Summer Lawns Ch. 09-10 - On to 1988

Chapter9

As Sarah took the bread into her mouth, it dissolved and the drug took effect. Flowing through her body, her mind was overcome with its power and she drifted off.

Back in the circle, the two parents witnessed their daughter disappear in a mist. Finally, they were left looking at one another with the sounds of the battle raging all around them.

Sarah did not have to witness the terrible scene of the Roundhead cavalry charging the village. They easily threw down the barricades and ran through the streets, cutting down everyone in the wake. Finally, they were upon the gates of the Manor itself.

A cannon was brought up to pound the door, and once it was shattered to splinters the men charged through. Killing everyone in their path.

Squire Soams and his wife, knew they had to act fast. Once they were discovered all was lost for them; their family and the secret Order. So the couple came up with an idea.

Rushing to the garden, they made their way through the frightened crowd to the far end. Here was another door, kept locked through the crisis, they managed to slip through and shut it behind them. All this time the people of the village were more concerned with the Roundheads and the sacking of the house.

Here in this secret part of the garden, lay the Maze. Constructed from old Yew trees, it had grown for generations. Here lay a very old power, but not one which must be made known to the outside world. Together they buried the magical tools. The candles and their holders; the wand, and especially the sacred parchments.

"Could we not burn them?" asked Mrs Soams as they dug together, the cries rising behind them.

"Wife they simply would not be lost. They have to lay in the Earth itself. This old Maze will soak up that power and act as a natural passageway. Our daughter will find this out and be able to use it. But for us, we must face our destiny."

Together they held hands and took a piece of bread each in their mouths. But this was not a magical potion, far from it.

The Roundhead Captain found their bodies lying in the Maze when they broke down the door. Satisfied he had killed enough enemies that day, he left. Safe in the knowledge that there remained no enemies of their master in this parish any more.

Some of the villagers did survive, but most were cut down. The cavalry rode on to find the train of refugees fleeing North, and killed them; every man woman and child.

CHAP 10

TERRY'S STORY

Terry looked across the restaurant and wondered how he was going to pay the bill. It was already twice what he held in his wallet and escape routes were growing thinner by the minute.

Of course to try and arrest the problem he bought another large round of drinks.

Everyone laughed, even the bankers from the Arab Emirates, and to impress them was a prize in itself. But for all the good humour and new business contacts he had created, Terry could still not think of a way of paying the bill. How was he to come up with the money?

"Look, old man, what about these ships in Singapore?" Martin Burrows, his solicitor, and all-round party organiser; came over to his table with an idea. "Think we have a buyer, over by the window." He pointed to a group of cigar-smoking men in grey suits, who raised their glasses to acknowledge the drinks Terry had just serviced them all with.

£100 pounds a glass, thought Terry to himself. How was he going to pay for them?

"Sure no problem, Martin. We can draw up the details this afternoon. Ten million wasn't it?" The big money just kept rolling on.

There was the talk of the new money coming out of Russia and the old Soviet blocks. Where was it now that he needed it? Terry would have to fall back on an old trick. That was, in order to impress the bankers, he had to convince them he already had half the security.

In the end, it was the old favourites that always paid the bills. Even if the price was a little stiff. Terry looked across the room to the largest table of all, and the position filled by the largest personality of all.

Mr Cheesman raised his glass and beamed his wicked smile at Terry. As always Cheesman was enjoying himself. He was the sort of man who always came out on top, no matter how bad things were, or dark the hour; Mr Cheesman always won through. He was not the sort of man to go up against lightly, so it was with some trepidation he approached the table.

"Hello Mr Cheesman, how're things?" Very nervously, Terry sat at his table.

"Very well my boy, very well." Mr Cheesman looked around the table at his followers, all hanging on his every word. Money talked here and even the smallest of gossip could make someone a fortune.

"I have a business proposition to put to you, sir?" Terry knew that Cheesman liked the straight talk, and especially liked talk of big money-making schemes.

Always interested in a quick easy gamble, Cheesman listened. "Delighted dear boy, delighted. Prey tell?"

"Well, we have these ships in Singapore. The deal is watertight." Terry leaned across the table as if he was telling him something in confidence. "We are about to sell them on, and I wondered if you would be interested in sharing in the profits?"

Terry smiled a wicked smile to the older man and waited.

In all his many years Cheesman had never missed an opportunity to make money. Through the boom and bust times of the '60s and '70s; it was Cheesman who moved money around in oil; then property; then in the biggest coup of all, commodities. Now he had more money than he could ever possibly spend, but never a man to let that hold him back; he was interested.

"Singapore eh?" Cheesman ate a little more food and thought the problem over for a few seconds. All faces were turned to him now, and he knew it. This was when he was at his best, being cruel. "Well, I can help you if, you, young Terry, can help me?"

"Certainly Mr Cheesman, anything I can. You only have to ask." Terry was worried now but did not let it show.

"Good, then come round to my offices this afternoon, and we will see what we can do." Cheesman smiled and handed him his card. "Bring this, and they will show you my special problem."

"I shall try my best sir," replied Terry taking the card. He knew this was like drinking from the poisoned challis, but what else could he do.

"Consider those ships as good as sold. I'm sure we can help each other."

With that, Terry went around the room closing the deal. With the word from Cheesman the money flowed. All it took was one banker to give the nod and they were coming to Terry's table to pledge money. Once the big money flowed in, there was no trouble buying the ships, and money moved around the world.

Far away on the other side of the world, the magic worked. The ships were loaded and set sail, with just a few phone calls from London, and Terry had to admit he felt like a god with such power.

So it was with even more trepidation that he walked through the heavy doors of Mr Cheesman's Mayfair offices. The army of staff rushed to his aid on the spot. With security all around, and personal assistants attending everything he could wish for, Terry could see why people liked doing business with Cheesman. All this could easily go to your head, and even though he had come from the school of hard knocks, Terry was on his guard.

After handing over the special business card, Terry saw the look on their faces, as they read what Cheesman had written. It was some sort of coded signal to only them, but whatever it was, it worked, and quickly the man was brought into an office.

At first, it seemed like any other- office come studio- untidy with people working at computers and passing pieces of paper about. As Terry wandered about the studio part of the scene, the penny dropped. It was a photographic studio.

Now there had been certain rumours going around London, as to Cheesman's latest business venture. Even worse than it was dying on its feet. With growing horror, Terry realised first what the project was; then what his part was going to be in it.

"Porno!" He spoke the words out loud to himself and looked around, expecting a group of his friends, laughing their heads off.

"We don't use that word here!" A man, he knew, named Wallis walked over to where Terry stood frozen to the spot. Clearly offended by the outburst, he was about to put the record straight. "Mr Cheesman is very offended by the use of that term."

"I bet he is," replied Terry, shaking his head. "I can't be mixed up with this, I have a reputation, for God's sake."

"And whom might you be sir?" asked Wallis staring him out.

"I'm the poor sod who's been sent to peddle this filth." Terry held up a magazine lying on a table. Pictures of naked men and women, all woven around each other, their faces caught in startling posses.

"Oh, Mr Cheesman told us he had someone to solve our problem." Wallis looked around him, embarrassed.

"What problem is that exactly?" asked Terry, watching the models about to start another photo session.

"We do not appear to be able to shift the damn stuff!" Cheesman entered the office in a flourish. Every time he entered a room all eyes turned to him, such was the effect of the man. "A mere trifle my boy, but not one that can't be solved by your talents young Terence."

"I don't want to appear rude Mr Cheesman, but there is a problem here. Now I'm very grateful for the help with the ships. It helped me out of a tight spot." Terry stopped to search for the words.

"Yes I agree, especially as you were flat broke at the time, am I right?" Cheesman flicked through some photos of young girls, as he let the words sink in.

"I was just having some problems with my liquid cash flow, that's all. But this is different."

"Problems, my God we are having more than problems with this lot!" Cheesman threw the photos at the people around him and approached Terry. Now he meant business, nothing was really free with this man, and now he wanted results.

"What are people going to think?" asked Terry facing the man.

"They will think you are trying to peddle a load of wank mags! That's what they will think dear boy! Now let's get down to business." Mr Cheesman composed himself and stretched the material of his colourful waistcoat to calm his nerves.

"With respect Mr Cheesman, you are one of the most successful businessmen in this town. One of the best I've ever met, and I've been around a bit. So if you can't sell this stuff, what chance have I?" Terry looked, first at the man, then the others.

They were all glued to Cheesman, for on this word would hang all their fates.

"Dear boy, that is for you to decide." He laughed and began to think about his next meal.

"But where do I start?"

"Try by thinking about those lovely ships, steaming their way around the globe." Clearly, Cheesman was going to use the purchase of the ships as a threat. For without his support Terry was finished, especially since he was really flat broke.

Cheesman probably knew that, thought Terry. So here he was, caught like a rat, surrounded by half-naked men and totally naked women; all keen for sex, and all awaiting his word.

"Ok, I'll do it."

With that, the teams sprang into action all around him. Mr Cheesman beamed his most winning smile as if life was going right for him once again. The world would turn to his tune and life would present more thrilling adventures to amuse him. How could it be this good?

The head of the department, who had met him on arrival was named Roger Wallis. Wallis was a very questionable character; one of many saved by Cheesman from a life of rejection once they left jail. Only Cheesman would employ people soaked in corruption trials, and who had broken down in the dock of The Old Bailey, because they knew they were as guilty as sin.

Wallis was so grateful for Mr Cheesman's employment, that he never asked too many questions as to his real activities. Not for him the endless trail of Department of Trade and Industry officials, always chasing poor -innocent- Mr Cheesman. Why did they hound that nice man so?

What was more, Wallis brushed aside the horrible things said about his employer in the tabloid rags and carried on. The fact that Cheesman's present interests lay in nude photos and videos, was all to the good. Here were God's children doing what came naturally, and who were they to call it pornographic?

Like everyone involved with Mr Cheesman's enterprises, the word corruption was never spoken. People did favours for each other and helped the boss any way they could.

Terry was to find out just how far people were prepared to go to really help Cheesman. Wallis took Terry to where they made the real hardcore material to see just how bad things were. As they arrived at the shop, buried in the heart of London, Wallis led him through to the back. It was a typical run-down property, the sort the developers wanted to knock through for their real developments. Surrounded by fashionable shops and overlooked by apartments populated by the rich and famous, they were not welcome here.

Inside, Terry could see why.

On the floor before them, were a group of men and young girls. All covered in baby oil, they rolled around trying to make out they were having a good time. Around them was a pack of photographers; one even armed with a video camera. They shot the scene constantly as if awaiting some spontaneous act, which would explain all the attention.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked in alarm.

"These are our new subjects. They are currently making our new production." Wallis simply walked past them as if they were making wicker baskets. "A little more baby oil on that one please."

"So I'm here to try and sell this stuff to a waiting audience?" Terry looked around his new office and wondered what adventures lay ahead. "Hell, it can't be that difficult to sell porno, not in this day and age? People are crying out for it, so what went wrong Wallis?"

"Seems Mr Cheesman ran into some problems." Wallis pretended to look at something really interesting on the desktop computer. Something he knew nothing about.

"You've known the old man for years, what's his story with this lot?" Terry sat back in the chair to try it for size.

"I think you are about to find out," replied Wallis and looked through the dividing glass window at the group of men storming in.

They wasted no time in smashing the place up.

The porno stars and the photographers fled in all directions. Some running naked onto the street. Men with baseball bats began smashing the place up, with showers of glass and splintered wood. Lights and back-drops fell all around them as they set about their work with obvious enjoyment.

"What's going on?" shouted Terry jumping to his feet and staring at the scene.

"Just keep still and listen to what they have to say," came Wallis, close to panic.

Two of the youngest girls ran into the office to hide behind the big desks. They had done this before and it worked that time. Their frightened faces looked up at Terry, who tried not to be embarrassed by their nudity but concerned himself with protecting them.

Then the men entered the office. The biggest of them held out a baseball bat towards Terry, to show he might be next on the list of destruction.

Then a small, very well dressed man in thick glasses, came with a cat-like walk into the office.

"You can put that away now," he said placing his hand on the bat to lower it. "The gentleman gets the message. So, I hope, will your boss Mr Cheesman."

"What the hell has he done to upset you?" Terry wanted to know, still staring at the bat.

"It's what he hasn't done, that upsets me. And whom might you be sir?" The little man walked around the office looking at the naked shots strewn across the desks.

"Terry Draper. Mr Cheesman has asked me to try and make this a going concern. And you sir?"

"Dual- councillor Dual. A going concern eh? That'll be the day Cheesman's concerned with anything." The little man eyed the frightened girls cowering behind the desk. He even ran his hand over their heads like pets.

"So what has Mr Cheesman omitted to do Councillor Dual?" Of course, Terry knew very well what his swindling boss had not done, but he had to hear it from this man in person.

"Not paid me a decent price for all this!" snapped the Councillor. " Nothing moves in this part of town without my say so. And that fat prick just laughs at me when I want what's owed to me. Do you know how much it costs to grease the wheels of the Met now' days? No, I bet you don't. But let me tell you young Terry, the Police don't come cheap any more. Not like this creature here." He pointed to Wallis, cowering in the corner.

"So unless Mr Cheesman comes up with the money, we get closed down, is that it Councillor?" Terry watched the little man as he scouted the room, like a rat looking for a weakness.

"That is it in a nutshell!"

"How much time do we have?"

"Well seeing as you are a new kid on the block, and Cheesman obviously has put you in to sweep a new broom. We'll say the weekend. After that, the developers come in and rip the floors out." The Councillor moved back to the girls, giving them what passed for a warm smile.

"I give you my word, I'll do all I can," replied Terry taking off his jacket and placing it around the shoulders of the nearest girl.

"You do that. But I tell you what, I'll take these two beauties as an instalment on the payment." With his little spiky teeth bared in a grim smile, Councillor Dual eyed the girls. "We could have a lot of fun before the weekend."

"How else are we going to make any money?" thought Terry fast. "These girls are here to make a porno, once they are gone, we can't operate."

The Councillor hesitated for a moment, then waved his hand.

"I'm curious to wonder how you are going to come up with the money, but I'll give you a chance." The little man moved to the door, taking his thugs with him. Just before leaving he stopped and turned back. "Remember Cheesman doesn't deserve any martyrs, so don't go out on a limb for him."

With that, they were gone, and the atmosphere calmed down.

"Just who the hell was that Wallis?" Terry looked angrily round at the man.

"A business associate of Mr Cheesman's." Wallis had wet himself and walked off to change.

"He's the bent councillor that Cheesman pays the protection money to," came the girl wearing Terry's jacket.

"Before he ran out of money," replied the other rising from behind the desk.

"Jesus! We are in such deep shit! How in the hell are we going to make enough money from this place to stop those people smashing it up again?" Terry slumped down in the chair and waited for divine inspiration.

"We are very grateful to you Terry," said the girl softly. "For saving us. That old man would have made us do terrible things, only you stopped him." She let the jacket fall from her shoulders to reveal once more the perfect young body beneath.

"Yes and we want to show you how grateful we are," added the other girl.

Terry could not really believe the girls wanted him, but they had been frightened and impressed with the way he had stood up for them. They both began stroking him and removing the rest of his clothes.

Once his trousers and underpants were on the floor, they all stood there naked. Each girl took turns to either kiss him open-mouthed or play with his cock. Soon he was fully erect, and one girl went down on her knees to take him in her mouth, while the other lay across the table.

"This is how grateful we really are Mr Terry, and we want you to have a good time."

"You girls take some looking after," he replied as he bent down to lick the vagina of the girl laid across the desk.

All around them lay photos of their earlier exploits, but Terry could hardly believe he was here doing the real thing. So just like in the pictures at his elbow, he climbed between the legs of the girl and slid his cock into her.