Читать книгу A Better Tomorrow - D. C. Dalby - Страница 1

Maxine Graff stopped the car just by the wall that ran round the French farmhouse. The wall was considerably newer than the house itself. Above the entrance a motion sensitive camera she noticed had locked itself onto her car. Bright and gleaming new, chrome plastic and metal the camera towered on a metal pole above the wall, which, while in a traditional style, managed to look more like a new wall than perhaps it should,

Stepping out, she immediately looked down at the pool of muddy water her expensive right shoe was now in. Then up at the electronic camera eye that had found something new upon which to fixate. She muttered something inaudible under her breath and slammed the car door with more force than necessary. Stepping nearer the camera she allowed the silver box in its weather proof housing to pan and tilt and, she assumed, zoom in on her.

After a few moments the large gates emitted a sharp click and whirred slowly aside. The wonders of modern technology. Where would we be without it. In Maxine’s case, still waiting at a set of closed gates.

Carefully, very carefully this time, Maxine climbed back into her car and drove up the short loose graveled drive to the farmhouse.

Electronic eyes and ears. Loose gravel so an approaching car would be detected and feet would crunch over the little stones. James Maybrick valued his privacy. He could afford to, and, more importantly, he needed to. Even in these dark days.

She parked next to a Range Rover that dwarfed her hired Citroen city car. She stepped out onto dryer ground and opened the boot to retrieve her sports bag. Maxine had been here many times before and the quaint French farmhouse, with its surreptitiously enhanced security, glassteel windows and a reinforced door, were things she took as a given. She paid them no mind.

As she did so the door opened and a young black woman dressed in some kind of retro Victorian gentlemen’s suit came out to meet her. Or at least what a modern designer interpreted to be Victorian. She stood, looking imposing and both very modern and somewhat old fashioned, in the open doorway, staring down at Maxine.

“Ms Graff.” It wasn’t a question and no hand was offered in friendship. “My name is Naomi Drake, I’m Mr Maybrick’s personal assistant.” She looked impassively at Maxine. Whatever she thought she kept it to herself.

“Are you now?” Maxine said, shifting her weight slightly so she was better balanced. “Where’s Grant?” Maxine was more familiar with Maybrick’s regular bodyguard. She hadn’t seen Maybrick himself for a long time, but it would take something very serious for him to part company with Grant. She knew it wasn’t something fatally serious because Maybrick himself was still alive. And also there was little in this part of the world that Grant couldn’t deal with.

“He left Mr Maybrick’s employ recently.” Naomi Drake said. “Would you come with me please?” Maxine didn’t particularly want to go with her. She didn’t know who Naomi Drake was, but she knew, exactly, what she was. The retro clothes were loose enough to allow a concealed weapon. At least one pistol.

“I find that hard to believe.” Maxine hung back, carefully shifting the bag. It only contained her overnight things, but it was heavy enough. Naomi, like most people, was several centimeters taller than her. A suitable whack in the right place could bring her down fairly easily. “Grant is someone who is surprisingly loyal. He’s British, they still have their old fashioned view of how things are done.” Maxine was well aware of the failings of the British character. Everything was a game to them.

“Times are changing.” Naomi said quietly. “With Mrs Maybrick’s death Mr Maybrick is not the man he was. Grant isn’t stupid nor am I. Come inside, Ms Graff.” She stepped aside, “I’m afraid Mr Maybrick’s time is precious and short.” If nothing else that was, sadly, very true.

Maxine gestured vaguely, “Please, after you.” She wasn’t going to let this woman stand behind her. English good manners were all well and good but they were a sneaky people when it suited them.

Naomi shrugged ever so slightly and walked ahead. The house looked the same as it ever did. Maybrick hadn’t a lot of taste in art or general décor, but Maxine reasoned that was a general failing of the English. “Just leave your bag by the stairs, you can take it up to your room later.” Naomi said. She gestured vaguely at a set of narrow, twisting wooden stairs. They looked both quaint and authentic. Maxine knew, from personal experience, they were also designed for someone at least six centimetres shorter than even she was.

There had been a time when Grant would have taken her luggage to her room while she went to speak with Maybrick and his wife. But she did as she was told. Naomi Drake was down by the door to Maybrick’s study. Maxine sauntered over, taking her time.

If Naomi was bothered she didn’t let it show. She didn’t seem to be the kind to let much show, but there was almost a quiet, steady hum of energy around her. Maxine recognized it, she had been told something similar about herself.

The study was just the same. But Maybrick had changed.

“Hello, Jim.” Maxine said softly, looking at the grey, thin, tired figure in the black leather chair. There had been a time Maybrick filled that chair. Big and muscular, with thick black hair. Now the hair had all but gone. Leaving worrying tufts, thin and wispy on his grey scalp.

He nodded slightly. The body was in trouble, but there was still the gleam in his eyes. She was more than familiar with that. It was pleasing to see. If Maxine Graff ever had someone she might have been willing to classify as a friend, it was James Maybrick. If nothing else he’d kept her in business for several years.

She sat opposite him, crossing her legs, and inching her skirt up just more than necessary. Naomi Drake sat nearby, at the computer terminal. Looking like she belonged with the machine/

“Max.” He said, his voice so reedy and quiet even she had trouble hearing it. “You don’t change, do you?” It was a question she’d heard several times from several people, she just smiled and muttered something about good genes.

She could hardly tell him he was looking well. “How are you?” was a bit pointless but she said it anyway.

“Grant’s gone.” Maybrick said. “He was with me for years. Now he’s gone, That’s loyalty for you, isn’t it? One last job and he’s gone.” Grant provided Maybrick with security, a bodyguard. Though now looking at Maybrick Maxine realized the pointlessness of that job. Whatever enemies Maybrick had left would need to do nothing to him. Just sit back and let nature take its course. Nature that, by the look of things, wouldn’t be taking very long.

“I know, your ….” She waved vaguely in Naomi’s direction, “…told me. I’m sorry I couldn’t make Liz’s funeral. I had business.” Maxine was genuinely sorry to have missed Mrs Maybrick’s funeral. She had liked Liz Maybrick a lot. Which was something she rarely said about anyone she met. By nature and necessity Maxine Graff was not a very sociable person.

“I heard. South America, wasn’t it?” Despite being ill Maybrick was very in touch with what Maxine had been doing.

Maxine nodded. South America had been very interesting, if nothing else, a country she had never been before.

“Liz…Grant….most of the staff have gone.” Maybrick said. He seemed resigned. Neither angry nor sad. ”It’s really just Naomi and me here now.”

“A cleaning lady once a week and a nurse.” Naomi said.

Maxine ignored her. Instead she picked up a large manila envelope on the desk. As ever Maybrick had one placed there when she visited. She slid out the contents. A set of printed pages and several photographs.

“Three?” She said, placing the photographs side by side on the desk. They were all men, middle aged. A bit younger than Maybrick.

“The last three.” Maybrick said. “Sidney Fuller, Frank Tomelty and Billy Gull. You heard of them?”

“Should I?” Maxine couldn’t recall ever hearing the names, and she had a very good memory.

“They’re English.” Maybrick said, perhaps unnecessarily. Even though he was based in France most of the people he had dealings with were British. There had been the incident with the Ukrainians but that had been a one off.

Maxine nodded, she paid very little attention to what happened in England, but as Maybrick came from that country she kept quiet.

“Do you know England?”

“I know of it.” Maxine said, “Sorry, I’ve been to London once. But that was a long time ago.” A very long time ago, Maxine reflected, and not a time that had a good ending either.

“How about the north of England?” Maybrick said. “Temple Caneston?” That, She knew, was Maybrick’s home town, both her and his wife had been born and brought up there. Until their move to France.

“I only know what you told me of the place.” Maxine said. Which had been surprisingly little. Neither of the Maybrick’s had been very sentimental about their roots.

To be fair Maxine hardly ever spoke about her early days either.

“She’ll have to do something about her accent.” Naomi said, “I don’t think there’s many Germans there. She’s going to stick out too much.” Naomi didn’t even bother looking at Maxine when she said it.

“You can do an English accent.” Maybrick said, “I mean, you can, can’t you?”

“I can speak with an English accent.” Maxine said.

Naomi blinked, “Have you been watching too many old movies? Nobody in England speaks like that. At least not since the 1930s.”

“You need to loosen it up a bit.” Maybrick said. “She can do it, Naomi.”

“If you say she can.” Naomi Drake clearly didn’t agree.

Maxine said, “All right, how does this sound?”

“Still too posh.” Naomi said

“That’s much better.” Maybrick said.

“I wouldn’t….”

“It’s educated English, Naomi. She’s copying you.” Maybrick smiled.

“She is doing no such thing.” Naomi said, her voice rising slightly. She glared at Maxine, eyes wide.

Maxine had tried to copy Naomi’s accent. It wasn’t right yet, but a bit of practice would soon solve that.

“I’ll work on it.” She said, maintaining the accent.

“She’ll never pass for English.” Naomi said. “There’s more to it all than just an accent.”

“She isn’t going to live there, she’s just visiting.” Maybrick said. “Besides, she’s passed for French, Swiss, and Swedish in the past.”

“You’re the boss.” Naomi said. Though she said it very reluctantly, and Maxine started to think about just how was the one with the power now. Naomi had booted the computer up and logged onto the net. Maxine remembered Maybrick’s wife handling the computer. Maybrick himself either didn’t or couldn’t. She had never seen him use the machine ever. The computer itself looked the same externally, but Maxine guessed the internals had completely changed over the years.

“Yes, I still am.” Maybrick said. “Fifty thousand euros.”

Both women looked at him.

“For three people that’s a lot, Jim.” Maxine said.

“All upfront.” Maybrick said.

“Oh, no , that is not a good idea.” Naomi said. “Not at all.”

“Who did you just say was the boss?” Maybrick said. “One of us here is and I don’t think it’s you.”

“What’s to stop Blondie here running off with the money?” Naomi said. “Grant isn’t around to make sure she doesn’t.” Actually Naomi was pretty confident even Grant wouldn’t be able to stop Maxine if she took it into her head to run off with the money but she wasn’t about to mention that.

“Maxine won’t do that.” Maybrick said firmly. He was far too trusting, and far too ready to put his trust in someone like Maxine Graff. Perhaps he hadn’t yet made the connection that everyone has a price and if Maxine were paid to do away with Maybrick she’d take the payment.

“Too bloody true she won’t.” Naomi said. Or else he, quite simply, no longer cared. He knew his time was up and so that was that. It no didn’t matter who he trusted or didn’t trust any more. He wouldn’t be around to see the consequences.

Maybrick raised another smile. “There you are. If she does that can be your job.” He appeared to find that amusing. Gallows humour. Let’s all see if we can kill each other.

“I could deal with those three men too.” Naomi said. “You know I could.”

“I need you here.”

“If she takes the money…”

“I’m not going to take the money and run.” Maxine said.

“If she does then I won’t need you here.” Maybrick said. “And you can deal with those men after.”

“Some of us still have professional standards.” Maxine said. “You can pay half now and the rest later.”

“All upfront.” Maybrick said, “Naomi, do it, please.”

“Very well, if that’s what you want.” Naomi said, “It’s not how I would do it.” She called up an online banking site. “We have your paying in codes.” She looked at Maxine, “It’s still the offshore account in Jaranda, is it?”

“Yes.” Maxine said. Jaranda was a handy little island, a tropical paradise which was both a tax haven and a destination for the beautiful people of the world. So long as they had lots of money. Staying there was extortionately expensive, and it was located just outside the Islamic International Annex so the Americans did keep an eye on the place. But the overall compensations did make up for any problems, either financial, social or political.

“Fifty thousand euros.” Naomi looked at Maybrick, “I hope you’re very sure about this.”

“Pay it over.” Maybrick said.

Naomi Drake shook her head, and she waited just a little bit longer than necessary. But she carried out the appropriate mouse clicks. “This is far more money than you’ve ever paid her in the past for one job. Or even three jobs.”

Maxine decided to ignore the comments. She said, “Is there time scale you want this doing in?”

“Do it quickly, but don’t rush it.” Maybrick said. “Use your own judgment.”

Naomi closed the computer down.

Maxine said, “Don’t worry, Jim. In a little while you’ll feel better.”

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