Chapter 59: Staples' Diet

Steve Glennis was extremely happy when we finally got Lady Marchmont shipped across to him. As he said, "It's taken a while but it's been worth the wait." He hadn't wasted any time in putting her to use. "Had her out on a trotting rig this afternoon," he said. She looks pretty good. Gonna take a lot of training of course, she's got a few stripes on her buttocks but she'll learn."

Rachel was recovering. The Doc finally let me in to see her. She held my hand tightly when I sat down beside her on the bed. "It happened again."

"I know, Rachel. The doctor thinks she's isolated the cause. It was lucky we caught you in time."

Rachel nodded quietly. "I was frightened," she said. "It was just like the first time, but worse somehow."

Yes, I thought, this time it was real.

"But I'm much better now. I want to get back to work. It's so important. I know you need the script and you know I want to finish it. I thought I could do the voice over. If you'd like me to? Please let me. I'll be well enough."

"We'll see." I wasn't at all sure.

The Doc was looking encouraging. "If you feel strong enough, Rachel," she said, "I'm sure we can do that. It will be better for you to have something to focus on."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "How's Sukie?" she asked.

"She was very worried about you," I said. "She cares a lot for you. She was so sorry - it was her cake that did this."

Rachel nodded slowly. "I didn't mean to scare her. Or you. I don't know why I've suddenly developed this condition. I'll just have to be careful about what I eat I guess."

"No more walnuts, at least," said the Doc. Rachel grinned.

"Now when can I get back to my exercises? I'm missing them so much? I need to be doing them every day at least. And what are we doing about the owner's programme when can we get started on that?"

"Hey," I said. "Let's take the recovery slowly. Finish the script for the buyer's event. Do the voice over if you're well enough. Start back on exercises when the Doc says it's OK and we'll think about the rest after that. OK?"

Rachel smiled. "Thank you, Sir," she said. "I'm sure that very thing is going to be fine."

I thought she was probably right.

While Rachel recovered we were able to pick up one of the others on my short list as a substitute for delivery to Constanza. The upper classes are such free-loaders they're always easy to entice into somewhere that they can be introduced to a few lengths of rope and a strip or two of tape. The Honourable Diana Staples was no exception. Invited to a luncheon with the proposition that there might be an opportunity for her to act as a celebrity reviewer of restaurants for a new, up-market, leisure magazine, she jumped at the chance. I guess she figured if nothing else she'd get a good meal out of it and the chance to get some very expensive champagne down her neck.

The only trouble is champagne is one of the easiest wines in which to conceal something. Let's say something even more relaxing than champagne usually is. Especially when you're into your second bottle.

The hotel was very accommodating. Could they provide a room for our guest to sleep things off? Of course! Would they make sure she wasn't disturbed? Naturally. Would they be happy if we settled the bill for that straight away so that she wouldn't be caused any embarrassment later? Without any difficulty.

The collection team knew she'd be out for hours. They slipped in and took her out the back way in the early morning. We were all discussing the problems of running a restaurant like this with the manager, a perfect alibi if anyone was concerned.

As it happened they weren't. Everyone assumed that she'd wandered off, still drunk. Of course finding her clothes by the river did make them all think she'd gone for a late night swim. It wasn't really a surprise that nothing was found of her, it being so close to the sea and everything. And in her state, who knows what might have happened to her?

Well we did. And of course she wouldn't be needing her clothes anytime soon, so it all worked out very conveniently. Constanza decided she wanted to do her own prep work, so the Honourable Diana was crated and shipped as quick as you like.

It suited Freddie; he doesn't like leaving debts outstanding for long.

The hospitality event for the buyers turned out OK. We decided to give it a bit of a Kushtian theme with the entertainments wearing Kushtian headdresses and veils, if nothing else. Probably not very authentic but I doubt if it mattered given the audience. Certainly our guests seemed to appreciate it as the almost naked girls brought the food in at dinner time. We'd started off with Elly's talk. It was pretty well received. She even managed a few jokes although I guess purchasing guys aren't usually that long on humour. We had a break after that to give them a chance to mingle with one another and with some of our team. Then it had been back into the presentation theatre for Rachel's video.

She'd done a first rate job. After the opening titles and the Clegg logo, a caption screen had come up saying..."This is the story of how two slaves came to their present position. How Clegg Enterprises identifies, acquires and prepares its products." It moved into a section on research with Rachel providing the commentary. "We build a complete picture, carefully researching every aspect of their lives." The film moved on to a shaky, grainy, black and white shot of women walking in to a rather bland, modern building. "Fulchester University", the caption said, "Women's Issues Group Meeting". The camera was obviously held by somebody walking up to the building, perhaps concealed in a handbag. As the camera approached the building some of the women turned towards whoever was carrying the camera to wave and greet them.

The camera carrier took a seat halfway down the room. The picture zoomed shakily in to the podium at the front of the room. A woman in her mid-forties, wearing dungarees and a scarf knotted around her neck took the stage and waved to the audience. "Welcome Sisters," she said with a wave to the audience. "Thank you for turning out to support this meeting. It's great to see such a good crowd here. As you know one of our concerns has been to explore the condition of women in the countries emerging from the Russian empire and I'm very pleased to be able to welcome distinguished anthropologist and champion of many feminist causes, Dr Karen Armstrong." There was a round of applause as Dr Armstrong took the stage. I was trying to remember where I'd heard of Armstrong before.

Dressed comfortably in tan slacks and a loose sweater she smiled appreciatively, obviously completely at home presenting to an academic audience. "Dr Armstrong has recently returned from Kushtia where she has been researching the condition of women in the northern tribes. Her articles for Anthropology Today and National Geographic have highlighted the challenges that exist in bringing a more enlightened view of women's rights to the country. I'm sure she has a fascinating presentation for us..." As Karen stepped up to the rostrum, the camera swung around to point back up the hall towards the door. Two girls were arriving late. The camera tracked them, watching as they took their seat a couple of rows behind where the camera was. The camera zoomed in on each in turn, both blonde, both in their early twenties, one a little fuller figured than the other, both smiling and waving to the camera holder, though not, you thought, to the camera. More hidden camera footage followed. The girls in the university canteen; sitting outside one of the university buildings; getting onto bicycles and cycling out of shot. There was a shot from the viewpoint of someone working their way through a darkened office by the light of a flash light, the light stopped on a filing cabinet drawer, the drawer opened, a gloved hand rummaged through a series of files and pulled two out, leafing through their contents. "Student Record" each said on the front cover. The camera lingered on some of the documents, they were obviously being studied. The files were put back in the drawer and the drawer closed. The light of the flashlight moved back through the office, panning across a desk with a notice on it saying "Admissions Secretary". As it got to the door it fell on the bound ankles of a woman. The light moved up the woman showing her laying on the floor, hogtied, gagged and blindfolded, struggling impotently beside a ransacked office safe as whoever was carrying it left the office.