Having become far more involved on a personal level in this case than he liked, Andy didn’t answer right off as he mulled over the problem. “You know, for once you’re right,” he finally admitted. “We’ve got to do more than simply say, ‘Well, there it is, mate. Good luck.’”
“Any bright ideas how we can help, boss?”
Again Andy lapsed into silence as he ran through a number of options, weighing each one in turn. Ever so slowly he discarded all but one. As much as he hated the idea of going to Edward Telford and asking him for a favor, not after the way he had conned them into taking on the Mullins’ case and then leaving them high and dry when things became complicated, Andy sadly concluded the only way he could speed things up was to call for some divine intervention, or the closest thing to it here in Middle Earth.
Drawing in a deep breath, while keeping one eye on the road, Andy scrolled through his mobile’s directory and selected Edward Telford’s number. Sporting an impish grin, Tommy watched in silence as his boss prepared to feast on crow.
5
At lunch the next day, Edward Telford was the epitome of affability, never mentioning once the previous evening’s call, or the events best forgotten in New York. After hearing what Andy had to say, Telford nodded. “Seeing to it the right people get involved straight off the mark won’t be a problem,” he mused. “Unfortunately, even then, this is going to take time,” he quickly added.
“Time is something Charlie Mills and Northumberland Haulage don’t have. Once his insurance underwriters dump him, he’ll have to cease operations,” Andy pointed out as he reached for his drink.
“You do know there is something you can do that could very well have an immediate effect, one that will not only cause the people looking into this problem to move out with a purpose, but go far to salvage your client’s reputation in the eyes of his clients. It’s something I do every now and then.”
“What?” Andy asked as he eyed Telford after taking a sip of his drink. “Blame your predecessor?”
“Well, there is that,” Telford replied with a straight face. “What I was thinking of is using the media to highlight poor old Charlie’s blight. The media loves nothing more than battering hardworking government officials like me with a sob story in which some poor bloke is getting shafted by either a heartless bureaucrat or corporate trolls.”
“You’re not suggesting I go to Sue Oliver with this, are you?” Andy asked, doing little to hide the hint of a whine in his voice.
“If you’re going to get something done quickly enough to make a difference for your client, I don’t see that you have a choice. Oliver and her rag are a sucker for this kind of story.”
Andy sighed before taking a drink. “You know what she’s going to think. She’s going to think I’m interested in her.”
Unable to help himself, Telford chuckled. “Hey, better you than me, mate.”
“Well, shit. Before I call her I need another drink,” Andy muttered.
“While you’re at it, order one for me as well.”
“Who’s paying?”
“You are,” Telford replied brightly as he lifted his near-empty glass in a salute to Andy. “Consider it my fee for services rendered.”
“What the hell, why not?” Turning, he waved down the barmaid. “Two more of the same when you have the chance, Doris.”
Holding his glass up, Telford called out before the barmaid had a chance to turn away. “Make his a double. He’s going to need it.”
The image of Charles Mills on the TV, standing in front of one of his red and yellow trucks as a BBC reporter introduced her story, brought a smile to Spence’s face. To have the opportunity to see one of the cases she’d worked on brought to a successful and satisfactory end was pleasing. To see her efforts rewarded in such a manner was, as DS Marbury once put it, “Glorious.”
“In the wake of the story broken by Sue Oliver in the Sun, what started as an investigation into the smuggling of drugs through the port of Antwerp has turned into something of a nationwide scandal involving insurance fraud,” the television journalist declared in an ominous tone of voice meant to impart the gravity of her story. “Were it not for the efforts of Charles Mills, owner of Northumberland Haulage, the flow of drugs into the UK and the manner with which large, corporate-owned firms were not only turning a blind eye to the way their trucks were being used by Asian drug cartels but actually profiting from it, would never have come to light.”
“That’s a load of bollocks,” Tommy muttered as he watched the same report from his desk. “I expect in time some silly sod would have either figured it out or stumbled upon what was really going on.”
Glancing over at Tommy, who was hunkered down behind a desk strewn with an odd assortment of parts he’d gutted from an old computer, Spence caught his attention. “But it wasn’t some silly sod who figured it out,” she murmured amiably. “I did.”
For a long, tense moment Tommy returned Spence’s stare, wondering if he should put into words the thought that was going through his mind, that her comment proved his point regarding a silly sod accidently stumbling upon the way insurance companies, large trucking firms, and the Antwerp port authority were chalking up the loss of containers and their cargos as being nothing more than the cost of doing business and profiting from it was valid. Only the sound of Andy clearing his throat kept him from doing so.
Glancing over at him, Tommy did his best to play innocent, an act Andy did not buy into. Deciding it was best to let the matter drop, Tommy turned his attention back to what he’d been doing while Spence, pleased there’d be no further interruptions, returned to watching the TV, grinning to herself as she listened to how Mills took every opportunity that came his way to drive home the point his company was a family run affair, one that catered to the needs of small businesses like his throughout the north of England. It was a reminder to her that what she was doing was not nearly as cold and detached as some thought. Everything she, Andy, and even Tommy did touched the lives of people, real people who were struggling to do more than survive in a world that was becoming dominated by technology few who relied upon it comprehended. With a little help from her, as well as a spot of luck, Spence had managed to turn Charles Mills from being a victim of the technology to being its master.
Andy waited until the story concerning the Northumberland Haulage case was over before calling out to Spence. “I’m still waiting for you to input your travel expenses for that case. I can’t close the file on it until you do so.”
Sitting up, Spence gave her head a quick shake. Having been permitted by Andy a moment to bask in the glory of her latest coup, it was time to move on. There were other cases involving people like Charles Mills that needed her attention, as well as deciding what she and Pamela Dutton would do on Friday night. A movie perhaps, watched in the comfort of her flat might not be a bad idea. Having spent the previous week wandering about the wilds of northern England slaying electronic dragons had been wearing. She suspected Pamela, who’d been involved in a major photo shoot for the designer she was working for, could use a bit of downtime as well.
With that settled, Spence picked up the remote, clicked off the TV set across the room from her, and went back to work.