The Fund. Jeff Edwards
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Dr Smith began. ‘Now then, Mr Sloane, I am meeting with you even though I would much rather not do so. What have you come to ask me?’
‘I’ll be truthful with you, Dr Smith. When I began my investigations I was captivated by your friend, the infamous Jade Green, and the many mysteries which surround her. However, the deeper I dig the more my preconceptions change. What I would like to find out is the true story behind Jade Green.’
‘I appreciate you being candid with me, Mr Sloane, and I would dearly love to believe you, but my experience of newspaper reporters is that you seek merely the sensational and have no interest in mundane truths.’
Sloane nodded. ‘Of course if I were writing an article for a newspaper that would be the case. However, Jade Green has no current interest to the public. She is, in fact, yesterday’s news. What I want to write is a biography. I want to write a factual account of her life and the lives of those around her.’
‘You scare me, Mr Sloane. Such a book would contain information that could lead the public to harbour doubts about the motives and aims of some very reputable charities.’
‘Such as The Dr Rani Smith Trust?’ asked Sloane.
Dr Smith fixed him with a cold stare. ‘My trust has, over the past decades, been the means for hundreds of young students to gain a medical degree. They are students of excellence who unfortunately lacked the financial means to realise their full potential. Many have been from undeveloped countries and have returned to their homes on graduation to bring much needed relief to their fellow countrymen.’
‘I’m fully aware of the good work done by your trust and I have no intention of bringing it into disrepute, but surely you want the good things done by Jade Green to be recognised?’
‘Jade never sought it when she was alive and I don’t see how bringing it up now can be of help to anyone.’
‘What about as a lesson to others? I can demonstrate how, even a person acting above the law, can have a positive effect on those around them.’
‘A wonderful thought, Mr Sloane, but with human nature as it is the world would interpret the message in a totally negative way. She would be seen as a person trying to buy her way into heaven and that was certainly never Jade’s intention. Leave her in peace, Mr Sloane.’
‘What about those around her?’
‘Who? I certainly have no desire to have my actions highlighted. I have more than enough work at present sorting through the applicants that apply to me for scholarships. Publicity would only increase the applications and therefore the number of disappointments.’
‘I was thinking of her grandfather, Commodore Aubrey Taylor. His record of service to this country deserves to be recognised.’
‘I knew the Commodore well. He was a wonderful man. A sailor, and proud of it. He was respected by his men and that is all he sought in life. No, Mr Sloane, the Commodore rests in peace. Leave him be.’
‘What about Jade Green’s husband, Robert Symes? Surely his bravery should be recognised after all this time. The world deserves to know his story.’
Rani Smith was surprised. ‘You certainly have done your homework. I wasn’t aware that anyone knew about Robert.’
‘Then you agree that his story should be told?’
Rani considered the question. ‘No. I’m sorry, Mr Sloane. I’m sure his story would make very entertaining reading, but his life and Jade’s are interwoven and even if you did tell his story and managed to omit Jade’s part in it then, inevitably, someone else will make the connection and his acts of bravery would be diminished.’
‘You mean when Jade set the brothel up as a cover for Robert’s secret headquarters?’
‘You know, I didn’t even know about that. Jade eventually told me years later.’
‘So it really was a government funded project?’
Rani regarded the man before her and wondered how, or if, she should continue to answer his questions. Finally she spoke. ‘Mr Sloane, your quest can help no one. I’m sorry, but I won’t answer any more questions. Thank you for coming.’ She shook his hand and stood up. ‘I’m sure your intentions are sound, but please consider carefully the ramifications of releasing the story. Is it going to help anyone? I don’t believe it will. It can only produce great damage. Please reconsider what you are doing.’ With that she left the room.
A moment later the housekeeper returned and let Sloane out.
He sat behind the wheel of his car for a time and considered Dr Smith’s words. Sloane knew he had a best-selling book in his grasp, a best-selling book that would ease his financial burdens and ensure his daughter Pamela could get the education she deserved. Jade Green, and the good works done by her, deserved to be recognised.
Convinced that he was doing the right thing, Sloane decided to keep going with his investigations.
A well-dressed elderly pedestrian gave him a cross look as Sloane started his motor and exited the square in a cloud of blue exhaust smoke.
* * *
Sloane thought it was his lucky day when he found a parking space not too far from his flat. Together with the little information that he had gleaned from his short conversation with Dr Smith it had been a worthwhile trip.
She had confirmed the connection between the brothel and Robert Symes’s secret headquarters, so the government had to have known and approved of the project. Was that why the brothel seemed to have immunity from police interference? Is that how The Garden of Eros had managed not only to survive but actually thrive for all those years?
Sloane climbed the stairs to his flat as he considered what questions needed to be asked next and where to seek the answers to those questions.
He was about to unlock his front door when he noticed a light shining from beneath it. Thinking back, he recalled that he had left home in daylight and was positive that no lights had been left on when he left.
He was about to turn away and call the police when a voice called out to him. ‘Come in, Mr Sloane. The door’s unlocked.’
Sloane didn’t know whether to be alarmed or curious. Gingerly, he reached for the handle and opened it. Inside, he came face to face with a tall, good-looking man standing at his kitchen table and going through his numerous handwritten notes while a shorter, well-dressed woman sat hunched over Sloane’s computer. Having bypassed his firewall, she was busily printing out more of his research work.
The man reached into his pocket and produced his Inland Security identification. ‘My name is Sam Tait and this is my partner, Bree Lake. It’s good to meet you at last, Mr Sloane.’
‘How did you know I was out there?’
Sam smiled and pointed to a small monitor on the table. ‘We placed a small camera above your front door. It’s so small you would have had to know it was there or you would miss it.’
The woman at the computer turned from studying the screen and gave Sloane a smile. She looked familiar to Sloane and he gave her partner a second look. ‘I’ve seen you both before.’
‘That’s possible. You do have a good memory,’ smiled Bree Lake. ‘Remind us where we met.’
‘We haven’t met. I saw you at Jade Green’s funeral. You were with a group taking photos of the mourners. I knew you weren’t a part of the press.’
‘How did you know we weren’t press?’ asked Sam.
‘Easy. You were both standing back and letting the others get their shots ahead of you. If you had been the real thing you would have been elbowing the opposition out of the way.’
‘I told you not to be such a gentleman,’ said Bree to her partner.
‘And then I saw you both a second time. You were at a charity