Legacy. Jeff Edwards

does Save the Country Fund save? Ethiopia, Iraq, India or the lower blue crested snipe of East Anglia?’

      ‘It can mean whatever you like. Make it up as you go along. Use it to fit whatever situation you’re in at the time. You can even recruit some volunteers to help you and to raise funds. I’m sure the government will be more than grateful if you can complete an assignment and show a profit at the end. Just as long as nobody finds out what you’re really up to.’

      He indicated a pile of papers on a table near the door. ‘That’s the information that we’ve been able to compile so far on Green and her friends. It’s all raw data and no one has been through it yet. I suggest you take it to your new office, move in, and start going through it.’

      ‘Where do we start? Any clues?’ asked Bree.

      John Thorpe’s face became stern as he remembered the past. ‘I interviewed Jade Green while she was in prison. I hoped to exchange the videos for her quick release. It didn’t work. She acted as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. All frothy female and twice as innocent. Swore she didn’t have any videos. I knew she was lying and threatened to take all her assets. She continued to act innocent and cried to make it look real when, in fact, the bitch was laughing at me. She had assets stored away overseas and she knew damn well we wouldn’t be getting even close to her real wealth. The bitch was acting the whole time I was interviewing her.

      ‘Be on your guard with her. She’s as nasty a piece of work as you’ll ever want to meet. Don’t give her an inch. Those videos exist and Jade Green knows exactly where they are. Find them.’

      Chapter Two

      The premises destined to become known as the Save the Country Fund consisted of a run-down shop, with a flat above, on a street lined with similar premises, all exuding a look of long neglect. The government had acquired the building in lieu of back-taxes and had held on to it with no fixed idea what it might be used for. To put it to good use would have cost money, so it had been left vacant and neglected.

      Unlocking the door, Sam and Bree pushed their way in.

      Cobwebs covering most of the open spaces attested to how long it had been since anyone had dared to enter. A counter divided the room in two. Behind the counter they found a desk and an enclosed office. Behind the office were a storeroom and a galley kitchen that led out to a rear lane.

      Upstairs, were two single bedrooms, a bathroom/toilet and small sitting-room.

      ‘Luxurious,’ commented Sam.

      ‘Barely adequate,’ responded Bree, thinking of her two-bedroom apartment with large bathroom, kitchen, lounge and balcony, which she had to share with no one. ‘There’s not even room for a decent sized double bed.’

      ‘I thought we’d have separate bedrooms this time,’ responded Sam with a grin.

      ‘Piss off! You know what I meant,’ she said, giving him a friendly slap on the arm. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘Well I’m not going to spend my precious time getting this place fit to live in. We’re supposed to be conducting an important investigation. You can play mother if you like. I’d like to see you doing tai chi with a mop and bucket.’

      ‘I’m not the janitorial type. I pay a perfectly good cleaner to keep my flat clean.’

      ‘I vote we pay some poor idiot a lot of the government’s money to come in here and clean up while we go down to Walton Village and check out Jade Green.’

      Bree brushed a cobweb from her hair: ‘Sounds like a plan to me. We’ll lock the documents away in the boot of my car and when we get back we’ll be able to move in.’

      A check of the local phone book revealed a cleaning service, to whom they turned over the key to the shop with instructions that they would be back in three days.

      A further listing was found for a furniture rental firm. The agents called to their showroom, placed an order for sufficient furniture to outfit the premises and told them they would be ready to receive the furniture on their return, leaving a sizable deposit from their Save the Country Fund.

      They were finding it remarkably easy to spend the government’s money.

      Using Sam’s car, they called to their respective home units and collected their flight bags, which were always packed and ready to go, as well as their laptops and Sam’s digital camera and telephoto lenses. Weapons were considered and rejected.

      Speeding down the expressway, they soon found themselves in the country and, not long after, reached the turn-off to Walton Village.

      Chapter Three

      Acting like tourists, they booked themselves into the Station Hotel, named either because it was on the same square as the railway station or across the square from the police station.

      They ate a leisurely meal as they watched the locals going about their day.

      It was a typical country village. Most of the businesses faced either the square or the high street, with a few more located in side streets where they mingled with the homes of the villagers.

      The barman said the town’s main point of interest for tourists was the Public Trust estate of Walton Abbey, on the north border of the village extending from one side of the village to the other, and to its the north, with its historical ruins and museum. He added the information that there were numerous small pubs scattered throughout the countryside that were popular with backpackers and walkers and drew their attention to the river they had crossed on their way into the village. He said it had been a dry ditch until recently when Toby Brown had paid to return it to its former state.

      Bree’s ears pricked up at the sound of that name. Most of the documents were locked in her car, but a resume of the people of interest had been kept out for her to read on the way down. Brown was listed as one of the friends of Jade Green. It had been at his court case where she had first reappeared.

      The barman was more than willing to pass the time of day talking and told them Toby Brown could usually be found in his new workshop. He gave them directions and recommended they call in to see his excellent carvings.

      ‘If Toby’s not there, Mrs Green will be able to help you. She’s there a lot now that Toby’s spending so much time with his fiancée, Suzie Ryan from the real estate agency.’

      They followed the barman’s directions to a recently modernised and painted factory just off the main street.

      The top floor was occupied by Grant & Associates, a firm of conservative lawyers who had practiced law in London for generations. This was their first attempt at opening a branch office. The company had decided to open it in a newly developing area to capture the upwardly mobile residents of the new housing estates that were taking over the area.

      The metal roller doors of the factory’s ground floor had been replaced by plate glass, showing off an art gallery that occupied the interior. Tracked spot-lighting highlighted sculptures and paintings and shelves of smaller carvings.

      Sam busily played tourist, photographing everything in sight. It would all be of assistance later on. Especially if they had to conduct a covert operation against the premises.

      Bree entered the gallery and noted that, other than the works of art, the space contained just a small desk, with a swivel chair behind. On the desk was a telephone and small cash register.

      ‘I suppose that’s about all you’d need for a business this size,’ she thought. ‘They certainly run it on a shoestring budget,’

      There were two other couples inside the gallery, each busy examining the works of art. One couple was being tended to by an elegant, elderly female who was enthusiastically showing them pieces, trying to whet their interest.

      Sam finished taking photos