Revenge of the CEO

  “It’s not what I say. It’s what I know. I have documents that prove what I’m saying.”

  “How did they come to be in your possession?”

  “That’s not important. Let’s just say they fell off the back of a truck. Here’s the deal. I want fifty thousand in cash and I’ll lay out the whole story for you. But if you’re interested, you’ll have to move quickly. I’ve already offered it to Channel 6, and as soon as I put the phone down I’ll be pitching it to Channel 11.”

  “It might be too rich for us. What else can you give me to authenticate your story? My bosses are going to need more before they approve that type of money.”

  The line went silent. “Are you still there?” Craig asked.

  “I was thinking. Tenth floor, T & G Building. Check it out. I’ll phone you same time tomorrow.”

  Craig put the phone down and pondered what he’d just been told about William Elmhurst. It was highly improbable but not impossible. The Crime Commission was Australia’s very own Star Chamber. Witnesses who refused to answer questions could be, and were imprisoned, and a witness’s right to refuse to answer a question that might self-incriminate, did not apply to the Crime Commission. It was a body steeped in secrecy. Coercion and fear were its two main weapons.

  There was a sharp knock on the front door. When Harry Denton opened it he was greeted by a courier holding a large plastic envelope. “Package for Mary Denton, sign here.”

  “Who was that?” Mary asked.

  “Just a courier. He dropped off an envelope for you. What have you been buying?”

  “Nothing that I can think of,” Mary said, as she cut the envelope open and removed a thick book. “Oh, Harry, how could you? How could you?”

  Tears were streaming down Mary’s face and Harry put his arm around her to comfort her, but she forcefully pushed him away. “Ho…how could you be so callous?”

  Harry looked down at the book on the table. Managing Alzheimer’s and Dementia Behaviours. “I don’t understand.”

  “Are you saying that you didn’t send me this dreadful book?”

  “I mostly certainly am. I’ve never seen or heard of it before. Why would you think that I bought it?”

  “You think I’m going around the twist. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been looking at me. Humouring me. You think I lost my car and gave the okay to dig up our driveway. I didn’t! Someone is playing cruel tricks. Do you believe me?”

  Harry paused for just a split second and before he could respond Mary said, “You need to think about it? Harry, don’t do this to me. Please.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Harry said, picking up the invoice. He put his mobile on speaker mode and punched the bookshop’s number in.

  The woman at the bookshop was courteous but refused to help. “I’m sorry, sir, privacy laws preclude us from giving out that information to anyone other than the person who ordered the book.”

  “Listen, I’m Mary Denton and the book was sent to me. Surely you can tell me who ordered it.”

  “Mrs Denton? Well yes, but I’m confused. According to the paperwork you ordered it last Wednesday. You phoned.”

  “No I didn’t,” Mary snapped. “How was it paid for?”

  “Visa card in your name. Do you have a Visa card?”

  “Ye…yes. Tell me the details,” Mary said, opening her handbag and removing the card.

  “No, I can’t. This is too strange. I can’t give out that information.”

  “Let me give you my credit card number then,” Mary said, reading it out.

  “They’re the card details I have,” the woman said. “Perhaps you forgot you ordered the book.”

  “I did not. I did not order that horrible book. I did not. Someone must have got my credit card details off an old invoice or something.”

  “We always ask for the three digit security code. That could have only come from the card. I’m sorry, are you sure you didn’t forget?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Mary yelled, “I never ordered that book.”

  “All right, all right,” the woman said. “You can send it back and we’ll credit your card. Don’t upset yourself, Mrs Denton.”

  Mary slammed the phone down for the first time in her life. She was gentle, loving and caring and outbursts of anger were totally out of character. She looked at Harry and his face was clouded but he couldn’t completely hide his sympathy. “You think I ordered it; I know you do,” she said, storming out of the kitchen in tears.

  Chapter 22

  SIR EDWIN PHILBY didn’t normally answer his mobile when he didn’t recognize the caller’s number. However, five calls from the same number were simply too many to ignore. “Yes,” he answered, without identifying himself.

  “Sir Edwin?” A female with a sophisticated voice asked.

  “Who is this?”

  “My name is Vanessa Edgerton. I’m one of the premier’s personal assistants.”

  “How can I help you, Ms Edgerton?”

  “Vanessa, Sir Edwin. The premier is announcing a significant building extension to the Happy Koala Kindergarten in Toorak on Monday at two o’clock and wondered if you could attend. He apologizes for the short notice.”

  “It’s a somewhat strange request. I’m long past the age of having my own little children. Why does the premier want me to attend?”

  “You’re a prominent citizen in the area, Sir Edwin, and the premier thought you should be in the official party. There’ll be at least two other eminent citizens on stage with you.”

  “On stage?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, you thought the premier was just inviting you to attend with the parents of children. That’s not the case at all. He wants you next to him, supporting him so as to speak. However, he realizes you’re a busy man and will understand if you can’t attend.”

  “Vanessa, I’m sure I can reorganize my day and you may inform the premier that I’m pleased to accept his kind invitation. Will you confirm by email?”

  There was a slight pause. “I’m actually on annual leave, Sir Edwin. The premier phoned me this morning and asked me to contact you. I’m sorry to say this, but he thought his minders might not approve, and he didn’t want the hassle of justifying himself to them.”

  “I understand, don’t fuss about the email. I’ll be there. Will I wait for the premier’s entourage or will I meet him inside?”

  “The premier would like you to wait until he arrives to join the official party.”

  “Yes, that’s fine. Please pass on my warmest regards to the premier.”

  “I will, Sir Edwin. You have my mobile number, so if anything comes up please phone me.”

  Philby put the phone down and smiled. It was the first establishment invitation he’d received for nearly ten years and from no less of a figure than the premier. Perhaps those who counted in the state were finally bringing him in from the cold. Had he phoned the premier’s office he would have found that Vanessa Edgerton was one of his PAs, and that she was on annual leave, but she was not the woman whom he had just spoken to.

  Craig Chisholm and one of his researchers entered the T & G Building and went straight to the bank of six elevators, but when they hit level 10 there was no response. “What do you make of that, boss?”

  “Don’t know, Donny. I sure wasn’t expecting it. It’s nearly one o’clock. Let’s hang around and wait for the luncheon crowd to get back. Then we’ll follow them into the elevators and see what happens.”

  Five minutes later the foyer was crowded and Craig and Donny squeezed into an elevator just in time to see a large heavyset man swipe a card and level 10 light up. Two men alighted on level 10 with Craig and Donny close behind them. The heavyset man turned abruptly and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You need security clearances to get onto this floor, and I know you two don’t have them. What are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry,” Craig said. “We have an appoin
tment with CNC Insurance. We must have got the floor wrong.”

  “Yeah, you sure did,” the man growled, swiping his card in a slot next to the stainless steel elevator call panel.

  As the elevator doors opened the man said, “This floor’s off limit to the public. Don’t make the mistake of coming back because you mightn’t find me so polite next time.”

  “I said we were sorry,” Craig said. “Jeez, what are you guarding? Gold ingots or something?”

  “That’s none of your business and it can be very unhealthy to be too nosy.” The man snarled, shunting them into the elevator. “Make sure I don’t see you on this floor again.”

  On the way down to the ground floor, Craig said, “What did you make of that?”

  “Strange. There was no signage on the double glass doors and there were no receptionists but security cards had to be swiped to gain entry to the offices.”

  “Yeah, and I noticed a number of guys with their shirtsleeves rolled up, running around with notepads and laptops. It looked to be a hive of activity.”

  “I noticed that, too. Don’t you think it was funny that there were no women, Craig?”

  “I did until that bloody G-man shoved us into the elevator. His suit coat came partially open and I caught a glance of a shoulder holster. I have a feeling it’s a boys only operation.”

  “Why would you need guns to investigate a politician, if in fact that’s what they’re doing?”

  “I don’t know, Donny. When we get back I want you to phone the building’s leasing agent and see what you can find out about level 10’s tenants.”

  Mary Denton hadn’t driven her car since the day it mysteriously disappeared. The High Street Road, Armadale, strip-shopping centre was only a short walk from home. It was a fine day and she was glad to get a little time to herself as Harry had been watching her like a hawk. She literally smelled the roses as she pushed her shopping trolley down the still partially dug up driveway and onto the street. Five minutes later she was buying magazines at the newsagent’s and passing the time of day with the owner. Mary didn’t notice the young girl with her head buried in fitness and health magazines. Mary knew the owners and shop assistants in most of the stores and she went into gift stores, haberdasheries and fashion boutiques relishing the opportunity to talk to people who didn’t think she’d lost her marbles. After enjoying a coffee and a vanilla slice she entered the cashmere shop. It was a tiny store but well stocked and Mary loved the feel of cashmere. She picked up a turquoise top for the third time – it was exquisite but nearly eight hundred dollars and she knew Harry would consider it a waste of money. Normally this wouldn’t have phased her as she knew he liked to exaggerate but deep down he wouldn’t object. It was just that now was not the time. The sounds of horns beeping and angry voices made her glance out the window where two male drivers were abusing each other over a parking space. She said good-bye to the owner and left the store to continue her window shopping spree. She had been gone less than a minute when the young girl who’d been in the newsagent asked, “Oh, did that lady buy that beautiful turquoise top?”

  The shop assistant had seen Mary looking at the top but she most definitely hadn’t bought it. “No,” she said, running out the door.

  Luckily, Mary was only seventy metres along the street looking in the window of a bedding store. “What did you do with that turquoise top?” The shop owner shouted.

  “Wh…what do you mean?” Mary said, taken aback.

  “You know what I’m talking about. You stole it. I saw you holding it up and when you left it was gone.”

  “I did not.”

  A small crowd stopped to watch and listen to the women screaming at each other, as did two detectives who’d been tipped off about a major shoplifting gang operating in the area. At the rear of the crowd were a reporter and photographer who’d been informed of the police operation.

  “Let me look in your shopping trolley!”

  “I will not,” Mary said, indignant that she was being accused.

  “Then I’ll look myself,” the shop owner said, moving to pull the vinyl cover off.

  “Hold on,” one of the detectives said, flashing his badge. “Lady, if you know the top’s not in your trolley then let me see, and then we can all get on with our lives.”

  “I’m not showing her,” Mary said, pointing defiantly at the shop owner.

  “That’s fine. Just show me, now please unbutton the cover.”

  Mary reached down, unbuttoned the cover, and gasped in horror. There was the cashmere top, which the detective took out of the trolley and held up.

  “I knew it. I knew it. Shoplifter! You tried to steal from me.”

  A camera flashed repeatedly and a murmur went through the crowd.

  “I…I didn’t,” Mary screamed. “Someone must have planted it. I would never steal anything.”

  “You two better come down to the station,” the detective said.

  “I can’t,” the shop owner said. “I have to get back and look after my store. I’ll come down and make a statement after I close up. Can I have my top back please?”

  “No, you’ll have to wait; it’s evidence.”

  Mary could neither think nor talk. The other detective took her gently by the elbow. “Come on,” he said.

  No one noticed the man standing across the road. Why would they? There was nothing special, noticeable or different about him – other than the leather gloves he was wearing on a warm spring day.

  Chapter 23

  DOUGLAS ASPINE HAD A special hate for Jasmine Bartlett, the woman who had stolen more than eight years of his life. Her eldest son, Jack, was now eighteen and Sam, her other son, was fifteen. With the help of Mick McHugh, Aspine knew more about Jack’s daily schedule than Jack himself. Jack was the means by which Aspine would ensure that Jasmine Bartlett suffered unimaginable pain, and if for any reason this failed, he would have Sam as a fallback.

  Jack Bartlett was an average looking young man who had inherited his late father’s looks rather than his mother’s incredible beauty. He had been a brilliant secondary school student who had his pick of undergraduate courses, and had surprisingly chosen civil engineering in preference to the more popular law and medicine. It was late afternoon when Jack finished his last lecture for the day at Melbourne University. He walked briskly to the Eastern Precinct Car Park in Carlton worried that he’d be late for his shift at McDonald’s in the outer eastern suburb of Scoresby. As Jack approached his car he saw a stunning young girl, tears streaming from her hauntingly beautiful aquamarine eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked.

  She pointed to the flat rear tyre on the little red Toyota parked next to his gleaming blue Ford. “I don’t know how to change it and I have to get home to my sick grandmother.” She whimpered. “I promised I’d fill her prescriptions and cook dinner tonight. She’s been so ill.”

  “Have you phoned the RACV?”

  “I’m a student. I can’t afford the RACV.”

  Jack glanced down at his watch and sighed. “Open your boot. I’ll change it for you. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  “Oh, you’re so sweet,” the young girl gushed. “Thank you so much. I’m Anneka Nordstrom.”

  She had light brown hair with blonde streaks, pronounced cheek bones and full lips. She was wearing a tight lemon T-sheet and faded blue jeans that accentuated her tiny waist, but it was her eyes that drew and held Jack.

  “I’m Ja…Jack, Jack Bartlett,” he said. “I’m running late too. Can you pop your boot?”

  As Jack changed the tyre, Anneka chatted incessantly asking questions about what he was studying and what his personal interests were while continuing to thank him profusely. “Here’s your problem,” Jack said, removing the wheel and pointing to a nail in the tyre. She bent down and leaned forward to look at it. Jack glimpsed a lacy lemon bra and just enough flesh to hold his eyes as if they were in a vice. “Y…you need to ge…get the spare fixed as soon as you can.”

&n
bsp; “I’ll do that tomorrow. You have a great looking car,” she said.

  “Thanks. It’s old but I’ve spent a lot of time restoring it.”

  Ten minutes later Jack was finished and rubbing his dirty hands together to get rid of the grit from the tyre. “You’ll be fine now,” he smiled. “I hope you make it home in time.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Anneka said, stepping forward and placing her hands on his shoulders while kissing him on the cheek. It was more than just a peck and her firm breasts brushed his chest.

  “Glad I could help.” Jack grinned sheepishly.

  “I’m going to buy you lunch or a drink.” Anneka smiled, scribbling on a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Phone me.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’ll understand if you’re too busy studying though.”

  “I’ll phone,” Jack responded in a flash, and they both burst out laughing.

  As Anneka drove out of the car park she rolled down her window. “Thanks again, Jack. I’m looking forward to your call.”

  Jack sat behind the wheel of his car, stunned. He felt like he’d been hit by a tornado and his hormones were running wild. The girl had been alluring, almost teasing and yet innocent, but it was her eyes that fascinated him – it was not only their unique colour but that they never seemed to blink – that was what had made it so hard to hold her gaze.

  When Donny phoned the leasing agent of the T & G Building to enquire about the level 10 tenants he was told: “I’m sorry, sir, we’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

  “I’m just trying to get the cleaning contract. Can you just give me a name and phone number?”

  “Sorry, I’m not authorised to do that.”

  “Jeez, well what business are they in?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The agent put the phone down and smiled. Mick McHugh had told him he would get a call seeking information about the tenant, and when he did, the precise way in which he was to respond. McHugh was not someone to be crossed and the agent had complied to the letter with his instructions.