular bodies that had the look of ex-military, but with the accents and manners of bankers. Officers. Looking at first one and then the other she smiled and said,

“Ok, Eric and Ernie, love the routine, but now I need to get out of here. So could one of you put me in that wheelchair and the other one push me out of here without stopping to answer questions?”

John said,

“Can I ask a question?” she nodded, “Is this a good idea?”

“Long answer or short answer?”

“Either” he replied, “As long as it’s the right answer”

Jemima considered this for a moment and then said,

“Short answer is yes, as I haven’t the time to explain. If you want the long answer, can we do it on the move?”

              Matt positioned the chair by the side of the bed and John lifted her in. As they manoeuvred the chair out of the door Matt said,

“Leave all the talking to us. Keep your head down and this will all go to plan.”

              The wheelchair sped past the nurses station, into the lift and then out into the car park before any of the nurses realised their patient had gone. The Range Rover was parked illegally in a disabled bay opposite the main entrance and within seconds she was lifted in, strapped down and they were heading towards Yeovil Police Station.

***

“Mr Khan-Lewis?” William said five minutes after he had finished talking to Tiny. Ernest had dictated his number and he had called straight away. If the countries top criminal barrister was surprised that a vicar from Sherborne was calling his private mobile phone he disguised it well.

“Yes”

“My father was Ernest Sanderson, who I believe you knew. He left me your contact details when he died, along with instructions to call you if we ever had need of your services. I have that need now.”

“Mr Er …” William realised he’d not introduced himself.

“Bacchus, William Bacchus.”

“Mr Bacchus, how can I help?” William paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and then quickly described Ben’s arrest and the events leading up to it.

“Ben couldn’t have been involved, he was in Cambridge yesterday visiting a chemistry professor and was with a friend of mine who is a vicar in Sherborne. Can you help?”

The silence that followed lasted for nearly half a minute before the barrister answered.

“Mr Bacchus, I am twenty minutes away from Yeovil. I will call the Yeovil police now to arrange interview facilities. The Chief Constable knows me. Mr Bacchus?” he stopped and the only sound William could hear was rhythmic breathing at the other end of the line. Sanjay Khan-Lewis continued.

“Mr Bacchus, is there anything I need to know that might embarrass us?”

“No, Mr Khan-Lewis nothing.”

“Thank you.”

***

Jemima called Ben’s iPhone and it went through to voice mail. Odd she thought. She tried again. Voicemail. She called William he answered on the first ring.

“Hello, how are you? Have you met John and Matt? How are you feeling?” The questions came in a continuous stream of words, not leaving the smallest gap for an answer.

“I’m fine, yes I’ve met Eric and Ernie and I feel like shit. We’re on our way over. What’s the latest on Annabel?” William hesitated and then said,

“We’re tracking her phone. Two of Tiny’s colleagues are following her. Jemima, Ben’s been arrested on terrorism charges…”

“What? What did you say? Ben has been arrested. When?”

“He was arrested at the hospital when he was visiting you after your operation."

“Why did they arrest him?" William hesitated and then said,

“He has been arrested on terrorism charges. They are accusing him of leaving a backpack in a cleaning cupboard filled with Semtex. It’s a diversion, in the same way that your accident and Annabel's kidnapping are being used to distract Ernest and Juanita."

“This is fucking Felicity and Charles. How can we get Ben released?"

"Sanjay Khan-Lewis Ernest’s barrister will be at the police station in a few minutes. We can prove he couldn’t have been at the Houses of Parliament, yesterday. I’ve called Penny Morton and she is calling Yeovil police station as we speak to confirm he was with her and Annabel and will be on the University CCTV.”

Intrigued Charles asked,

“Can you do that? Arrange a meeting with Satan?”

Helena said,

“Yes, it can be done. I must have a very good reason, as must Felicity. He is an obnoxious pig and will take great delight in punishing both of us if he thinks his time is being wasted. I will go and see him in two minutes and then she is committed. You Charles are getting a little more freedom. I have increased your ability to move around undetected. You need to be very cautious, as Juanita is better than I thought. I have also given you communication rights and recording privileges. If you need to speak to me, say my name and I will speak to you. If you see something you think is interesting, record it by pointing your right index finger. Your eyes are your view finder.”

Charles stared at his hands and smiled,

“Ok I’ll go and find team Bacchus.”

***

              Felicity listened for a moment the irritation showing on her face as the conversation continued. When her anger could no longer be contained she interrupted him, shouting

“Alexander, tell the Home Secretary, that pusillanimous little shit, that if he reneges on this arrangement, I will still ruin him and I won’t pay him a fucking penny. If he wants to stay safe and wealthy, he has to arrange those cordons from midnight tonight for three days. Does he think I was planning on giving him a million quid a month for sitting with his fingers up his secretary?” Pausing to regain a modicum of control, she said

“Alexander, family or not, if you let me down I will, so help me, do things to you and yours that will make your eyes not just water, but bleed. Meet with the Home Secretary this evening and then call me to tell me all is well.” She hung up without another word.

              What, she thought, would her grandfather have done in this trickiest of times? His ruthlessness was part of his makeup. She had seen him deal with his rivals with a level of cruelty and venom she had been unaware he was capable of. The excitement had left her breathless and aroused.

              When he had fucked Jemima, ‘to show her what she was missing’ her anger and jealousy had overwhelmed her and she had deserted her grandfather and the company. It had taken a month of fucking her way around the Caribbean before she had calmed down enough to catch a flight home. Neither herself or her grandfather ever mentioned the incident. Business as usual, except she became the ruthless fixer he turned to.

              Now she wondered, how ruthless do I need to be? Team Bacchus, as they had been dubbed, knew their secrets, of that she was sure. Jemima showing her true colours and deserting her when she could be useful for once was a problem she would deal with. Charles thought that Jemima’s accident had been botched, but she had wanted her out of action, not dead. Not yet.

              If they knew how she got the cocaine into the UK undetected, that was a problem. Time would have to be wasted; devising new methods took time. It was of course possible but time consuming and expensive. Jonas’s diaries could only indicate an outline of the process they used. When he had been killed the process was still being refined and had undergone a number of metamorphoses since then, but it could give them a starting point. Her biggest concerns were Jemima and the cripple. Her knowledge of CHC and his ability could prove formidable. C’est la vie.

              The voice was oleaginous, smooth, and unctuous. A voice that excited and disgusted her in equal measure.

“You don’t have a choice do you, or you didn’t. You listened to my hapless assistant and your pitiable relative. Now even killing them won’t stop the inevitable. You, of course, ought to kill them, for fun, but what you need to do is plan for the future. I understand from Helena that you have a proposition for me. A proposition I might very well be interested in.” He moved around her until he was facing her, looking into her eyes.

“What did you have in mind?
”
Felicity looked at the person standing in front of her. She wanted to laugh out loud. All of the picture book images of him, his portrayal in films, the descriptions used in classic and modern novels, none of these came even close to capturing his essence. As she had always believed, the cloven hooves and horns were wrong as was the cape, tail and scaly skin. He didn’t need any of those cheap tricks to exude evil. It was the eyes, every glance left you feeling violated, your soul bared and flayed. Felicity looked into the eyes, waiting while he read her thoughts, assessed her proposition before she voiced it.

              Keeping calm and appearing offhand, indifferent; she said

“Your cheap tricks, possession of souls, the odd plague; it’s lost its edginess. As the world has become more sophisticated, people have lost their superstition, their belief in evil, they aren’t wracked with fear at the thought of the devil. You’ve lost your potency. Do you know why?”