The Video Tape Ch. 04

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Someone starts to get impatient.
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Part 4 of the 8 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 11/10/2006
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As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. As always I'll also add that we don't always see eye to eye with each other, and often play around with a story after they have read it. Consequently I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

Clarification: The Boys = euphemistic term used by some of the Irish community in London to refer to the Irish Republican Army during the recent unpleasantness.

Chapter Four

Life around my - our - house was a little strange for the next few weeks. Bridget seemed to take the weird situation in her stride. And Emily? Well, Emily took every opportunity she could to rub my nose in it. She was polite and even pleasant some of the time. She - once having replenished her wardrobe at my expense - dressed to kill most of the time. There wasn't a day that, when I came home from work, I didn't have to take a deep breath when I saw her.

I brought her a car as quickly as I could and organised credit cards and things for her. We even went out to dinner together a couple of times in the first week. Afterwards I realised that that could have been a mistake. It could be that I was trying too hard. So when we went out after that I made sure that we were always in company or had Bridget with us.

It was those little digs that got to me more than anything else did. "Have you put a limit on this card? Are you sure you can trust me not to spend too much?" Emily asked when I gave her credit cards to her.

The coldest reaction I got was when her BMW was delivered. The damned delivery guy, whilst familiarising Emily with the car, explained about the tracker anti-theft system. These systems had only just come onto the market and very few people had even heard of them at the time. Emily completely misinterpreted what the system was all about and thought that it was a way of me keeping track of her movements.

Luckily I was away at a business meeting that evening. Bridget, Stella and her husband explained that the system was all about the police recovering the car quickly if it was stolen.

Emily apologised for the cryptic and somewhat interesting phone call I'd received from her at the office that day. I knew Emily was no stranger to strong language, but I don't think I've ever heard that many blasphemies strung together in one sentence before. Actually she kissed me - on the cheek - when I got home the following morning and told me how much she loved the car.

+++++++++++++++++++++

"Well, I think we've found our mole, or at least the man who sent that second video tape to you," Inspector Morris said as I entered his office.

"The only problem is he isn't going to be much assistance to us; he's left the country again."

From elation at the inspector's first greeting, I felt suddenly deflated. Inspector Morris went on to explain that they'd managed to track down the taxi driver who had delivered the tape. He'd been on the rank near the railway station waiting for the late night train bringing revellers back from the city centre when the man had approached him and paid him to deliver the package to my office building. He went on to explain.

"With the taxi driver's description, it didn't take us long to find out what hotel the guy had been staying in. He was calling himself John Carter - by the way, that's an alias. His real name is Peter Garfield."

I gave a start.

"I thought that would pique your interest. He's the nephew of Phillip Garfield who was one of the five men that Emily had identified as being in that office that day. It appears that Phillip Garfield is in hospital and from what I've been able to ascertain is shortly about to be meeting his maker. Peter Garfield flew in from Ireland a couple of days before that tape was sent to you. We've managed to find out that he went to visit his uncle in the hospital and then the same evening he sent that tape to you. The following day he flew back to Ireland."

"Are you going to question Phillip Garfield?"

"We can't. I'm afraid he's in a comma following a heart attack and the doctors don't hold out much hope for his recovery. Look, we are keeping a low profile. We don't really want the others to know that we are back on their case."

"What about this Peter Garfield? Are you going to question him?"

"Eventually I think, but not for the time being. In the mean time we've been looking very closely at the other four men. They're a strange bunch, all of them so called entrepreneurs and very rich. These guys seem to play at being businessmen more than anything else. I doubt that you will know that they had all sold their holdings in the company Emily worked for within a year of that first tape showing up."

"No. Why do you think they did that?"

"I should imagine that the debacle with Emily put the fear of God in them, so they distanced themselves as much as they could. Anyway less than two years later, the company went into receivership; I've gotten in touch with the fraud boys over that and a couple of my friends over there are nosing around. We can't do anything too high profile at the moment. Slowly, slowly catchy monkey with those sorts."

"I can't understand why you aren't going to question this Peter Garfield about the tape. Surely he must know something?" I asked.

"Because the other four spend most of their time out of the country nowadays. They meet up every couple of months or so at a hotel that Peter Garfield owns in Ireland. If we speak to him, then it might tip-off the others that the fraud squad and I are looking into their affairs. Look, apparently my colleagues in the fraud squad have been interested in these guys for some time now and I'm afraid the fraud squad take priority in this. As far as they are concerned Emily is just a side show."

"Well, she's not a side show to me!"

"I realise that and so do my colleagues. Don't get me wrong. They are just as interested in what happened to Emily and you. If she wouldn't mind, they would like to speak to Emily as well. It's one thing that ties all the five of them together. I believe the fraud boys will want to arrest all five – well, four - conspirators at the same time. So they are looking harder at things than I can. If they can, they will build a case that involves all of them. The fraud boys are playing their cards quite close to their chest so I don't know how big this really is."

The inspector went on to tell me that his enquiries Stateside had not exactly turned up trumps, but a couple of his FBI contacts had shown a lot of interest in the yacht the five had been on or rather the yacht's owner at the time. As far as he could make out the guy who owned it wasn't a known criminal, but he wasn't exactly kosher either. He was one of those guys that the FBI were sure was up to something. They just couldn't figure out what. Apparently the IRS, the American income tax people, were also interested in him.

A couple of days later, some officers from the fraud squad were leaving the house when I arrived home with Bridget. Emily told me they had just run over the whole thing again with her and asked her what she remembered about the goings on in the company when she had worked there. But as it was many years ago Emily couldn't remember much that she thought they would be interested in. They showed her lots of pictures of people but she only found a couple who were vaguely familiar.

++++++++++++++++++++

Another month or so passed and to me it appeared that nothing was happening where the police were concerned. So I decided to take things into my own hands, as far as I could.

I'd made a good few friends in the city and I started asking questions, as subtly as I could. I was to learn that the five men were a strange bunch. They were known to have control of vast sums of money, which they invested all over the place, sometimes taking over companies whose stock had the unenviable habit of rising once they bought in and falling rapidly once they had sold out again. But whether that was by luck or for some other reason, no one would speculate.

I then resorted to a private detective, but he only stayed on the case long enough to tell me the Fraud squad had warned him off. Apparently they soon heard that he was sniffing around. Thinking about things I decided that I needed a different kind of assistance with my investigations and asked the detective to research some other people for me.

+++++++++++++++++++

At the same time as this was going on, Emily had started talking about gong back to work at the café. This I didn't want and I couldn't understand because she was quite capable of working in an office, somewhere that would have much more sociable hours. I spoke to my personnel department and they came up with a list of vacancies, but Emily would have none of that.

Eventually Stella put Emily in touch with an agency that she knew. All right, yes, that agency did supply a lot of staff to our company and we did lean on them to place Emily into certain temp jobs that were with folks who owed me favours. You've got to remember that Emily's confidence wasn't what it should have been and I was just trying to smooth the path. Eventually an old friend called me on the phone and told me Emily had accepted a permanent position with his company.

Make no mistake here, Emily had earned that offer off of her own back, but if she ever found out that I'd manipulated things the way I had I was pretty sure she'd have killed me. I know she was quite pleased to be in what she felt was satisfying employment again. And it did wonders for her self-esteem.

Stella and I had to be very careful not to let on that we knew she'd been offered the position when she told us about it that evening. My friend apparently did a good job of hiding the fact that he knew me as well. Just what was going to happen if and when we all met up socially God only knows; we'll have to play that by ear.

+++++++++++++++++++

One Friday evening found me entering the public bar of a small Public House in a not too affluent part of the city, not very far from the cafe where Emily had worked, called "The Royal Oak." As I entered I was immediately aware of the throng of Irish voices going quiet. You could have heard a pin drop as I ordered a pint from the barman. Then I turned and looked at the sea of faces watching me. Picking out the man I was looking for, I looked him in the eyes for a couple of seconds and then nodded towards an empty table in the corner of the room.

As he began to stand, I turned back to the barman who was waiting for me to pay him.

"And a refill for Pat as well please," I said to him.

That statement was like someone turning the volume back up and everyone in the place resumed their conversations. Taking the two pints, I went over to the table and sat down. Patrick sat down opposite me.

"Now what would a fine gentleman be wanting to talk to me about?" he asked.

"You know who I am?" I replied.

"You're Emily's husband. I saw you with her at the café."

"That's almost correct. I'm her ex-husband. But I'm trying to correct that little mistake."

"Sounds like a big mistake to me mister. Where would anyone find Emily now, do you know?"

"Yes, she's living at my house with our daughter. I'm trying to persuade her to forgive me for the wrongs I've done her."

"So where does a dumb Irishman come into your plans?"

"Well, Patrick - you don't mind me calling you Patrick, do you?"

"Most call me Pat, but it makes no difference to me."

"No, I know that isn't your real name," a slight change of expression came over the man's face. "Wow, don't panic, Pat. I don't care what you choose to call yourself; what I need is your help."

"And why should I help you?"

"Because you like Emily. I saw the way you looked at her in the café."

"She's a fine lady, much too good for the likes of me."

"Pat, if you don't mind I will not comment on that, as I'm trying to win her back myself. But I'm sure you know how to treat a lady."

"In my day I could woo them all off their feet. But how can I help you and why should I?"

I went on to tell Pat the complete story, after swearing him to secrecy that is. Then I told him what I was planning to do.

"You know they could send you down for a long time for this, don't you?"

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

"Well, with an accent like that, you can't go wandering around over there without standing out like a bloody sore thumb. I think if we do this right, people will think that's it's the boys or one of the breakaway groups. They'll do anything for money."

"That's what I was hoping."

"Give me a couple of days to find some more help. I know few boys who, for the right consideration, will most likely help us."

I gave Patrick one of a pair of new pay-as-you-go mobile phones that I'd managed to acquire which I'd registered to fictitious addresses. I thought we shouldn't make contact on any of my normal telephones. We were about to overstep the bounds of legality.

"Don't you be going saying too much over those things," Pat warned me. "You know, with all the troubles and that, there's folks who spend a lot of time listening in on them. Tea will mean the café, beer will mean here. You understand me."

I understood Pat completely. Just about anyone with an Irish accent at the time could be suspected of being a member of the IRA. There had been more than a few bomb attacks on the mainland.

"Yes, I think so."

"And it'll be a few days before I call you. I've got my own checking out to do before I can do anything. Goodnight to you, Mr E."

Pat got up and returned to his friends. Feeling very conspicuous as an Englishman sitting in an Irish bar, I finished my pint and left quite quickly.

I know that it was at short notice for Patrick and he obviously had to check me out. But the old Ford Transit pick-up wasn't the best vehicle for his guys to use to follow me. I can only assume that it was the best they had available at the time. I made sure they didn't lose me, as I needed Pat's help.

+++++++++++++++++++++

"You're late. Your dinner is ruined," Emily chided me when I got home that night. "Why didn't you call me to say you'd be late."

"Emily, I had some things to do and there weren't any telephones around. Look, I got some things on and I need you to not ask too many questions for a couple of weeks. I might have to go away at short notice. And ... Well, please just don't ask too many questions."

"Why? What are you up to?" Emily demanded.

We beat around the bush for sometime, before I gave up trying to keep it completely a secret from Emily that I was taking matters into my own hands.

"Lets just say I'm fed-up with waiting for Morris and his friends to sort those bugger out. I'm going to take some unilateral action."

"What are you going to do?"

"I told you please don't ask, Emily. The less you know the better. Now I'm going to get showered and changed."

That was the first day that Emily came into my bedroom. She stood outside the bathroom door and pestered me with questions about what I was up to, but I refused to answer her. After a while she gave up and left me to shower in peace.

When I got back down stairs again, I found Emily - now accompanied by Bridget, who had obviously finished her homework - cooking me a new evening meal.

"You couldn't eat the one I made earlier. It was burnt to a cinder," she said.

"Hmm," I thought to myself. "Is the ice maiden beginning to melt." Up to now it had been 'you're late and your dinner is ruined; that's your bloody problem.'

End of Part four.

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  • COMMENTS
19 Comments
DG HearDG Hearover 2 years ago

I agree, good story.

DG Hear

MightyheartMightyheartover 2 years ago

You have my eyes Sir.

Never seen this betrayed & hurt wife on this site.

Great stuff

jtwheelsjtwheelsover 4 years ago
Keep trying to get her back

Money can buy the best help

Ask Ross Perot about getting his people out of Iran

Good story

nancyharpman17nancyharpman17over 7 years ago
Ooh I Like How This Is Going

Even if Emily and Tony do not totally reconcile, having the five men who caused all this to receive the punishment fitting their crime will help Emily's peace of mind. It is the very least Tony can do. It still does not mean Emily must accept him back as her loving husband. There are many divorced husbands less deserving of the status than Tony. He made his bed. Now he must lie in it...without Emily.

TavadelphinTavadelphinover 10 years ago
Slowly, slowly catchy monkey -

He needs to use care here heh

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