Prologue:

The Egliston family:

William Egliston, aged twenty-eight, was the accountant and manager of the Bombay office of the East India Company in the late 1840s. He could see the ending of the East India Company and a change of ownership. Thus, he busied himself over the next five years, making important industry contacts to fill the gap in commerce between the UK and throughout India, East Indies and Eastern Asia.

Under the Egliston label, imported goods of leaf tea, cotton, linen and precious metals and wooden craft items arrived at London docks, where his brother Henry, aged 30, leased warehouses to store these goods. Henry had established himself as an importer/exporter of fine goods, with his business contacts in the various haberdashery stores, such as Harrods, a linen and draper merchant. Harrods was a forerunner of department stores like Selfridges.

In return, many goods were exported back to Bombay, metal tools of all sorts, and from Birmingham Small Arms, petrol-driven water pumps, and rifles. Royal Enfield motorcycles were very popular. After the theft of a shipment of Lee-Enfield rifles, the family employed a former Scotland Yard detective, who started Egliston’s private security police, to secure their merchandise. The Egliston family were good at producing sons to carry on the family name.

Present day:

Sir William Egliston, aged fifty-five, is the fifth generation and CEO of the Egliston Trading Company, a 148-year-old import/export business established in 1869. His son Michael and grandson stand to inherit and carry on the family business.

Sir William lives in a country manor on an estate in Chelmsford. He’s been widowed for some ten years and now lives alone with his aged housekeeper and her husband, the butler and one-time chauffeur, who’s failing eyesight prevents him from driving. So now Sir William catches the Chelmsford to Liverpool Street train near Whitechapel, close to his town flat.

The Brown family:

Captain Ignatius Brown, eldest of the Brown family, earned his fortune during the slave trade until 1833 when it was abolished in England. His two younger brothers ran the legitimate business, purchasing public houses (pubs) spread throughout England on the profits of the slave trade. Loss of that income forced Ignatius and his brothers to change to the very profitable, high risk illegal arms trade. They were selling to terrorists, dictators, and anyone who could afford to buy.

The pubs were used to cover their arms shipments on land and then to a seaport where Ignatius shipped legitimate goods by sea. They hijacked train carriage shipments directly from BSA, Royal Small Arms Factory, and the newer Lee-Enfield rifles from Enfield warehouses. In addition, they stole any Arms shipments bound for India from the Egliston Trading Company warehouses.

In 1914, a wealthy Russian black marketeer, Alexi Semenov, who had many dealings with the Browns, seeing the beginning of the Russian Revolution, moved his wife and daughter to England. He contacted the Brown family, and they created a union with the oldest surviving Brown son, Lucian, marrying Anna Semenov and starting a new family, Semenov-Brown. However, Lucian and Anna produced four daughters and only one son, Alexi.

Present day:

Over the past one hundred years, the Semenov-Brown family business has increased their pubs to fifteen. The last male family member, Boris Semenov-Brown, now aged forty-one, needs a son and heir. His wife has produced four daughters. None are interested in making money for the family business, only spending it. All his illegitimate children are daughters as well. Boris lives in a palatial suite above the Blaggard Arms Pub in Charing Cross, central London.

Location: England, London, today.

Our Minder is one of one hundred male and female officers. Jason is a twenty-nine-year-old British ex-SAS injured on duty in the Northern Mali conflict. He has an older sister by six years, married with two children. Their parents were killed in a car accident when Jason was fourteen. His sister was just married then, so he went and lived with her and her husband in Scotland until he was eighteen, then he signed up for military service. Later, he was selected for service in the SAS and now works for a special division of MI5 as a Minder.

The Minder service was started in early 2017 in honour of Helen Joanne Cox a British politician who served as Member of Parliament (MP) for Batley, and was murdered in an act of terrorism the year before. The British security services now offered all sitting members of parliament their services as Minders when they attended public political functions.

Minders are supplied with a specially built hackney carriage or black London Cab with bullet-resistant glass, a thicker metal car body and reinforced under-car steel.

The Minder drives their package to political events and acts as a bodyguard. In addition, every six months, they attend weekend combat and intelligence courses where they are retrained for potential terrorist situations.

Jason

Here I sit on another tedious job minding a politician and his over-dressed wife at a political dinner with speeches. Thankfully, I can sit this one out in the cab because there is plenty of security inside. However, I’m expected to watch keenly for unexpected situations around the building. So, we minders take turns walking around the block every ten minutes to ensure the area is clear of anyone suspicious sitting in cars or vans, a bit like me.

It is not all night-time work. There is always a daytime political rally with the local Member of Parliament meeting the public in a park or Bowling Green. I must be at his side on these occasions to intercept hostile terrorist’s intent on harming the MP.

I enjoy the occasional job of being Sir William’s Minder. He prefers to dine alone. Rather than me sitting at the bar, he invites me to his table to chat while I have a coffee.

This evening, after a busy day of political events around London. Sir William is dining with another party member at an exclusive restaurant. I take up my position at the bar, monitoring all the dining patrons. The other Minder is in his cab outside, keeping watch.

They finish dinner, and Sir William’s guest leaves. I wait until Sir William indicates for me to join him. He suddenly becomes distracted by a new pair of patrons entering. Sir William gives me a slight nod of his head toward the new customers. Becoming alert, I take more notice of my surroundings. Sir William asks for coffee, and I do the same. Something is developing here that I’m unaware of, so I sit unobtrusively at the bar, now alert for danger.

When they enter, Sir William recognises Boris Semenov-Brown, accompanied by a beautiful young lady. Brown is a business adversary, and a long-standing feud exists between their families. They sit three tables away.

After finishing their entree Boris’s lady friend excuses herself and heads for the powder room. While she’s gone, Brown pulls a Ziploc bag from his pocket, pours a white substance into the ladies’ wine and stirs it quickly. Sir William catches my attention and alerts me to the situation I’m already monitoring.

When the lady returns to her seat and picks up her wineglass, I approach, saying, I wouldn’t drink that if I were you?”

I grab the woman’s partner by the neck and virtually paralyse him by squeezing with my thumb and forefinger. Reaching into his jacket pocket, I remove a small plastic bag still containing traces of white powder. I step back, releasing my grip and dip my little finger into the packet before dabbing a portion on my tongue.

Customers sitting at tables close by are captivated, waiting for the outcome. Finally, I announce to all and sundry, Ecstasy and a bit of cocaine would be my guess.”

“How dare you accuse me? Just who the hell do you think you are?” Boris replies.

I point to the in-house security camera in the corner, pointing in our direction. “I’m sure it recorded everything. Care to find out?”

By now, Sir William is at the table and announces, “Boris, I see you have met my Minder.”

A look of disgust crosses Boris’s face, only to be replaced by a sneer. “Trust an Egliston to stick his nose in where it’s not wanted.”

The maitre d’ comes over to the table and informs us, “The police have been called.”

Boris tosses two 50-pound notes onto the table, glaring at his companion and says, “Whore. Tell your father the deal is off.”

Boris jumps up, propelling his chair backwards as he turns for the exit. The maitre d’ attempts to grab him, but Boris shoves him into me, and we both fall to the floor. Boris takes that moment to rush from the restaurant, pushing aside anyone who attempts to stop him.

The young lady bursts into tears, and Sir William offers his handkerchief. She mumbles her thanks between sobs. I discreetly moved back to the bar and let Sir William deal with the young lady and the police.

The police duly arrive and speak with the various parties. When Sir William mentions the name Boris Semenov-Brown, the officer exclaims there is already a warrant for his arrest.

The woman introduces herself to Sir William as Jane. Sir William escorts her to his table, where the maitre d’ delivers Jane’s dinner. Sir William asks, “Jane, why were you having dinner with Boris this evening?”

Jane relays the conversation with her father that very afternoon. “My father, Philip, told me he was considering selling his Portuguese properties to Boris and insisted I share my favours with him to get the sale. I couldn’t believe what I heard and said, “I’m not a whore, Daddy.” But Dad made it clear he needed to sell.”

She continues, “Sir William, I’m reliant on my father, as my husband was killed in Sudan on a UN peacekeeping mission three years ago. My mother died when I was ten. As my father’s only daughter, he doted on me. But recently, he scolded me about how useless I was in his business. But then again, I was never trained to be anything except a lady. I’m vaguely aware of my father’s property dealings and so forth. But the financial strain recently has made my father nearly impossible to live with.”

Sir William offers Jane the dessert menu, which she declines. So with a nod to me, I quickly exit, heading for the cab. As Sir William arrives at the cab escorting Jane, he reaches for the door handle. I automatically move to the other side and open the door for his guest.

Sir William asks Jane, “Where can we drop you?”

She recites her address, and we head off. When we arrive at our destination, Sir William motions for me to open his guest’s side first as he exits. He escorts her to the front door. Under the glow of the porch light, he asks her on a date.

She responds, taking a personalised card and offering it to Sir William. “I would be delighted.”

He takes her hand, turns it over and kisses the back, saying, “Until next time, Jane.” Even in the low light, I can see her blush.

As I enter the house, my father accosts me. “Jane, you’re home early?”

“It was a catastrophe. Boris tried to drug me, and the police were called. He absconded before they arrived. Fortunately, a kind gentleman named William Egliston came to my rescue. We had dinner together, and he escorted me home. He asked for another date. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Did you say Egliston? How old is he?” asked her father.

“I would say in his early fifties.”

Her father thinks for a moment and then says, “Good” date him.” Then he turns and enters his study without another word, closing the door.

I wondered what all the fuss was about as I headed for her bedroom. While showering, I thought about the evening events. William was still handsome for an older man and a gentleman to boot. I felt thrilled to have an older man attracted to her and decided to learn more about him.

Sir William

After ensuring Jane’s safe return home, I reflect on my past life with my wife, Ruth, and our shortened life together.

I had known Ruth from the age of a young boy, as our families were close. And while it wasn’t an arranged marriage, it was more of a marriage between two business families uniting their companies. After gaining a business management degree with a minor in accountancy, I soon worked in our import/export business at my father’s side.

I didn’t just get a management job given to me. I earned it. Throughout my teen years, during school holidays, I worked in every department of our business to make some pocket money and learn how the various departments worked. The same went for my University years.

Ruth was intelligent and attended the same University as me, but we never dated. I’m sure we both sowed some wild seeds during those years. Ruth gained a degree in accounting and secured her CPA.

We rekindle our relationship after a combined family Christmas and officially started dating after finishing University. We were together for eighteen months when I asked for her hand in marriage. Ruth and I purchased a small three-bedroom house in a London suburb and soon started a family.

Two years later, our son Michael arrived and a short time later, our daughter Jenny. Ruth remained at home until Jenny reached five and started primary school. Then, she returned to work. Her family business afforded her the luxury of starting at nine in the morning and finishing at three, so she was always there for our children.

Pancreatic cancer crept up on us with little warning. Ruth, then in her early forties, was gone in three months. It was a shock for all of us and took a good year to recover.

I’ve dated several eligible women, divorced or widowed, but none took my fancy. Ruth was a hard act to follow. I miss the company of a woman, someone to share a nighttime meal with and chat about our day’s activities. And a warm bed.

I need a charming woman at my side with her arm in mine at official functions and political events for polite conversation and assorted private and family do’s.

Then tonight, along comes Jane. Young, healthy, vibrant, a bit lost, wanting someone to protect her. She fascinates me.

Returning to my office the following day, I researched Jane’s father, Philip Harrison. It appears he is in deep financial difficulty. Seems he over-committed when purchasing waterfront property holdings in Figueira da Foz, a coastal town in Portugal.

A rumour had spread two years ago that a resort hotel complex was to be built on the site, but the deal fell through, and now Harrison is stuck with the unused warehouses and is close to bankruptcy.

What is of particular interest is Figueira da Foz. It has a deep seaport with a large container terminal and a nearby central highway system linking it to Spain and France. These properties would allow the Egliston Company to establish a direct gateway into the European continent - saving transport costs via the Channel tunnel for shipping into Europe.

Jason

I’m picking up Sir William from his London flat a week later, and we head for Jane’s home. They have a dinner date. This time, Sir William has picked a more modest restaurant, and they sit and chat over dinner. Again, I take up my spot, this time at a table with the wall at my back, keeping a close eye out. I’m close enough to hear their conversation but discreet enough to pretend I don’t.

After ordering, Jane tells Sir William of her three brothers who fell out with their father over his Scrooge attitude about money. All left home at eighteen, and after University, they established Harrison Construction Company, HCC. The eldest is an architect, the middle son’s a civil engineer, and the youngest is a business manager.

Sir William, for his part, explains why he is single and the CEO of a family business. He has a son and daughter, the mother of two grandchildren. His son, Michael, also has children, a son and a daughter. Michael is the company manager and will take his place in time. He is also an MP for Chelmsford. That’s why he has a Minder. He points to me.

The night ends much like the previous evening, with Sir William escorting Jane to the door.

While I lay in a hot bath filled with pink bubbles and moisturising compounds, I recall my short marriage to my soldiering husband. He was a brute, a bully - everything had to be his way or else. Fortunately, my spouse never raised a hand to me. But I wondered if, in our marriage, he would. My husband was hardly ever at home, off soldiering with his comrades, in the Scottish highlands, at a rugby match or the famous Men’s club playing snooker or cards, constantly losing money. I was no more than a sideline or a plaything.

Sex was ordinary. It was the missionary position, no foreplay. I had to rub my vulva quickly, endeavouring to get myself wet before sticking his penis in. Then he’d pump away for a few minutes, groan, roll over, and fall asleep, leaving me to clean up the mess. I knew there was more to love-making than that, but without a mother, who could I ask? I was too embarrassed to ask some of my school chums. I was lost.

Twelve months into the marriage, my soldiering husband’s squad was deployed to Sudan to join a UN peacekeeping mission. He didn’t return. Funnily, I was relieved - it just shows how much I was not in love with him, like an arranged marriage. Since his demise, I started reading romance stories on the World Wide Web. There, I found a plethora of stories giving vivid details of sexual intercourse. Next time, I will be much more aware of what is required of a husband sexually.

Now, I have come under the spell of a wealthy older man, more in line with my upbringing and the social graces I was taught in finishing school. Sir William and I could be a great partnership. A pretty young wife by his side at functions in high society. And if he is not good at sex, we can practise together.

Jason

Life as a Minder carries on. I keep doing what I do best. I understand from other Minders who have been escorting Sir William over the previous months, all with the same lady friend, it looks like a romance is blossoming.

A few weeks later, I’m told to pick up Sir William from Whitehall and take him where he needs to go. Sir William gives me Jane’s address. However, he says he’s not there to see Jane but her father on business. Could it be to ask for Jane’s hand in marriage?

Sir William

Jane’s father greets me at the door, and we enter the house while Jason keeps a watchful eye.

After concluding a successful business meeting with Philip, I express my interest in courting Jane. Smiling, Philip offers no opposition to us courting with the view of marriage. So, like gentlemen, we shake on it.

Then Philip boasts, “Unknown to Jane, I virtually arranged her first marriage. Jane’s fiance asked me for a loan to repay his gambling debts. It appears the soldier boy’s family refused his request for more funds. I agreed if they were married within six months. I was thrilled to loan the money, knowing the soldier boy was from a wealthy business family with good connections that I could use. Then, a year after their marriage, he got himself killed. His death stuffed up all my plans.”

I exited the Harrison home with a “˜bad taste in his mouth’ after Philip’s disclosure. Now I can better understand why the Harrison boys left home. Jason met me as Philip opened the front door and escorted me to the car.

Philip

Sitting back in his chair, Philip congratulated himself on his transaction - while not the best, he still made a small profit. He was happy to get funds and reduce his debt. He would be glad to offload Jane, especially if she married into the Egliston family. She may have social graces, but she has no business skills whatsoever, after having the best English private school education and Swiss Finishing School. Philip thought maybe, “I overindulged her, trying to make up for the loss of her mother?”

Jason

On our return journey, Sir William took me into his confidence. The meeting was to discuss Philip Harrison’s Portuguese real estate holdings on which they struck a deal. He also expressed his request to court Jane and got Philip’s approval.

Arriving at Sir William’s flat, he informed me, “Jane and I are out to dinner this evening to celebrate the financial agreement with Philip Harrison. Please return in two hours, Jason.”

So I chauffeur them to dinner and write it off as a political meeting, then take up my usual position and wait. Thirty minutes later, Jane squeals. I jump to attention and approach Sir William’s table. Sir William has asked for Jane’s hand in marriage, and she said, “Yes.”

Once it all calms down, I congratulate Sir William and Jane, then retire to my prior position. Sitting in thought, I realise Sir William needs a beautiful female escort for the many functions he has to attend. Being a much younger woman would not hurt. I noted the kiss at the door was much more intense than their previous ones.

A week later, with a grin, I read the London Times wedding announcements proclaiming Sir William Egliston’s engagement to Jane Smyth (nee Harrison), at 26 years, a soldier’s widow from Kensington. The story continues, “Sir William, aged 56, a captain of industry and CEO of his family import/export business. He was also a member of parliament in the House of Lords. His betrothed, Jane Smyth, had already moved into the manor house. A quiet wedding in the planning stage will be held on the Estate in Chelmsford.” I’m sure it came as a big surprise to many of his peers and colleagues at his age.

Midweek, I get a call to escort Sir William and Jane into town. I pick them up from Sir William’s flat and drive them to the address given. Sir William informs me they are off to get wedding rings. I pull into the curb outside the shopfront of Royal & Sons* Jewellers. While they enter, I circle the block to find a cab parking spot. I then wait outside the store’s front door for their exit.

The wedding is only five days away, and I’m the lead security officer. I spent considerable time scouting the estate for entry points. Most of the perimeter is a brick wall about nine feet high.

A huge marquee is erected on the west lawn of the house, with close access to the kitchen and toilets. All guests have invitation cards. Personnel such as electricians, caters and their staff were issued security cards.

Thankfully, the wedding goes off without a hitch, both in the actual wedding, catering, speeches, dancing and security. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see much of the ceremony. A lone paparazzo got stuck in a tree trying to get over the estate wall, so we had to call the fire brigade and deal with that.

Sir William and Lady Jane depart that evening. I drove them to Heathrow for their honeymoon flight to the British Virgin Islands.

On the drive, my mind drifts back to the past and the moment that led to this. My cobber, Bill, and I were on a night patrol in Northern Mali. We were reconnoitring the current enemy position and strength. When Bill got sloppy and stepped on a mine.

Thankfully, being improvised, it wasn’t very powerful. I don’t remember much other than being thrown backward ten feet and a searing pain in my lower right leg. Coming to my senses, I found Bill lying a few yards away, unconscious. His left leg was missing from just below the knee and was bleeding profusely. I dragged him into a ditch for cover. Pulling off my pants belt, I used it as a tourniquet to slow down the blood loss.

Retrieving his medical pack, I removed the antiseptic aerosol and sprayed the raw, jagged stump””even while unconscious, Bill moaned. Next, I grabbed the pain relief injection from the medical pack, including antibiotics. The wound on his leg was so big and jagged. I used my knife to cut up the rest of his pants as a patch.