Chapter 5

That dismayed her. How the hell were they supposed to find out the combination for the safe? Presumably that information died with the owner in his car crash. It was time to bring in Reg to see this, so she trekked back upstairs to hearing range.

“Reg!” she called loudly. “Are you available for a quick discussion?”

There was a silence, then Prudence called, “He is in the garden again. I’ll fetch him.”

Frances waited until Reg came to her, still puffing a little from jogging back to the house.

“You wanted me urgently, Frances? What’s up?”

“Come down to the basement, Reg. I want you to see something.”

He shrugged, but followed her through the cupboard and down the stairs into the basement. She turned at the bottom, led him round to the space under the stairs, and again switched on the striplight hanging there.

He stared at the large safe, then whistled softly. “Wow!”

Frances repeated, “Yes. Wow. What do you think?”

“Why did your father put that down here? It seems a bit out of the way, even for him.”

“I am sure Daddy didn’t put it there, for he never mentioned its existence, nor did he mention the wine cellar, while he did say that the boiler was in the basement.”

She considered this, then added, “Of course, he may have been going by the plans of the building when he was buying it. He doesn’t always survey a property in person. I was in the same boat: had no cause to rake around inside, just know where the boiler was and the wine cellar. I spotted the wine cellar when I had the boiler serviced: it was large enough to be visible right away, but I left it at that.”

“You mean, you never looked down here before, in all the months you were living here on your own, except to get the boiler serviced?”

“Hey, Reg; think back to the garden. I never looked at it either. Daddy was giving me temporary accommodation for university, and might have sold the building at any time, if the right deal came along, so it was a short-term solution for me at the time. Why would I bother? There was no way I was going to view this place as a long-term family home, such as I do now. Back then, it was just where the boiler was ... and the wine cellar ... Oh.”

“What?” Reg wondered what she was thinking.

“Daddy may not have known of the wines stored here. The plans might or might not have marked the wine cellar, and even if they did, he would assume it to be empty. Just the same as with this safe. Do you think it is empty, or holds something of value?

Reg mused, “No idea. It certainly looks old, and pretty sturdy. It seems to have a combination dial in front; not one of these modern push button numerical devices. Presumably you need to know the numbers to open it. Have you tried the handle, in case it is unlocked? That supposedly happened to Harry Houdini once. He tried and couldn’t open a lock, for the simple reason that it was unlocked already, but actually, the story is not true, just a myth. Try it anyway, Frances.”

“Reg, I had already thought to turn the handle and couldn’t move it. Why don’t you try it now, Reg.”

Reg tried to turn the handle, but it would not budge beyond a certain point: it was indeed locked.

She suggested, “It may be that the drugs man secreted his records in there.”

“That was my thought, but if whatever the contents are, they were locked in by the drug dealer, so the combination would have died with him. That would be logical.”

Then Reg pondered this further. “Perhaps my assumption is completely logical, but if it was me, I would write it down in case I forgot one of the numbers. It would be silly not to be able to access your own safe because of forgetfulness.”

“That rationale seems valid, but where would he write down the numbers so as not to make them obvious?”

“I presume the number is not in a book lying on top of the safe. NO-ONE is that stupid.” Reg checked up there, just in case. There was nothing lying on top except dust. He next asked, “Did I see a couple of cupboards skulking over there?”

“Yes. I haven’t looked inside them yet. I presumed it would be just junk stored there, or at least what you and I would consider junk. It could be his personal collection of beer mats!”

Reg mused, “Let’s check out these cupboards first. Possibilities: He may have written the combination on the inside of a door, or on a shelf where only he would know to look and know what the numbers were. If he ran the numbers together, they would not seem like the combination for a safe.”

Frances said admiringly, “You have the sort of weirdly practical mind that fascinates me, Reg darling. I would not have thought of that. I would certainly have assumed such a number to be a model number or something. The lighting is not that great, but we can have a look anyway.”

They went over to the cupboards, and found the doors had no locks, merely push clips, so were easy to open. They scanned the insides of the doors, but found nothing. Then Reg banged the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Damn!”

“What?”

“The numbers might be on the outside, in plain view; the dirtier the better, so that they are not noticeable.” He swung his door closed, and peered at it closely. He rubbed at a spot that looked suspicious, but mumbled, “No, not there.” He next examined the front of the other cupboard, all over, with the same negative result.

“Nothing. Let’s check the shelves; either on the shelf near the front edge, or possibly written ON the edge of the wood, facing out; no-one normally looks there, or they just look past the edge.”

This took them another ten minutes, but their minute examination come up with nothing. However, they began to be aware of what was sitting on the shelves. There were labelled boxes claiming to be zip-lok plastic bags; small ones and larger ones, perfect for drugs, but not exclusively so, thus officially innocent. A quick glance inside a box proved that the contents were what the labels claimed.

Reg reckoned they were for splitting up the various drugs into small quantities for street distribution; but that discovery only took up two shelves. Sitting on other shelves were several kitchen weighing scales, complete with bowls, plus funnels for filling the bags. Again, innocent unless proven guilty. They might have been his wife’s spare kitchen equipment. There was also a box of industrial dust masks, obviously to protect the person filling the bags from being affected by drug powder in the air, but equally useful while cutting up wood or plastic, so non-incriminating.

So what was all the other stuff on the remaining shelves? Reg wondered. He opened one nondescript package and found it full of used paper money. Question: was it real money, or counterfeit notes? He put that question to one side.

The next shelf had other more ordered sealed packages. He tore a corner to find out what they were. That corner was revealed to be unused banknotes stacked neatly in bundles. Once again, was this genuine cash or fake notes ready for passing? Reg left it for now. This building was turning into a cornucopia of assets, most of which were probably completely illegal.

The second cupboard was completely different. Here were laid on shelves pieces of artwork: Paintings, drawings and sketches, even some small sculptures on the bottom shelf. There were dozens of these pictures and objects. Reg was again unsure of whether these were the proceeds of robberies, the output of a forgery factory, or purchases collected as assets for future liquidation. There was nothing to tell which was correct. The drug baron would have known, but of course he did not have the need to label them: he knew what they were.

Frances queried her husband, “Reg, what do we do with all this stuff? Hand it all over to the police as probable proceeds of crime, or try to establish what was actually genuine?”

Reg was of two minds. “There are legal questions involved, Frances. I have read about some of this. Property left in a building when you purchase it, then belongs to you as the new owner of the building. However, proceeds of criminal activity, particularly stolen items, theoretically belong to the person or body they were stolen from. Drugs and drug paraphernalia are criminal equipment and illegal chemicals, and should be handed over to the police.

Cash is more problematical. If it can be identified as proceeds of crime – such as a numbered sequence of notes taken from a bank or other security store – it must be returned, as should any counterfeit cash. Unidentifiable cash belongs to the finder, unless the cash can be proved to be the proceeds of crime, such as drug sales. That is normally impossible to properly identify.”

Frances decided. “Freda is studying law, and her father is a legal expert, so they should be brought in to advise us on where we stand. Whatever is legally attached to the building will belong to Daddy’s company, unless he bought this building with his own money. He might have done this as a personal investment as a growing asset. I must speak to him about this.”

Reg was standing, thinking. “Frances my love, do you have a torch down here? I want to look at the top of the cupboards, for these numbers. Did you notice a ladder or a step-stool down here?”

“I brought a torch first time I looked in here, when I was trying to locate the boiler, to arrange for its servicing. I left it on top of the boiler, I think, once I discovered the overhead lighting. Ladder or step-stool, no. Nothing like that down here.”

Reg was dismayed. “If the numbers were up high, there would be a means down here of getting up to them, so I think the top of the cupboards is out as well. Where would you put numbers so that you could refer to them easily, and they wouldn’t be accidentally destroyed, or moved out of the basement in a clear-out?”

Frances laughed. “A wall calender pasted to the wall, with the numbers circled? That would make some sense. You don’t expect to find them chiselled into the walls, do you?”

Reg grinned in return. “No, that would be too obvious, unless the numbers were rubbed over with dirt to make them seem unmarked stonework. Though, come to think of it, perhaps we should not overlook your idea, Frances.”

“I was just joking, Reg,” she protested.

Reg suggested using the torch from the boiler to shine the light along the stonework, so that indentations would show up better as shadows. That worked well, but no numbers showed up, just mason’s marks on a couple of stones. They also found no wall calendar. Reg gave up and handed the torch back to Frances.

Reg switched topics.

The wine cellar, Frances; do we know what is held there?”

“We now have an updated list, to compare to the original inventory. Jessica and Sidra did that while they were waiting down here. Jessica says there are some discrepancies. It will be very useful for selecting what to drink.”

Reg was not so blasé. “We should check the list against values. If the drug lord was setting up a wine cellar, then he probably wanted the best, and probably the most expensive.”

“Come on, dear. Let’s go upstairs. We have other things to do than looking at stones.”

“True. We can have a look at the stairs instead. Oh, the joys of concrete!” he laughed at his own quip.

As he finished speaking, Reg’s eyes widened and he halted in his tracks. “Have you looked at the concrete stairs, Frances?”

“I have seen them every time I have come up and down them, Reg. If there was anything to see, I would have seen it, my love.”

“You have looked at the front, and you have looked at the side where the safe sticks out towards you, but have you ever looked at the OTHER side?”

“Well, no, but so what?”

“Misdirection. All our attention is directed to the front of the stairs and the side with the safe, but no-one ever thinks to look at the other side, the side in shadow. I want to do that now, with your torch, just for a minute, Frances.”

“Very well, but only for a minute or two, then we go up, okay? I want to get back to the warm.” She handed him the torch she was holding.

Reg moved round to the hidden side, and shone the torch along the concrete. looking for that angular shadow that meant a number or a letter of the alphabet.

This time, he saw what he sought, but down low, on the edge of the first step: two digits. That was all.

He jerked to a halt. Only two digits? There should be six digits in pairs, marking the first, second, and third dial turning. What was wrong?

Then his mind saw the solution. He looked at the edge of the second step, and found a second set of digits. He switched to the third step, and found a third pair incised in the concrete. The fourth step was blank, as he expected. Bingo! It was so simple, once you knew.

He had all six digits, and their order, as in steps one, two, and three, matching the settings on the safe: the first setting, the second setting and the third setting. He would still have to confirm which way the dial should be turned each time, but some online searching should advise on that question, as the dial turn should be standard.

For now, he could join Frances and get back upstairs; the safe could wait a while longer.

Frances suggested he make the rounds and give cuddles etcetera to his other wives.

Reg grabbed Frances by the upper arm and held her back.

“Frances, if I am to cuddle and otherwise fondle my other wives, why don’t I start with you?”

“Down here? Not very comfortable, Reg darling, and a bit on the cool side.”

“That is a point. We should move a comfy sofa down here for just that purpose in future; or even a bed. How about one of these sofa beds, that you can open up to become a mattress? We could make love down here quite privately, couldn’t we? Perhaps even get your baby conceived?”

“Reg, my dear boy, I would rather you performed that ceremony upstairs, in our bedroom, where I can be sure the room temperature is right. If I want to ride you, and thus not have bedcovers on top, I want the room to be warm and cosy for me; and you as well, of course.”

“Nothing now, then?” Reg sounded disappointed.

“Oh, here you are, mister impatience,” Frances told him, pulling up her top then pushing her bra up and off her breasts. “Fondle away.”

Reg’s hands were quickly in position, making good use of her mounds, then he brought his lips to each nipple in turn. He was clearly enjoying the opportunity.

“Hmm ... that’s nice,” Frances admitted. “You can do that to me any time.” He found that Frances had unzipped his fly and was fondling his hardening cock. To avoid this distraction, he responded to her words.

“I am sure I do; don’t I?” Reg was looking for reassurance that his memory was accurate. “I probably do the same to the other girls.”

Frances agreed. “Yes, you are well versed at that; plus arousing my clit and vagina, and fucking me thoroughly as well. Unfortunately, this is not my night with you, so this will have to do for now.” She released her hand from his crotch, pushed Reg’s head away, and pulled down her bra before dressing herself fully.

“Do I look all right, Reg?”

He looked her over, checked that her top was fully down at the back, then pulled her to him, wrapping his arms round her and slipping his hands down to fondle her ass cheeks.

“Yep, I think you look and feel fine, my dear wife.”

Frances grinned at the compliment, but cancelled it, saying, “Enough. Right, up the stairs pronto, my man!”

Sergeant Phillips was on the phone to Reg the next day, to gloat, ignoring the fact that Reg was listening to a lecture at the time. Reg sneaked outside with his phone, then answered.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“I just thought you would like to know that my conclusion was accurate, and that the contents of the plastic barrel were the material that I had assumed. Nice to know my talent is still active! As the perpetrator is deceased, the lab will simply arranged for them to be incinerated. That is the final end of that drug ring.”

Reg pricked the Sergeant’s balloon. “As far as drugs go, quite right, sir. However, we have found a packet of new-looking banknotes in the house, which we surmise might be counterfeit, and the property of our deceased drug friend. Shall we bring them in to you, Sergeant, for expert examination?”

“Eh? Banknotes? What denomination?”

“Five pound notes, sir. Old style. There appears to be quite thick stacks, in a bale. We haven’t looked closely to see if the serial numbers are consistent, or run in sequence, but your experts will know what to look for.”

“I suppose so. Can you bring them to me during the day?”

“With our university lectures, study classes and seminars, it makes it difficult to do that, sir.”

“Well, shall I call at your home around five-thirty, and bring an expert who can examine them on the spot? He will make a preliminary determination, and if he veers towards counterfeit, we will take them in for fuller examination.”

“That sounds admirable, sir. We shall be there to meet you.”

As soon as his call concluded, Reg phoned home and got Carol.

“Carol? That bale of dubious cash that Frances brought up from the basement last night, that we all looked at? Can you fetch it from my study and place it on the small table in the front hall? The police will be calling this evening to view the notes, so can you arrange for our ‘friends’ to be doing what they did the last time the police visited?

Fine. Thank you. I must get back to the lecture.”

Reg tried to sneak back in, unnoticed, but the lecturer was sharp-eyed.

“Ah, Mr Robertson. You have decided to rejoin us, and derive a modicum of knowledge from my informative lecture?”

“Sorry, sir. The police wanted a word with me, so I was not in a good position to refuse.”

“Well, tell them that in future you are not in a position to receive a call during lectures. In fact, I am of a mind to require all phones to be switched off during my lectures. Unfortunately, university rules must permit emergency calls to be received, and switching phones off contravenes that policy. Would all of you students endeavour to have your phones set to go to answer machine, and thus avoid such interruptions in future?

Now, to get back to work; the assumption of an accretion disc preparatory to the formation of the solar system can be shown to have some provable validity through the evidence of meteorites which land on our Earth. A small percentage can be shown through their chemical composition to be ejecta from Mars or the Moon, most likely though major impacts, but the vast majority are stony chondrites which contain the evidence we require. The chondrites – stony, or carbonaceous – are the best two classes of meteorite to show this evidence of early activity. Does anyone know why they are called chondrites?”

Reg waited, but as no hands went up, capitulated and raised his own.

“Robertson? You were paying attention after all? Why Chondrites?”

“Because they contain chondrules, sir.”

“And chondrules are... ?

“Tiny round balls which were formerly molten, sir.”

“Excellent.” He returned to speak to the class. “As these are found primarily in stony meteorites, we can conclude that the circumstances of their formation, to be later included in a meteorite, are those of a high-temperature environment. As this is in the context of cold space, that high temperature logically has to be through one proto-planetesimal which has impacted another. The impact between them released considerable energy, creating lots of tiny molten spheres which rapidly cooled and later aggregated into solid rock. This, then, is the rock that is the primary component of stony meteorites.

Please note that the class of impactors known as tektites are entirely different, as their provenance is as ejecta from impacts on Earth in more recent times. The rocky material got blasted high into the atmosphere, then they melted as they come back down, and splattered as flattened glass globules in a widespread but consistent area. There was some argument in favour of them deriving from ejecta by impacts on the moon, but indications of a sedimentary rock origin rules out the Moon, which never had the chance of forming sedimentary rock.

Thus we have meteoritic evidence for high-speed collisions and similar activity within the nascent solar accretion disc. The larger accretions survived and absorbed smaller ones, slowly forming the planets, most of which we see today, even though the theory of how these accretions occurred is not entirely clear.

There are some theoretical propositions for the existence of another gas giant that may have been ejected from the solar system and may be lurking in the interstellar void, but we have so far not found its existence proved, so it remains theoretical though not improbable.

Certainly, there is more secure evidence for the solar system being disrupted a few billion years ago, when the dynamics of the gravitational gavotte seem to have ejected this theoretical gas giant. It is clear from a number of computer simulations that chaos theory operates at the solar system level, as well as the microscopic level. Certain aspects of our contemporary planets give credence to such a perturbation in the past.

There is less clear evidence as to the route whereby various planets come to possess moons in orbit around them. Of the available possibilities, the earliest was that during the accretion phase, such smaller bodies had a direction and speed causing them to be trapped in orbit around a planet rather than smashing into it. Other options are of them being asteroids becoming collected in more recent times, through perturbations in either the asteroid belt, the Kuiper belt, or the Oort cloud. These disturbances sent objects further into the solar system where some ended up as moons while others impacted planets or the Sun. Certainly some orbits of smaller moons indicate a short-term life before their orbits degrade catastrophically.

I would like you to examine that claim for next time, to see if you can identify which moons of which planets are currently unstable in the longer term. Our own Moon is not among these, you will be glad to note.”

On that humourous note, the lecture ended, with the lecturer announcing that the next lecture would be on planetary rotation and its oddities in the solar system.

When the family got home late that afternoon, Reg and Frances organised the transportation of the remaining new-looking banknotes from the basement to Reg’s study. Reg explained to the others, “If they are counterfeit, we want to hand them over immediately. If they are genuine, we should take them to the bank and see if they are still valid currency.”

Holly came to ask, “Do you want your meal before or after the police arrive?”

Frances looked around at the others. They were happy to leave it to her. She decided.

“If the food is ready, or almost ready, let’s start right away. If necessary, Reg, you and I can break off to deal with the cops.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get to it.”

They had got as far as the arrival of the sweet when the doorbell rang. Reg admired the apple pie and cream on offer, then told Holly, “Keep my sweet aside for later, please, Holly.” and went to answer the door.

When it swung open, he was facing Sergeant Philips, with another tall policeman standing with him.

“This is Detective Constable Bridger, Reg. Bridger, this is Mr Reginald Robertson, the head of household. As I told you, don’t ask questions relating to this household, just the subject to hand.

Reg, what do you have to show us?”

Reg gestured them both inside, then pointed at the stack of notes on the small table.

“Can you have a look at these? We found them in the house.”

Bridger reached out and lifted the banded stack. He mumbled to himself as he examined them.

“All new, still with bank band round them. Fivers, but old paper style notes. Numbers...” he pulled out a jeweller’s eye-piece and looked at the number on the first note, then the number on the second, then the third.

“Consecutive, but not top quality printing. Paper feels wrong as well. Hmm...”

Sergeant Phillips prodded him verbally.

“Well, Sherlock, real or fake?”

“I am 90 per cent inclined towards counterfeit, Sarge. I can’t test the paper accurately, and I would need to see if there is the correct watermark, but that must be done at the lab. Take them with us, I’d say.”

Phillips grunted. “Any more, Reg?”

“The rest of the parcel, Terence. About ten times that amount. It is in my study.”

“Bridger, your guess as to quantity in this bundle?”

“At a guess, two-fifty. Times five, that equals one thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds. Ten times that would be twelve thousand five hundred pounds.”

“I brought a bag with me, Mr Robertson, and a printed receipt, already signed by me, with just the estimated amount to be filled in. If we can move to your study, we can confirm the estimate with the scales I brought in the bag. We’ll weigh them, and that will give us the total; still a broad estimate, for with forgeries, a tiny difference in weight per note can throw the machine’s total off.”

They moved to the study, where Bridger riffled through the bundles to confirm the contents as identical to the first bundle, then stacked them beside that bundle, one at a time, till he could confirm it by eye as ten bundles with a total of apparently twelve thousand five hundred pounds in notes. He pulled out the scales, for the second test, and the weight tallied with his estimate.

Phillips filled in the figure, then handed the receipt to Reg.

“Here we are, Mr Robertson: Your receipt for the apparent sum of £12,500 in old-style five pound notes, for us to test as seemingly counterfeit banknotes. We will notify you of our findings at a later date, but probably with five working days.”

As he spoke, Bridger lifted the stacks of notes into the police evidence bag, and sealed it with his own official closure. The two policemen walked slowly to the front door of the house, and at the door the Sergeant said, “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Robertson. It is appreciated when a citizen knows his duty to the state.”

Reg thanked him and Bridger for their efficiency, and bid them farewell.

After Reg had closed and locked the door again, he headed back to the dining table. Holly was quickly there with his apple pie and the cream jug.

“Successful transaction, Mr Robertson?”

“Indeed so, Holly. Almost certainly counterfeit, so it is just a bundle of paper, worth nothing.”

He found Frances standing by his shoulder as he sat to eat his pie.

“That means that the grubby notes are almost certainly genuine, darling,” she remarked. “There was a good pile there too.”

He swallowed the delectable piece of pie in his mouth, nodded his approval to Holly, and told Frances,”It also means that all the artwork in the basement belongs to your father’s company; provided it is not fake or stolen.”

Frances was happy with that assessment. “I’ll give Daddy a ring, to tell him. I’ll also ask him if he could send someone to open the safe, as we assume we have the combination sussed out right. That way, we will have a witness to what is in the safe, should we need one.”

“in what way, my love?”

“If it has records of the drug ring’s distribution network, and possibly major clients, their will probably be a court case where our involvement will be questioned.”

“I get you. Sensible. If your father could send a lawyer to open it, or to observe its opening, that would be great. Takes us off the hook, for we can demonstrate how we found the combination.”

Reg returned to his apple pie, and poured some more cream on it. Cream was still a luxury for him, never having had it until recently. Mind you, he told himself, sex was a similar new luxury that he was now enjoying frequently.

His reverie was interrupted by Fiona speaking to him.

“Reg, I am proposing to visit the chemist’s shop on Saturday; the one where my stepmother used to work. Do you want to come with me?”

“No, Fiona. You don’t need a man to support you. You will be fine. Treat it as sociology research, where you are asking questions to clarify matters. In fact, you can suggest that you are asking about former employees because you are researching why people leave their jobs, and the resulting effect on the other staff who have to find a replacement. Suggest that the shop was picked at random, to make the research relevant to society as a whole.”

“Hey! You do come up with good suggestions, Reg. I’ll use that approach. It’ll feel like normal research that way. I can even take my notebook and write notes as I talk to them.”

Erika barged in at this point.

“Reg darling, I had a chat with my father before teatime, about your money. He was of the opinion that you could do worse than invest in some large UK companies. They are large enough to be pretty safe – what he called ‘low risk’ – and their returns will usually be a bit better than you can get from government bonds. He did warn, though, about pharmaceutical companies. Their share price can be adversely affected by just one product, such as the disaster of Thalidomide.”