Charmingly Ruthless

"I will invite proposals, but I really want Cole Brighouse."

"Why him?"

"I've looked at what he's done in this city. None of his developments look cheap and nasty and his purchasers seem more than happy with their acquisitions."

"Well, that's something but you must watch him like a shark. Developers are basically swindlers and..."

"Hush, Harold or you'll upset your digestion. You are my lawyer. It's up to you to protect my legal and financial interests."

"Yes, quite. Now what will tempt you next on this delightful menu? I'm pleased you brought me here as I tend to stick to plain tucker."

"The word is food or fare, Harold. You sound like a boy who's never grown up. Japanese fare can be as plain as you wish, just be a good boy and read the menu descriptions."

"Yes mother," retorted the lawyer to the woman twenty years his junior.

Later at home, Judith sat waiting for Pru to arrive for afternoon tea. She was sure that Pru would sell her gifted apartment and wondered if Chase would buy it is given the option. She hoped she would, if only for an investment.

Chase had indicated she had money in Lighthouse and would be prepared to place it in the development if Judith or the developer wanted more finance -- the sum would be considerable. Judith was aware that Lighthouse would jump at the chance of investing in a prestige development like this as evidence it supported local growth.

"Oh the webs we weave," she sighed, and then wondered about this Ellen Smith, the director representing Lighthouse. What was she like, how good was she?

Looking at her listing of phone numbers Judith looked up a name -- Mills and called the direct line. "Mr Freddie Mills, please."

"I'm sorry, he's in Australia. Pardon me madam, but how did you get this number -- it is a restricted listing and I am familiar, or so I thought, with the voices of everyone entitled to have it."

"I'm Lady Clinton-Jones."

"Oh, good gracious, Mr Mills' sister-in-law. I'm Fran Hogan, how may I assist you, Lady Clinton-Jones?"

"I had confidential business with Freddie."

"I'm Mr Mills' confidential personal assistant. I would be with him now but he's on a short vacation in Australia rather than a business trip."

"Absolutely confidential."

"Absolutely."

Judith told Fran that she wanted a complete dossier on Ellen Smith. "I have it on file, I courier it out to you this evening Lady Clinton-Jones. I have your contact details."

"You have, but why?"

"I try to have everything on hand that Mr Mills may require."

"Well, fancy that. You realise of course I want the real report -- the one that gives warts and all."

"That is what you shall receive, is there anything else?"

"No thank you."

"Thank you for calling, and have a lovely evening Lady Clinton-Jones."

Judith came off the phone feeling she's been handled by a communications expert.

"I bet Freddie found her overseas, it had to be for a person of that calibre," thought Judith, unaware that Fran had been born and raised not very far from where Judith was standing.

The courier package arrived at 7:45 next morning but the courier insisted that Judith produce proof of identity and sign for it before it was handed over. Judith smiled, thinking she was being given State secrets.

She was astounded with what she had received -- it certainly was warts and all, including some very personal details, very personal indeed! In March 2002 madam had been tested for a sexually transmittable disease after returning from a business trip to South Africa. Fortunately for her the test result finding was it was a very treatable infection probably inflicted by mosquito bite. Judith thought the woman would now be aware of the risk of sleeping in the nude in foreign countries where a mosquito net was desirable.

There were 247 pages to the bound document and eventually Judith found her real point of interest:

Intermediate career goal: Director of International Operations.

Steps towards achieving that goal: (1) Become an executive director of Lighthouse board; (2) become representative of Lighthouse on boards of companies in which it has major investment; (3) become recognised as successfully pushing Lighthouse's interests on such boards; (4) become recognised for excellence in directorship; (5) gain promotion within such boards...

There it was, in black and white -- a confidential document of course. Judith was appreciative of being trusted with this information -- that woman Fran was so damn good she'd not asked Judith to sign a confidentiality document and Judith guessed why that was so. Fran whatshername would have a similar profile on Judith open on her computer as she spoke to Judith and has looked at some kind of security rating against Judith's name.

"My goodness!" breathed Judith not quite knowing to be shocked or impressed. She spent the next two hours absorbing crucial information about Ellen Smith into memory and when finished realised it was as if she'd know Ellen intimately for a very long time.

Judith looked at the accompany note: 'Herein is the information requested; please destroy it completely after use. Lovely to have had contact with you. I'll brief Mr Mills about you calling and the service we provided you. Kindest regards. Fran Hogan. P.S. Say hello to Walton for me.'

Judith wondered about that postscript. What a strange thing for a Wellingtonian to state. Rather than send a note to thank Fran she decided to speak to her, and dialled Freddie's number.

"Good morning, Lady Clinton-Jones."

"So you know who the caller is before you pick up the phone?"

"Yes, for some reason I failed to do that the first time you called."

"So M15 is not invincible?"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, it's nothing, just a reference to British security. What I was calling for was to thank you for the package, now about to be destroyed in my fireplace. Exceedingly useful. Now, what was meant by that ending to your note, 'Say hello to Walton for me'? It has me intrigued."

"It was born in Rossiter Street in Walton and lived all my life there till I came here to Wellington to university."

"Good heavens, so your folk still live here."

"No, Lady Clinton-Jones. My parents are dead and I was an only child; there are no other relatives in this country."

"Oh dear, I am so sorry. Look, you must call me Judith and you must come and stay here one weekend. I have a guesthouse so you can bring someone if you wish. I'll write you tonight. I do want you to come."

Judith caught the tiny gasp from Fran, and then silence as she gathered herself to speak.

"I'd like that, indeed I would adore to visit and accept your hospitality, Lady-er-Judith."

"Well, that's settled. Please come soon dear."

A few minutes later Pru arrived and mother and daughter began working on a draft invitation to the three local property developers of substance to submit a redevelopment proposal. Pru also had contact details of two Wellington developers, insisting that because of the amount of money involved they could be very interested in such an out-of-hometown development.

The next afternoon two of the three local developers and one from Wellington phoned seeking times to make an inspection and to talk to Lady Clinton-Jones. Judith was disappointed that Cole Brighouse had not responded -- she thought he'd be the first.

Just on nightfall her cook answered the door and advised Judith that a Mr Brighouse was waiting in the foyer wanting to see her. Although this irritated Judith, wondering why he couldn't use the phone like everyone else, she asked Mr Brighouse be shown in.

He entered looking haggard, unshaven and weary.

"Thank you for seeing me -- here is my proposal. I worked through the night on my concept and estimates and paid through the nose to get my usual draftsman to drop everything and work on the sketches for most of this afternoon. So here you are, madam."

"Call me Judith."

"Very well."

"May I get a drink brought to you? Scotch I imagine?"

"If you don't mind I'm off home to bed. They began pouring the top floor of my parking building at 5:00 tomorrow morning, and I need to be there to ensure the contractors get it right. Good night."

After he'd left, still not calling her Judith, she poured over Cole's presentation and then phoned Pru to come around to view it.

While waiting for Pru to arrive Judith looked at the page headed: Proposed Funding. Lighthouse was listed as providing a large amount -- almost half of the funding with the notation 'approved in principle.' In the proposed structure her contribution was listed as 22% of the total cost of the project which was the estimate of the market value of her land and goodwill ownership of the two prime apartments; in return she would be allocated 22% shareholding of the development company to be called Highlands Apartments which would perpetuate her home named in memory of Iain's beloved part of Scotland.

Of equal interest was the name of another proposed minority shareholder, Pearson Richards ($1,000,000), and other proposed investors with question marks against their contribution: Eagle Investments ($400,000?), Red Ocean Investments ($600,000?) and Lifelong Investments ($1,000,000).

Judith knew that Eagle Investments was the personal fund of Helen and Harold Younger, Red Ocean was the fund operated by Harold's law firm on behalf of clients and Lifelong was the family trust of her fellow director and jeweller, Isaac Goldstein). There wasn't much about where local money lay that Judith didn't know about, although the size of the Richard's proposed contribution rather staggered her.

Now, he'd be just the right kind of chap for Chase -- why hadn't she thought that before? If the semi-recluse got out of those awful leather clothes of his and went to a good barber, Chase might well take a second look at him. She'd known that Pru had fallen under his charm for a while and when Judith found out she'd blown her top, which was the reason why Pru said very little about this David chap of hers. It was time that she asked Pru were his intentions -- oh, damn it, young people these days just didn't regard such things as any relevance. She best leave it be.

Pru came in, excited.

"Let's see the sketches and proposal, mum."

"Right dear, by the way, how's David?"

"He's fine, we're going away this..."

Pru looked at her stepmother sharply. The cow, she'd forced a confession from her that David was still in her life when she's resolved never to speak to her male friends with Judith again.

"We're going to the lake to spend the entire weekend fucking our brains out."

"Oh, that's nice dear. Do enjoy yourself. Here are the sketches."

Pru looked at Judith and shook her head. How was it she could never really understand her stepmother? She grinned, remembering how her father used to almost climb up the wall in exasperation when trying to understand his wife. Thinking about that, the only person she could recall in recent times being completely in tune with her stepmother was Chase.

"Oh God, the design of these units bring a 21st century look to housing in Walton. They are graceful, yet dynamic -- I'll tell you this, they're all sell like hot cakes off the plans. You're got a winner here."

"Proposals have yet to come in from other developers."

"Yes I know, but..."

"Not buts, dear. This is business and big money, our money as well. We must leave no corner unturned in conducting our appraisals."

"Spoken like a Scottish matriarch mother. What does Chase think of these sketches?"

"She's not been invited to see them yet, you come first dear."

"Get her over, get her here now."

"Yes, very well," replied Judith, her fingers shaking slightly as she pressed the phone key pads.

CHAPTER 70

Pearson stepped from the lift on to the granite floor of Chase's apartment feeling almost like a fish out of water, wearing a black suit, though no tie, and carrying his present and a folder.

Chase who was waiting for him stepped forward and kissed him on the lips, and pulling her head back slightly, whispered, we have two other guests: I think you might know them."

Pearson said "Great!" and went straight back in for another taste of those honey lips.

How the hell did this happen? he thought. Where had the mating ritual gone? Hadn't they missed out a number of moves?

He'd expected Chase to greet him shyly, holding out a hand to be shaken and looking coy. But she'd simply moved in and treated him like her lover. What's going on here?

But then Pearson completely lost the plot when she kissed his ear and nibbling it, murmured, "You are so strong and handsome."

Huh? Where's the bedroom? But this heavenly creature was in command.

"Is this for me?" she said, taking the beautifully wrapped box from his hands. "We'll attend to this later, shall we? You're staying the night, of course."

Pearson realised that he was being openly manipulated. This was completely foreign to him; it always had been he who made the moves, orchestrating the bodies coming together as one. Who the hell had changed the game plan! Did he like what was happening?

Almost before realising what was happening, Pearson was steered into the lounge, facing a couple he recognised. Even this kept him off-balanced: how the hell did Chase know Cole and Leah Brighouse well enough to invite them to a formal Saturday night dinner.

Cole exchanged simple greetings and stood just inside the room trying to catch his breath and bearings. The pace of this city life was far too fast for a simple farm yokel.

"Mate," said Cole obviously in charge of drinks. "You look disoriented and appear to have been working too hard. Here's a beer and a whisky chaser."

Pearson grabbed the whisky and tossed it down. That seemed to have his feet feeling again.

"Another one, please mate," he said, holding out his whisky glass like a beggar.

Cole filled it to the brim and Pearson tossed it down like a hyperactive alcoholic.

"Ooooh. That was good. I think I'm back in the real world, where are the ladies, buddy?"

"Right behind you Pearson," said Leah, sounding a little miffed. "And you haven't kissed me yet."

"And I haven't been kissed properly either," cooed Chase with a patently exaggerated sulk.

"Ladies, my profound apologies and please excuse the smell of whisky on my breath," said Pearson, bowing.

Moving in his kissed the beautifully pursed lips of Leah, his hand flat against her butt.

Pearson then turned and gently took his hostess into his arms, kissing her gently on both sides of her cheeks. He then kissed her lips passionately, digging his the fingers of her hand into her butt. Chase groaned, slamming her pelvis against his and mashing their lips together.

"My God," said Leah. "Should we depart?"

"No, it's okay. It's just that we haven't seen each other for almost a week," apologised Pearson, stepping back.

"Please excuse me, I must attend to the dinner," said Chase, sounding shaky.

As she left Leah motioned to Pearson to follow her into the kitchen but he shook his head.

"It's hot in here," said Pearson, running a hand round his open collar.

"I'm almost chilled," said Leah in surprise.

"Me too," chipped in Cole.

"I must be coming down with something," sighed Pearson.

"Yeah, something," said Leah," She and Cole began laughing at Pearson who looked bewildered and kept glancing towards the kitchen.

"I saw a couple of deer when I came through the glade this afternoon," Cole said.

"Yes, it's the rutting season, isn't it? " said Leah, grasping Cole and they fell about laughing.

"Are you guys all right?" asked Pearson with concern, his concerned face provoking another outburst of laughter from Leah and Cole.

Chase came in with a tray of nibbles and Cole poured her a glass of white wine.

"What's that you're holding, buddy?" Cole asked.

The still confused Pearson followed Cole's gaze, aimed at the folder under Pearson's arm. That was sufficient to clear Pearson's head and provoke him to refocus.

"Oh, I hadn't realised Chase had guests. It was just something I was wondering whether I should show her."

"Oh show me!" said Chase, excitement adding to her already high cheek colour.

"It's nothing really."

"Show us," laughed Leah, adding, "Don't hold out on us."

"Chase might be embarrassed," Pearson resisted.

"No I won't, promise!" shouted Chase, aware that something profound was in the offing.

"Give it here, buddy," requested Cole, holding out a big and powerful looking hand.

The folder was handed across.

"Right folk, gather round and have a gander at a piece of red-hot porn."

But it wasn't porn.

"Good God, said Leah, looking at the yellowed paper and the date, October 1983, well aware she was looking at an almost perfect sketch of Chase.

"Jesus," was Cole's gob-smacked contribution.

"H-h-how could you do this?" asked the astounded Chase. It looks absolutely genuine yet in 1983 I was only ten years old -- yet this portrait is me, as I am now."

"It's an image of invention Chase," said Pearson gently. "Please ignore the apparently reality. I was just a boy, fourteen years old, and from memory I had been set a drawing exercise and chose to do the most beautiful woman in the world."

"I have to sit down," Chase said shakily, and Leah rushed to her side.

"Everyone," said a sombre Pearson. "I went on to become a very successful commercial artist before entering advertising agency management. I don't understand the implications of this, but am absolutely confident they are of no consequence. However, I ask you not to repeat to outsiders what you have seen tonight, as Chase's privacy is paramount to me. I had only meant to show this sketch to her and to explain its origins, but even then I was not really certain I would carry out that intention."

"Sure buddy, I won't say a word. Anyway, it's just a fluke, a million to one coincidence. What do you think Chase?"

"I'm inclined to agree."

"Leah."

"Don't press me Cole."

Cole, Chase and Pearson eyeballed Leah, looking nervous as if knowing what was coming.

But Cole persisted. "Your answer please Leah."

"I believe young Pearson drew to a vision."

There was ten seconds of silence and then Chase stood up and said for everyone to sit up as she was about to serve their entrée.

Cole wiped perspiration from his forehead and mumbled he'd get the wine.

"You didn't seem surprised I said that Pearson."

Pearson said, "Best you don't tell that to Chase" and walked, shoulders a little slumped, to the table.

Leah went into the kitchen. Chase turned to her and they hugged.

"Don't be afraid Chase. These things happen from time to time."

"I know and thank you Leah for bringing what you feel out into the open. It sounded more authentic to me that my pathetic belief that it was just a coincidence. Look, keep this absolutely to yourself -- promise?"

Leah nodded.

"Ever since I first met Pearson last Monday night, despite feeling that I really didn't like the man, I felt there was something between us. We went out to dinner and I felt this feeling deepen. We went on our separate ways from the restaurant and since then I had the sense my feelings were entwining with his. When he arrived this evening I went at him like a cat on heat, but there was no change to my feelings; I'd though I'd been blown away by passion. But no only the same gentle feeling was there -- perhaps I could best describe it as a bonding. After the disclosures a few minutes ago, Leah, I have come to the conclusion that we are made for each other. My only problem is getting Pearson to acknowledge this, if indeed the feeling is mutual. My concern is he'd just thinking of me as a hot fuck."

Leah hugged Chase and urged her to be herself.

"Don't try to make things happen. If it's going to happen it will take its own course. Step back and allow him space to make the moves if he feels that way inclined. If he doesn't take action, you've really lost nothing but gained the memory of one fabulously original incident to add to your experiences in life."