Authors: Michael Wood
‘Because I knew Jack and Elaine. When I worked at the Mirror, I met them frequently. He was a good man; they were a devoted couple. They were just walkers, they didn’t take risks. Apart from that, I know that Jack had some enemies in the Cabinet as well as at Sellafield. I won’t tell you who or why, but believe me my sources are impeccable.’
Ben’s puzzlement continued. ‘Why don’t you just wait to see what the police come up with?’ he asked, simply.
‘You really are an innocent aren’t you,’ Sophie scoffed.
‘You don’t trust them?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Not even in a little town like this? I know them. I play golf with them. They’re okay.’
Sophie sighed. ‘Of course they’re okay when they’re doing their routine work. Why shouldn’t they be? But look what happened in the miners’ strike. Your friendly, golf playing, bobby became a soldier of the state. They did some bad things, quite brutal. Don’t forget they are employees of the government. They are a disciplined force trained to take orders without question. If somebody at the top says jump, they say ‘how high?’ The same thing could happen with this case. I believe the truth could be suppressed by orders from above. Anyway, it isn’t your golfing buddies who are handling it. It’s the big boys from County headquarters, and they will be taking orders from a department of the Metropolitan police; it’s inevitable when a minister is involved.’
Ben glanced at his watch. It was time to wrap this up, get home to Helen and normality, put this down as one of those unique experiences you tell your best friend about, years later, over a drink.
He had already decided to do a bit of investigating on his own. It couldn’t hurt to pass on information to Ms Lund, and he would make a few quid.
‘Okay,’ he announced, as he stood up to go. ‘What exactly do you want me to do; how do I contact you, and how do I get paid?’
Sophie’s smile was slightly glazed as she looked up at him. ‘Glad to have you on board,’ she said, slowly. ‘I’m leaving for London tomorrow.’ She reached for the hotel stationery pack, tore a page out, and wrote on it. ‘Here’s my contact number. I’ll only be there at 7 p.m, and I’ll only pick the phone up after the sixth ring.’
‘Sounds a bit cloak and daggerish,’ Ben quipped, lightly.
‘This is a very serious business, Ben,’ Sophie said. ‘I want your word that you will tell no one about our meeting or our arrangement.
‘You have it,’ Ben said, as seriously as he could, anxious to get away. ‘Now, tell me exactly what you want me to do.’
‘I want you to be my stand-in. Ask all the questions I would ask, based on the assumption that Jack Fraser was murdered, possibly by government agents. Use your local contacts, the police, anybody. Telephone me with
any
information you get, however trivial. Particularly listen out for anything relating to Sellafield.’
‘We’ll meet in a month’s time at a halfway house. You can bring me completely up to date. I’ll bring you one thousand pounds cash, and who knows, eventually we might even enjoy ourselves. How tall are you?’
‘Six one.’
‘And suitably proportioned. Is it a deal?’
‘I’m not sure about meeting in a month’s time,’ Ben said, ignoring the sexual reference, putting it down to the gin. ‘I had enough of fixed monthly meetings when I had a proper job. They were usually a waste of time. Why not be more flexible?’
‘Alright,’ Sophie agreed. ‘We’ll meet whenever one of us thinks it is necessary. But you’ll have to wait for your cash until then. I am not writing cheques.’
‘How long is this going to last?’ Ben asked, edging towards the door.
‘As long as it takes,’ Sophie replied, firmly. ‘I’ll decide when to end it.’
She rose from her chair, and held out her hand to shake his. As they shook hands, her blue eyes probed his.
‘I know you’ll do your best for me, Ben,’ she said, like a general addressing his troops.
*
Ben drove home slowly, aware he was over the limit, but confident that police rarely patrolled the quiet country road leaving Keswick’s northern outskirts. As he drove, he tried to come to grips with the evenings’ events. It all seemed a bit unreal, a bit dream-like. Was Sophie Lund telling the truth? Maybe she was unbalanced, still on drugs, living in a fantasy world? Why expose herself to a stranger? Could there be danger involved? Was he being set up for something?
If she was completely genuine, it was quite the most fantastic thing. And, the extra money would be… He hit the brakes. A deer and fawn pranced in front of him. They were a familiar sight at night, coming out of the forests to graze in the valley fields. They trotted down the road, herded by his headlights, then jumped left, through a gap in the trees.
They brought him back to reality. They reminded him of the simple, stress-free, pleasant life he was leading.
Soon after, as he opened the cottage door - the door that led to Helen, and peace, and normality - he was still wondering if he had landed himself with one experience too many.
Chapter 4
The only luxury to be found in the space that Leni Gonzalez shares with her friend Vilma is a full-length mirror. It stands on the wooden floor propped at a slight angle against the breezeblock wall, unintentionally affording shade and protection to the cockroaches that shelter in the humid darkness behind it. One of Leni’s younger brothers, who works the streets of Manila, stole it for her 21
st
birthday.
He was proud of his oldest sister who had gone to College, and got a job, and had a room, and was beautiful, and still a virgin. Leni had thanked him and cried, and hugged him, and begged him not to take risks, and not to get into drugs.
Now, in the cold early morning light, Leni, and the rest of the city, rise to earn their living. She rolls up the single blanket and stuffed quilt that turns a steel storage shelf into her bed each night, and jams them into a plastic bag under the shelf. A few paces, and she is outside in the enclosed yard where she lifts an old vegetable oil container onto the steel girders above her head. Quickly, she inverts the container, grabs a small piece of soap hidden on top of the girder, and proceeds with her shower.
In spite of the shock of the cold water, it is her favourite time of day – a time for renewal, for cleaning body and mind, for confirming vows.
After drying with a thin cotton rag, she steps back into the room and ritually examines her body in the full-length mirror. A shaft of morning sunlight highlights her olive skin against the grey concrete.
She knows she has been blessed, or is it cursed, with beauty. Large brown eyes, small nose, generous mouth and lips, perfect breasts, square but delicate shoulders, narrow waist, a hint of muscle tone in long-legged thighs that seem to take up an inordinately large share of her 60 inches.
She stares at her beautiful body, and, suddenly, lapses into sadness. This is what her future depends on - her fate is in its hands. The fact that she has a degree in chemistry, can converse at any level, is an accomplished swimmer, and has many other social qualities, is of little importance in the Philippines.
Just as quickly, her sadness gives way to pride. Not many girls from her background have achieved like her. Most are married with kids, some are abroad doing domestic work for pitiful wages; some are prostitutes.
She was determined to fight against this tide of inevitability. Even her mama, back on the island of Mindoro, to whom she sent money to support her five brothers and sisters, pestered her with adverts from newspapers offering
‘Good marriages and homes in America for Filipino women.’
‘Hey, ugly bitch, quit fancying yourself.’ Vilma’s voice made her jump. Then she felt a playful slap on her bottom, as Vilma rushed past to the shower, shouting, in her American accent: ‘We’ll be late ugly bitch if you don’t stop posing. Get that coffee on.’
By the time Vilma came back from the shower, Leni had their breakfast of coffee – in paper cups stolen from work – and hard-boiled eggs, ready. The eggs were always prepared the night before, to save time, and hard, to save on washing up water and detergent.
Leni watched Vilma, fondly, as she dragged the communal comb through her short, thick hair. Vilma did not have external beauty. She had small eyes, a squat nose, tight lips, poor skin, a short neck and bow legs. But she was beautiful inside.
They had teamed up at College, and been together ever since. Vilma was cleverer than Leni, but not as determined, coming from a gentler background. Sometimes Leni worried whether Vilma had the resilience to withstand the years of struggle that seemed to loom ahead. If Vilma went under, then so would she. They needed each other, desperately.
It was Vilma’s uncle who had to let them use his storage shed as their home while they established themselves in Manila. He had come to Manila from his fishing village on the island of Samar after the fish had stopped returning to the dynamited reefs.
Leni and Vilma gulped their breakfasts, grabbed their shabby brief cases, and dashed out into del Pilar Street. They must not be late for their seven o’clock start at the office.
In spite of their qualifications, they had only managed to find jobs as sales representatives with a company that sold construction products. There was no salary, only a small commission on sales. They were expected to work six days a week, ten hours a day, and to provide their own transport. This, inevitably, meant using the jeepney.
Most weeks, they made just enough pesos to cover their food and transport costs. In good weeks a few pesos went back to Mama, and maybe a new pair of knickers went into the shoebox. In bad weeks, they stuffed themselves with rice and held each other’s hand.
A 200-yard dash from their suburban street brought Leni and Vilma into chaotic Tugatog Street. The next two miles into the city centre had to be by jeepney.
They watched as one after another growled past, horns beeping, until they saw the driver they wanted. They recognised him by his missing front teeth. They didn’t need to wave, he was looking out for them. It was only a matter of time before he would ask them for sex in return for his free rides into the city. Then Leni would have to charm another driver, usually spotted during their lunch breaks in Jollybees or MacDonald’s. Frequently it was difficult to persuade them to let Vilma travel free as well, but eventually they all succumbed to Leni’s dazzling smile, while mentally calculating how many free rides she was worth before they demanded to ride her.
Up to now, Leni and Vilma had managed to avoid paying their dues. They had developed the knack of reading a driver’s eyes and body language, anticipating when the demand might come. So far they had managed to stay one jump ahead, so to speak.
Today the driver had lust flashing in his bloodshot eyes, and broad toothless grin. Quickly, the girls disa-ppeared into the crowd, and went looking for another jeepney, knowing that they would have to pay cash this morning. Not a good start to the day.
‘We must be losing our touch,’ Vilma joked. ‘I figured another week out of that guy didn’t you?’ Then her voice took on a deadly seriousness, and her head slumped as she stared vacantly at the ground. ‘I would hate to lie with a man like that. I don’t think I could.’
Leni grabbed her hand and dragged her in front of the next approaching jeepney. ‘Come on, jump on, we’ll be late.’
There were no seats available, so they hung on to the handrail protruding from the back and, holding hands, joggled their way to work.
*
This morning, as they entered the offices of Wayne Industrial Supply Inc. on Severino Reyes Street, they were half an hour earlier than usual. Their boss, Yul, had asked to see Leni before normal work begins. Vilma was just keeping her company.
They figured that he would be looking for some sort of technical help, as usual. He frequently called on them to explain the technical jargon
used by their foreign suppliers. Yul wasn’t a bad boss, but he wasn’t
very bright. He had changed his name from Sung Chen to Yul Wayne because he thought that an American sounding business name in a country dominated by American money and culture would be more successful. And who better to choose than his Hollywood heroes Yul Brynner and John Wayne.
Leni left Vilma in the tiny general staff office and, after knocking, passed into Yul’s large air-conditioned office. His immaculate white shirt stood out against the dark buttoned leather chair, in which he reclined confidently and lazily. He smiled at Leni and gestured for her to sit opposite. He, like everyone, was always pleased to see Leni.
‘I have an important project for you Leni,’ he began.
He was prone to exaggeration, so Leni didn’t get excited. ‘Yes,’ was all she could manage.
‘In their wisdom, our wonderful government have agreed to let the Americans build a nuclear waste processing facility on Panay. One of our British suppliers has been in contact - Amtex - you know them?’
Leni nodded.
‘They have informed me that they have a unique...’ he paused to read off the paper on his desk...’ high density concrete product that is used in the British nuclear processing plants. And they doubt if the Americans or anyone else have yet developed anything similar. They reckon there would be a very large requirement on this new facility at Panay, and since all supplies have to go through a Philippine company, there could be lots of business for both of us.’
‘Great.’ Leni tried to sound enthusiastic, but knew that little, if any, of the money made would be coming her way.
‘However, there is a lot of ground work to be done before we can count our chickens,’ Yul grinned, always glad when he could show off his grasp of western phrases. ‘As you know, we will have to submit a product like this to government agencies for approval. And we will all need technical training in how to sell it and use it on site.’
Leni noted the ‘we’ with amusement. Yul always left the technical stuff to them.
He paused while he searched through other papers on his desk, then went on. ‘Now, Amtex are proposing to send out their sales manager and somebody from a company called British Nuclear Fuels who invented this product. They are going to train us about this product, and explain how it works to the government agencies. ‘They will be here in two months time, and will stay for as long as it takes. I will be setting up meetings with the agencies, and informing our staff about when and where our training will take place. What I want you to do, Leni,’ and here a knowing smile crossed his face, ‘is to take these men under your wing’…the smile widened at another western phrase…‘and look after them. I want you to be their escort, their entertainment guide; their friend. I will provide you with a car and a driver. I’ve already booked them into the Sheraton. I want you to see that they have a good time in Manila, no expense spared. But most of all I want you to pick their brains about this product. It sounds like very profitable business, so we must get it right. General training sessions are okay for some products, but this sounds complicated, and I need at least one of my staff to know everything about it.’
‘He may not be very bright,’ Leni thought, ‘but he is astute at business.’
He rose from his chair to signify the meeting was over, a ploy he often used to avoid questions about payment.
Obediently, Leni left the office. Although she was concerned about how she was going to be paid, she was quite looking forward to some time off the sales grind, even if it did mean entertaining westerners who were invariably large, loud, arrogant and pathetic in their attempts to seduce her.