Legacy. Jeff Edwards

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Legacy - Jeff  Edwards


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must have been Brian Reynolds,’ said Bree. ‘Now we’ve met all of them.’

      ‘And we know that Green went to the city, alone, just before Brown’s case went to court. I wonder if that visit had anything to do with the result of the hearing,’ added Sam.

      ‘That looks possible. Toby Brown made a great deal of money out of a case he wasn’t expected to win. If she did use her videos to effect the outcome of that case we have an approximate date when she did so. Now we need to pin down where she went when she was in the city.’

      They called into the railway station and spoke to one of the station workers. He was a local and remembered helping Mrs Green to get on the train. He thought it was unusual as she had not caught the train for as long as he could remember. The date, he remembered well, as he won money on the dogs that same night. He rarely won, and the two unusual events, taking place on the same day, were etched in his memory.

      Entering all the relevant information in their computers that night, the pair felt pleased with their progress. They had achieved far more than they would have if they had remained in the city to clean the shop. Now they could justify their spending of the government’s money.

      That night, Lana mentioned to Brian about Bree’s visit to the house and her suggestions for the back yard. Brian was not so much interested in her visit but the fact that she had gone straight from his house to Toby’s gallery and the amount and direction of the questions that the pair had been asking. He was not convinced that the two supposed ecologists were what they were purporting to be.

      Mrs Green was also disturbed. She hadn’t believed the pair when she first met them and their second meeting had done nothing to relieve her worries. ‘Insurance. I need more insurance,’ she thought.

      Chapter Five

      Bree and Sam returned to the city to find the cleaners packing up their equipment. The steam cleaners had performed minor miracles on the shop. The paint was still faded and peeling but the cobwebs were gone, and so were the signs of vermin.

      With a bit of care the place could almost be habitable.

      Bree rang the furniture rental store and arranged for delivery that afternoon. In the meantime she and Sam returned to their homes and picked up whatever personal items they would require. The lack of ample hanging space forced Bree to make some difficult decisions regarding wardrobe selection. She opted for the university look and restricted herself accordingly.

      Sam threw into a case whatever was clean and came readily to hand. However, he took his time over the more important item of gun selection.

      A small attaché case containing a dismantled sniper rifle and telescopic sights was placed carefully beside his clothes case. Ammunition and his favourite target pistol were collected from his private metal case at the gun club, as well as a small Beretta automatic: ideal for wearing under normal clothing without producing tell-tale lumps.

      Bree adopted a more ladylike approach, selecting a silver plated automatic so small it could fit into the smallest purse. Its effective range was not very far, but Bree considered it to be a deterrent rather than an offensive weapon.

      On the other hand, her small attaché case contained a hand-held rocket launcher. If she had to make a bang, then she preferred to make a big one. Accuracy was all very well if you had time to aim, but if you were in trouble a big bang was more likely to get the other side to put their heads down long enough for you to escape.

      Together, they had enough firepower to handle most close-quarters situations. Pitched battles were for army regiments, not two man incursion units.

      The furniture arrived and filled the shop’s empty spaces. There were desks and chairs behind the counter for the non-existent staff, and the office now had a desk and filing cabinets suitable for the director of a small business. Not the most elegant furniture, but functional. They didn’t want the Save the Country Fund to look like it had too much money.

      Sam made a hole in the wall behind the refrigerator. Inserting their weapons, he covered the hole and sealed the edges with tape before pushing the refrigerator back into place. It was not the most secure hiding place but would have to suffice for the present.

      ‘We’ll restrict all our secure documents to the upstairs area and keep the door at the top of the stairs locked,’ said Sam. ‘The shop will have to look like a wilderness fund in case someone comes in to look around.’

      ‘How are we going to do that?’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ shrugged Sam. ‘Let’s go and see what an environmental fund looks like.’

      They toured the immediate area, calling into numerous charity offices. They picked up publicity posters from some, stole handfuls of pamphlets from another, and even bought stickers and fridge magnets from a third.

      Returning to the shop, they proceeded to decorate their space with the purloined property, hoping that no one would come in and ask why they had Save the Rainforest posters alongside pamphlets decrying the culling of harp seals.

      A true eco-lover would have had a very hard time discerning just what this particular fund represented.

      ‘If we get some spare time I’ll type up some pamphlets with our name on them.’

      ‘What will you say in a pamphlet?’ asked Sam.

      ‘I’ll get some of the others and just reword them a bit.’

      ‘Sounds like a plan to me.’

      The sitting room became their workshop. All documents pertaining to Jade Green were sorted into piles according to topics. Telephone records in one, photos in another and background information on friends and acquaintances taking up most of the space.

      They started to sift through the information to see if they could decipher a possible lead as to where she may have hidden the videos.

      It looked to the agents that it would take a very long time and they settled in to make themselves comfortable.

      ‘Where’s the nearest Chinese take-away?’ asked Bree.

      ‘There’s one down the street.’

      ‘Should we start a tab there?’

      ‘Unless you’re feeling domestic, I think we’ll be starting accounts in a lot of the local restaurants.’

      ‘Thank God for government funding.’

      That evening, their first as residents of the shop, Bree lay in her bed and reflected on the next few months that she would be spending shoulder to shoulder with Sam.

      This was not the first time they had been thrown together for long periods. It was part of the job and they had both had to come to terms with their emotions.

      Bree recalled the first time they had been sent on assignment together. It had been to act as undercover observers in a small African country that had recently been granted a large sum of money from the World Bank. Supposedly, the money was to be used to drag the population back from the brink of poverty.

      The reality had been that the country’s ‘president for life’ now possessed a new motor yacht, which he immediately took for


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