“We now know that they dined together almost every week, but there were no records because they always paid cash. Eric Stone was a regular guest at Rathbone’s house parties, but because they were strictly private affairs, there was nothing in the society press. However, it is apparent that their relationship must have been something more than a casual friendship. I’ve just discovered that Rathbone named Stone in his will as the sole beneficiary of the estate.”
The Fixer bolted upright in surprise.
“He’s the sole beneficiary?”
“Yep. At a rough estimate, an inheritance of something in the region of two million quid. Not bad for a karate instructor.” Becka sat back and crossed her arms. “Perhaps I’m in the wrong business!”
The Fixer ignored her jibe.
“So Stone was secret best buddies with Charles Rathbone. We accidently killed him—”
“And now he wants revenge?” Becka suggested.
The Fixer remained silent while he considered the possibility. Finally, he shook his head.
“I don’t know… It seems a bit unlikely. Anyway, how would he — or indeed anyone — make the connection to us?”
“I’m not sure yet, Boss. Perhaps someone talked. It could be that there’s a link to whoever was doing those internet searches. Maybe Eric Stone is the ghost in the machine.”
The Fixer looked up from the report.
“Well it’s a disturbing coincidence, I’ll give you that. Keep on him — hard! I want to know exactly what he’s doing, before he even does it. Ok?”
“No problem, I’m on it,” she replied.
“Well done, Becka — I really appreciate what you’re doing.”
“Thank you.” Becka smiled at the uncommon compliment.
The Fixers eyes, momentarily alive with interest, suddenly flicked back to their usual dead stare. He flicked a hand, as if discouraging a listless but persistent fly.
“You can go now,” he said dully.
After she had gone, The Fixer turned his chair and stared out of the window, considering what he had learned in the last few days. For fifteen minutes, he went over the facts and coincidences in his head. Each time he came to the same conclusion. With a deep sigh of acknowledgment, he decided that the party was over. It was time to run.
He had an escape plan. It had been in place for a long time — ready for just such an eventuality. He had always known that it would be the hardest decision he would ever have to make. He loved his life, and the power it gave him, too much to give it up lightly. Activating such an escape plan would take time, and he could never be certain of when it was time to go. He could only ever give it his best guess.
Now that the decision was made, there was a lot to do. Naturally, he wanted to liquidate as many of his assets as was possible, ready for the move. He certainly wouldn’t be coming back. Unfortunately, some possessions would just have to stay behind. Suddenly selling his property, cars, and office equipment, would raise too many eyebrows, but most of his more liquid assets could be saved. However, even if he took a substantial loss on some of his investments, at best it was going to take three or four days to complete the transactions.
Ironically, just yesterday he had added another asset to the list of things that he would be taking. Although not particularly large, it would be tricky to transfer, as it required special handling. Nonetheless, it was just far too valuable and beautiful to leave behind.
It was vitally important that his decision to run remained secret until the last moment. It wouldn’t do to have someone spoil the party. Of course, there was some house cleaning to do, but some time ago, Gordon McIntosh had rigged the place with a substantial amount of thermite. When the time came, everything left behind would be comprehensively incinerated — including any bodies. If everything went according to plan, Eric Stone would soon be dead, and The Fixer’s last action before leaving the country, would be to eliminate the Wrecking Crew.
He regarded such killings as an inconvenience, but one no worse than abandoning the computers, or his favourite car. Naturally, he could never leave behind any live witnesses — that would be unacceptable. Originally, he had planned to use Chameleon for the wet work, but that was no longer an option. Slaying the members of the Wrecking Crew was going to be an interesting problem, particularly when it came to killing Bunny and Kitten. In the meantime, there was a lot to do. He picked up the phone and called his broker.
TWELVE
On the return trip, they stopped at a service area just north of Colchester. While Stone was topping off the gas tank, Linda used a pay phone to call Megan and pass on what they had learned. It was just twenty minutes later when Stone’s burner phone bleeped, indicating that he had received a new message. He was driving the last leg of the journey to his house, so he handed the phone to Linda.
“That was quick. It’s from Megan,” Linda said. “Bad news I’m afraid. The cell number we got from Fletcher was a bust. It’s for a burner phone registered to a false address. She thinks that the Wrecking Crew may have a big box of SIM cards. They’re probably stolen from phones, or bought as burners for five-quid each. They use each card a few times and then just throw them out. It would be very efficient and totally untraceable.”
Stone pounded his fist on the steering wheel.
“Damn! So we’ve wasted our time?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why? What did we gain?”
“Apart from being hugely turned on by your awesome display of manliness?”
Stone smiled and relaxed a little.
“You didn’t do too badly back there yourself. Fletcher will think twice before he grabs a woman in future.”
Linda looked embarrassed.
“I got lucky. He must have slipped.”
Stone gave her a long look.
“It looked to me like he slipped under a bus. Anyway — you were saying?”
“The burner phone is a good thing. It tells us that this Wrecking Crew is almost certainly operating through ‘Second Chances’. I mean, wouldn’t a legitimate charity use regular contact methods like email, a web site, and a listed phone number?”
“I guess,” he admitted.
“These places usually want a large and accessible public profile. They rely on contributions from businesses and Joe public, and that’s only going to happen if they can be seen.”
“You make a compelling argument, at least I’m convinced.”
“So what do we do next?” she asked.
Stone said nothing for a while. He concentrated on driving while he thought through the options.
Linda tapped her fingers on the dashboards impatiently.
“Well?”
“Sorry — I was thinking. I think that we need to search their office, to see if there are any clues to be had.”
“You mean break in?”
“I guess. It’s unlikely that they’ll let us look around during the day.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night’s as good a time as any.”
“Cool!”
Stone shook his head and laughed.
“You’re amazing! Here we are planning to put ourselves in danger, or worse, jail — and you think it’s cool. Linda Smart, I think I’m falling in love with you!”
She giggled delightfully.
“Cool!”
Stone gave her a playful punch.
“Text Megan back, please. Ask if we can meet at her place tomorrow for an update.”
A minute later, the phone beeped again. Linda read the message.
“Megan says meet at 11am. It’ll be just us three. Ed’s on another case, but he wants an update.”
“Good. I’m famished, let’s get back to my place, and order a takeout.”