Chapter 64

Bernard (call me Bernie), Sheryl and Eric (my friends call me JJ, I don't know why) stepped out of the limousine and stared at the Chateau.

"I can see why you wanted to stay here rather than that hotel near Kings Cross," said Bernie with a laugh.

"Well actually I came here because the Baron was here," Gerald answered.

"The Baron?" asked Sheryl.

"I'm the Baron," I said holding out my hand to Sheryl. "Call me Paul."

"Yes sir," they all replied, and then shrieked with laughter at the surprised expression on my face.

"You have no idea how long we've been waiting to do that," JJ said as we shook hands.

"Gee, thanks buddy," I said as sarcastically as I could, but while smiling to take a little of the sting out of my words.

"Errr ... Bernie," said Sheryl, tapping him on the shoulder, "there are naked girls all over the place."

"They're probably Paul's slaves. Christine told us about them ages ago, just before she bought those two from Dubai." Bernie answered. "Don't worry about those girls, they're totally fixated on their master."

"Oh," said Sheryl, not totally convinced.

"Come, let's go into the house," said Cecy. "We need to show you your rooms and let you rest after your long flight."

We all went into the Chateau; Bernie, Sheryl and JJ to their rooms, the rest of us to the pool.

Breakfast the next morning was a strange meal. We had it by the pool as usual but Bernie, Sheryl and JJ were having dinner, while the rest of us were having breakfast.

Sheryl seemed intrigued by my girls. Once she'd recovered from the shock of them being naked nearly all the time. When my plate had arrived, piled higher than any other by far, her eyes almost bugged out. Then she watched like a hawk as I fed Umber and Julia, kneeling either side of me.

Our meals finished, JJ, sitting upright in his straight backed chair, the only one by the poolside, turned to his fellow band members. "So what are we going to do about Ms Morrison?"

"MORRISON?" That name almost made me jump out of my chair. Melissa came closer to me and became even more wary.

Gerald looked at me in surprise, "Yeah, Morrison, Sydney Morrison. What's wrong with that?"

I thought for a minute, the co-incidence would be too much, but a young woman who seemed to be prepared to kill four people for money, and didn't seem to be worried about any police investigation of those crimes? Well, that was too much of a co-incidence, too.

"You're all from Cumbria aren't you?" I asked, I really didn't know much about their past at all.

"Yeah, we're all from Ambleside," said Bernie. "Sydney was our lead singer..."

"Who couldn't sing, and was only a passable fuck," interrupted Sheryl.

"But she's been a brilliant manager. In the early days she managed to get us gigs that we thought were impossible," JJ added.

"And she takes care of all your accounting and income tax and everything," I put in.

The four band members and Sheryl looked at me open mouthed.

"And I bet you've all got tax bills the size of houses, and that the Inland Revenue are taking you to court for non-payment. And that's why you were all being attacked at the same time."

"How can we find out?" asked Gerald, forgetting that Sasha owned Dempsey, one of the largest law firms in Europe.

"I'll ask," said Sasha. She pulled her phone out of her handbag and started dialling. Standing, she started walking over to a quiet corner where she could talk undisturbed. "Nigel..." we heard her say before she moved too far away.

"So if we're about to be sued, what can we do?" asked JJ

"Easy," I answered, "you hire Sasha's law firm to represent you individually and collectively."

"And if Sydney is who you think she is?" asked JJ, guessing my thoughts.

"Then I'll ask you to give her to me. I'll look after her," I said with just a hint of steel in my voice.

"And you'll kill her?" asked Sheryl.

I smiled, "Oh no, I'll put her somewhere where they take great efforts to keep people alive for as long as possible." I said, remembering the scrap of paper that Paula had given me a while ago.

The five of them stared at me for a long time.

Sasha came back with her news. It was, as expected, bad. "Together you owe the tax man over five million pounds in unpaid taxes. You are also being sued by the managements of the last four venues you played in for non payment of fees, total for them nearly three million." She looked at their shocked faces, "And have any of you tried to use your bank cards recently?"

They all shook their head.

"Well, can I ask that you give them to Karolina and let her do a little checking?" asked Sasha.

Gerald pulled his bank cards from his wallet immediately and gave them to Sasha. He turned to his friends, "Don't worry about Karolina she's Paul's favourite. And if you think that we're rich, well, we're multimillionaires, or we should be anyway," Gerald laughed a little ruefully. "But he," pointing at me, "is a multibillionaire. He has to have a team of accountants to look after his petty cash." He paused to let this sink in. "And Sasha is the Countess who actually owns this little piece of countryside, and everything on it, out to about, twenty miles is it Sasha?"

Sasha made a rocking motion with her hand.

"So neither of them have any reason to steal the little we poor millionaires have," Gerald finished.

Sheryl looked at him then dipped into her handbag for her purse. She extracted three cards and handed them to Sasha. JJ and Bernie gave up their cards too.

Sasha took the cards and went inside.

"What can she do even if we have been robbed?" Sheryl asked, very near to tears now.

"Well, she can trace where the money went, the accounts it went through and where it finally ended up." I tried to sound calm and reassuring. I doubt that anyone who hadn't had personal experience of Karolina's skills would actually believe what she was capable of. "And then she will put tags on those accounts so she'll be informed of any monies being moved in or out of them. And when we give the word, she'll empty all of those accounts, and all of the other associated accounts, and funnel the money back into accounts that you control."

JJ, Sheryl and Bernie stared at me as though I was insane.

"How?" asked JJ after about a minute.

"Don't ask me, ask Karolina. Or rather, only ask Karolina if you've got about a fortnight to spare because she'll go into all of the laborious technical details until your ears bleed," I said with a smile.

Bernie's phone rang, he answered it and went pale with shock. A few moments later he hung up and looked at his phone. "It's Sydney, she's tracked my phone and is on her way to Orleans airport. She said I've got to pick her up from there." He dropped into his seat, still reeling from the shock.

"Girl! My laptop." I called, waving my hand in the air imperiously. Sheryl and JJ smiled, Bernie just stared at his traitorous phone.

Moments later Alina ran up with my laptop. I opened it up and sorted through my sent emails until I found the one I sent to Karolina and Ela with the Morrison's wedding photo attached. I opened the photo and turned the laptop to Sheryl. "Recognise anyone?" I asked.

"That's Sydney's Mum, there's Sydney! She's turned away but you can't mistake her." She said, pointing at Mrs Huntley, nee Morrison.

JJ agreed, "That's Sydney and her mother alright. I don't recognise any of the others though."

I pointed each out, "Michael her eldest brother, Rae her eldest sister, I don't know the third woman yet, but I'm sure that I will."

I stared at the laptop screen for a moment, then carefully closed it, so very carefully lest I let my real emotions take over and reduce the innocent machine to shattered pieces.

"I have a phone call to make; I may be a little while," I said and left for my office.

When I opened the door I saw Paula sitting in my chair.

"You've found one." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes," I answered. I knew better than to ask how she knew.

"Is she coming here?"

"Yes."

"Good." She dialled a number on my desk phone. "Don't worry. I have had a word with Ela, she's arranged for all of the calls from this phone to be..." she paused for a moment, "anonimised, I think is the word she used." She smiled.

She held the phone out to me, "Come, my dearest man, start your revenge. It will purge a few of the devils from your soul and help the dead rest a little easier."

The phone was answered on the second ring.

"Yes?"

I looked into Paula's eyes and sold Sydney Morrison into a life of absolute hell.

Paula and I sat in a cafe seating area where we had fairly good visibility of the arrivals gate of Orleans airport. Bernie and Sheryl were waiting for Sydney's arrival. Bernie still a little pale, his phone was in his pocket but destined for destruction.

Sydney swept out of the arrivals lounge like a tiger on the prowl. She fixed her gaze on Bernie and charged at him. Sydney didn't seem interested in anything but her own agenda and objectives.

"Why did you run away!" she screeched. Her voice, which should have been mellow and resonant, pierced the ears like drills.

She was too busy berating Bernie to notice two girls approaching from the sides. It wouldn't have mattered even if she had, Paula's girls were all round her now. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to run to, she was trapped but didn't yet know it.

Sung Lu was the first to reach her; with a lightning fast strike she grabbed hold of Sydney's wrist. A quick pressure on a nerve junction and we saw Sydney silently cry out in shock and horror, almost as if she knew what was in store for her.

Sydney's other wrist was similarly captured and the two girls walked their prisoner out of the airport and into a waiting van without fuss. Paula and I waited, watching the area around us. It took almost five minutes before we spotted Sydney's security man. He was walking innocently through the concourse, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Only his over active eyes gave him away, darting left and right as they searched for his principal.

Two young girls running through the concourse disturbed him, one actually bumped into him as they raced along, intent on their game. Paula may have seen Alison put a bag containing Sydney's jewellery into his pocket, but I didn't. I did see him touch his jacket pocket a couple of minutes later though. He pulled out the bag and opened it. Obviously recognising the contents, he made a beeline for the Air France counter. A few minutes later he disappeared through the security gates on his way to the departure lounge. I was sure that he'd already phoned Gerald Huntley, Sydney's stepfather, and was now on his way to report in person. Knowing what a murderous thug Huntley was, I wished him luck.

Paula and I finished our coffees and, arm in arm, wandered towards the exit. A car was waiting for us by the kerb.

"Can your girls ask her where she's hidden the band's monies?" I asked.

Paula pulled out her phone and made a short call. She spoke in Chinese so I had no idea what she actually said.

"We must talk about Sung Lu's price," Paula said a moment later. She didn't look at me, just stared ahead giving no clue as to her thoughts.

"I'm willing to pay a good price for her, Gerald really likes her, it may turn into love." I replied.

"You have already paid the highest price I could have imagined asking. The girl is yours to give to your friend. Gerald is a good man he'll look after the girl." She smiled, and reached into her handbag. She took out a small credit card sized piece of plastic. It looked like a security swipe card. "This key card is authorised for all of my homes and training camps worldwide. I would like you to take it." She turned and smiled at me, "I would like you to use it too." She turned to face the front again but she couldn't hide the tear that rolled down her cheek.

"You've given me back the child I sent away to die. My doctors are calling her a living miracle. They are in awe of the doctor who invented the Winter procedure. They say that there's no evidence of brain damage or cognitive loss or memory loss. They want to meet you. I told them that you were too busy." She stopped for a moment, looking out of the window. "You took Mei Su to your bed and let her keep her virtue. She said that she watched you as you held a sleeping child and protected her from her nightmares. She's convinced that you're a gift from your God." Paula turned back to me, tears streamed from her eyes now. "You are quite right that Gerald's song about you is wrong," she stroked my cheek, "it doesn't tell nearly enough about the good you've done for your friends." She sighed, "But Gerald says that people have to be able to believe in the song's subject, and he's convinced that you're a little unbelievable."

The car stopped as Paula leant toward me and we kissed, a long slow kiss expressing our deep affection, no love, for each other.

"Bet he's snogging someone in there," said Sasha from outside. I looked, we were in the Chateau's drive, in almost the same spot as we'd parked when Sasha and I had first arrived, and, again, I have a willing woman in my arms.

Sasha's smile turned immediately to concern when she saw Paula's tears.

"Oh Paula darling, what's wrong?" Sasha asked, her hand touching her friend's arm.

"Him! He's the problem," Paula said with deep feeling.

"Oh my dearest, what has he done," asked Cecy, looking daggers at me.

"There's only one of him. And I have to leave him with Sasha, and that's what's wrong."

"The swine!" exclaimed Sasha as she helped Paula out of the car.

"Pig!" Cecy spat at me as they walked Paula into the Chateau.

Harold approached me, looking at his wife and daughter helping the crying Paula into his home. He turned to me, "You in the shit, Paul?"

"Yeap!" I replied.