RAD

The next day passed quietly. Stanley was busy make arrangements for William and consoling his family. Diana seem to have come through it all in pretty good shape though she did break down in tears at one point mid-morning for no apparent reason other than her reflections on the previous day.

The tabloids and the airwaves were filled with lurid if incomplete accounts of the events in Cheddar. As she’d requested, Candy was identified only as an attractive undercover operative working with Scotland yard. Similarly, Diana was not specifically identified. The media had been strongly advised not to dig for more specifics on either woman or face charges under the Official Secrets Act. Similarly, the police sharp shooter who’d killed the Irishman with the knife was not identified.

Never-the-less, the anonymous operative quickly nicknamed Pretty Girl was hailed as a national hero. Remo and Candy watched a bit of the coverage on the tube but quickly tired of it. They’d seen the show live. However, Candy did enjoy the nick, Pretty Girl. Little did anyone but her know just how relevant that was to the story. Ironically, neither did Candy.

After lunch, Remo and Derek went off the club’s driving range to hit some balls. Candy stayed behind both to be a friend to Diana and provide protection just in case. Inspector Stone had heeded her plea to allow her and Remo to retain their guns for the time being. He’d even provided them with a hand written note from him authorizing them to carry due to “extenuating circumstances”.”

====================

Tuesday afternoon was William’s funeral. It was a well attended but a somewhat modest affair at the church William had attended in the Notting Hill Gate section of London with burial in a nearby cemetery. Several including Stanley spoke kind words of the departed man. A retired officer that had been the commander of William’s Royal Marine regiment in The Falklands spoke of his bravery and the sacrifice he’d made to protect his comrades in arms. A marine honor guard served as pallbearers. Inspector Stone and a strong contingent of undercover police were also in attendance.

As Remo and Candy were leaving the gravesite for their car, they were approached by the lanky inspector for Scotland Yard. He suggested they take a walk and have some words with him. They walked in silence together till they were well away from any but selected listening ears before Stone paused and started to speak.

“Pay no mind to those two over there.”, started Inspector Stone pointing to two men leaning against a nearby monument. They’re sergeants Watson and Perkins. They’ll be with you for the remainder of your stay in Britain.

It seems you were almost spot on as to the identity of the mysterious shooter. The Somerset boys found a scoped rifle in some bushes up in the rocks above the cabin. The prints on the weapon matched that associate of this Weasel you mentioned one Contessa ______ also known as Contessa The Doll. She wanted in connection with several mob related murders in The States including a quite recent one in Boston. I suppose you two know about that.”

Remo and Candy nodded.

We also found a half empty pack of smokes under some bushes near the edge of the ravine. That spot offers good cover and an excellent view of the front and left of the cabin. Looks like someone was a little careless in their hurry to leave.

Some good prints on that cigarette pack as well. They belong to one Samuel DeVito. That’s the birth name of your Sammy The Weasel. Contessa and Sammy arrived separately in Britain the names Connie Phillips and Sam Mancini. These photos from their phony passports may have fooled the immigration officer at Heathrow. They didn’t fool some of the sophisticated identity matching software we used to scan recent arrivals for a match with archival files your people provided on these two.”

Candy and Remo took a good look at the two photos offered. Remo had no comment. Candy observed,

“This Contessa is a very pretty girl. It’s sad to see one so pretty go so wrong.” Candy paused momentarily then asked “If you know all this inspector why is the press still talking about some unidentified officer doing the shooting”

Stone had no comment on the first part of Candy’s comment but responded the second part before he continued on with the information he wanted to impart leading to the question he wanted to ask.

“A bit of disinformation to the press on our part, Miss Cain. Better for us that these two think their covers are still intact.

Again, Candy and Remo just nodded as Stone went on.

“There is no question in my mind that you two are being stalked by these two assassins. My real question is how this Contessa, a professional hit person, could have missed by so much. Miss Cain was the closest to that Irishman at maybe ten or fifteen feet. As I recall Dawg, you were standing next to me perhaps another ten or fifteen feet further away.” concluded Stone.

“Yea, missed by a mile and just happened to hit a rushing Irish maniac with a knife square in the head.”, added Remo pointedly.

“Certainly begs the laws of probability doesn’t it”, offered Candy.

“It most certainly does Miss Cain. Do you have any idea why this Contessa The Doll would want to save your life Miss Cain?”, asked a clearly puzzled Inspector Stone.

Remo beat Candy in commenting. “The best I can do inspector is offer a reason why Candy might not be their target. While she played a significant part in the Controversial Organics investigation which sparked the interest of those two in us, most of her work was behind the scenes. She was on the golf course that day with us when Weasel took that shot at my client, but they may well have assumed she was just a friend or a girlfriend rather than my partner.”

Candy thought to say something about the Pretty Girl’s Club. However, she’d had enough grief and disbelief on that topic from Remo in the past. Besides, even Candy didn’t think her theory could be stretched to a professional killer.

To say they discussed the matter further would be inaccurate. They stood around together for a good few more minutes more, but no one could produce a theory.

======================

All around the South Kensington tube stop, there are a large number of two and three star hotels. These are by no means flop houses. Rather they are largely non-descript small hotels favored by tourists on a budget and business travelers that haven’t yet made the executive suite. For the most part they are neat and clean if a far cry in terms of creature comforts from London’s four and five star hotels. One such hotel was playing host to two unhappy American “tourists” on Tuesday night.

“I tink you’re making a big mistake, Doll. You’ve read the papers. You’ve seen the same TV programs as me. Dey are all giving credit to some un-named cop for the kill of that Irishman you plugged. We’re in da clear. We can finish what we came to do.”, whined Sammy the Weasel.

Contessa The Doll was unimpressed. “I’m not sure I believe everything I read in the papers, Sammy. Just can’t see some cop trying to take credit for the kill. Think of da risk he’d be taking if they ever checked his gun he’d be blown. And for what -- an inquiry and maybe a pat on the ass?

Sammy just looked at Contessa in silent frustration and let her carry on. The dumb broad was not to be dissuaded.

“Look, Sammy, I well knew there would be confusion and the cops would think one of them done it for while. But they look at dis as a murder. When they can’t match up a shooter wit the dead guy, there gonna start looking for some clues as to who done him. And you was good enough to leave our calling card with my prints all over it.

“Don’t worry, Doll, I stashed the piece good under some bushes. They’ll never find it. Besides I told you ya shouldn’t ought to have got us involved in dis.”, returned Sammy.

Contessa had heard it all before. Sammy’s repetition and ridiculous self righteousness wasn’t going to change her mind.

“Look Sammy, this is goodbye for now. I’m booked on a the first flight to Italy in the morning. My uncle has arranged for me to pick up some new papers there for the trip back to The States. I’m just hoping the locals haven’t found that gun and somehow traced it to my Phillips paperwork yet. Sure as hell they will sooner or later.

You’re still clean for now unless you dropped your wallet on that cliff while you were stashing the piece with my prints on it. I’m taking the tube to Heathrow so you got the car. You still got the job to do. I know for sure The Don expects nothing less. Better not fuck up again. You need to earn some brownie points real bad. He’s pissed as hell about you blowing my cover by being stupid. He wonders if you‘re losing your touch. Capiche?”

“Yea, I Capiche, Doll. You put a good word in with your uncle for me, didn‘t you? You have a good trip. You tell your uncle, the job will be done within a week. You Capiche?”

Yea, I Capiche too. Hey, let’s have a couple drinks at the Continental just down the street before we turn in. No point in us parting on a sour note.

===================

Wednesday was a brand new day. Candy was the first in the Moss household to arise. She found Stanley and two other men already wandering about outside. Curious as ever, Candy went out to see how Stanley was fairing and who these new men were.

Stanley greeted Candy with his normal bright cheerful smile. It was clear from his manner that yesterday had been the day to remember William. Today was the day to start living life again.

“Who are these other two guys wandering around the grounds, Stanley?” inquired Candy after they’d exchanged greetings.

“The one with the red tie is my brother, Alfred. The other is William’s boy, my cousin Winston. They’re all part of Stanley’s Car Service Ltd, Miss Cain.”

“Didn’t realize your empire was so vast, Stanley.”, smiled Candy. Is there really that much call for bodyguard type drivers in London? Had heard it was normally a peaceful town.”, asked Candy genuinely interested.

“You’d be surprised, Miss Cain. There is a great deal of money here in London. With that money comes the desire and often the need for protection.

Still, we do a lot of other fairly straight car service work. In fact, I’ll be leaving today as soon as I get my guys oriented here to handle one of my favorite and most important major personal customers, a London based movie studio. It’s easy and fun work. Mostly I just pick up actors and actresses and deliver them to a location then sit around watching what is going on till its time to take them back. In between, they have me do some occasional gofer work. That’s usually kind of fun too. The best part is I get to meet a good number of stars and rising starlets”, concluded Stanley with the emphasis on the word starlets.

“You dog”, Stanley laughed Candy. Does your wife know about this starlet work?

Stanley grinned broadly. “Actually she does, Miss Cain. Don’t get the wrong impression because I’m a friendly guy and know a lot of people many of whom are women. The wife and I have been married for seven years, and I haven’t strayed a single time.”

“Then what’s with this “the wife” bit, Stanley? Sounds sort of disparaging even disrespectful to my ear. Doesn‘t she have a name?”

Again Stanley grinned broadly. “Oh, she has a name all right, Miss Cain. I’ll tell it to you if you ask though I prefer you didn’t. It’s just an old island custom not to use one’s wife’s name. Guess I’m just old fashioned.”

“Hmm, sorry. I had no idea. Hey, I’d better be getting back in. I wouldn’t want to miss breakfast. You have a great time in movie land. It really does sound like a lot of fun. I’ve always been curious myself to see just how movies are made.”, replied Candy.

“You serious, Miss Cain? I mean about being curious.”, asked Stanley before Candy had time to turn for the house.

“Sure, Stanley, mucho curiouso. Dreamed about being an actress growing up and all like many girls.”

“If you can be ready in fifteen minutes, why not join me today? I know the director well. He doesn’t mind well behaved visitors. It would be fun for you. I believe Andrew Carlisle will be on the set today. I’m sure you’ve seen him in those MI-5 adventure pics he’s done.”, offered Stanley.

“Hmm, sounds like an offer I can’t refuse, Stanley.”, chirped Candy cheerily adding a half serious “Swear your not hitting on me?”

“I swear.”, laughed Stanley agreeably. “You’re a client, and I’m married.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready in ten.”, returned Candy gaily turning for the house.

=====================

The morning was also going well for Contessa The Doll. She was impressed with the cleanliness of London’s version of the subway and the quietness of the quite new looking trains. What crowds there were, were coming into London not headed out to Heathrow. She’d had a comfortable cushioned seat all the way.

Getting oriented in the vast underground stop at Heathrow took a few minutes, but she mastered it. When she got to the departure hall, she could see her flight was listed as being on time. Even the clerk at the Alitalia counter was pleasant. She said cash was no problem when Contessa went to pick up her tickets even quipping that “You don’t look like a terrorist to me, Miss.”

Contessa didn’t realize she had been red flagged from the start till a brawny plain clothes officer tapped her gently on the shoulder. By that time it was too late. Two other officers had flanked her left and right.

It all went down quietly. Few other than those immediately behind Contessa in the queue even noticed anything amiss as she was quietly led away.

==================

Remo had thought the trip to the movie shoot a great diversion for Candy. She didn’t show it, but he knew she’d been under a great deal of stress of late. Stanley quickly shared that still another brother, Reginald had filled in for him on the mornings pickups and would be hanging about until he arrived. Then Stanley turned story teller. He made even the trip to the location near Windsor worthwhile reveling Candy with a non-stop stream of funny anecdotes of things he’d seen and experienced in movie land.

Reginald was another tall handsome man out of the same mold as Stanley and his other relatives Candy had met. He was a younger man and a bit over-awed at having driven Andrew Carlisle to the set.

Stanley teased him that he’d better not get any ideas about trying to take this personal account away from him.

When there was a break, Stanley introduced Candy to Martin Hawthorne, the director. Hawthorne was a friendly man in his fifties and took an immediate liking to Candy so it seemed. He encouraged her to talk with a multitude of questions. After satisfying his hidden agenda, he had a proposition for Candy.

“Miss Cain, you speak very well and seem to be very bright with a quick wit about you. Have you ever done any acting?

Candy had visions of some kind of director’s couch routine in the making but gave Hawthorne the benefit of the doubt and a straight answer.

“A bit in high school then again in college. Suppose you might say I do quite a bit in my work.”, she replied

“What line of work would that be, Miss Cain?”, asked Hawthorne.

“I’m a private investigator in The States. Quite often I go undercover to find out information.”

“Brilliant”, replied Hawthorne enthusiastically. I have a problem. You could be the solution and have a bit of fun and even earn a few quid for the bother.”

Candy was skeptical but heard the man out.

“I have an actress that belatedly called in sick just a short time ago. Why a twenty-seven year old actress that was supposed to be on the set two hours ago finds out at eleven in the morning she’s sick in another matter. The point is she had a modest part to play in a scene I was planning to shoot this afternoon. If I don’t shoot it today, it will mean an extra day of shooting here on location assuming she shows up. That’s both bothersome and expensive. Are you with me?”

Candy was warming up to this and nodded yes.”

You have the right look, Miss Cain. She was supposed to play a somewhat tarty Sloane Ranger type that was a witness to a the murder of her then current boyfriend.

Hawthorne noted a bit of annoyance in Candy’s face.

Please don’t get me wrong, Miss Cain. I have a make-up girl and wardrobe mistress that could make Queen Elizabeth look tarty,”, he laughed

Candy smiled and replied, “Actually, I got rave reviews in my last rather tarty role. Please go on.”

In the role, you’d be interviewed by the story’s chief detective played by Andrew Carlisle. It’s a pretty straight question and answer scene and the character’s only scene. She gets murdered off screen a bit down the pike. An American accent could work but if you could do a British accent all the better. It’ll be fun I promise you. You game?”, ended Hawthorne with a hopeful note in his voice.

Candy didn’t have to think too long on it. She quickly replied, “Me game just don’t want my real name in the credits. That work for you?”

“Sure, smiled Hawthorne. Use any name you like. This is the movies. Few use their real names. Give me a minute, and I’ll fix you up with Margie. She’s one of my assistant directors. She’ll give you the script, rehearse you, and even coach you on a British accent. She’s the best when it comes to accent coaching.”

===============

Sammy The Weasel wasn’t having a good day. He had checked out of his hotel shortly after Contessa had left. He headed his Jaguar for Silvermere without any real plan in mind. He didn’t even try to enter the course. His trained eye picked up beefed up security at the front gate including uniformed officers. He knew it would be Cheddar all over again to try anything at the golf course or the Moss home.

Sammy needed some place to think. He drove some miles further down the road till he saw a sign that offered breakfast and coffee near the entrance to a large trading estate. The place looked a little shabby but Sammy figured how bad could some eggs, toast, and coffee be. No one had told Sammy about working class English breakfast and lunch shoppes.

Once inside, Sammy saw the place was cafeteria style. Sammy was no gourmand, but even to his eye the cucumber sandwiches looked dried out, the meat sandwiches seemed to have but one slice of meat and some lettuce. The scrambled eggs looked even more tired than the cucumber sandwiches. Sammy opted for a coffee and a roll only to find himself drinking mildly flavored dish water.

As Sammy sat with his revolting coffee, he unhappily reviewed his options. He had to pull off this hit. Contessa had clearly poisoned The Don’s mind. Failure or withdrawl could have very serious consequences to Sammy once back in Boston. He couldn’t very well wait for Dawg to come out of his sanctuary at Silvermere. He’d surely be noticed. Besides Dawg might not have any reason to come out. Somehow, he had to lure Dawg out. But how?

===================

Remo and Derek had a mostly pleasant if somewhat frustrating day.

As the morning wore on, Diana could see the men were itching for a round of golf but concerned about leaving her alone so soon after the kidnapping. She would have none of it. Even with one of Stanley’s men and the remaining one of the men Inspector Stone had assigned to watch Remo and Candy, she’d still have the other of Stanley’s men as well as an officer Inspector Winthrop has insisted she let watch the house for the next few days “just to be safe”.

“You two get yourselves on the golf course. I’ll be fine with two bodyguards plus Silvermere security. If even the press can’t get by them, what chance would another lot of IRA have?”, she’d joked.

Their round had gone without any real incident, but the distraction and tension still present was reflected in their scores which were both well over par in the high seventies.

There had been one false alarm when a man was spotted in the wood adjacent to the dogleg turn of fourteen fairway. Alfred and Perkins had both checked him out with guns drawn. It turned out to be a vagabond known to Derek as Jake the Ball Man. Jake had been collecting and re-selling stray balls at the course for years. He didn’t understand what the bother was and assured all that the turn on the fourteenth was the best spot on the course for finding stray balls.

During the course of their game Derek had shared a bit about the problems of his good friend Lord Randolph Barclay. He was a generally very bright and eminently successful man who’d built a large publishing empire. However, he’d fallen victim to some reasonably sophisticated telephone scammers running a company called Consolidated Global.

The Consolidate Global people had presented themselves as a well established Vienna firm with a strong record of success in providing some name firms with pre-IPO financing. Lord Randolph had plenty of free cash. On a whim had gone in for a bundle without any real due diligence or consulting his usual financial advisors.

It was too late when Lord Randolph learned that the firm’s only presence in Vienna was some phone equipment which diverted all calls coming into to Vienna to Consolidated’s real offices in Budapest, Hungary and Bucharest, Romania. In these two countries, security regulation was lax. Enforcement of them was even more lax particularly when the right palms were crossed. Properly motivated authorities didn’t care what happened to the money of foolish rich Western Europeans when Consolidated Global was providing so many well paying jobs (by local standards) for hundreds of their young college graduates with good language skills.

Derek told Remo that Lord Randolph had no serious illusions about recovering much his money. He still had more of that than he’d ever could use. He wanted revenge without exposing his own foolishness to the public eye. He’d pay handsomely for that revenge.

Remo was interested. It was agreed that Derek would invite Lord Randolph to join them on the course the next day so they could get to know one another.

====================

Candy Cain was having a ball. She was to play Tracy Gold, a less than sensitive clubby that had witnessed the brutal murder of her boyfriend in a trendy Windsor club. Tracy’s lines revealed her to be as concerned with flirting with the detective to be played by Andrew Carlisle interviewing her about what she’d seen as with providing the information on what she’d seen. Even Candy didn’t like this fictional pretty girl, but she thought she had some great lines.

The lines weren’t all that many. Candy had them down pat in a half hour. She’d spent the next hour running her lines with Hawthorne’s assistant Margie who helped her add a British sound to her delivery. Candy was a natural and Margie a great coach.

Then it was to wardrobe and make-up. True to Hawthorne’s promise, they made her look extra hot with some tight fitting revealing clothes and make up but just a touch tarty. Candy reveled in her new hotter than hot look. She wouldn’t be caught dead dressed and looking like that in real life but this was the movies.

After one dress rehearsal with Andrew Carlisle, Candy nailed it on the first take. The crew all new she was an amateur and a stand-in. The entire crew broke into enthusiastic applause for the new talent when Hawthorne said that it was a wrap. Candy even caught her first sight of the day of her Scotland Yard shadow applauding.

Candy enjoyed the moment. She even reprised a childhood fantasy or two about Hollywood before returning to reality and her friends at Silvermere.

===============

If Sammy The Weasel had been more intellectual, he might have adapted the well known metaphor about the stages of dying to describe his day. It had started with denial, then moved to acceptance, then a period of intense boredom and finally one of intense pain.

He’d spent a good hour over what passed for a working man’s breakfast in denial re-assuring himself there had to be a better way to get to his target Dawg yet get out with his own ass in tack.

Finally, the acceptance had come. He could think of no credible pretext to lure Dawg away from the protection of Silvermere and his bodyguards. For all he knew Dawg could already have left the country or could do so unknown to him at any moment. Sammy’s masters wouldn’t take kindly to that development particularly with Contessa back in Boston sticking in the knife.

The boredom came in at the library. The library in nearby Windsor was the first Sammy had entered in many years. There a kind librarian had helped Sammy find some aerial views of the surrounding countryside including the golf course at Silvermere. Once she was gone, Sammy had zoomed in on the recent Silvermere photos to find an alternative way in. He found that the course abutted a rather extensive wooded area on its north side. He reasoned he probably could access the far end of the woods without being noticed and work his way on foot to some hidden spot on the golf course. He had no idea when Dawg would next play. However, he was pretty sure he would and was a patient man.

Now the pain was just starting thought Sammy. He had no trouble finding Cappuccino’s Pawn Shop in East London. He had been there before with Contessa to pick up some guns after their flight into Britain. The name had been provided them by his family. Louie Cappuccino was a fence with connections in Britain that reached across the Atlantic. His shop had a basement of small arms.

Despite his name, Louie was neither a latte nor had any of his family that had recently come from Italy. As reflected in his speech, Louie was a product of the streets of the wrong sides of Glasgow and London. His family had been in the ice cream business in Glasgow for several generations. Louie had sought out a different family and a less tiring line of work.

Sammy sensed something was wrong when the formerly friendly enough Louie he’d met on his first visit. This Louie was so cold and business like on this second unexpected meeting. Still, he showed courtesy and respect. He’d taken Sammy into the back room down a hidden trap door into his veritable warehouse of mayhem just as before. Sammy was starting to chill out as he carefully selected the things he’d felt he’d need for this very difficult job. Then the pain had started.

He’d sat down at a table with Louie who recorded what Sammy was taking. Much to his surprise Louie said there would be no charge to Sammy for the merchandise. He said, he’d been talking to some of Sammy’s people who wanted to be sure he had everything he needed to succeed in his project, and they would be good for the tab. This good news smelled very bad to Sammy.

“You been talking wit the big man, Louie?”, asked Sammy

“You know the big man don’t talk to nobody, Sammy -- especially on a phone. Some guy calling himself Vinny said he was speaking direct for the big man. He sounded like some guy with education. He said you’d know who I’m talking about.”

Sammy well knew the guy who fit that description. He was a luitenant in the family that was very close to Don _______.

“So what else did Vinny have to say, Louie?”, asked Sammy almost sure he’d not like the answer.

“Let’s get something straight up front, Sammy, Cappuccino had replied in a dead serious if conciliatory tone. “I’m just a messenger here. I mean no disrespect. I know nothing more about your business than this message much of with is gobly gook to me. It don’t take a genius to figure out your line of work. I don’t want no trouble. I’m just a messenger. Okay?

“Sure I understand”, replied Sammy thinking this message must be bad. This wise guy is scared shitless.

Okay. Long as you understand. The big man is real concerned that you haven’t taken care of some business you was sent here for. This guy you’re here to see knows some bad shit he learned from some old-timer down in Jersey. This old-timer was set to testify but passed away unexpectedly. The big boss is concerned this guy might take his place. Capiche?

Sammy shook his head to indicate he understood. His assignment was now more than a matter of casual revenge. The Don needed Dawg gone and wasn’t about to take any failure by Sammy lightly.

“You got any more good news, Louie?” prodded Weasel hoping that was the all of it.

“Sorry but yea,”, started The Cap. “Your big man is real pissed that you somehow blew the cover of that dame you were with your last time here. Vinny let on that she and the big man are somehow related and real close.

Apparently that’s bad enough Vinny tells me, but now she doesn’t show up in Italy. She seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. Vinny says if the big boss finds out you have anything to do with her being missing beyond the fuck up he already knows about, you’re a dead man walking.”, concluded Cappuccino.

“The last time I saw her she was headed for the train to Heathrow for her flight to Italy. You tell them that’s the truth and I know nuttin else.”, returned Sammy.

“Yea, they thought that might have been the case and maybe the coppers nabbed her. I usually can find these things out. I beat the bushes real good but ain’t heard a word. Either they don’t got her, or they’re being real real quiet about it, Sammy.”

==================

Dinner at the Moss house was a cheerful and tasty affair. Elizabeth, the housekeeper was back from her ordeal none the worse for wear. She made a grand roast leg of lamb with some steamed fresh asparagus and sautéed new potatoes.

Candy’s cheerful tales of her day in movie land and what she jokingly referred to as “her big break” filled a good part of the meal. Remo and Derek had come to grips with their uncharacteristically high golf scores. They made up some hilarious self-effacing “one that got away” stories. Then there was the tale of them dropping to the ground as their watchers ran guns drawn to the woods only to find Jake The Ball Man harmlessly hunting for lost balls to resell.

Over some fresh organic strawberries with fresh made whipped cream, Remo shared the good news of a potential generous client in Lord Randolph.

“The case may well lead us to Eastern Europe.”, he stated with the smile of an enthusiastic traveler. Then he facetiously asked Candy if movie land could spare her for a day to join them for an afternoon of golf likely leading to some talk.

“No problem, Reem”, chirped Candy. “As I understand it, my character gets killed off screen tomorrow morning anyway.”

================

Early Thursday morning Inspector Stone called asking if it would be convenient to stop by about ten with some good news for Candy and Remo he preferred to deliver personally. Even PI’s are human. Good news from the police that had to be delivered personally is about as welcome as help from HQ. They were relieved to find that all of Inspector Stones news was unquestionably good.

First off Inspector Stone made a show of presenting Candy with a very official appearing letter complete with some kind of official red seal at its bottom. The most relevant part of the text read:

Candy thanked the inspector after reading the letter then passed it to Remo and the others to read.

The Inspector wasn‘t done. “Now here is some good news how the Queens people are protecting you, Miss Cain.”, smile the inspector. “One down and one to go. Our people took Contessa The Doll ___ into custody yesterday as she tried to flee the country from Heathrow.”

“Good show, old man”, erupted Derek in delight for his friends before Stone could go on.

“Thank you, Sir Derek, but none of us can relax our vigilance just yet. This Sammy DeVito is still very much at large. For the moment, we have no idea if he has fled or is still stalking Mr. Dawg.”

“Did this Contessa say anything, Inspector.”, asked Candy. “Do we know why she saved my life by shooting that man?”

“Actually, we know quite a lot Miss Cain. Apparently, Contessa finds the idea of life imprisonment more appealing than death by hanging. She became quite talkative in return our promise not to prosecute her in this matter if she would come clean. Prosecuting her for that shooting would have raised a lot of questions we‘d rather not have raised you see.”

“Stone could see some raised eyebrows after his last statement.”

“Don’t worry. We’re not about to set her free. Both the American DOJ and the authorities in Massachusetts are most interested in talking with Miss _____ about several other murders including that recent Glibmore killing in Boston. One of them will be relieving us of her custody once they sort out their own minor turf war as to who gets first go at her.”

“So did she say why?,” pressed Candy.

“Actually she did, Miss Cain. It sounded more like the basis of an insanity defense than the full truth to me. She claimed it was a good deed in the course of her duty to protect a fellow club member. I was there and asked her myself to what club she was referring. She said the Pretty Girl’s Club. She seems to have some fantasy that particularly attractive women have some special bond. Hard to believe how strangely the mind of these crazies can get, what?”, said the inspector shaking his head.

For once in her life, Candy lacked words. She knew the woman wasn’t crazy for that thought, but who would believe her. Instead, she shot a meaningful glance at Remo who nodded that he understood.

==================

Sammy the Weasel in camouflage fatigues had made his way through the adjacent wood on to the Silvermere course without incident. He’d sought out a spot he’d identified from the aerial photos near a turn in the 14^th fairway that allowed him a good view of good portions of the twelfth and thirteenth holes as well as the fourteenth.

He was well equipped for a long even multi-day wait if necessary. In addition to his weapons, he had food, field glasses, and even a portable police scanner with earphones for quiet listening. He was well concealed in place for his long wait before eight.

====================

Lord Randolph was waiting for them at the starting area adjacent to the first tee when their caravan of three carts pulled up each driven by one of their watchers.

“Quite a group you’ve got their Derek.”, remarked Lord Randolph as Derek alighted to shake his hand.

“I suppose it is Randy. You know about the kidnapping of course. I had some foreboding about that and brought on some security. We lost one of those lads to the kidnappers. The black chap driving me is his son, Alfred. There is still another back at the house with Diana. Can’t be too careful you know. As for the others it seems Mr. Dawg and Miss Cain have some enemies of their own quite active in these parts. Scotland Yard has contributed the other two drivers as protection for them while they’re with us here in Britain.

Lord Randolph, a rather dignified looking man perhaps in his early sixties with a great mane of white hair nodded significantly.

Remo and Candy were approaching the two men now.

“But where are our manners? Lord Randolph, let me introduce you to Mr. Dawg and Miss Cain the best private eyes in the world but most no one knows they exist.

A great pleasure, Lord Randolph.”, said Remo shaking his hand.

“The same here, sir.” said Candy offer her hand.

“A pleasure here too. Derek has been touting you two ever since he’s been back from The States…. Oh, and please, we’re all friends here on the course. Please drop the formalities and just call me Randy.

As long as you don’t call me Candice” smiled Candy. “I much prefer Candy among friends.”

“Remo or Dawg as you like, Randy. I answer to both.”, chipped in Remo warmly.

The driver body guards were still all nearby. Derek turned and laughingly told them, “The rest of you lads can call us what you damned please but try to keep it clean. You’ll be judged on how safe you keep us not your manners.”

There were smiles all around. Soon Henry signaled them they were up.

The round proceeded at a tedious pace. Lord Randolph was not much of a golfer by the standard of the other three. He took a lot of shots and was often off searching for his ball. They even had to let two other foursomes play through over the course of the first half dozen holes. The format of this get together was fine for building comradeship, but did little for learning of Lord Randolph’s problem could be accomplished because he so lagged the other three.

At the ninth hole with Lord Randolph at fifty-eight, Derek suggested they call it a day as far as their golf game. They could adjourn to his house for their talk. Lord Randolph has just had his first really good hole and demurred. He asked for at least another couple holes to give him a chance to redeem his game. Lord Randolph was the guest and potential client as well as a nice guy so they played slowly on.

For the most part, the two Scotland yard men walked a half hole or so ahead one on each side of the fairway looking for possible trouble. Alfred stayed close and watchful.

As they were putting on the twelfth, Perkins and _____ came back at a run. Perkins still had his communicator to his ear. He shouted to them as soon as he was within earshot with his hand pointed to a rather substantial greenside bunker.

“Gun on the course ahead. I want all of you flat on the ground in that bunker. No questions just move.”

No one thought to question his order. As soon as they were all down the two Scotland yard men joined them with their guns drawn. They took turns periodically sneaking a glance over the edge of the bunker to monitor the situation.

“What’s the story, Perkins?”, called Remo.

“Some bloke they are referring to as Jake the Ball Man spotted a guy with a long gun in the grass maybe ten yards from the edge of the bend in the fourteenth fairway. He reported it to course security they got the word to us. Just stay down. There are men on the way to check it out.

“That’s way up the hill offered Derek. He could probably see us from there with some good glasses, but he couldn’t hit us could he?”

“We don’t know who he is or what he’s got, Sir Derek.”, returned ____ Probably not but were not paid to take chances.”

Derek took this in quietly. No one else had much to say as they kept their heads close to the ground wondering what was transpiring ahead.

“Here’s an idea.”, offered Derek after a period of silence. “Randy what say you start briefing our sleuths on your problems. It’ll keep our minds off this bloody situation.”

Lord Randolph seemed to consider this for a moment then replied. “I suppose it might but I would feel a wee bit foolish holding a briefing with my belly in the sand and my eyes focused on some bloody ant hill at the edge of a sand trap.”

The others could hear Derek quietly chuckling at a fair appraisal of his jolly bad idea. No briefing was started. For a time each was lost in their own thoughts.

“It makes no sense at all”, offered Remo to no one in particular for no particular reason. “I can’t believe the man is that stupid. What’s with all this urgency. He must have seen how well we are protected here. Surely, he could have waited for a better opportunity.”

“No one had any clarity to offer.

In less than ten minutes there was a call on Perkins communicator. It was all over.

“They’re telling me they’ve got a rifle and a bunch of gear including a portable police scanner. Looks like the villain had some warning from his scanner and made a light weight dash for it leaving his goodies behind. The men are in pursuit, but it’s a big wood. He also may have quite a few minutes of lead on them.”

Gradually everyone returned to his or her feet dusting off the sand as they rose. No one had any interest in more golf. They agreed to adjourn the briefing that had really never started to the protection of the Moss house.

===============

Diana had been forewarned by the watchers. She made sure that a pot of tea and a bottle of something stronger were set out for their arrival. Even Diana opted for a generous glass of Derek’s favorite single malt over the tea as she listened to the tales of harrowing the golfers told as they decompressed. The teas had no takers.

After all had a chance clear their minds of the event with a telling the tale from their perspective, Candy took a stab at some humor.

“Perhaps it wasn’t The Weasel at all. Might well have been a stray duck hunter that lost his pond.”, she offered.

As the group strained to show appreciation for her effort with at least a smile if not a laugh, Derek dryly quashed her theory.

“Not season, my dear Candy.”, he observed

Lord Randolph had a genuine positive take.

“At least I won’t have to record that horrid truncated round against my handicap.”, he said smiling ironically.

The Lord’s sincere comment got some genuine smiles as this golfing colleagues wondered to themselves just what that handicap might be.

The sound of Beethoven’s Fifth announced a call on Remo’s cell phone. Remo motioned to everyone to keep their seats as he answered.

“Oh, Candy and I are just find, Davey, and yourself.”, said Remo early in his conversation.

“I thought O’Leary was to testify and my testimony was going to be redundant.”, he said quietly just a bit later.

“Christ, a homicide, right? When did this happen, Davey?”, from Remo’s lips drew all ears in the room.

“And when did you first learn of this, Davey?”, asked Remo urgently.

“Drowns in his own bathtub on Monday night. You find out Tuesday morning!!!”, he almost shouted into the phone. You do know that even in DC its already Thursday afternoon now! This explains one hell of a lot, good buddy! Did you think to call me sooner with this news?

“Didn’t see that I had a need to know!!, returned Remo his voice still loud and filled with anger. “Tell you the truth Mister “By-The-Book” SEC man, right now I don’t feel any need to testify.”

Clearly Remo didn‘t like what he was hearing.

“You don’t see what I’m getting so upset about? Let me tell you what I’m so upset about. Less than an hour ago, Sammy The Weasel was so anxious to put me in the ground that he risked his ass on a golf course he had to know was full of cops and other security. I’ve been wondering just what was so urgent that a pro like him couldn’t wait for a safer opportunity. As I see it, he saw (or more likely his masters saw) more quickly than you that I’d be needed to replace O’Leary on the stand.

Thanks a lot for the timely heads up, Davey. Christ, Davey, if it hadn’t been for some vagabond they call Jake The Ball Man stumbling onto The Weasel while he was searching for lost golf balls and alerting security, right now I’d be as dead as Candy’s Peonies.” ranted Remo barely in control.

“Well, thank God you’re sorry, Davey. Yea, red tape is a bitch,”, returned Remo sarcastically to Davey’s next response.

“Yea, yea, yea. I’ll be reasonable. How about you trying to be a bit more protective of my ass in the future. Huh, good buddy?…. Full day rate and expenses for prep time and time I waste waiting around to testify. Right?

Remo was calming down but not quite there yet.

“Ya know Davey. I testify a whole lot better with my partner Candy around. Her pretty smiles give me confidence ya know. She has a day rate and runs up expenses too.”

Candy hadn’t seen Remo so mad in ages as he’d been earlier. Now she was cracking up. She could hear his humor was returning.

“That might be a little difficult to swing, huh? Well, let me think about it. This trial isn’t till August right?

Yea, yea, yea. I’ll do that, Davey. You have a good day too.”, said Remo trying to conclude the conversation.

“No, Contessa is no longer part of the picture.”, replied Remo calmly.

“Sorry, Davey, that’s on a need to know basis.”, returned Remo curtly.

“Suppose I could try to clear it. Better you keep your ears open. Maybe you’ll hear something around town.”, said Remo starring at his closed cell for a few moments after he had broken the connection without waiting for a reply. Candy noticed his lips mouth a silent oath.

No one needed to ask for clarity regarding Davey’s side of the conversation. No one would have dared ask if they did. Silence reigned for a good minute till finally broken by Candy.

“So our good friend Davey again has neglected to tell us when it was likely we’d be used for target practice, eh Reem?”

Remo raised his head and eyes slowly to meet Candy’s., “In fairness, not as totally right as before but not far off the mark either, Candy.”, he replied as they held each others eyes.

After another minute of awkward silence, It was Derek who broke it.

“I think we all could use a change of venue to change our moods to hear what Lord Randolph has to tell us about his villains. My library is quite a comfortable place. What say we all adjourn there.”

Diana begged off citing the alleged needs of her plants but couldn’t resist a one liner of her own.

“Besides, Derek, I really don’t have a need to know.”

This brought Remo out of his funk. He gave Diana a smile and popped to his feet. Soon he was joined by the others to move to their briefing to the Moss library.

======================

The Moss Library was a charming room out of another era. It was filled with original Stikley and other Arts and Crafts period furniture and accessories.

It was the first visit into Derek’s inner sanctum for Remo and Candy. She was fascinated by the lovely oak and stained glass table lamps. Remo took a fancy to a pair of charming silver Knox clocks of the period. Here also were the best of Derek’s life time collection of elephants gathered on his various trips around the globe as well as his frequent trips to London’s Portobello market.

Elizabeth brought in a fresh pot of tea and some sandwiches. Soon they were settled and Lord Randolph began.

“Actually, it all started with a bloody phone call at my office. Rachel, my assistant, was at lunch so I took the call myself.”, started his lordship. “It was a rather charming yet aggressive woman with an accent I took to be German particularly since she said she was calling from a company in Vienna. More likely it was Hungarian or Romanian. I’ll never really know for sure. But that comes later in my story.

“Yes, we British should be better with our languages and accents.”, interjected Derek supportively. “Having the best language makes us a bit careless.”

“I was careless about a bit more than that, Derek.”, continued Lord Randolph.

This woman said she was a partner with a Viennese firm called Consolidated Global. She told me the firm was one of the leaders in an area of which I’d never heard -- the placement of pre-IPO’s. She briefly recounted some of the successes her firm had had with some names I well recognized as recent market success stories.

Then she launched into their latest company called Nu Body, a slimming company. She told me they were a major success in The States and were now seeking funds to expand into Europe. They were already building their showcase center in Vienna and would shortly be launching an effort to roll into Britain.

Normally, I would have politely cut her short. I have never been one for picking stocks or dealing with the market. I’ve always had experts. My financial advisors have done well for me primarily with funds and bonds.

However, it was lunchtime on a slow day. Moreover, the woman with the accent had a certain wit and charm about her. I ended up hearing her out.

She seemed quite legitimate only asking me to view her company’s website and their web site on this investment opportunity. Then, she said, I could make up my own mind. She wouldn’t give me its address till I promised I would take a look then make my own decision.

After that, she was off courteously but quickly apologizing for being short as it was a busy day when all in her firm pitched in on a new offering. She promised to call me back the next day emphasizing it was important I have viewed the Nu Body story and that of her company before she called so we didn’t waste each other’s valuable time.

As chance had it, I had a dinner appointment with an important colleague at seven. As I said, the day was slow so I had some time on my hands waiting to leave until it was time for my appointment. I didn’t really consider myself a prospect but had been intrigued by the charming foreign woman and took a look at the website just to pass the time.

What I found seemed quite intriguing. Consolidated Global’s web site was quite impressive in its look, it’s list of the bio’s of its seemingly prominent directors, and some selected case histories. The latter included several of the ones the woman had mentioned. It even had a section about its philanthropic program to promote the arts.

I didn’t get too deeply involved with their numbers and documentation on Nu Body though what I glanced at seemed quite in order and I felt US markets well regulated. More important to me, the concept seemed strong. Their site said Nu Body been successful for a good number of years in The States. I well knew obesity was a big if less well known problem here in Britain. I thought it just might be fun to get in on the ground floor of this new phenomenon with the odd few thousand pounds.

The thought did cross my mind to speak with someone at the firm that handles my money, but it was late and the woman might not ever call again. So I just cleared the thing from my mind and kept my dinner engagement.

The next day was a rather hectic one more typical of my days than the previous. I had left word to put the woman through, but hadn’t heard from her. Frankly, I’d pretty much forgotten about her by the time she rang at about two. She told me it was a very busy day for her too and moved quite rapidly. Had I read her web sites? Did I see the great opportunity? How much would I be investing?

I told her yes to both her first two questions. I then said I might venture five thousand pounds. She seemed chagrinned telling me their minimum investment was fifty thousand pounds. Quite frankly, this took me by surprise at first. Though as I thought on it a bit, it seemed quite reasonable. This was a game for the rich to get richer. Others weren’t required nor wanted.

I asked a few questions. She was very good with answers. In retrospect my questions weren’t the most incisive. She then explained their procedure for funding investments through a prestigious bank I well knew headquartered in Hungary. This added even more credibility to the whole proposition in my mind.

In short, she suggested I start with a hundred thousand pounds. She’d do her best to let me add more later if I wanted though the closing date was coming near. I bit.

She faxed very legitimate looking papers and bank transfer instructions. I returned them and had my bank transfer the funds first thing in the morning.

Several days later I was lunching with one of the chaps that handles my money at Goldman’s London office. I mentioned the matter to him asking that he see that this investment was integrated with the rest of my investments and look after it for me.

I could tell from the look he tried unsuccessfully to keep off his face that something was wrong. He had to be polite, of course. He couldn’t tell me right off that I’d been a damned fool. Gradually I got the message.

This Consolidated Global and Nu Body scheme had been underway for some time. Consolidated Global had even been through several “face lifts.” Consolidated was its third name. It was even on the published lists of investments schemes to avoid of four countries including Britain.

It was a fraud perpetrated out of boiler rooms in Hungary and Romania by parties not clearly known. These two countries, I learned, both had rather lax investment regulations and enforcement less than stringent. Consolidated Global even had its own quite active group of defrauded investors in the FT’s chat room designed to expose such boiler room operations.

I’d been had.

“Did you report this to the authorities?”, asked Remo

“Yes, I did, Remo. They were helpful after a fashion. They told me about the warnings of the Financial Authority and about the discussion boards the FT sponsored on this and a variety of stock frauds. They also assured me they were already looking into the matter. However they said they couldn’t share any details as it was an ongoing investigation. I did say after a fashion.

One thing they did do is warn me was that even under the best of circumstances, it is unlikely that I’d ever see but a small fraction of my investment if even that. They told me that, in general, the types behind these kind of schemes lived high on the hog when they had the money and little was left to seize by the time they got caught. That wasn’t really news to me either. I already considered that money gone. I just wanted justice for those who stole it -- hard justice.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us that you‘ve picked up, Lord Randolph?”, asked Candy.

“I picked up a few things on that Financial Times scam alert board. Who knows how true any of it is with anonymous posters and all. …. Maybe even some of the scammers themselves post. After all, it is on The World Wide Web.”

Candy and Remo both nodded. They well understood Lord Randolph’s concern about the veracity of chat boards.

“First off there seem to be a good number of Americans and Britons involved. This is true not only as the managers of the scam but at the working level in their boiler rooms as well. The early victims speak of their “account executives” having distinct British or American accents. More recent victims like myself generally cite European accents though some still talk of the Americans and Brits.”

“Another thing is that the authorities in Budapest seemed to have given these scammers a bit of bother. They raided their boiler rooms there on some working permit violations. If the press stories linked to the FT board are to be believed, their net didn’t catch any big fish. They held on to the local managers but released all the rank and file boiler room types. They said these people were victims too. If you can believe.

That’s interesting, Lord Randolph commented Remo still staying with a more formal address now that Lord Randolph was moving from new friend to client. Do you have any names at all -- even ones likely to be aliases. My former colleagues in D.C. have pretty extensive files.

“There are several names on their website as directors. Probably well chosen new aliases. However, one or two names seem to come up regularly on that scam alert chat board. Apparently someone using the name Daniel T. MacMillan is the big cheese. Then there, of course, is the alleged President of Nu Body, a Larry Grande. Oh yes, and someone who is supposed to be a former New York policeman is often mentioned. Hmm, Arnold. That’s it. Arnold Benedict.

They talked a good while longer. Along the way, Lord Randolph said he’d only read the FT chat site. He stressed that his privacy was paramount. He’d earned a good reputation in his career as a sophisticated businessman even a bit of a wheeler and dealer. He couldn’t afford for it to become known he’d been a fool and a victim in this matter.

They got some additional bits and pieces out of Lord Randolph but he really had little more to share of any great value.

“We seem to have pretty much pumped you dry, Lord Randolph.”, observed Remo starting something of a summation.

“The situation you describe fits our practice to a tee. I think Miss Cain and I might be able to help bring these people to justice. However, it will be a tricky business. The laws of countries such as Hungary and particularly Romania are a lot looser than those of Britain and Western Europe in these matters. This is further complicated by a good bit of corruption. Again this is particularly true of Romania.

These are certainly crimes against British and likely other EU citizens hence they could be prosecuted under the appropriate laws of those countries but there is the matter of extradition. As to your money, as you’ve been advised, its best to assume its gone for good.

Lord Randolph shook his head to acknowledge he accepted what Remo had just said.

“Okay, so you understand recovery of your money is less than a long shot. What you’re asking is a search for justice. Miss Cain and I find it best to work one case at a time at our day rates plus out of pocket expenses. My instincts tell me this could take some time. This discussion, of course, has been on the house. If we go materially further the meter will start running. You must ask yourself if the chance of revenge is worth the price.”

Lord Randolph inquired as to the day rates of Remo and Candy. Remo told him.

“You two must do quite well.”, smiled Lord Randolph. “I’m a very angry man. Fortunately, I’m also a very wealthy man. Let’s give it a go. Shall we?”

“It will be our pleasure, Lord Randolph“, said Remo for the both of them. Remo then quickly assigned Candy to check out that FT web site as well as the company websites. He’d see what he could learn from his friends in Washington. He shared that he hoped that Candy’s new friends in London might be more open with her than they’d been with Lord Randolph. In closing, he cautioned Lord Randolph against speaking a word further to anyone of this matter and his and Candy’s involvement.

“I guess that’s a wrap, Lord Randolph.”, smiled Candy employing her new movie land lingo with pleasure. You have my email address, I’ll look forward to getting those web addresses from you as soon as possible.”

The meeting broke up and the participants turned to the subject of their dinner.

======================

Lord Randolph had opted out of dinner. He’d said it would be unkind to leave his new young wife, Rebecca, to fend for herself all day. A twinkle in his eye suggested to Remo and Candy that his lordship had more in mind than dinner with his new wife to relieve the tensions of the day. They, of course, said nothing.

Dinner was delicious but uneventful. All were a bit sapped of energy by the day’s events. Conversation was sparse as they enjoyed Elizabeth usual excellent fare.

After dinner, Candy checked her email. She found the web addresses Lord Randolph had promised to send and started work immediately. She wanted to be able to give Remo some leads on which to start his work in the morning.

===================

Candy was again the first up and about in the Moss house. She saw that Stanley was back from his stint in movie land and went out to catch up. However it was Stanley who the first to catch up. He was very interested to hear Candy’s version of yesterday’s events on the golf course. He seemed particularly interested as to how Alfred had stood up. Candy assured him that his young cousin had done just fine.

In time, Stanley shared with Candy that the movie company had finished up this round of shooting. He’d be back with them for a while. He also mentioned that as planned, Tracy, the character Candy had played was found shot to death in her bed. Candy was somewhat if irrationally moved by her passing and annoyed to hear that the detective played by Andrew Carlisle had made some callous and even disrespectful remarks on learning of her death. Candy well knew it was all in the script, but still….

By the time she’d returned to the house, it was perking. Apparently the Herald Tribune had a story on the Red Sox sweeping a twilight double header from the Yankees. Remo was extolling his hometown team’s victory as Derek and Diana took pains to appear interested. Elizabeth was pouring tea and bringing on breakfast. After a bit Remo took note of Candy.

“Look a bit glum this morning, beautiful. Something the matter?, he asked as he sliced a breakfast sausage.

“Do you know what that Andrew Carlisle said about me when he heard I was dead?”, asked Candy in mock outrage.

“Didn’t realize you had died.”, quipped Remo.

“Well my character Tracey did, wise guy. If you were a movie person like me you’d understand its much the same thing.”, Candy carried on.

Both Derek and Diana had paused truly puzzled by this odd turn in Candy’s thinking. Even Elizabeth had stopped pouring a second round to listen.

“Okay, Candy. What did Andrew say?”, asked Remo.

“He said something like, “Good thing I didn’t let that flirtatious whore get to me. There might have been two bloodied bodies in her bed.” Can you imagine! I wouldn’t even have given that womanizer, Andrew Carlisle, my phone number.”, pouted Candy.

“Don’t be alarmed folks. I’m sure Candy is still quite sane. She just has to have her morning fun with me.”, commented Remo.

Candy broke into a broad smile. “Well, he could have been nicer.”, she laughed. “She was a very pretty girl.”

The subject quickly turned to Lord Randolph. Candy said she’d had some success with names Remo’s people might work on and would give Remo the printouts after breakfast. One particularly interesting thing she noted was a link to the story in a Manchester paper that Lord Randolph failed to mention.

“The story purports to be the tail of a young woman who you might say defected from one of the Consolidated Global boiler rooms in Budapest. She has moved to England and sold or given her story to this Manchester paper. As she would have it she was what they call a “Junior“. She developed lists of leads from printed material for the “Seniors.” It’s the seniors who do the pitching of the shares. She claims there were over one hundred juniors and maybe fifty seniors in each of two Budapest rooms. She says the juniors are all locals while the seniors were initially all native English speakers though more and more juniors are being promoted to seniors.”

“Good work, Candy. It’ll be a few hours before I can see what my friends in DC know about those names. I’ll be going over your material till then and taking a look at the web sites myself. Perhaps you can get on to your new friend at Scotland Yard, Inspector Stone. See if you can arrange a tete a tete with him for later today or tomorrow. Perhaps he’ll be able to point us to some people who might be more open to sharing some bits and pieces of this ongoing investigation than they were with Randy.

======================

Sammy The Weasel was pleased to still be a free man though by no means was he a happy one. The scanner had saved the day. It gave him enough of a lead on the pursuing police to get to his well hidden car, exchange his camouflage outfit for normal tourist clothes and ditch anything incriminating

He had easily passing through two checkpoints on the basis of a spare passport he always kept for emergencies and a story about just taking in some of the countryside after a visit to Windsor Castle. Police had only briefly glanced into the back seat and boot of his late model Jaguar and waved him on. Sammy had reflected it was always wise to have a good ride.

Sammy had made a quick trip to his everyday hotel’s lobby to get the morning papers. He was relieved to see no stories on the golf course incident and no mentions of him.

Still Sammy wasn’t happy. He had plenty of dough for the moment but no weapons, no contacts except for that pawnbroker, and no plan. Further, he had no idea of his target’s next move. He knew some how he must get to him but how. He well knew his people in Boston would settle for nothing less than success.

=======================

The name Scotland Yard may evoke romantic images of visits by Sherlock Holmes in days of yore. The New Scotland Yard is ensconced in some massive but rather non-descript digs off of Whitehall. After passing through the always impressive Trafalgar Square and Stanley pointing out Downing Street with its the police for the protection of the home of the PM, New Scotland Yard was a bit of a let down in terms of its routine appearance.

Security at The Yard was a bit more impressive. Stanley had been vetted and his car thoroughly searched before they were admitted to its car park. Even its underside had been checked for bombs. Once inside, it was déjà vu but efficient déjà vu. After their ID’s had been checked and the inspector called, an assistant quickly came to fetch Remo and Candy for their meeting with the inspector.

“Ah, Miss Cain. I’m most delighted to see your lovely face again.”, effused Inspector Stone when they arrived at his office. “Good of you to come too, Dawg. What can I do for you. If its about Sammy The Weasel, I have nothing to report. He somehow slipped away.”

It was clear to the Americans from Stone’s greeting who would be the junior and senior partner for this meeting. Candy stepped up to the plate.

“Actually, its not about that matter, Inspector. Remo and I are on a new case here in Britain. It’s a fraud case not a murder. Still I’d hope you be able to open a few doors for us here at The Yard to get some background information.”

“I’ll do what I can.”, returned Stone, “but it is a big place with all kinds of hush hush feudal ground, you know. Even after twenty years here, I still learn of new departments and such now and again.”

“I can well understand that Inspector.”, replied Candy still taking the lead. “Perhaps if I just give you a few particulars, you’ll be able to point us in the right direction. Okay?”

“Again, I’ll do what I can, Miss Cain, but I make no promises”, replied Stone warmly.

“This seems to be a case of fraudulent worthless shares being peddled by a firm calling itself Consolidated Global these days. They say their a Viennese firm but we have good information that suggests they really operate out of Hungary and Romania.”, started Candy.

“Consolidated Global you say?”, interrupted Stone.

“Yes, Inspector. Are you familiar with them?”, asked Candy.

“Becoming more and more so each day, Miss Cain. In fact, I was working on a case that seems to involve them when I was called out on the Moss matter. I’m back at it again today.”

“A bit far removed from murder and mayhem isn’t it, Inspector?”, asked Remo.

“Not so far at all, lad. Why don’t you two take advantage of that couch. I’ll have Mrs. Withers bring in some tea and we can have a chat to see what each of us knows about this matter.

After they had taken their seats and received their ritual cups of tea from Mrs. Withers, the inspector asked what was Candy and Remo’s interest in this matter.

“We’ve been asked by a client who invested a good deal of money in this fraud to see what we could do to help the police bring these people to justice. Our client well knows his money is likely gone for good, but is damned angry and wealthy enough to discretely vent his anger through us.”

“I hope your client has no interest in personally going to Eastern Europe to look into this matter.”, offered the Inspector.

Candy paused momentarily to consider this rather odd question. “Not that I’m aware of, Inspector. Why do you ask?”, returned Candy.

“If he has any thoughts of it. You’d better warn him off, Miss Cain. What I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential between we three. It will explain both my involvement and my concern.”

No words from Candy or Remo were needed. Their eyes and posture said they were all ears.

“A little more than three months ago a physician in East Bourne, one John Rathbone, made a rather significant investment in this Nu Body that CG is peddling these days. As most do, he soon got wise he’d been scammed, but it was too late. The authorities could offer him little more than sympathy and advice him to pay attention to the Financial Authority’s warnings in the future.

Apparently, Doctor Rathbone had a good deal of free time and wasn’t the kind of man to take this lying down. He somehow deduced that the Consolidated people now again advertise discretely for new talent in some of the tabloids. Just a vanilla ad about riches in Eastern Europe for experienced sales executives. No foreign languages required along with a phone number.

To make a long story short, Doctor Rathbone called and managed to get himself hired. Despite his wife’s strong objections, he went off to Bucharest. He was a good family man. He stayed in touch with his wife by phone or email almost daily for about a month. He seemed to be learning a great deal.

Then all communication from him suddenly ceased. A few days later, his wife learned, the Romanian police had found his body in an alley outside a well known restaurant, Count Dracula Club Restaurant if you can believe.

They say they have no reason to treat it as other than a simple robbery homicide. To them, he was just a visiting British physician. The wife through our counsel there has tried to tell the police otherwise. She tells us in their last conversation, Rathbone had some concerns about his safety. However the Romanians have not found any connection with the late doctor with Consolidated Global. His visa listed his reason for being in Romania as tourism. He had no work permit.

And you Inspector?, asked Candy.

These boiler room criminals aren’t generally prone to violence, but there have been exceptions. My instinct is that this man was about to reveal something and was murdered by someone involved with that boiler room.

“Why do the Romanian police say otherwise?”, asked Remo

“Oh they take murder appropriately seriously, Dawg. However, sometimes the Romanian police seem to have little interest in being imaginative. They’re a generally corrupt lot. I expect that may have sound financial reasons not to see more than the too obvious. In this case, they grant that the murder is a bit atypical for a robbery homicide. These are generally crimes of opportunity. In this case, the victim was thoroughly beaten to death elsewhere and dumped in the restaurant’s alley late in the night.

In fairness to Bucharest’s finest, there is no clear association of Doctor Rathbone and this boiler room crowd except from what we hear from his wife. However, I’ll tell you this and please don’t ask me to be more specific. We, of course, have no formal police presence in Romania. That doesn’t mean we don’t have some eyes and ears. The fraud boys asked them to look into a couple names that had come up in connection with Consolidated Global including its apparent leader, this Daniel T. MacMillan in the flesh. As it turns out the good Mr. MacMillan is a very big man in his fifties with a great deal of flesh.

MacMillan is a bold one. He seems quite at home in Bucharest. He spends a lot of money and treats the Hilton there like his private domain. Batches of new recruits from Britain and The States are often put up there at his expense. His minions practically live in the Hilton’s casino when they’re not on the phones. The Hilton’s bar is a major hangout for them. Our sources there have identified a couple of his people as rather rough types with Florida mob connections taking advantage of Romania’s weak record on extradition.

“R&R in the Paris of the East while you’re on the lamb, eh?”, observed Remo dryly.

“We think that’s about it, Mr. Dawg.”, observed The Inspector.

“So what else can you tell us Inspector besides about the possible connection with this brutal murder?”, asked Candy.

Not all that much besides a long list of victims. The fraud people tell me there are likely a lot more that won’t come forward out of embarrassment. There is even special chat room on the FT fraud site where one heck of a lot of people share their horror stories. This is a big organization. They seem to be done in Hungary at least for the moment. However, they have three large phone rooms in Bucharest. We know the locations. Each has an entire secure floor in some better than average office buildings. We’ve had some people who’ve done some head counts on their comings and goings and estimate there are a hundred or more working at each location. Mostly they’re recent Romanian college graduates. However, there is also a good number of older native English speakers among them -- presumably veteran boiler room types recruited elsewhere.

We’ve also had a couple operatives try to strike up a conversation at that Hilton bar and draw some of them out surreptitiously. Apparently, they’ve been thoroughly briefed as to tell no one for whom or where they work. They all seem to be writers, art collectors, and antique merchants if you believe their stories

Inspector, I’m aware of that chat room. I saw a link there to a story about one of their people, a woman from Budapest, who shared quite a lot with a Manchester paper.”, offered Candy.

“I might have known you would, lass”, smiled the inspector. “You seem a fine investigator I’d welcome to my staff. As chance would have it, I’m shortly supposed to be sitting in on an interview with her. We’re giving her a new identity in return for co-operation. Let me see if I can get you and perhaps your partner an invite.”

“That would be smashing, Inspector.”, returned Candy with such a British flair that the Inspector paused and stared. “Sorry, inspector” smiled Candy. “I just finished a modest movie land gig here. I guess their coaching in how to appear British just popped out there for a minute.”

“You do continue to amaze me, Miss Cain. Now a film actress too.”, smiled Inspector Stone. “That was rather good, actually.”

As he waited for his assistant to get his party on the line, Stone cupped the phone and asked Candy if she could do much more of that.

“Mostly they just coached me on lines in the script, but I’m something of a natural mimic. Expect I could carry on a short conversation without giving myself away.” replied Candy with a smile as the inspector’s party came on the line.

“Ah, Hopkins. Stone here. How are we coming with that interview with the girl from Budapest?….. Smashing. I’ll be there…. Before you ring off I have a small favor. I‘m sitting here with the operative that helped us with those Irish louts in Cheddar over the weekend. She has a legitimate interest in hearing what that girl has to say…..yes the one that got inside….would you mind if I brought her along. I‘m quite sure she is reliable….Good then we‘ll see you in half an hour…. Yes, yes I‘ll be sure she checks her gun at the door.”, concluded Stone with a laugh then turned to Remo.

“Sorry, Dawg. I could tell I was pushing Hopkins even with Miss Cain. Two would have been over the line. I hope you understand.”, he offered.

“No problem, Inspector.”, replied Remo. “There is very little if anything Miss Cain will miss. I well understand your situation and thank you for your help.”, returned Remo.

==================

“Pay no mind, if the girl reacts strangely to her name. We’ll be calling her Martha. That’s her code name. Some people take time to get used to them.”, remarked Stone as they neared the conference room.”

“Worried about spies among your own lot, Inspector”, asked Candy.

“Not really, Miss Cain, just makes things simpler if she is always referred to by the same name in all reports. Those we do worry about. Despite our safeguards, too often they get leaked. Oh, by the way for the duration of this meeting you’ll be Swiss Cheese. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Glad there is no hint of Cheddar”, remarked Candy.

“Swiss is blonde, Miss Cain. Cheddar is orange.”, returned the inspector with a sly smile. After a pause, Stone added, “Actually, I do get your point Miss Cain. I think you’ll find it advantageous with Scotland Yard types to be identified with Cheddar. No one beside the Review Commission and I know the real world identity of the heroine of Cheddar Gorge.”

The door was open to was the quite ordinary small conference room which was their destination. Two other middle aged Scotland Yard types were standing just inside the door chatting.

“Miss Cheese, allow me to introduce you to Inspectors Conroy and Adams. Gentleman this is Swiss Cheese.”, said the inspector on encountering the two men.

“Delighted to meet you Miss Cheese”, returned Conroy. “Good show at Cheddar Gorge.”

“Indeed.”, offered Adams. “A remarkable ploy and excellent follow through. Wouldn’t be surprised if you hear from The Palace.”

“Martha should be along presently.”, said Conroy. Why don’t we all take some seats so we can start right off.

They all took seats on one side of a long table set for six. A lone chair faced them from the other side of the table. Shortly after they sat, two men arrived with Martha. She was a young attractive woman of perhaps twenty three or four. She seemed quite relaxed. She even smiled as she was introduced to each of the seated people. Her two escorts took the remaining seats on the opposite side of the table from her.

“You’re looking well, Martha. We treating you okay?”, inquired Conroy warmly.

“Well enough, Inspector. But I’ll be happy enough when we’re done with this interviews, and I’m in my own place.”, returned the girl with little accent.

“I can well understand that, Martha. These interviews are rather trying and strange hotels rather impersonal. While we are near the end of interviews, I must remind you that you may be called back from time to time for more interviews or even to give testimony.”, returned Conroy not unkindly.

The girl nodded that she understood and Conroy began in earnest.

“I’m going to ask you to start from the beginning today and go over ground you’ve already covered. As you can see we have several people on my side of the table who haven’t heard your story before. Please start with the story of how you first became aware of Consolidated Global.”

“That’s not a problem, Inspector Conroy. I was studying languages at university in Budapest. It was near the end my senior year and job prospects didn’t look particularly good. A fellow student told me this company, Consolidated Global, was looking for English speakers for international telephone work. He’d signed on and shared the wage being offered. It was quite a bit better than anything else I’d heard about. He also said there was some kind of a bonus though he didn’t quite know how much or how it worked.

It sounded good to me so I took a flyer he had with the number of a contact. I’d seen such around the campus but really had never really read one in before. When I called the man who answered was quite courteous. We almost immediately spoke exclusively in English. He asked me a lot of very routine questions. I doubt he cared too much about my specific answers. It was clear to me he was testing my English language as much as anything. Our call ended on an encouraging note.

A woman called me back the next day. We spoke a bit more. She mentioned that they were part of the financial industry and stressed that the confidentiality of their business and the confidentiality of their clients was paramount. She asked me if I could understand and respect that. When I said “yes of course” she invited me to their office for a face to face interview.

Both the man and the woman were at the face to face interview. It was in a private office off what appeared from what I could see to be a room of cubicles with a lot of people on the phones. They gave me a script to study for a few minutes and some instructions about being politely aggressive.

Then there was some role play. At first it was very easy. First the man then the woman were very cooperative in answering the questions in my script. Then they each took turns at being more and more difficult. I did my best to be charmingly assertive. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes they suggested what I could have said to be more effective. They seemed rather pleased with my efforts. I was offered the job as a junior.

I was told my role would be to screen lists of names to see which qualified for the attention of seniors who would try to sell the leads our services. I would be paid the same salary mentioned by my university colleague and a percentage of anything a senior using one of my leads brought in. That was pretty much it at that point. I was to start with some days of paid training the following week. I was delighted. The work looked that it would be rather dull but rather easy too. The offices seemed pleasant enough. The others I’d seen on the phones looked just like me -- recent university graduates you know. The pay seemed more than fair by Budapest standards. In short, I was delighted. It was my start.

“Nothing stood out as strange at that point then, Martha?”, asked Adams.

“No, nothing at all. It was at the training that I first wondered but even then the answers I was given satisfied me.”, she replied

“Tell us about the training then, Martha.”, asked Adams.

“At the training there were six of us. I knew several of them by sight. My male colleague from university was also among them. They took a bit of time to go over what I’d already learned at the first meeting. They also took some pains to again stress the confidentiality of our work as a financial institution. That all seemed fine to me.

Then they had us pair off for role play. One of us would play the caller and one would play someone he or she had reached on the phone. Overtime they rotated the pairings and added complications. Always there was someone listening in who would have some suggestions or praise mostly at the end. They kept us at it for four hours with the only breaks being when one of the coaches took the role of the person calling with one of us to demonstrate some point”, smiled Martha.

“Why do you smile at this point, Martha?”, asked Conroy?

“They were very mischievous about being difficult. Occasionally outrageous just to see what we’d do. There was a good deal of laughter shared among us and they always gave us what seemed good counsel. I was really getting into it. The person we called was something like an enemy. We were to use our charm and wits to get the information we wanted.

On the second day, they laid down some new guidelines I wondered about. We weren’t to speak with government people, any lawyers, anyone involved with law enforcement, or people who worked for financial institutions. If we encountered any we were told how to gracefully ring off.

Supposedly their would be few on our contact lists but were told some always seemed to slip in. One girl questioned why we weren’t interested in these people as prospects. She was told government people and police generally didn’t have any money. Besides they were bureaucrats always looking to find something wrong. We were told one such person had even found a fault in the registration to do business in Erie. It had required six months to get re-registered. They didn’t need more hassles like that.

Someone else said he’d always thought that lawyers and brokers had all the money. That brought a laugh from our group. But Stephen, our lead trainer smiled and said while there is some truth in that they’d found lawyers to be too argumentative to be good prospects. He also said other brokers, of course, were our competition. They’d never buy but would share with their bosses what we - their competition - were doing. As I said earlier, these answers seemed reasonable to me.

We were also told never to talk to America or any Americans we ran across at a European phone number. They said Americans wherever they resided were handled out of our New York office. There would be hell to pay if we trespassed on the New York office’s territory. That too seemed more than reasonable to me.

Anyone have questions on that?”, asked one of men who’d brought Martha into the room?

“None, answered Martha. She waited a few moments for more questions then continued when none materialized.

All of us made it through. We started on the phones for real the next day. Well, sort of for real. We later learned we’d be given old lists of non-co-operators the first day. It was rather discouraging till they shared what they done. In retrospect, it seemed obvious that they didn’t want new people broken in on the good lists. The following day we were on line for real.

The hours were good. Nine to six with an hour for lunch. We started late because all the countries we called were an hour or two behind us. A time zone thing you know. They paid us weekly in dollars being an American company. That was advantageous too. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, I’m sure we do, Martha. This was dollars cash correct? Not dollar checks?”, asked Adams.

“Yes, cash. Always cash.”, replied Martha.

“As I recall, you worked on for some months with no real concerns.”, Is that right, Martha?

“Yes. The work was repetitive and sometimes stressful. Some people can be very difficult on the phone. But my colleagues were on the whole a good bunch and the managers were demanding but supportive. They were very rigid about being on time and not missing work. Some were fired for that. But that was not an issue with me. I expected it was true of any firm.”

“So when did you first become concerned, Martha?”, asked Conroy.

“After work, I often cruised the Internet at one of the many Internet cafes we have in Budapest. They’re everywhere you know. On a whim, I Googled “Consolidated Global”. I came across some shocking accusations and even sat in on a chat room where many people spoke of having been scammed by us. At first, I just couldn’t believe it. I’d also recalled that Stephen the trainer had talked about our competition spreading false rumors on us to try to steal away our customers.

Still I wondered. Back in the office remarks that seemed innocent enough took on new meaning. While everyone always spoke of how wonderful our investment was. (It was even said we’d get some shares when the placement was complete) I noticed more and more especially among the seniors occasional disrespectful and snide remarks about the our clients from a few. And these weren’t necessarily the ones who had turned them down. My ears were now open. Almost everyday I heard more. Finally, I became convinced that what I had read on the Internet was true.

I knew I couldn’t continue. I stayed on for another month. Luckily an opportunity for a translator job in Manchester came through. It wasn’t a dream job, but it was an out. They were able to get me a visa, and I moved here.

I kept up with that chat room and some other sites which discussed CG. I so was disgusted and even ashamed I talked with a reporter from the Manchester ________. It wasn’t long before I was approached by your people.

“So there were two grades of telephone people - the juniors who qualified people and the seniors who sold people. Is that right, Martha.”, asked Candy.

“For the most part, Miss Cheese. There were the managers, of course. However they rarely got involved on the phones except for verifying sales. There were also a couple of loaders.”

“Loaders?”

“Yes, loaders. I always thought it an odd term, but that’s what they did. When a senior got a sale he or she passed the client on to the loader with a big ceremony I’m told by a good friend who became a successful senior. I thought it unfair that the senior who sold the client shouldn’t keep him. However, my friend told me I had it all wrong. These guys were the best salesmen and were authorized to make some special deals. Any additional commissions from the client would be split evenly between them. He said it was like having a staff of his own doing his work.”

“And how much were these commissions, Martha”, asked Candy.

“They started at 10% for the seniors and 1% for the juniors. They went up considerably higher for a senior having a good month.

“Ten percent of what the firm received in commissions?”, probed Candy.

“Oh, no. Ten percent of the amount the client invested. The managers and trainers all got a percentage too but how much was kept confidential.

“That seems quite a lot, Martha?”, asked Candy again. “Didn’t that alone raise your suspicions?”

“Not at first. I really had no perspective. Now that I know what was going on and have had time to think, it does seem like quite a lot I suppose.”

“These loaders were more senior colleagues from university”, asked Adams.

“We were told that one day they could be as our seniors gained experience. However, at the time I worked there, they were both native English speakers. One was clearly from Britain. The other was just as clearly an American.”

“You said earlier that seniors made a big ceremony of passing clients on to these loaders. Can you be more specific?”, asked Stone.

“Surely. I should first tell you that it was months before I heard how it was done from my close friend who was a senior. I’d already had my first doubts from the Internet. My friend seemed to think the procedure funny. I thought it suspicious from the start.

Even though these loaders were at the office every day, the senior would call the new client and tell him some good news about the stock and some news about a home office executive who would be visiting and wanted to speak to smart clients. It was his job to make sure that the client appreciated the honor and opportunity he was getting to speak with one of the real top men in all of finance. Even without the information I’d got from the Internet, I think that game would have made me wonder. It just seems so phony.”

“Did others seem to get wise to all this?”, asked Stone.

“For the most part no. Most of us were very quiet about the company. Who knows what the others were thinking. Maybe their were thinking but dared not speak like me. Some of the others spoke as if all was on the up and up. It was only the occasional overheard remark between two seniors or a senior then a loader that suggested they were wise to something -- not that it at all concerned them.

There were a very few of the juniors that left the company

on their own accord. Both juniors and seniors were regularly fired if they didn’t produce, of course. Seniors never left on their own accord as far as I know. If they weren’t fired, they were making really good money. Many even bought apartments and cars.

There was one junior though, a woman I had known for years at university, She and I were quite close. We were having lunch alone together on the day she resigned. She told me what she was going to do. I really was surprised and asked her why. She just said, “If your eyes and ears are open, you should understand. I was raised a good Catholic in a small town where my parents still live. They warned me not to let myself get corrupted by Budapest, and I won’t.” I didn’t dare ask anything more. She’d really confided quite a lot without being specific.

“Was there ever any violence?”, asked Candy

“Violence?”, repeated Martha seeming quite surprised at the question. “Not that I know of. Sure, the Americans didn’t like the idea of Hungarians rising to seniors. They saw it as taking their jobs. And the Hungarians didn’t like many of the Americans and Brits. I don’t think we were bigoted. I just don’t think most if any of them were the best of their kind. They were much older than us. Most all of them did a lot of whoring and gambling and were often rude and full of big talk. But beyond some occasional rude words…. No, there was no violence in Budapest.

“In Budapest?”, asked Stone. “Why do you qualify your statement, Martha?

“Well there was some silly rumor about some things that happened in Bucharest. Some of our seniors visited our office there now and again. Just before I left one mentioned that some British guy was said to have been sent home because his sales were bad. A couple days later, it was in the newspapers that he’d been found murdered. But the story said it was a robbery gone wrong. Really nothing to do with our company. There is a lot bad that happens in Romania - so many gypsies, you know, and the real Romanians aren’t much better.

“Hear of any other violence in Romania?, asked Candy.

“No. That’s really the only thing.”, replied Martha.

“Did you ever meet any of the top management of the firm, Martha”, asked a Scotland Yard man.

“We saw quite a few now and again. They were mostly middle aged and older men. Mostly they would just spend some time with the managers in their office then leave perhaps saying a few words to one or two.

The exception was Mr. McMillan. He was a big heavy man in his fifties and seemed to be the big boss. He visited with the managers more often and for longer. Sometimes he even brought his Chinese wife with him.”

“Chinese wife?, asked one of the anonymous Scotland Yard men. “This is new to me.”

“That’s now her referred to her. I never heard her name. I always assumed she was a mistress because at other times he mentioned a wife and family back in The United States. I don’t think I ever heard her speak. She was just a very elegant woman in her forties that sat around during some of his meetings with the managers and looked pretty and bored.”

Did Macmillan ever speak to you, Martha”, asked Candy.

Not me directly, but now and again we were called off the phones. Mister MacMillan, who was always called Danny in the office, would make a speech to encourage or chastise us. He talked to us about the seniors who’d bought cars and apartments and urge us to work hard and succeed so we could too. I suppose he did the same with the seniors, but I don’t know. They were always in a separate phone room. We only saw them at smoke breaks or at lunch.

Of course, we also saw Isaac regularly. He came every week on pay day. Isaac was the chief accountant. He always was carrying a briefcase full of money. He said very little. He just called us into a manager’s office and passed us our pay envelopes. He always urged us to count it. It was always correct.

“Was there much social contact among the phone people, Martha.”

“A fair amount. We weren’t suppose to fraternize but we did and no one seemed to pay it any mind. We Hungarians regularly had open birthday parties and some other excuses to get together. Occasionally an American or Brit or two would be invited, but mostly the two groups kept to themselves.

Once there was a big banquet at a plush hotel out by the airport. There must have been three or four hundred of us -- everyone in the company. We had a great elaborate dinner. They showed us plans for the new Vienna center in a slide show. They even had the Nu Body president, Mr. Grande from The United States who made a small speech though most of the speeches involved the big bosses presenting each other with awards.”

“You know the Hungarian police closed down the phone rooms in Budapest?”, asked Conroy

“Yes, I’ve read about it in the Budapest papers online. That’s all I really know of it. It happened about six weeks after I’d left Hungary. As I understand it from the papers, all the juniors and seniors were only held a short time but the managers and Isaac who happened to be in one of the phone rooms are still in jail. I don’t hear from any of my colleagues since I left, and I don’t dare contact them…. It’s amazing the amount the papers say was stolen -- twenty five million American dollars.”

“So you wouldn’t know why the big boys all managed to get away since you were here when the raids went down?”, asked Stone.

“I wouldn’t know for sure, but I can make a good guess. The police must not have raided their executive offices.”, replied Martha.

“But didn’t they have their offices in one of their phone room complexes?”, probed Stone.

“Oh no. As I said before, they just dropped by now and again for an hour or so. They were said to have a main office somewhere else in town or maybe in Bucharest but no one ever said where. Fortunate for them as it turned out.

“Fortunate indeed”, groused Conroy under his breath.

Candy had read the same articles in translation on the Internet. She found the girl, Martha, very forthcoming and very informed. There were some more questions but soon they wrapped up. Shortly, she and Stone were headed back to his office.

“Martha seemed quite credible, inspector”, observed Candy.

“Yes, I suppose she is telling mostly the truth.”, returned Stone absent mindedly. “I can’t fathom this lot and the murder. MacMillan, the benevolent dictator robbing the rich westerners to uplift college students to cars and apartments -- naturally while taking a big hunk for himself. Why would the man risk this considerable corrupt empire in the East with a murder?

“Perhaps it was a robbery or perhaps the order didn’t come from the top, inspector.”, offered Candy.

“I can’t believe it was a simple robbery, Miss Cain. Those people hit an run like hell. This guy was murdered, moved, and dumped. Murder was the goal. Lifting his valuables was a cover. There may be something in your other theory though. I wish I had a far better line on these others in the phone rooms in Bucharest. There could well have been a personal vendetta there. I just don’t know.”

Soon they were back at Inspector Stone’s office. Remo was still busy reviewing some files Inspector Stone had left with him for office reading only.

“What you learn, Dawg?”, smiled the inspector in greeting.

“Among other things that someone hated Doctor Rathbone a great deal. Reading that translation of the autopsy report was like a “tour d’hurt.” They really beat and cut the hell out of that guy. It must have taken some time. Looks more emotional than a business matter to me. That’s just gut feel, of course.”

“No, Mister Dawg, I think you have a point. I’m leaning more and more that way myself as time goes on. That doesn’t mean that one or more in GC aren’t involved. I was just saying to Miss Cain, I really wish I knew more about the Brits and the Americans among their rank and file.”, replied Stone.

“You know, Inspector. I’ve been thinking about our conversation in the corridor.”, offered Candy.

“How so, Miss Cain?”, returned Stone.

“With a little training, I would be Remo and I could be whizzes on the phones. Besides I’ve always wanted to see Romania and …”

“It seems Doctor Rathbone thought the same, Miss Cain.”, cut in Stone.

“If we accept the theory both you and Remo seem to like, it isn’t likely that Rathbone was un-covered and dumped. It was more likely a personal thing either with some GC colleague or maybe he just made the wrong friends among the locals. Remo and I wouldn’t likely piss off the same parties.

“Something of a gamble on a theory, Miss Cain”, replied Stone in a tone far less stridently than his previous tone. We could, of course, supply you with identities but little else.

“We’ve played around in more loaded situations than this sounds, inspector.” put in Remo. “From what I’ve read, MacMillan is well known in phone rooms in the Midlands. I would expect he’d be staffing up for the fall season soon. Business people coming back from their summer holidays must be something he welcomes. I’m sure Candy and I could get hired. The phone rooms in The States will try out anything that is eager, sober, and still breathing. That’s only a mild exaggeration since it is generally a commission only thing. If we spent some time in a couple of those rooms, we might well hear something.”

There was a good deal more talk. In the end, Stone grudgingly agree to some limited help for the two skilled freelancers. After all some wealthy scam victim was picking up their bill. All agreed that two down and out Americans might look suspicious and would certainly be associated. Candy felt she could play a Briton. Inspector Stone agreed to arrange a passport and some papers. Remo still kept up the papers of one of his undercover identities from FBI days. They came in hand now and again. He’d be Ricky Curtis from Philadelphia looking for some employment to get home. The inspector made some inquiries and came up with some classified ads seeking telemarketers of well known legal if dodgy boiler room operations in Liverpool and Birmingham.

“Remember, I know nothing of this, but be sure to keep me informed”, smiled the Inspector when they finally parted.

================

Within two days both “Ricky” and “Christy” were on the phone selling. Rickey was pushing a great deal on a fall holiday getaway to scenic Blackpool. Christy was offering leading debtors toward the path of financial independence. They each swallowed hard and were doing quite well. Still, they wouldn’t have to lie if they told some GC type they needed to make more money. Their phone room colleagues were a rather mixed lot of surprising asocial people ranging from their late teens to their seventies. They heard nothing from them.

However, Remo did spot an add for experienced sales executives interested in working abroad. He gave it a try and found his call saying he could sell anything returned by none other than Daniel T. MacMillan. MacMillan and he had a fine conversation lying to one another. MacMillan talked about sales presentations to eager businessmen, personal computers, and sophisticated colleagues taking a break from their careers in the law and business to make some real money. Rickey talked a resume he knew would be evaluated on its imagination not its veracity. MacMillan said he was out of town at the moment, but It was arranged that Rickey would meet with another GC executive in an upscale hotel in town later in the week. A later follow up on the phone call by Stone’s people showed that despite the UK number that had appeared on Remo’s cell phone, the call had originated in Bucharst, Romania.

The next day Candy tried the same number and was also successful in getting invited to the Birmingham hotel for a face to face meeting. Both meetings went well. Within a week, they were both guests of CG on a Blue Air flight to Bucharest with their return guaranteed if they didn’t like the Paris of the East. They made a point of not noticing one another.

The flight was pretty un-eventful for Remo if a bit noisy. He had a seat next to two Romanian women who talked non-stop in Romanian from take-off till landing. Candy was a bit luckier. She was seated next to a friendly art dealer who was excited to be visiting Romania. She had clearly read all the tourist guides but didn’t have much to say about art. On landing she too piled into the two vans sent by Consolidated Global to ferry its seven new associates to Budapest’s Hilton.

The Hilton was an older but rather handsome building anchoring one end a large plaza In the heart of the city. Remo would learn later that it had been the headquarters for the Nazi’s during their WWII occupation of Romania. Clearly it had been renovated a time or two since then. The lobby was reasonably large yet warmly comfortable. The porters and desk staff were courteous and efficient. All seemed comfortable in English as the need arose. After inspecting his rather comfortable room, Remo found the hotel had numerous restaurants and shops with all the amenities. There was even a charming small casino in the basement.

As six o’clock approached, Candy and the rest of the newly arrived recruits from Britain began to gather in the lobby. They were joined by another dozen more recruits from America that they learned had arrived that morning. Plenty of CG staffers were in evidence to mix with the gathering group and take them to the promised welcome dinner at a traditional Romanian restaurant which turned out to be nearby.

The restaurant which no more than of five minute walk down a narrow side street. At the restaurant there awaited another dozen people from CG including Danny MacMillan and his Chinese wife. Remo learned later on that most of those waiting at the restaurants were what Martha had described as “seniors” who had been invited to join the new people for their first night in Bucharest.

Remo noted that Danny and his Chineese wife kept to a table off to the side with a shaved headed man in his thirties wearing dark glasses accompanied by a stunning tall blonde he would later learn was named Tanya. The two others at the MacMillan table were a rather handsome animated man about forty who often stood and smiled to shake hands with others passing nearby by. The last was a rather dumpy looked man with thick glasses and a large briefcase. During the evening Remo would learn that these were the three partners who ran GC and Myron, the head bookeeper and company bagman.

A mostly bald older man with an authoritative manner had taken the empty seat on Candy’s right. He started off his conversation by observing that the fat man eating with two hands a nearby table was gay and had been dropped on his head as a child. Candy didn’t quite know what to make of this rather startling opening so just smiled. A bit later the old man she had learned was named Arnold Benedict from Florida asked Candy why she had stopped dancing adding she still looked good to him.

Candy could see most of the young Romanians at the table scarcely paid him any mind and were into their own conversations in accented English. Being a former exotic dancer was not far off the cover at which Candy had hinted in her interviews. She planned to play the role of a woman hard and smart.

“What’s it to you, old man?”, she returned with an evil look.

“It’s like that is it, Christy? Kill anyone I know?”, laughed Benedict. “Actually I like your style.”

“That’s fine, Arny, just you do your liking with a little less nose. Okay?”, replied Candy evenly.

“That’s Arnold. Nobody calls me Arny. Get it.?”, said the man genuinely appearing angry.

A slender young dark woman among the Romanians at the table who apparently had heard the exchange put down her cigarette to break in.

“Don’t pay any attention to Arnold. He’ll tell you Mike’s girlfriend, Tanya, is a Budapest call girl and Danny’s Chinese wife vas once called Suzy Wong. Vhen I first joined CG, he asked me if Moscow vas deporting all its whores. That vas before he got rude.”

Candy was pleased to be saved from Arnold by this woman she would find was named Natasha. Privately she also was amused as she could well picture this attractive but not beautiful dark slender woman leaning against some Russian doorway with a cigarette in her mouth beckoning strangers. She had a hard smart look.

Candy also noticed that all conversation at the table respectfully ceased when Natasha quietly spoke of Arnold. She would later learn that Natasha had been her room’s top producer for three of the last four months.

Arnold Benedict looked down at his plate. He said not a word nor did anyone else.

Candy broke the silence by asking with a smile if Natasha was really from Moscow.

“Only as a very young girl”, Natasha returned with a smile. I vas raised in a small town about a hundred kilometers from here and vent to university here in Bucharest.

Arnold had been tamed for the moment. The Romanians now included Candy in their conversation while Arnold ate in silence. They were a friendly humorous bunch with little to say about the company but some funny stories to tell about some Americans who had to be sent home because they couldn’t sell palinka to a gypsy.

“I think you vill do better, Christy.”, smiled Natasha. They’ll be a vacant seat next to me vhen you finish your training.”

When the meal was about finished, Danny rose to address the group with a very few words thanking all of his flock for welcoming the new account executives to Bucharest. He also reminded the new people that the training started at eight sharp in conference room B of the Hilton. Anyone late would be out of the country by dinner time.

The other partners had already disappeared but big Danny played the role of good host. He and his Chineese wife stood at the edge of the section of the resaurant which had been devoted to his group exchanging a meaty handshake and a few words which each of the group as they left. Candy had to wait in line behind a few well wishers.

Candy used her time to survey the effusive big man and his elegantly coifed “wife“. She put him in his mid-fifties of slightly more than average height. His weight was well over three hundred pounds. The small silent Chineese woman was at least ten years younger. She was still very attractive and must have been quite a beauty in times passed. The jewels she wore looked real and very expensive. Danny took her hand in both of his with a flourish, called her by name. He said he had a very good feeling about her. He needed another tiger like Natasha. Candy returned his smile but caught the intense eyes of the silent Chineese wife carefully surveying her. As she left she glanced back only to see those eyes still focused on her. They somehow seemed puzzled.

Natasha had been right behind Candy. They gossiped merrily as they left the restaurant.

“I hope I don’t have to fight off big Danny. I think his wife already has suspicious eyes for me.”, joked Candy.

“I doubt that’s it, Christy. Danny does his whoring its said, but he keeps it out of the office. Who knows vhat that one thinks?”, replied Natasha.

======================

The next morning all the new people and a few veterans were all gathered in a reception area outside the second floor conference room where the training was to be held. Most were men but there were a number of women including the art dealer Candy had sat next to on the flight to Bucharest. All were well turned out. They made small talk and sipped coffee until they were summoned to the conference room precisely at eight.

The room was laid out with several rows of tables and a middle aisle. Candy chose a seat in the front. Remo chose one to the rear. Again Danny welcomed everyone complimenting all both on their punctuality and dress. He sounded like a motivational speaker as he dwelled on the importance of punctuality and dress in the success of a man or women. Then went on to the evil of cigarettes. Citing them not as a health hazard but as an excuse for being lazy and off the phones where money was made. After some more talk in a similar vein he introduced the managers of the two rooms in which the new people would be working. One was Richard, another big man said to have had a career in professional football then Wall Street before coming to CG. The other was a short man with a crew cut. Remo mind wandered to think that is what Sammy The Weasel should look like if his look fit his name. This was Jeff.

The two men had little to say beyond some friendly words of welcome already well said several times. The quickly departed. Danny resumed his role on center stage taking some time to have hotel maintenance summoned to turn up the air. Neither Remo or Candy thought it particularly warm in the room but the big man was to interrupt himself several times over the next few hours to get the room he felt so hot ever cooler.

Danny droned on until the lunch break. He spent a good deal of time lecturing on the sanctity of the as yet unseen “script”. Years of experience had gone into its creation he told them, they were to read it word for word and quickly commit it to memory. Every word had its reason for being there.

After some time, he did a role play recital of the much promoted script with a new person from the audience selected to play the potential client. The client role was an easy one. Time and again, Danny made the point that no interruptions were to be allowed. He showed them various techniques to put questions off to the end when it was hoped they would have been forgotten. Along the way Danny often stopped to explain the rationale for each section of the script. It took him two hours to get through what they would come to learn was a fifteen minute script. None the less there was some polite applause when he finished and said it was time for lunch. Remo reflected lunch always could get a good hand.

Lunch was sandwiches and cokes in the anteroom. By one o’clock Danny was back on stage. Again the only interruptions over the next few hours were some cell calls Danny brief took and his requests for more air conditioning.

Danny devoted great amounts of time warning his new employees about the evils of the competition. They were always trying to poison minds with false charges and using their influence with regulatory authorities to stop them from luring money out of their home countries with higher returns. These charges were self-serving and absurd he assured everyone. If any client had been exposed to them and voiced them, the new people should be sure that their manager learned of it so Consolidated’s legal team could hand out harsh justice to such libels.

Danny concluded the afternoon on an upbeat note. He spoke of the importance of getting safe deposit boxes for the money they’d be making. He cautioned against savings accounts. While the country seemed financially stable for the moment he cautioned, it was not the United States or Great Britain. Some one in the audience was bold enough to joke “Besides there are taxes”. Danny let that sink in for a moment or two then self-righteously if not forcefully proclaimed that he paid his taxes and everyone should. He went from their immediately into the use of a money belt and a caution not to carry more then ten thousand dollars at a time into either the US or Great Britain as that would be illegal. Remo could see from the rapt expressions around him that Danny’s last message had hit its mark. In closing, Danny announced that the next days training would be spent in the phone rooms where each of them would listening to various senior account executives and getting used to the script and questions. After that they’d each be assigned an experienced big brother or sister and be on the phones for real.

==================

Sammy The Weasel had had a trying week. It wasn’t showing any sign of improving. For the first few days he just waited and hope Contessa would turn up in Boston. He still had some friends with sharp ears there but there had been no word. She could have been in an accident, but how likely was that. Sammy well knew that was about as likely as Contessa forsaking her family obligations and taking a holiday. It didn’t take Sammy long to come to that conclusion so he ditched rented the Jaguar in a parking lot. He wasn’t going to be using the Phillips ID again and didn’t want to risk a welcoming committee of police waiting for him at Hertz.

Sammy got some new wheels at Avis. He would have like a Cadilac Escalade but the Brits seemed to prefer there own cars so he had to settle for a top of the line Range Rover. He knew it would fit right in at Silvermere. He also knew he had to risk another visit there if he was to have any hope of picking up Dawg’s trail.

Sammy well knew it was good news bad news when he saw the place looked back to normal. There were no police nor even any visible security at the front gate. When he risked a drive by the Moss house he saw little evidence of security beyond that black man in the Volvo sitting in the drive.

Sammy hoped against hope that what seemed obvious was not true. He was dressed for golf. He even had a new set of clubs in the Rover. He risked an appearance at the clubhouse hoping he might catch a glance of Dawg. He spent hours on the terrace with breaks in the pro shop so as not too appear obvious to the waiters. Finally, there was something but it wasn’t good. Moss and his wife appeared and were joined by another older couple. Soon they were off on the course. There could be little doubt Dawg and his blonde companion were gone -- probably back to Boston.

Sammy knew exactly three people in England. One was a hooker with whom he shared a couple hours last night. She was a non-starter. ____ the pawn broker was not much better probably even worse. He was the type that would sell you down the river for a few bucks and was tight with his people in Boston. At the moment, his people in Boston were very unhappy with Sammy.

That left Jimmy Hawks. He and Jimmy had grown up together on Avenue D in New York. They each knew things about the other that could put them away for a long time. The last he heard Jimmy was doing pretty well for himself up in Liverpool running some phone racket and some girls. It was unlikely Jimmy could help him materially but he needed someone to talk with to help him think. He knew he could trust Jimmy to keep his mouth shut. He was in luck. The number he had on his cell phone for Jimmy was still good. They agreed to meet the next at an Italian restaurant Jimmy knew to talk over old times. Jimmy said the food at this place was to die for.

=================

Even though it was a small family run place, Sammy had no problem finding it. It had an address on a major street. They started by actually talking over some old times and old mutual acquaintances. Soon Sammy was feeling comfortable again with Jimmy and laid on an uncharacteristically frank description of his difficult situation.

Jimmy just shook his head, “Christ Sammy, that’s one fuckin mess. Have no idea what to suggest to ya except disappearing. You must got a rainy day fund somewhere warm. No?”

“Yea, Jimmy, but I’m just ain’t ready to turn into a graying old guy pumping senioritas just yet.”

Yea, I know what ya mean. Here’s something. Probably nuthin but I had a situation wit a hot blonde like dat who was giving you trouble.

Sammy was listening but only because Jimmy was sort of like a friend.

“Among other things I run some phone rooms. Actually, its more or less legit. We sell at lot of chumps some over priced vacations and some other shit.

Last week I get a call from Terry, one of my phone room managers. He tells me he has one hot looking dame that’s just signed on ‘cause she is strapped for cash. I’d told Terry always to keep an eye out for good talent. I have other businesses you know as well as my own personal needs.

So anyway I got over there after a couple days to check out this babe. She was one hot piece of meat to look at. Terry tells me she was doing real good but already heard she was asking around on the sly about more lucrative employment opportunities. I kicked Terry’s ass out of his office and told him to send her in to see me. I told him to be sure to give me the full big boss that heard about your good work build up. He knew the routine.

Like I said this babe looked hot. But right away when she started talking I felt there was something wrong about her. I knew she must have had English documents or Terry wouldn’t have put her on. But her accent just wasn’t right and there were too many big words. I made her for an American on the lamb with serious problems or some kind of cop. In either case, I didn’t need that kind of trouble in my rooms. I told Terry to give it a couple days to distance me then find an excuse to get rid of her. I checked back with Terry a couple days later and he tells me this blonde bird had flown on her own. That was fine with me. Terry didn’t know where, and I didn’t care.

“Tall with big boobs?”, asked Sammy.

“Yea, maybe 5’10 in flats, big knockers, and a waist you could almost put your fingers around it was so small.”

“Tell me more.” asked Sammy.

Jimmy gave a full description. It all checked out.

“It’s a fucking small world. That’s got to be this Candy dame. But she’s gone again. Christ, I can’t get a break.”, groused Sammy.

“Maybe your luck in changing, Sammy. There is more to this story.”, returned Hawk. Just yesterday I get this call from a talent scout, Ralphy lookin for a good loader. I had someone I thought that might interest him so I invited him for a meet to find out what it would be worth to me. In fact, we met right here.

He tells me Fat Danny in Bucharest needs someone wit experience for a some new room he’s hoping to open next year. We all know each other in this business. Fat Danny is an American but until recently worked out of Thailand. Now he is in Romania and Bulgaria. Had some problems in Hungary but apparently is still going strong. I’ve sent people his way before, but I played hard to get with Ralphy to see if I could up the price for the lead. So Ralphy says to me, “You ain’t still mad about that Blonde, Christy are ya, Jimmy?” I cared a rat’s ass about Christy as long as she wasn’t in my rooms but I played along and asked him what he meant. So he says to me. “Sorry, I thought you knew, she is wit Fat Danny’s crew in Bucharest now. Said you paid shit for consistent good work.”

I couldn’t fucking keep from laughing in his face. I told him she looked like good new talent but that consistant good work she told him about had been about a week’s worth. Besides I figured her for either a American dame on the lamb or a cop and had already told my people to let her go. Could have picked that bastard off the floor. All he could ask was “you sure you’re not shitting me? and “You can‘t know for sure.”

“What they do about her?”, asked Sammy.

“Hey Sammy dis was just yesterday. I don’t even know if Ralphy told Fat Danny what he sent him yet. He may even think I’m full of crap. Not my problem.”

“Dat’s good, Jimmy. Dat’s real good. You say dis Fat Danny hangs his hat in Bucharest?

“Yea, exactly where I don’t know. But I do know he is pretty well known around town there and puts his new people up in the Hilton. He shouldn’t be hard to find if you go there.”

Sammy didn‘t care much about Candy either, but figured it was a sure thing that Remo wouldn‘t be far away.

“You forget about dis blonde and that we ever talked. Okay Jimmy.” said Sammy more as an order than a question.

“You know I will, Sammy.”, replied Jimmy Hawk pouring Sammy another glass of Chianti.

=================

Candy and Remo had officially met during the course of training. To do otherwise might itself have been a cause for attention. By chance, they’d been assigned to different managers and different rooms. They could easily keep in touch by cell phone, but preferred seeing each other regularly to compare notes and swap stories.

They’d quickly found a couple meeting spots within easy walking distance of both offices. One was a large park in bustling Plaza Uneri. Uneri was one of the city’s busiest shopping areas. Another was in a park adjacent to Casa de Poporului, .This huge office building, palace, museum, and home of the country’s legislature was the overgrown legacy to the follies of leftist dictator, Nicolae Ceausescu. Ceausescu had fallen there along with his wife in the uprising that led to the current government barely ten years ago. It was said to have a footprint so large that only America’s Pentagon had one larger.

Both large open parks were filled with a multitude winding paths and benches. It would be no big deal if someone from GC noticed them together. They were, after all, colleagues as well as a man and a women. These parks were popular with though not over-run by both tourists and locals. The open landscape assured that no one could get close enough to overhear them. without being spotted.

“How was your first day on the phones, handsome?”, offered Candy in greeting.

“Great fun, beautiful. Lord Jeff had me calling South Africa and this American, Arnold Benedict tried to sell me a cell phone then a watch.”

“Yea, they gave me a bunch of South African leads as well. Natasha tells me they have never sold a contract there, but it’s a great place to get some experience to start off because they are a sly and tricky bunch on the whole. They’ll hear you out and lead you on but never buy. Actually, it won’t mind it if they keep me on bum leads for a few days. The last thing I want to do is sell some poor sucker any of this bogus crap. Unfortunately, Natasha is a good coach. She says she’ll see to it they give me good leads tomorrow so I can start making money.

“I hear ya, Candy. The script is pretty hokey but there must have been eight or ten closes announced in my room today. Most were on the small side, but one guy went for twenty five gees. Better be subtle and creative about screwing up a deal. I hear the managers are constantly silently switching in and out of calls when they’re not standing right behind you.

Candy well understood. “I know and I’ve got the bonus of Natasha sitting right next to me. Actually, she is very nice for a thief and she’s very perceptive. So far I have been giving it my best. I hear they don’t hesitate to send genuine screw ups home. Oh, by the way, I’m pretty sure Natasha was the one who sold Lord Randolph.”

“She tell you that right off, beautiful or did ya have to ask her?”, smiled Remo.

“Not sure such a nosey question would be well received, wise guy. It’s the amount. Most of these deals seem to be relatively small -- ten or fifteen thou. The fifty and a hundred deals are few and far between. It seems if money meant more to Lord Randolph he could have got an exception to the minimum.

Actually most seniors don’t even go for that. We had a group scolding at one of the breaks from big Danny on not being timid and going for the big money. Anyway. Natasha was cited by him as one of the few that have taken his direction to heart. He mentioned she alone has gotten fifty and hundred thousand deals. Put that together with her accent which could be taken for German I suppose…

“Think she knows it’s all bullshit?”, interrupted Remo

“You’d think she would. She’s clearly a very intelligent and well educated woman. However, I certainly didn’t pick up any vibes from her to that effect. Everything the management says stresses that this is all on the up and up. All the phone people just act as if that were true.”

“Well educated yes, but they’re differently educated. This country just got over twenty some years of Ceausescu. This sort of western capitalist stuff is all new and mysterious to them. I overheard a couple of the Romanians that got questions not in the training manual give some pretty silly answers. As for the Americans, I don’t exaggerate to much when I say the nearest any of them ever got to Wall Street was The Bowery. Still, I have to believe most of them know they weren‘t flown five thousand miles for their brains.

On the other hand, you have to give Danny and his partners credit for putting on a great show both to the outside world and inside the offices. Feel like I‘m a new trainee with IBM with all these training sessions and dinners. You going to tonight‘s?”, asked Remo knowing what her answer would be.

“You know me, Reem. I’m all for team building and comradery. The place looks pretty decent -- middle eastern stuff. I walked by it on the way over here. Just hope I can find a seat away from your cell phone peddling friend, Arnold, tonight. That guy gives me the creeps.

“That guy is one piece of work. Talk about not following the script. He’s got the cubicle behind me. The old man offers minimum information and often gets abusive as hell with clients. Still, he is one of the better producers. Go figure.

After a bit more talk, Candy headed out to Restaurant Sahara on foot. Remo flagged a cab which he sent on a somewhat circuitous route to arrive separately from Candy.

=====================