CHAPTER 227: In The Bloodstream

Stay off the case, Action...we've got top men...TOP MEN...taking care of the Landgraab murder.  Just stick to your assignment...

Action was pounding the streets of Willow Creek hard this morning as he jogged around the neighbourhood.  It was often a good way to sharpen his thinking when he had a lot on his mind.

My assignment...a stolen diary and a drug overdose gone wrong.  I should be focussing on them but I keep thinking about the anomalies in the Landgraab death; someone tampered with the thermostat and locked the door from the outside.  It was no accident but Detective Schuster's going to write it up as one because he's lazy.

I've always said...'my job, my way'.  Dammit; I have a hunch all three cases are connected and I'm going to prove it!

 

At 13th Precinct HQ Action wasted no time in heading to the forensic lab to get some answers.

"Bibi..." he said to his favourite crime scene officer.  "...did that toxicology report I requested come in yet?"

"Which one?" Bibi replied in her clipped German accent.  "Your official case that you are meant to be working on; the Thomas Green case, or the one you insist on working on even though you have been told not to?"

"Why not both?" Action replied.

Bibi picked up two files from her desk and opened up the first one.  "Mr Thomas H. Green:  There was nothing in his bloodstream out of the ordinary...but we haven't been able to ascertain what caused his massive organ failure.  But there is something of interest."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Something that was found on his person.  In one of his jacket pockets there was a handkerchief and wrapped up in it were two small pills"

"Drugs?  Illegal ones?" asked Action, his interest in the Green case suddenly piqued.

"They tested as amphetamines but one that is entirely new to us:  It is not on our database of narcotics.  But now things get interesting..."

"How so?"

"Traces of that amphetamine were found in Geoffrey Landgraab's bloodstream"

Action said nothing at first but instead looked straight at Bibi as he realised the implications of that bit of information.

"A narcotic that is entirely new, Green, a known drug dealing associate of Malcolm Landgrab has possession of it and Malcolm's father had ingested it.  I've got a lot of questions about this bit of news but my one to you, Bibi, is could the amphetamine caused Geoffrey's heart attack?"

"We don't know enough about this specific drug but in theory a pill that boosts your heart rate in the body of a middle aged man who gets stuck in a sauna..."

"...LOCKED in a sauna with the thermostat turned up to maximum.  Yes...it all adds up!  Bibi, once again you are a superstar" and with that Action gave her a kiss on the cheek as he strode out of the lab and towards the squad room.

"OK, listen up you turkey necks!  We've got a new lead in both the T.H. Green and Landgraab deaths..." he said, his loud baritone voice bellowing in the squadroom.

"But Action, I thought we were only supposed to be working on the Green case" said a young patrolman, Jesse Navarro.

"Turns out this lead is for both cases.  A new type of drug, an amphetamine, was discovered on both bodies.  Here's a tox report I want you all to read.  When you go out on patrol I want you to shake down every dealer, every dope head and fixer you know.  Find me the manufacturer of this drug!"

Action was prepared to lead by example and hit the streets himself, questioning his network of informants and those who he knew had an ear to the ground on the streets.

Of course once a policeman starts flashing his badge around in public they're going to encounter a moral busybody who demands the police do something about layabout delinquents/terrible litter/illegal parking/buskers...

One of his favourite places to hang out and get information from was The Blue Velvet bar on the Willow Creek high street.  Everyone knew Action there and when he entered he was satisfied to see a couple of regulars there who knew what was going down.

                                                

As soon as Action had entered the bar he was recognised by one acquaintance.  She wasn't enthusiastic to see him either.

"Action...you here?" she said with a resigned sigh.

"I sure am, Aime.  How are you keeping?" he replied.

"Clean."

"Good to hear...but maybe you can help me out on a little matter?" he asked.  Aime's eyes rolled; she knew what was coming.

"I just knew you were working.  OK, what is it this time?" she said, with a weary sigh.

"I'll make this worth your time.  The lowdown is this:  A new drug, an amphetamine, has hit the streets and we have two dead bodies on our hands, both related to this new thing.  Have you heard anything about it?"

"You know, Action, I have.  This kid...she's over there by the piano...came in here earlier and offered to sell me a couple of pills:  She said is was a new way of getting high, keep me going all night.  I told her I don't do that kind of stuff so she's been trying it on with some of the other customers but they're not exactly the kind who wants to trip out."

Action looked over towards the piano and saw a mixed race waif of a girl who was wearing a bright orange-red wig.  "Not exactly the inconspicuous type..." he muttered to Aime.  "...and she's no more than 15, I'll wager.  Thanks for the tip off, Aime" he said, passing a $20 bill to her.

Action sauntered over to her and flashed his badge.  "I need to see some I.D." he said to the girl, matter of factly.

"I ain't got none; they're in my other pants" she replied, defiantly.

"That's a shame...then you're going to have to come downtown with me and answer some questions"

"And what if I refuse?" she said, jutting her jaw out in stubborness.

"Kiddo, I'm John Action.  Ask around; I've never lost a fight.  You can come along peacefully or in cuffs; your choice.

The teenager, who went by the name of Aya Chatman, kicked up a stink when they arrived at the precinct house.  

"I know my rights!  I have to be in class in an hour!" she wailed.

"In class?  I thought you had I.D. proving you were an adult" Action replied.

"Erm...I'm a college student" she stammered.

"Oh yeah, whereabouts?"

"Britechester Academy..." 

"It's Britechester University.  So what are you studying there?"

"Erm...uhm...theorem?" she said, unconvincingly.

"Whatever, Einstein, just get in here and answer some questions." he said, shoving her into the interrogation room.

"Am I under arrest?" she asked as she sat down.

"No, not yet...although you illegally purchased liquor in a licenced establishment so I can charge you with that.  And those pills you were carrying on you can get you jail time as well...not least you were trying to sell them in that club, which witnesses will attest to.  So I can go through all that and charge you, then we bring in the lawyers and your legal guardians, you'll go to court, probably get probation if this is your first offence and you'll have a nice shiny criminal record.  Or..." 

"Or what?"

"Or you can help me catch some bigger crooks." he said, laying out his case file before her.

Aya said nothing.  Action continued by showing her a photo.  "Do you know this guy?"  he asked.  Aya took the photo and looked at it.

"Yeah, I know him:  Tom Green.  He died recently but I had nothing to do with that!"

"Do you know who did?" Action asked.

"I...I'm not sure.  One of his dealer pals, I reckon."

"Male or female?"

"Could have been both:  One to give the order and the other to carry it out.  That's the rumours, anyway.  I was told to keep my mouth shut."

"By who?"

"Man...I just told you!  I was told to keep my mouth shut otherwise..." Aya looked tense and anxious at that point and she shut her eyes and put her hands to the temples of her head.

"Who told you to keep your mouth shut?" said Action with more forcefulness in his voice.  "Who?"

Aya looked up at the ceiling and then all around the room before she spoke.  "OK, if I tell you I want police protection" she eventually said.

"That can be arranged"

"Malcolm Landgraab.  There.  He handles the business side, the distribution, but he doesn't get his hands dirty."

"I bet he doesn't...but go on, who does get their hands dirty?"

"This girl...Leanne's her name.  She doesn't look like much but there's something about her that's real scary."

Action's eyes lit up.  His suspicions confirmed by this girl and he wanted to spring into action.

"Aya, I'm going to get a police sketch artist to come and talk to you and I want a detailed description of this Leanne.  Don't leave a single detail out!"

"So it's that obsession with you, Action:  Leanne McGregor, that's responsible for the deaths?" said Chief Amos.  He had called Action in during his lunch break because he was worried his lead detective was going rogue again with his wild hunches.

"I know it is, Chief" Action replied before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"But this sketch you've just had made looks nothing like the original APB sketch of McGregor that we have on file.  Explain the difference, Action"

"Same person, different look.  Plastic surgery, a wig, different clothing and make up..."

"So she changed from a Latin looking woman with black hair and dark brown eyes to a pasty faced, green eyed red haired girl about 10 years younger than she was?  Come off it, Action!"

"I can't explain how she did it, but it's the same woman, Chief.  If our initial assumption is correct and she's ex-KGB then she's already a mistress of disguise.  Look, let me play this hunch out, Chief.  I know this case better than anyone!"

"Ah, but which case, Action, which case?"

Action had gone home to change into a suitable outfit for where he was going to go next.  He had a plan and a couple of helpers along the way; one willing, one not so willing.  His destination was The Kitten Club, where he had membership...but strictly for professional purposes.

Action didn't immediately go into the club but instead walked a little down the road as he was waiting for the two people he had arranged to meet.  One was a fellow cop; Jesse Navarro and the other was his latest acquaintance, Aya Chatman.  Navarro was there to escort the troublesome waif and keep her out of trouble as a condition of her release.  She was there to provide some information.

"OK, Aya, talk me through how you would conduct your business dealings" asked Action when they got to Newcrest; the centre of this drug dealing ring.

"I'd get here at the Bowl-o-Rama about a half hour before the deal was to go down.  There's a dead drop point inside where a message would be left telling me my instructions for the evening." she replied.

"Where's this dead drop located?"

"There's a rack with a brown, chipped bowling ball on it:  No-one would want to use that one so it just sits there.  Down one of the finger holes a note would be placed, curled around on the inside.  I go there and it looks like I'm trying out a ball but when I withdraw my fingers from the hole, the message is now wrapped around my finger."

Action nodded, "Very clever".

"Then I carry out the instructions...either keep a look out for cops, help the client find what he 'needs' or taking the cash to a prearranged place after the deal is done." she carried on.

"But you don't actually conduct the deal yourself?"

"No.  Malcolm handled that and Leanne is his enforcer.  Anyone steps out of line and...." at this point Aya shuddered.

"What is it?  What does she do?" asked Action, now all excited.

"I've seen her....it's hard to explain but....she rarely touches anyone but when she does the first thing anyone says is how cold her hands are but she has a power...I don't know how she does it but she has a way of looking at people that can turn even the biggest, burliest and meanest guy into a quivering jello."

"And where does the meeting happen?" 

"Malcolm sets up the deal and concludes business at the Kitten Club down the road."

"OK, that makes sense; it's a plush and desirable location and I'm sure no one in the staff questions that he's under 21.  OK, that's where I'm going next."

"What about me?" asked Aya.

"You ain't going in there, sister.  I'll have my man, Officer Navarro, take you home.  You're done now."

Action went inside the club and found Navarro sitting by the bar, in full uniform.  Action let out a low grumble and strode over to him.

"Navarro, what the hell are you doing here?  You're on duty!  And what's with the uniform?  You're gonna scare all my informants away!" he glowered.

"Sorry, Action, I didn't think..."

"No you didn't!" said Action, cutting off the now sheepish looking young policeman.  

"Chatman's waiting outside.  Escort her home and check her place over; someone might be watching her.  Make sure the premises are safe."

"On it, sir" Navarro said, quickly getting off the barstool and heading outside.

"What are the Academy churning out these days?" muttered Action to himself.  He took a look around the joint, looking for someone he knew he could put the word out to.  There was no one downstairs so he headed up to the upper bar and gallery and spotted just the right person...

"Hello Deano" he said to a very old acquaintance of his:  Dean Lunn.

"Action, long time no see.  Digging that jacket; cool threads man, cool threads."  said Dean, laconically.

"Thanks ol' buddy.  I trust you're keeping your nose clean." said Action, knowing all about Dean's chequered past with the law.

"As always, Action.  I keep a toehold in the underworld but I don't cross the line into it." replied Dean.  "Now I take it this ain't no social call."

"Am I that obvious?  Yeah, I'm still working on the job."

"Then sit down, Action, I'll call a waitress and get us some drinks:  You do drink whilst on duty, do you?"

"On this occasion I do."

"OK...oh, waitress..." said Dean, clicking his fingers at a Kitten Club waitress who was bedecked in the iconic costume of a black strapless corset bodysuit, black pantyhose, high heels, a collar, white gloves and a cats ears tiara.

"Two bourbons, Miss" said Dean and the waitress nodded and went to the bar to get them.  "What a time to be alive..." mused Dean as he watched the young, shapely woman slink away.

"To business..." said Action, snapping Dean out of his mini-trance.

"OK, what do you want this time, Action?"

Action looked around the lounge to see who was nearby before leaning in closer to talk to Dean.  "There's a new kind of drug that's hitting the streets:  A completely new and largely unknown amphetamine.  Have you heard of it?"

"There's been rumours..." said Dean, in a non-committal tone.  "Ah, here are our drinks.  Thank you, Miss."  Dean and Action waited until she was out of earshot before they continued their conversation.  "You know I don't deal hard drugs, Action."

"I know, but you know who does.  I'm looking for someone in particular; a woman"

"Action, I thought you were steady with that rich white chick"

"Not that way!  She's a suspect.  Goes by the name of Leanne McGregor.  The best image I have of her is this police sketch." Action said, passing a sheet of paper, folded, across the table to Dean.  The other man opened it slightly and took a look.

"Yeah, I've seen her around." he said, calmly.

"Where?"

"Here and there.  Usually in the company of either Malcolm Landgraab or another guy called Luke Kendall.  I can't tell you much about him, unfortunately."

"Luke Kendall...Luke Kendall..." Action mused over the name.  "It sounds familiar but I don't know where from."

"What do you want to know about them?" asked Dean.

"Where they live, where they hang out, who they hang out with, what kind of things are they getting up to that might interest me."

"That's a long list....what do you want me to do with my other hand?"

"I'll think of something.  Can you do this, Deano?  There's a reward for helping me out."

"That goes without saying.  I wouldn't do this for free." said Dean, downing the rest of his drink.  "Leave this with me.  Don't try to contact me, I'll contact you if I find anything."

Dean got up and walked out of the club.  Action nodded, appreciatively. 

CHAPTER 226: Miss Kent's Unpaid Personal Assistant

"No...she's not giving interviews right now.  Goodbye"

*CLUNK*....*BRRRRRRRRRRINNNNNNNGGGGGGGG*

"Hello....no, this is her husband.  Yes, her husband: Neil Humphries.  Yes I know that's not the same name as Kent but Kent is my wife's maiden name and she writes under that.  No, she's not taking any calls right now.  OK, I'll say the Sim City Chronicle called."

*CLUNK*...*BRRRRRRRRRRRINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG*

"Oh what the hell....Hello, what do you want?  Late Night With Adrian Croft wants Suzy on the show?  She's not doing interviews at the moment...yes, I know it's for television.  Look, don't call us, we'll call you....I am well aware of the shortness of news cycles, thank you.  Who am I?  I'M HER MANAGER, THE NAME'S DUKE MITCHUM, OK?  Now thank you and goodbye!" *CLUNK*

"Well, that's the 27th member of the press calling to ask for an interview with you" said Neil, who had just hung up the phone and now proceeded to take it off the hook.

"I'm sorry, hon, I didn't know I'd be getting all this attention after my article got published" replied Suzy, bashfully.

"It's because it got published a day before Landgraab died.  There's a whole media frenzy since that happened." said Neil, thoughtfully.  There were times when he thought his wife was naive in the matters of sensationalist news and that she wasn't prepared for any of this attention.

"Bad timing...I'm not sure about how I feel about Geoffrey's death.  He was very aggressive towards me when he was alive; threatening to get me the sack, trying to put an injunction on my reporting but to go just like that when it was all going to overwhelm him...it's still a tragedy." she said.

"He never got to face justice for all that he had done.  Now it's all the court of public opinion; the rest of the Landgraabs will get their expensive lawyers to mitigate the damage now:  Put the blame entirely on a dead man."

"Neil...that's cynical!" exclaimed Suzy.

"Quite possibly; but I can't help but reach that conclusion the more I think about it" he replied.

Suzy went over to a coat stand and grabbed her handbag.  "I've got to go to work now...thanks for being my manager, 'Duke'" she said.

"Jus' doin' mah job, ma'am" he said in his best John Wayne voice.

Neil then went into Willow Creek to do some more art research for a painting idea he had.  His own work had taken a backseat of late as he had become enmeshed in Suzy's work with helping her uncover clues.  The recent publicity of her work was also getting in the way and he had mixed feelings about that:  Not that she was more famous than him, that didn't bother him, but that the fame got in the way of important things getting done.

After leaving the library he continued down the main street, maybe to check out the gallery, but instead he bumped into Barbara Dubois.

"Barbara, what a nice surprise" said Neil.  He noticed she was wearing athletic gear.  "Are you just going to the gym?"

"I've just been, I'm going home now" she replied.  "So, all the newspapers I open up mention Suzy's name in them so how's it going?  What's it like being married to Sim City's hottest new star?"

"Ah yes, that..." said Neil, his smile disappearing from his face.  Barbara immediately picked up on that.

"Oh, not good then?" she asked.

"It's tough, Barbara, to be frank.  I'm not criticising Suzy at all; she's worked hard and been extremely dedicated to getting that story out but it's the press intrusion on our lives that I'm struggling with."

"And how does Suzy feel about it all?" asked Barbara.

"Suzy's coping well.  She wants to get out and do more stuff and not let the press get in her way but it's difficult for her...they keep phoning asking for interviews but she won't give any...not with Geoffrey Landgraab's death."

"Why's that?"

"Because the press ask if her investigation into the family's history and wrongdoings are in some way connected with his death...as if..."

"...as if he was driven to suicide by what Suzy wrote?" said Barbara, realising the significance of what Neil was telling her.

"They haven't had the inquest yet but the press are running with that angle, yes."

"I'm so sorry you two are having to deal with that.  Look, we must all meet up and go for dinner; the four of us."

"That would be great, Barbara.  When I get home I'll check our diaries and make that happen."

"Excellent.  Listen, Neil, I have to scoot home but you take care.  Don't let this get to you." she said, reaching out with her hand to touch his arm in reassurance.

Neil decided not to go to the gallery but instead head straight home.  He saw a very familiar, and welcome, face at the other end of his street:  His best friend, Andre.

"Andre!  What brings you here?"

"I was literally in the area and I finished my work early so I decided to pop in on the off chance you were home.  You usually are with all that painting you do." said Andre.

"I've just got back from the library.  It's good to see you, man.  What have you been up to?" said Neil.

"Work, mainly.  It's consuming most of my time at the moment."

"Do you have any time for the world of dating?" asked Neil, cheekily.

"As if!  In some ways being busy is good; I spend less time agonising over my lack of a love life."

Neil ushered Andre over to the outdoor porch bench so they could continue their conversation.

"You know, Neil, Suzy's all over the newspapers right now" said Andre, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, tell me about it" Neil replied with a sigh.

"The fame's getting to you, eh?"

"It's not my fame and I just don't know how to handle second hand notoriety, especially when I'm all that stands between the gutter press and my wife!  She's keeping her head down and not granting interviews...which is wise...but I'm like her personal assistant, bodyguard, social secretary and manager all rolled into one when what I really want to do is paint!"

"It's not what you signed up for?" said Andre.

"That's putting it mildly." Neil sighed.  "I don't begrudge any of the success Suzy's had.  She's wonderful and so tenacious.  I think...well...heck, I'm not sure right now."

"Maybe you need someone to take some of those tasks off of you?" said Andre.

"Yes!  That's it!  We need a genuine, professional assistant!" said Neil, his face beaming.

"Well, maybe I can help out.  I'll keep those bloodhounds of the press off your back" said Andre, clapping his hands as he warmed to the challenge.

"How are you going to do that?" asked Neil.

"Just watch...see that guy over there, behind that birch tree?" said Andre, pointing towards a very conspicuous looking man who was peeping at Rindle Rose from behind a tree.  He was even wearing a tan trenchcoat in this 77 degree weather.  When he saw Neil and Andre looking at him, he quickly and nervously looked away, towards his shoes and started pacing around.

Andre stood up and walked over to him.  "Hey you, buddy...you're from the press, I've seen you around.  Now I'm Mr and Mrs Humphries' personal assistant and I'm warning you neither are giving interviews and to move away from this area as you're causing distress to them both and their neighbours."

"Are you Duke Mitchum?" said the reporter.

"Who?  What?  No.  My name is Mr Good and from now on all enquires for Mrs Humphries must come via me.  You got that?"

The reporter shrugged his shoulders and sloped off away.  Andre loosened the collar of his shirt and walked back to Neil, smiling broadly.

Later on Suzy returned home from work and noticed the strange calm that had fallen over not only her home, but the neighbourhood as well.

"Neil...there's something a little different to everything right now...I can't put my finger on it"

"You mean no weirdos hanging around the street corner, the phone's not ringing non-stop and you can enter and leave this house without people yelling 'Miss Kent!  A word with you Miss Kent! What now for you and the Landgraabs!'?"

"Yes, that's it!  Where did they go?"

"Andre's sorted it"

Suzy looked incredulous.  "Andre?" she said, hardly imagining how he's got involved in all this and what he did to make the press go away.

"Yep, my ol' buddy Andre.  He's acting as our press agent for now.  He takes all the phone calls, all the requests and chases away any bothersome journalists hanging around our house." and with that Neil flicked a tomato slice into the air and caught it smack bang in the middle of his salad bowl.

"And there I was thinking you've been having a hard time with all the fuss that's being made around me" said Suzy, still wondering in the back of her mind what Andre had managed to pull off.

After dinner, Neil resumed his painting and now fired up with enthusiasm to finish it whilst Suzy went to work on a plain and simple fashion article for Hey, Wow!  

"It's looking good, darling" she said, looking over to his canvass. "Is that a painting of Granite Falls?"

"It sure is" he replied.  "It's part of a trio of paintings I want to do with that setting.  This is the view of the falls from that clifftop we climbed."

"I'd love to go back there some time...we had a wonderful honeymoon there" she said with a wistful sigh.

"Why don't we then, and soon...whilst it's still Summer?" 

"Ah to get away from it all for just a few days...let's do it!" she said, enthusiastically.

Later it was time for the two of them to go to bed and Neil fell fast asleep almost as his head hit the pillow but Suzy was still buzzing at the thought of getting away to Granite Falls.  But there was something else gnawing away inside of her so she opted not to go to bed just yet.

She crept quietly into the living room and looked over at the pile of books and notepaper that was sitting atop of the entertainment unit.  The work of Patrick Cornelius about the secrets of Sim City.  She had completed the first part, Landgraab.  Now she would learn all about part two:  Victor and Lily Feng.

 

CHAPTER 225: The Amber Folder

 

In the days following Geoffrey Landgraab's death the mood at the company headquarters was not only solemn but filled with tension and anxiety as well.  It was a company where the right hand didn't know what the left hand often did, where rumours of various shady dealings percolated under the surface and that it was prudent to know who your friends were, and who was going to plunge a knife in your back.

Alice Ethington, a pert and efficient blonde girl whose instincts and insights belied her 22 years of age, was not immune to the tension of the office and she too felt that the axe could swing at her at any moment.  Her official role in the company was that of Personal Assistant to various heads of department but in reality she had always been the unofficial eyes and ears of Geoffrey and Nancy Landgraab.

Because of her youthful prettiness people tended to assume she was a sweet ingenue; yes, good at office tasks but few suspected that she was watching, listening and learning about the men who casually flirted with her and the women who would include her in their gossip circles.  Alice had always been this good at watching and listening all her life and she knew when to shut up around those who were more outgoing and influential.

For now she kept her head down and finished off a report she had started compiling last month when she was assigned to some internal security work.  Mrs Landgraab suspected someone in the company was passing secrets to rivals or the press; Alice wasn't told exactly which, but she was told to keep an eye out for anyone acting suspiciously and to go through the files of suspects to see if there was anything amiss.  

It seemed a little futile now; it turned out the informant was Jeremy Saint and he had left the company after turning evidence over to the police, but her report still had to be completed and handed in to Mrs Landgraab.  Alice, ever dutiful and efficient, complied without comment.

Her concentration was interrupted by the arrival of a colleague in her workspace.

"Hi Alice....I say, you look really nice today; that shade of blue suits you." said a young, fairly good looking man who looked nerdy with his heavy horned rimmed glasses and beige cardigan worn over a button down shirt.

"Thank you, Karl." Alice replied, noticing his awkward way of trying to flirt with her.  "Is there anything I can help you with?" she said with a pleasant smile; this seemed to make Karl feel self-conscious.

"It's not me...erm, I mean I'm here on an errand...from the boss." he stammered.

"The boss?  Mrs Landgraab?" asked Alice.

"No...the new boss:  Mister Landgraab:  Malcolm III"

"Oh him...Karl, the office shorthand for Mr Malcolm Landgraab III is 'Big Mal'.  He doesn't mind it."  Alice said as she took the sheaf of paper from her typewriter and put it in a folder on her desk.  Then she stood up.

"Did Big Mal say what he wanted to see me about?" she said as she walked over to Karl.  The young man caught a whiff of her perfume and almost lost his bearings from being intoxicated by her essence.

"Erm...nothing specific, but he asked for you, by name and said it was a matter of some importance."

"A matter of some importance?  It sounds vague enough to be either something trivial...or of dire consequence.  Which would you place a bet on, Karl?" she said with an impish grin.

"I...don't bet, Alice" he meekly replied.

"No...I don't suppose you do" she said looking him up and down before heading off to find Big Mal.

It didn't take her long because he was standing in the corridor right outside of her office.  Moreover, he knew immediately who she was.

"Miss Ethington..." he said, more as a definitive statement than a question.

"Yes, sir?" she replied.

"I hear that you're a young lady who can be trusted...implicitly."  

"Well, sir, that's kind of people to think so..."

"Cut the false modesty" he said, curtly, taking a note of the short hemline of her dress.  She can't be too modest wearing an outfit like that, he thought.

"I need to talk to you about a new assignment; one that requires discretion.  Now let's adjourn to the boardroom and I'll explain what I mean..." said Big Mal, jerking his head towards a door that led to the hallowed ground that was the Landgraab Corporation boardroom.

"Take a seat, Miss Ethington" said Mal as he shut the door to the room shut.  She demurely sat down at the table and Mal sat a couple of seats away from her.

"Miss Ethington, on top of your regular company duties you were recently appointed by my daughter to oversea a departmental security check."

"Yes sir"

"The department you were responsible contained the whistleblower, Jeremy Saint" Mal added, solemnly.  

Alice's head dropped.  "I'm sorry, Sir, I should have been more thorough."

"Perhaps.  I wouldn't be so hard on yourself.  What made you give Saint clearance?"

"He was deemed least likely to be a security risk as he had been sent downstairs for 'treatment' in the machine.  I felt that his two colleagues; Fanshawe and Lew were higher risk propositions."

"A reasonable assumption.  For people of your generation trust in machinery is more commonplace than for people of mine.  I never liked the machine downstairs.  I will have it dismantled and we will return to more traditional methods of influence."

"Yes sir"

"But don't concern yourself with that right now.  I have another mission for you."

Alice said nothing.

"What do you know of Edna Sneedley and the League of Decency?" Mal asked.

"It's a moral majority, anti-permissive society organisation, sir.  It's headed by George and Edna Sneedley, a couple of who live in Oasis Springs.  He's the head chef at the Radishon Hotel and she is a housewife who has recently declared an intention to run in this fall's local city council elections.  The League have 5 members and their most high profile exploit was an anti-Communist protest on the Britechester University campus.  The Landgraab Corporation donate to their campaign funds.  Not much, less than the secretarial pool petty cash fund."

"What's our interest in supporting them?" Mal asked.

"It was seen by the late Mr Landgraab that they could be useful in attempts to break the city council stranglehold of Victor and Lily Feng"

Mal didn't instantly reply but instead let out a hum whilst nodding his head.  "Could Edna Sneedley compromise this company?" he asked.

"I'm not sure.  Her politics are definitely ultra-conservative but we fund them via a system of donations that keeps the Landgraab Corporation hidden from the accounts."

"Very good.  You know so much without having to refer to notes, Miss Ethington.  I like that, I like that a lot.  Miss Ethington...Alice...I'm instigating a new directive for you.  Back when I ran the company full time I had everyone associated with it categorised in one of three folders:  Green, Amber and Red.  Green is for those who I do not see as a threat.  Amber is for those who are under suspicion but no immediate action will be taken.  Red is for those who prove to be a threat to the company and my family and who will be targeted with retribution in some form.  Do you understand me, Alice?"

Alice gulped nervously.  "I do, sir"

"For example, you are in the green folder"

"Thank you sir" she said with relief. 

"And Mr Saint will go in the red folder.  I wish for Edna Sneedley to go in the Amber folder."

"What about her husband, George?"

"No need to give him a designation.  He seems to be a harmless and ineffectual sidekick for his wife.  He knows little of our activities.  But I want to see how things with Mrs Sneedley develop."

"I understand, sir"

"I'm glad you do" he replied, suddenly standing up.  "I won't keep you any longer, Alice" she took the cue and stood up to leave as well.  Back in the corridor she paused to speak with him one more time.

"I will get on to this, sir, and thank you for placing trust in me" she said.

"You're welcome.  Don't let the company down, don't let me down" he replied.

"I won't, sir" she said, before she headed back to her office.

I know you won't.  You know the consequences if you do. Thought Mal.