When Evil Wins Page 15

  “If that's not a problem it would be helpful. Thank you,” Richard said.

  “I hope you enjoy your stay with the Sheraton Hotel and Spa.” Jessica handed Richard a plastic card key for their room.

  “I'm sure we will.”

  “If you would like an evening meal then our restaurant opens at 6.00 p.m. for dinner and the last orders for a meal are taken at 10.00 p.m.,” Jessica said and added; “after that, if you prefer something later, we can always provide room service.”

  “Thank you very much, Jessica. I'm sure we will be taking advantage of your hotel's cuisine during our stay,” Richard said, beginning to like the hotel more than others he’d stayed at during previous business trips.

  The concierge took their cases to the lift, Richard and Liz followed, their room was on the second floor.

  As they entered the room, once again they were taken aback, it was stunning. The furniture and all the trimmings were of a rich polished wood, brown, but almost bordering on a mahogany red and the carpet was comfortable and functional underfoot.

  At the end of the room, furthest from the suite’s door, was a deep red leather sofa situated in front of two windows whose space was filled with a view of Edinburgh’s castle.

  “This is wonderful Richard,” Liz said putting her arm around her husband. Richard just nodded, left for a change, without a word he could say.

  After a moment Richard started to unpack with Liz joining him once she had taken a slow walk around the room attempting to get used to their plush temporary accommodation.

  As soon as they were done Richard checked his watch. It was now coming up to two in the afternoon. There was still plenty of time to relax before their meeting with Iain Younger, the man from the Midlothian Council's Department for Economic Development.

  The whole project for opening a specialist book shop in Edinburgh had taken five months in its conception, getting agreements that were beneficial to both his company and the local council: followed by another seven months to organise the premises, obtaining the available grants and permissions that would finally end up with hiring the staff who would be working in the new store.

  All in all a lot of effort had been expended to make sure that this venture, a new venture for Richard and his company, would come to fruition.

  Richard checked his watch again, he didn’t like being late and thought that anyone who was, was just being discourteous, though on occasions there were acceptable reasons.

  It was a good while before he and his wife had to be at the Kweilin Cantonese restaurant in Dundas Street; one which had been recommended by the leader of the Council’s Unit for Economic Development.

  Richard sat down in the lounge area of their suite and forced all thought of the meeting and his business from his mind. He gazed out of the window but within a few minutes he was up again, he was going to enjoy this quiet time before his business schedule kicked in

  “Liz,” Richard said as he went to the mini-bar, “would you like a scotch?”

  “Yes, I think I may dabble this time,” she replied.

  Richard placed two glasses on to the counter, broke some ice into them and then poured the single malt. They both sat down and relaxed on the comfortable leather sofa, looking out over Edinburgh; and its castle, which sat high up just as a judge would prevailing over his court.

  After an hour of relaxing, getting over the travel, Richard got up and retrieved his briefcase, placing it on the table he had been sat at. Opening it up he got out all of the relevant papers to study. He didn't want to come across as unprepared to Iain Younger, he had to make sure all the facts were to hand and ready to recall. One by one he went through each of the documents. Half way through the pile he paused to make a call.

  “Reception?” he asked.

  “Yes this is the reception, Mr Jameson.”

  “Good, can you book a cab to take my wife and I to the Kweilin Cantonese restaurant in Dundas Street, for seven o'clock?”

  “Of course we can, sir. Would you like a call when it's arrived?”

  “That would be good,” Richard said, before replacing the telephone back in its cradle. He continued to go over the documentation.

  The time was now five thirty and Richard put all the documents back in his briefcase. “I think it's time we ought to get ready,” he said to his wife.

  Liz put down her magazines and nodded in agreement.

  At 6.40 p.m., after an hour's getting ready, their hotel phone rang. Richard picked it up and, after a brief conversation, said to his wife; “The cab's outside. Are you ready?”

  “I'm ready. Are you?” Liz said, winking at her husband.

  Before leaving the room Richard said; “You look absolutely stunning. I think if I can't seal this deal then just your appearance alone will do the trick.”

  “Don't be stupid Richard,” Liz said smiling. “Business is more than just a pretty face.”

  “I wouldn't be too sure if I were you! How d'you think I got to where I am today, if it wasn't for you?” Liz didn't respond, she didn't need to and loved the compliments her husband gave her. They were the perfect team, in work and in life; both each other’s soul-mate. She had everything, a nearly perfect husband (he could concentrate on work a little less) and the perfect daughter, a conscientious rebel.

  Liz and Richard left their hotel room for the cab. Within minutes of seating themselves in the car and clicking their seat belts in, they were outside the restaurant.

  “We're a bit early Richard, don't you think?”

  “It's always best to be early. I think it shows respect for the people you're meeting.” With that said Richard and Liz entered the restaurant.

  The waiter greeted them and placed them at the table that had been booked by Mr Younger. By the time the waiter started serving Richard and Liz their drinks, Iain Younger had appeared through the restaurant's entrance and had started making his way to the table.

  “Mr Jameson, I assume?” Iain Younger said, approaching his table. Richard stood up and shook the man’s hand. “And who is this lovely woman you have brought with you tonight?” Iain Younger finished in a light-hearted accusatory tone Richard did not much care for.

  “This lovely woman, as you say, Mr Younger, is my wife. And, as we work together as a team, you will see that this is the only lovely woman I'll ever bring to meetings on this or any other occasion, for that matter. My P.A.…,” Richard paused for a moment before continuing, “is non-existent.”

  Richard suppressed his annoyance at Iain Younger’s perceived supposition a person with his reputation would have anyone other than his wife with him. And putting that aside, for the sake of the venture and the painful memories of Mandy's demise this man had suddenly forced him to recall, Richard Jameson continued, in his professional manner, as if there was nothing awry.

  “Well, welcome, Mr and Mrs Jameson, to our fair city,” Mr Younger finished

  After the tense nature of the introductions which seemed to go over the council representative's head, the meal and talk went without a hitch. The food seemed to settle everyone.

  The meal was phenomenal and as the evening went on Iain Younger's apparently insensitive manner disappeared as he got to know the people he was talking to.

  When everyone had finished their courses and had had their final drinks Iain Younger called over one of the waiters. After a few short moments a waiter appeared at the side of the table. Iain Younger handed the waiter his credit card and indicated that the tab for the table should be paid for, on it.

  “Mr Jameson,” Younger said, “I can't thank you enough for considering Edinburgh as an appropriate city to open this shop of yours.”

  “Mr Younger,” Richard started, “it has been a long road to get to this point but I must say that without your council's forward thinking and assistance the whole project would have collapsed at the first hurdle.

  “There is no doubt in my mind that this city's history and nature cast it as the only option for this venture of mine and th
e council has paved the way more than adequately.”

  Iain Younger nodded at the compliment. “If there's anything I can do to help with anything else then just call me.”

  “I will do that. And thanks again,” Richard replied, satisfied with the way the evening had gone.

  The two parties shook hands and leaving the restaurant made their respective ways back to their homes, permanent or otherwise.

  Once back in the hotel room Liz piped up, “I didn't like him.”

  “I think he was just someone you had to get used to,” Richard said. “You can never know a person until you meet them and have a conversation, a long one at that, in this case. First impressions are always hard.”

  “I suppose you're right,” Liz said, getting ready for bed. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “I'm meeting our new friend Mr Younger, once again, at the new shop with all the staff the job centre has interviewed and deemed relevantly skilled. Do you want to come?”

  “I will if you think it will help, Richard,” his wife answered. “But if not, I would more than dearly like to take in the sights this city has to offer. It's my first time here.”

  “Don't forget it's mine also,” Richard retorted. “But if you would prefer to be out of the throng of day to day business, then in this instance, I think I'll allow it.”

  “You'll allow it! Who do you think you are?” Liz said, in mock admonishment.

  “I'm your husband and you have to do what I say.” Richard was smiling.

  “Get out of it and get into bed you idiot.”

  They both fell into bed laughing. Richard picked up the phone.

  “What are you doing?” Liz asked.

  “Just calling for my concubine,” Richard replied. Liz slapped him playfully.

  “Reception,” the phone uttered.

  “Yes. Can I have a wake-up call for 7.00 a.m.?”

  “Of course, Mr Jameson.”

  Richard replaced the receiver.

  ***

  By quarter past nine. Richard was on his way to his new shop; Liz had stayed in the hotel getting ready for her excursion around Edinburgh.

  Iain Younger was already outside the premises when Richard arrived but before Richard could say anything, after getting out of the taxi, the council's representative had handed him the keys to his business’s new public face. Walking up to the shop’s front Richard pushed the key into the door’s lock, twisted it and opened the door. Iain Younger and Richard entered. Richard wasn't quite sure of what to expect, even though the interior had been defined by the agreements he’d made with the council. At the rear was a typical shop counter with till. On either side the walls of the shop had been painted in a non-descript beige colour. Lining the walls were shelves ready to receive books of all sorts.

  “What do you think?” Younger questioned.

  “It looks like a shop to me,” Richard said.

  “But you think it's where your business can take place?” Younger asked further.

  “I do,” Richard said. “I think this will be the most magnificent place where new authors will start and established authors will thrive.”

  “I'm glad you think that, Mr Jameson,” Younger said. “It's about time this city had some independence from annual events to mark it out as a special place. It's been a long time since we've received an award you know?”

  “Really?”

  “Aye, it is,” Younger confirmed, not going into any further detail.

  “When will the new staff arrive for their inauguration?” Richard asked, wanting to get on with the business of the day.

  “It's nine forty now, they're due here by ten.”

  “That’s good. In the meantime can you show me around the rest of the place and by that I mean the staff’s rest area, tea room and the like?” Richard said, adding, “Before they arrive.”

  “Of course, Mr Jameson, please follow me.”

  The two businessmen left the area where the work of the shop would be done, through the door at the shop’s rear. Iain Younger took Richard to the other rooms that would make the shop a place people could work in.

  By the time Younger's short tour of the premises had finished the shop's interior had filled up with the prospective staff.

  Exiting the door at the rear of the shop Jameson and Younger entered its retail area.

  “Are all of you here to find out about your jobs?” Richard said to the gathered crowd, always on his toes.

  There was a collective “yes” from the group. Richard smiled at Younger.

  ***

  Richard looked at his watch, it was quarter to seven and everyone had left.

  Since ten that morning he’d been busy sorting out who would be on the tills, the shift patterns and who would be present for the grand opening.

  He’d also identified the staff who would be supervisors, the staff who had the potential to be supervisors and the staff who only wanted to do well in their job. It had been a long day. Iain Younger had left in the early afternoon impressed with how Richard had conducted himself. Richard locked up his shop happily. Everything was arranged, he knew who would be present for tomorrow's opening and what they would be doing.

  The moment he’d finished pulling down the shop's shutter, the cab he’d requested the hotel to arrange turned up, on time, ready to take him back to the Sheraton.

  He unlocked the door to his hotel room and no sooner he’d got through the door Liz threw her arms around him.

  “You did it then?” she asked.

  “Of course I did it,” he said.

  “You're so brilliant,” she said. “I wish Stephanie could have been here.”

  “I don't think she would have appreciated it,” Richard said. “She's too young. She needs to have a childhood.”

  “I suppose you're right; yet again Richard!”

  “You know I'm always right,” Richard said grinning.

  Richard Jameson's trip to Scotland for the opening of his first bookshop was a complete success.

  Edinburgh's town council had welcomed the extra employment opportunities his business had brought to the city and the people had been more than welcoming when they knew that the bookshop would cater for, and promote, writers that had not managed to get a publishing deal on top of the jobs it offered. The whole concept vaguely echoed elements of the Fringe Festival, as a showcase in a specific area of the creative arts.

  The Jameson shop was of a very different ilk from other book shops, it wasn't just a space for selling, it was also a space for nurturing creativity; this shop, apart from selling books by Jameson's writers amongst others, would take manuscripts across the counter, but only across the counter. There would be no promises made but at least the new writers, or even published ones, could meet a real person, someone tangible, when they handed over their carefully crafted work.

  The last day of the Jamesons’ trip was about packing up and getting ready for the return journey back to London, and then to Hertfordshire and home.

  Liz picked up her mobile; she wanted to tell her daughter that they were on their way back, and that everything had been a success. Liz's mobile phone was off.

  “Richard, can I use your mobile? Mine's run out.”

  “Here you go,” Richard said as he passed his phone to his wife.

  “Yours has run out as well,” Liz observed.

  “Didn't you charge them before we left?” Richard said sternly.

  “I did, well I plugged them in.”

  “Did you check the charger was on?”

  “No, it's always on.”

  “Liz, it's not on when we go away, you know I turn the socket off when we go anywhere. You know that.”

  “I didn’t check, Richard, I’m sorry. No matter, I can use the room phone.” Liz picked up the telephone in their room.

  “Reception,” a voice stated.

  “Can you put me through to 01923 179 238 please?”

  “Hold on.” The line went silent for a moment and then there was ringi
ng. Liz waited. Minutes went by and the line continued to ring. After five minutes Liz put the phone down.

  “What's the time?” she asked her husband.

  “It's just gone nine forty-five, why?” Richard said after checking his watch.

  “Natasha must've taken Stephanie out; they're not answering.”

  “Good on Natasha,” Richard said. “I know she sometimes arrives late but she does look after our girl, don't you think?”

  “Of course. Well, if they've gone out for the day, at least we'll probably be back before they get home. And perhaps I'll get a chance to cook a meal for us all, if Natasha doesn't get to it first.”

  Richard and Liz finished their packing for the trip home, asking the hotel to book a cab to pick them up for the journey to the airport.

  After a short trip around the nearby shops they made their way to the hotel's restaurant for lunch. After their lunch they would be picked up by the cab for their homeward journey.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  At the time the Jameson's were having breakfast in their hotel before getting ready to leave Edinburgh, Janus was already on the train with the commuters; going back to London. He couldn't wait to see the look on the Superintendent's face when he presented the note he’d found on the roof of the R.J.P. building.

  Janus left the tube station and walked the few minutes to the police station. Making his way in, he strode up to the front desk.

  “Good morning, sir,” the desk sergeant greeted him.

  “Good morning,” Janus said. “I would like to speak with Superintendent Harris please.”

  “Have you arranged to meet him?”

  “No I haven't,” Janus replied.

  “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

  “No. But I really must speak with Superintendent Harris.” Janus wanted to avoid getting bogged down in all the usual bureaucracy he assumed he would have to go through to speak with a senior police officer. “Could you just let him know Janus Malik is here to speak with him?”

  “Sir, you must have an appointment, but if you let me know what it's about I'll see if he's available.”

  “I'd rather not. Look, just phone him, please, I'm sure he'll see me,” Janus said, then quickly changed his mind. “Actually, you could mention it's to do with Amanda Strickland.”