Chapter 16

He arrived at Sir Maurice Callaghan’s outer office at two minutes to one.

“Good to see you John!” Paula said.

“Same here,” he said, and waited.

She buzzed through, “John’s here, Maurice.”

She looked up with a look of compassion, “Go right in John.”

John felt foreboding at that look, and his spirits dropped. He entered the holy of holies.

“Hi, Maurice,” he said as Maurice extended his hand for shaking.

“Please sit down, John,” Maurice was smiling broadly, indicating the padded chair opposite his desk. John nodded and sat.

“Congratulations on a job excellently done in Holland; the Board have asked me to pass on their appreciation to you, both of your early prediction which alerted us, and your handling of a very edgy situation. We are already seeing big improvements, so well done.” Maurice paused as if to gauge John’s reaction.

“Glad to be of service,” John said with a wry smile, “but I suspect that you didn’t call me all the way down here on a weekend just to say that. It could have been said over the phone.”

“Perceptive as always,” Callaghan said with an easy smile. “What I’m about to tell you must not go outside this room John. I must stress this. I chose Saturday so there’d be no one here.”

He stopped to await John’s acceptance. John nodded.

“You are well aware that many of our components are supplied by two factories in the Far East, and one that makes up finished products. I’ve been getting hints of something amiss, only hints mind you, but enough to be worrying.”

“I’ve noticed quality is falling significantly in what arrives at our end,” added John. “I’ve been wondering about whether we should start looking elsewhere. Even done some scouting around.”

“So you’re ahead of us. We need to inspect the people we’re using carefully, and at the same time, make tentative enquiries about other sources. We need someone to go and see personally how things really are: a surprise inspection visit and then some meetings with their managers.

“There is also a growing number of keen African manufacturers – the Chinese are already in evidence using them. We need to assess possibilites there as well.

“Finally, we need to assess whether we should make a bid for one or more of the far eastern factories with a view to bringing them into the family, so to speak, put our research and development successes into faster and smoother production.”

“That’s a huge job, Maurice. It’ll take months. Are you looking for my advice on whom to send?”

Maurice laughed at this, “I nearly sent you to the Philippines last year. I wish I had now.” Then he stopped laughing and stared seriously at John.

“What?” John stuttered. “Me? Maurice I don’t–”

“Look John,” Maurice gently prodded, “You’ve shown your trouble-shooting skills to perfection in Holland. While you were doing your three years, you showed how very perceptive you are, and how you get to the nub of things fast. You’re diplomatic as well. Holland proved it. So, after examining all the possible candidates, you’re by far the best we’ve got. Everyone knows that, and I mean everyone.”

John knew he was talking about the Board.

“You asking me or telling me?”

“I’m asking very politely, John. There are great things on the horizon for you, you know. The Board is very impressed. You know what I mean?”

John knew that he really had no choice. He sighed.

“How soon?”

“I want you down here more or less immediately. You’ll need jabs and a thorough briefing and assessment of the suspicions so far generated, to say nothing of getting an itinerary settled.

Get the jabs before you go back north. Paula will have some reading matter for you to take back. How about arriving on Wednesday? Tom seems to be well in control and you’re aware I’ve sent one of your girlfriends to help him out. You approve of my choice?”

“Tracy is perfect. I reckon she can cope with running sales herself up there. I took her to see Tom and he was really impressed. They’ll work well together.”

“Good. See you Wednesday, the flat is available. Remember you can’t tell anyone what the job is. You’ll see when you do your reading that there are suspects at this end. They must not get wind of this inspection, nor of our suspicions.

“You can say that you’ll be away for four months or more, but not where you’re going or why. We don’t want any leaks to the East or round these offices before you get there, and the best policy is to tell no one.”

“I understand,” said John. “This place is like a sieve for leaks and rumours.”

“You noticed,” said Maurice wryly.

So, thought John, There may be some rot here as well eh?

John found that Paula had made an appointment for his injections at a private clinic in an hour’s time even though it was a Saturday afternoon.

“You were very sure I’d agree to this,” he said smiling.

“Sir Maurice was,” she winked at him. “You were hardly likely to say no, were you?”

John shrugged, and she laughed.

As he waited for his appointment, he wondered about Gareth Fredericks and Xavier Curran, the two who liaised with the Far East companies. He knew they took regular trips out there, and had wondered why so often. Something did not fit.

It was obvious they were not privy to his secret investigation, and that meant they too were suspected of malpractice. He shivered, thinking that he was not cut out to be a spy. I couldn’t rise to become 001, let alone 007, he thought with a grim smile.

On the journey home, he phoned Tracy to say he would be home about ten. She promised some supper and a warm welcome, accompanied by a throaty laugh. He felt a twitch in his trousers and smiled contentedly.

“How was your day?” John asked her as he began a tasty supper of pork pie, pickles, salad and a baked potato. She had kissed him ravenously on his entry and led him immediately to the kitchen to eat. There was a bottle of beer to help it down.

“Sweet!” she said happily in response to his query. “I went into Manchester and did some shopping.”

John knew his delaying tactics would not work, and they didn’t. He hoped she would not be too offended when he refused to tell her anything.

“So,” she said, all agog. “What’s the boss go lined up for you?”

“Sorry,” he said, biting the bullet. “I can’t tell you. Can’t tell anyone, and I do mean anyone. What I think I can tell you is that I leave for London on Wednesday, and then I’ll disappear for about four months.”

“Four months!“ gasped an astounded Tracy.

“More or less, depending how successful I am. That’s why you’re here.”

“To look after your house?” She giggled.

“Don’t be daft! To help Tom out.”

“Are you able to tell Tom what’s going on?” She asked pointedly.

“No.”

“Fuck!” He could see she understood how serious this was.

“Don’t put ideas in my head!” said John. He had been feeling worn out after a long, long day, but her cheerfulness and her dressing gown, which gaped sufficiently to allow glimpses of a translucent pale blue baby-doll nightie and matching g-string, energised him somewhat, and he was looking forward to bed.

She undid the belt on the gown and allowed it to fall open.

“Finished your supper?”

He nodded, gazing at her semi-revealed curves and captivating legs and thighs.

“Bed?” she asked, knowing the answer, and its implication.

He nodded again, and she sent him off while she cleared up and locked up the house.

Once she arrived inside the room, John took her in his arms and kissed her gently. At which she opened her mouth and her tongue pushed into his. He moaned and pushed back.

He pushed the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and the flimsy nightdress sank gently to the floor, leaving her in her minimal lacy string; her nipples were hard and erect.

She undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing it apart and away from his chest, over his shoulders and off.

She pressed her cheek to his breast murmuring. “I love your bod, so hard and warm.” Then she went for his trousers, unfastening them and taking the zip down. She pushed them along with his briefs down his legs allowing his hard cock to spring up and out at her.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “You’re ready!”

Now he was naked and she was still in her underwear, what there was of it, but he dispensed with it swiftly, pushing the flat of his hands inside the waistband and sliding her minimal knickers over the tight round mounds of her bottom, and down her slim thighs, caressing her legs all the way down, until she was standing nude before him, allowing him to take in her perfectly curved breasts with their pencil hard nipples, her exquisitely tapered waist and hips and her shaved pussy.

She pulled him to the bed. “Come on, push that monster in me!”

He reared over her widespread thighs, aimed, and thrust. She gave a loud moan as she felt him stretch and fill her, and urged him to do her hard. So he did, burying the length of him until his root slapped against her mound again and again as she grunted and gasped with each shock.

Her wordless moans and groans, rising in pitch, got louder and louder as he stroked his cock with vigour in and out of her tight pussy. He too began to make deeper, masculine noise as his own climax approached. She raked his back with her fingernails, and wrapped her legs over his back, squeezing his waist as his buttocks clenched and relaxed, plunging him deeply within her again and again.

Then with her signature “Whoo - oo - oo!” she came, and he could swear he felt her contractions. It sent him over and with a reciprocal series of grunts he erupted.

Tracy, gulped as she eventually came down.

“You do it for me every time,” she exclaimed, “Every time! Fucking fabulous!”

John gave a smile of agreement breathing heavily after his exertions. She was a superb lover.

He pulled out, then began the journey down her supine body gently nipping her nipples before kissing down to her navel and further down.

“You’ve just come in my pussy,” she warned him.

“I’ll cope, now let me get to the matter in hand.”

“Not your hand I hope” and a throaty giggle from her. He’d heard that line before and from her. She knew it.

He admired her tidy groove, then spread her outer lips wide with the fingers of one hand, while stroking featherlight with his index finger along one inner petal, stopping short of her clitoris before doing the same with the other petal. This time he simply touched the head of her clit and rested it there.

“A-a-h!” came the tortured response as she raised her hips to move the finger.

He did not stroke, he tapped. She gasped. He tapped again and she groaned.

“Please!” came her complaining moan.

He drummed a tattoo on the little organ and she began to breathe quickly, to gasp.

“John! You’re killing me!” she cried in her anguish.

John removed his finger and plunged it into her vagina and out again, then his tongue took one agonisingly slow lick from anus upward. A pause short of her clit then a heavy brush over it, as he re-inserted his index finger and pressed the rest of his hand hard into her anal crease.

This time she screamed as she came. Now his tongue danced on her nubbin as she writhed under him, his other hand now tweaking a nipple and bringing further spasms which wracked her body, threatening to throw him off. Now he held her hips while she squeaked and growled.

“No more please, John, please no more!”

He stopped, now lying beside her and running his finger lightly over her crease again and again which had the effect of calming her as her orgasm melted away, until she was quite still.