The Fund. Jeff Edwards

one,’ conceded Justine, ‘but it is an example of how I want to go.’

      Brian broke in. ‘I’m afraid I have to agree with Justine. Money will not get us what we want on every occasion. In fact, if we try to buy our way out of every situation it’ll create precedents. Word will get around that we’re prepared to bribe all and sundry to get our projects under way and people will deliberately place barriers in our path just so they can get a share of the pie. Our unlimited funds will soon become very limited. If we can get a project through for the price of a pair of shoes it will be well worth us investing in the background information.’

      Lana conceded their points. ‘Well, now that we’re to become spies, how is all this information collection going to work?’

      ‘I’m glad you asked,’ acknowledged Justine. ‘You see, we’re going to have projects going on all over the world and the other workers here at The Fund will be dealing with hundreds of government officials from many nations and at all levels of government. When we talk to them about our projects we’ll do so in a friendly way and encourage them to make small talk with us. They’ll tell us things during these discussions that may seem unimportant at the time but could be very significant in the future. We simply record all these discussions and then enter them into our computers. The computers will cross reference the information with other data fed into it and you’ll be surprised what sort of intelligence we can turn up without even looking for it.’

      Eliza added, ‘A minor official told me the other day that the person who I will be dealing with when I arrive in Africa is a big fan of Disneyland. Apparently he’s been to Anaheim several times, so I’ve purchased some rare editions of Donald Duck comics to take with me.’

      Nori smiled at the thought of Eliza the Goth handing over some Donald Duck comics to the leader of an African country in exchange for The Fund receiving water rights to a distant river. That water would then allow an impoverished tribe to move from their previously war-torn lands to start a new life in a safe zone.

      ‘We simply ask to record each conversation?’ asked Brian.

      ‘I doubt that any government official in any country would allow that. They couldn’t cover their gold-plated behinds if something went wrong. They can’t afford to be recorded giving their permission,’ said Toby.

      ‘I agree,’ said Eliza. ‘It must be done secretly. I know just the sort of equipment we’ll need. I’ll get Dad to work on procuring it.’

      Justine continued. ‘After each meeting, or whenever the information comes to hand, it’ll be entered into a laptop computer that everyone will carry. Once a day the information will be encoded and transmitted to our core computers here, where it will be held pending verification. Nothing will be accepted as fact until we can obtain some form of verification from another source.

      ‘It’s still going to be a monumental task,’ said Suzie.

      ‘Of course it is,’ confirmed Justine. ‘We’re going to need a lot of specialised help with this, not only collecting the information but in confirming its accuracy and finally deciding how and when it can be used. We’re going to need professional help for that. However, if we start now, while the videos still have their power, then by the time they’re obsolete our dominant position will remain.’

      Nori smiled. ‘I can just imagine how much information you girls will be able to collect in Paris. I know the way shop assistants like to talk about their other customers.’

      Suzie’s face dropped. ‘I was looking forward to a week of indulgences. Now you’ve turned it into an assignment!’

      ‘The same goes for the boys in Jersey and Jamaica,’ said Ali.

      ‘Spoilsports!’ glared Eliza.

      ‘I’m sure our trip to see the children will be just as harrowing,’ laughed Ali.

      Chapter 7

      Sam stretched his tall frame to loosen his cramped muscles and went to open his balcony door. He needed to let some fresh air into his apartment.

      The three of them had been going over the files all evening and the atmosphere in the cramped flat smelt stale with the lingering aroma of too many cups of coffee.

      They each took a turn in Sam’s shower before changing into fresh clothes. Finally they left the files where they lay and walked across the road to Sam’s favourite café where he led them to his regular table.

      Sloane took Sam’s advice and had the ploughman’s special, a meal guaranteed to send his cholesterol level into orbit, while Bree wisely selected fresh fruit and toast.

      The agents used the opportunity to find out more about their new partner and Sloane was more than willing to regale them with tales from his rounds at the courts. There was hardly a criminal in London that Sloane did not know, from the highest mob leader to the lowest scam artist. They also noted the pride in his voice when he spoke about his daughter Pamela and her university plans.

      Finally, Sloane realised that he had spent far too long talking about himself and deftly changed the line of questioning. He had seen Sam’s MG sports car and used that as means of escape.

      Sam was delighted to tell all about his little pride and joy, but Bree had heard it all before and concentrated instead on her cup of green tea.

      It was during their conversation about the relative merits of various models of cars that Sloane commented offhandedly, ‘That Roller of Jade Green’s must be something! It’s bulletproof, judging by the reports. I can’t find a single instance of her even laying eyes on the thing, so why do you think she bought it?’

      It was a question neither of the agents had previously considered and brought Bree out of her daydream. She looked over at Sam to see if he had any bright ideas on the topic.

      ‘I hadn’t really thought much about that before,’ offered Sam. ‘We had been taken off the case by then and never saw it for ourselves.’

      ‘Who has it now?’ asked Sloane.

      Once again the agents were at a loss. They looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. The car was not something that either of them had considered as relevant. Now their curiosity was piqued. ‘It must be in the reports somewhere,’ said Bree.

      ‘I can’t recall seeing it,’ replied Sam uncertainly.

      ‘Neither can I,’ agreed Bree, ‘but it must be there somewhere.’

      Following breakfast, the trio set back to work.

      Hours of scouring the records proved fruitless. There was no record of the current whereabouts of Green’s car and there had been no reports of its sighting.

      The last notation on the records had been when it was seen parked in front of The Fund, two days prior to the charity ball that Sam and Bree had attended.

      ‘So, it’s fair to assume that someone at The Fund has it,’ said Bree.

      ‘Only there’s no mention of it being present when each of their premises were searched,’ replied Sloane, putting down the report. ‘Your people made a thorough search of all their homes as well as those of their friends and associates. They haven’t reported the Roller being present anywhere.’

      Sam contacted Inland Security headquarters. He obtained the names and phone numbers of all those agents who had been involved in the searches. He divided the list in two and while Sloane made some inquiries of his own, they began to work their way through the names.

      Two hours later they were still unable to find anyone who had set eyes upon the Rolls Royce since the time of the last sighting.

      ‘I don’t like mysteries,’ said Bree. ‘Why would it disappear?’

      ‘Perhaps they sold it,’ offered Sam.

      ‘Not according to vehicle records,’ replied Sloane. ‘I’ve just spoken to a friend down there. Apparently Jade Green used a shelf