Not all of me shall die...

Prologue

Paradise lost…

When Paradise found me

I found heaven, delight and hope

When I lost Paradise

The world stopped revolving,

No more heaven,

No more delight – only hope…

Chapter 1

It was one of those days. Harry was still sleeping when he woke to the sound of the alarm clock. Blinking an eye he tried to figure out what time it was because he didn’t want to crawl out of his bed, getting ready for work at all. One quick slap hit the snooze button, with a grunt he rolled to his other side, just five more minutes! As far as he could see, Lisa, his better half, was fast asleep and did not even move when the alarm sounded. She was curled up in her separate duvet, only her head was visible.

Closing his eyes but could not find any sleep, in ten minutes time, the alarm would ring again than he had to get up. Lisa still didn’t move, he gave up the thought of snuggling up to her. As she said last night, she was very tired lately and he shouldn’t get any ideas, just to turn over, go to sleep. Peeping to the windows, the curtains were drawn but through the gap in the middle, no sun rays entered the room. Autumn had set in, besides the miserable weather, there was a miserable day ahead. So, why get up at all?

Eventually, he found himself in the bathroom, regretting immediately that he switched the light on. God, he mumbled, who is that, seeing his face in the mirror. Yes, it really was him, realising how much he had changed over the last years. It was not only his appearance but the way he felt, thought and led his life from day to day.

Letting the hot water of the shower run for a while before stepping into the cubicle, closing the door. Now it was too hot, the cold water took longer than expected to mix. So what, thought Harry, let me get over it, washing his lobster coloured skin with the shower gel next to him. Bingo, this was Lisa's, as a strong smell of violets tickled his nose! Anyway, nothing he could do about it now, plenty of deodorants was the only solution.

His mind wasn’t yet functioning, it was too early to think clearly about the day ahead and to reason why he had to pick up his CEO from Newark Airport this morning. Why me? No one knew, at least that’s what they said in the office and on this particular day he was too busy to recognise that the others disappeared quietly, besides who would dare to question such a request?

Still in his thoughts, tiptoeing downstairs to the kitchen to make some coffee. As usual, he tripped over Midget the dog. Seven years they had this creature, always lying in front of the kitchen door and always he was falling over it in the morning! Midget raised his head looked at him with sleepy eyes, stretched a little bit and rolled on his back, one big yawn until he decided to trot into the kitchen for his breakfast. Anyway, this was part of the morning routine as well as drawing the curtains of the kitchen's glass door back. Looking out, he suddenly saw Lorna Marshall who lived in their caretaker cottage next door, dumping some rubbish into the bin at the kitchen garden fence. When she saw the curtain move naturally she turned her head, looking straight at him. Harry was in his nude. all he could do was smiling back – it was not his day!

He sneaked upstairs and slipped into the walk-in wardrobe. Finally dressed, one look into the bedroom – Lisa was still fast asleep, so was Midget now on the carpet in front of the bed. Downstairs again to his study, briefcase checked, ready to go. Slowly closing the front door, locking it twice, one deep breath of fresh morning air – stepping into another world as he left his home.

The car had been parked in front of the garages situated at the end of a large greenhouse of the 30th – another renovation project or not? So far it was never used by him, even so he found some intriguing features. The glass still intact however the boiler house definitely outdated and the coal bunker not to today’s standards. The slight drizzle did not bother him at all, despite feeling the wetness creeping into his shoes as he crossed the lawn. With a bright smile, he looked back at the large impressive house in the extensive grounds of eight acres with lovely old trees. The foundation and the basement had been built with solid bluestone, the main construction of lovely red brick, the corners again of mighty bluestone blocks. Symmetrically to both sides of the central hall with the stairwell, the rooms spread out over two floors, looking again he counted the rooms of his house. On the first two en-suite bedrooms to the left with a large master, nursery, morning room and maid's chambers. Four en-suite to the right, downstairs to the left the sitting and morning room, now the kitchen diner, to the right the music and drawing room as well as a large study. Originally the kitchen had been housed in the basement, with storage rooms and the cellars, staff rooms as usual in the attic. The caretaker had his own cottage with a little attached barn for the garden implements and pots.

Yes, it was a property to be proud of, even if there were signs that it needed a lot of attention. Not only the wonderful panelling but the stained glass windows too required a specialist to repair or restore. More costly would be a completely new heating system, re-wiring, re-plumbing, not to talk about all the other windows. Recently the roof had been renovated, re-tiled with slate and well insulated, not cheap but he had a share of his inheritance pay-out to fall back to.

It was said that the house was built during the Bernardsville expansion around 1910 for a wealthy businessman, steel stockholder, also dealing in scrap metals. In the Catskill Mountains some miles from Kingston, off the Route 28, a lodge was also his own. According to the daughter, it sat on a ridge overlooking the town, all down the Hudson valley. What state it was in had not been recorded in the contract, did it bother him, not at all.

The business had been located down the road in Bridgewater in an area which had been carved out of the rural development. Designed with wide thoroughfares, industrial zones as well as connections to the railroad, ideal for a thriving scrap business. However, the Great Depression of October 1929 took its toll on the business, when and how he started to work with Dutch Schultz, the famous notorious bootlegger in the 30th Harry didn't know. The owner’s daughter told them there was an FBI investigation, instigated by the Inland Revenue Services but no charges were ever brought against him. As her father had explained, this was the reason for transferring the property into a trust. Obviously, the scrap transports and collections could have been an ideal camouflage for illegal booze or beer distribution! With the death of her father the trust paid out, so the only child inherited the property with a decent amount of cash. For a very comfortable stylish retirement on Aruba however more money than she had saved was needed. Harry could offer cash from an offshore bank account, tax-free of course, some money over here to please the tax man. This arrangement must have been so tempting that the sale was agreed in a matter of days, a price so low that he always kept quiet about it.

Slowly climbing in his car, starting the engine and heading toward the intersection, passing the Commons. The highway had not been as busy towards New York as he thought. Newark Airport would be just half an hour away and his eyes had time to wander round. He liked the rock formation through which the highway was cut for a stretch. The rain ran down the stones in streaks or little streams whilst the headlamps drew reflection pictures. Every time he passed this section there was something different to discover. On the bridges, as usual, odd flags and banners: ‘God bless America’ - ‘we shall overcome’, soaked with rain, hanging limp. Suddenly he woke from his daydreams when the well-known blue flashing light behind him drew closer and overtook. No siren, not me, he concluded, checking quickly his speed. The cruise control kept his Chrysler nicely within the limits except the road was slippery and awkward when driving through the spray of the trucks. After a few miles, he saw the police car again, securing a broken down bus. Not my problem, the police officers are just doing their job.

The first airport signs came up, turn off here he spoke to himself, watching the traffic, turning right, leaving the highway. Still no traffic jams and plenty of time for a cup of coffee before he would meet his boss. There was the Correction Centre, the Anheuser Brewery, now he had to look for the signs to the parking lot next to the car hire companies. A thought shot through his mind: Stupid getting caught and ending up there. Not my problem.

Finding a parking space proofed tricky as some dumper trucks blocked the lane, the delay didn’t bother him, still plenty of time, amused watching the drivers shouting and tooting the horns of the cars in front of him. Swearing like a trooper one driver finally appeared and moved his truck forward as much as he could, still quite narrow but sufficient for his ‘New Yorker’. As the other cars dashed forward to find a parking spec, he spotted a reverse light of a car pulling out to leave just in front of him. It is not such a bad day after all he thought when locking the car and heading to the AirTrain station which would ferry him to Arrival.

After a few minutes, the driver-less train arrived, soon reaching his destination after a couple of stops. Harry headed straight for overseas flights arrival, quickly checking if the plane was on schedule and the gate allocated. Next, the coffee bar from which he could see the announcement board – just in case. Studying the menu card he decided against something to eat, just a drink would do him fine. The waiter who came up, taking his order of a cup of French Blend coffee with a well-trained smile confirmed in a dialect which did not resemble any language ever heard. Neither did he had a clue what language the man was speaking in the first place. French Blend, he thought and there is Continental Blend on the card as well. Isn’t France part of the European Continent? Strange world, as it so happened his CEO was coming back from France, whilst he never left the States except for Canada, he didn’t even have a passport despite his 54 years of age. Only during his military service a brief stay in Puerto Rico but this is our back yard, no a real trip abroad.

Languages interested him a lot and without question, any foreign words, phrases, and expressions started a little guessing game about the meaning and relationship to his mother tongue. French had been his favourite as the similarity to English was striking. His mother, starting off as a teacher, insisted that he spoke ‘British’ English, that might have been the trigger but still he still made mistakes. All the Spanish signs and adverts, even at the Airport led naturally to the comprehension of a few words. Suddenly, Harry had a bright smile on his face as a thought crossed his mind seeing the direction sign in Spanish and English. He read the Spanish words out loud to memorise the translation: Lisa would now state that his command of the Spanish language was very good! Well, if five words constitute a ‘very good’ then he must be a genius!

Looking at the advertising around him of exotic places he became sentimental. He would have liked to see the world but there was always something which was more important. First their studies, Lisa as a librarian and him a chartered accountant, then the career – climbing up the ladder and watching the back. Later when he joint ‘Golden Harvest Crop Science’ they bought this house which needed a lot of work to bring it back to former glory, well an exceptional big run down old property. The garden was not in a much better shape but as the price was extremely low, this was a very good investment not to be missed. One day after the daily chores and all the work on the house they didn’t think any more of going places. Should I have changed my life – but how and when?

He had grown up in Kansas, the bread basket of the world, in a typical small town with all enjoyments such a place can offer if your family can afford it. His father had been a farm feed and seed merchant, his mother the good-hearted housewife as well as the bookkeeper of the business. Two brothers and two sisters completed the family so did the dogs and mums chicken. His father died a couple of years ago, his mother lives now in an old people home, not far from their hometown.

It was a good time when the family was much smaller and his father paid so much more attention for him. That he had to help out was not so bad at all. Dealing with farmers, preparing orders, accepting and checking deliveries was freedom and meant respect. Quickly he learned the basics of bookkeeping and accounting as he grew older. With the growing family and his mothers' absence from business as she had to bring up his brothers and sisters, he was more and more in charge of this part of the business. After college, it was only natural that he would become an accountant as his father was still strong and healthy whilst his mother became frail and the business needed support. No, he didn’t do badly at university, reached good marks, helped his family but had little time for himself. At the campus Harry soon became an outsider as he either had his head in the books or went home, working with no time left to make friends.

His brother Henry, two years younger, wanted to break out. The town became too small, the life too restricted and he was fed up to hear how well his big brother did. Not very academic however good in sports and very smart as he never was caught out at any prank. See the world, join the army, a slogan too catchy for a small town boy. No wonder that his mother worried sick when he signed up let alone as he didn’t write or call. Except the odd Christmas card, there was never any other sign of life.

One day at his university a young man in a Navy uniform, dragging his leg asked for him. Harry couldn’t believe it but it really was Henry, some years older but still as slim and wiry as ever. A long conversation amongst brother followed, it turned out he joined the Navy Seals. He couldn’t talk much about his tours of duty but what he told was scary. The leg had been injured during a mission in a country he wouldn’t tell, now he was on sick leave. Henry had several failed friendships due to his assignments, even now he had nowhere else to go. Despite being a tough guy and grown up he had not the guts to turn up on the family’s doorstep and so he wanted to test the waters first. What is a big brother good for, if not for offering a helping hand and bailing one out?

Harry still remembers his mother’s face, when her boys turned up. This expression of disbelieve and joy! Why at the end of the weekend it was suddenly his fault that Henry had left home? Harry still didn’t understand it but from this moment on things went really wrong at home and in his life. His only explanation, his mother expected of him to take on full responsibility for his brothers and sisters, without considering that Harry had his own life to lead.

When he introduced his first serious girlfriend a while later, all hell broke loose! How irresponsible to neglect his family and wasting his time on a worthless woman! It didn’t take long until his girlfriend Lisa was drawn into the quarrel and gave him hell as well because he was torn between his family and her. Well, today Lisa is his wife and still the love of his life. No, he didn’t give his family up and yes, he still gets hell from both sides – on a good day. On a bad one, there is the trouble in the company as well.

As it turned out, Henry became eventually a regular visitor at their house. He had his own key to come and go whenever he wanted too, however he was never with a girl – too much trouble he explained. Midget, on the other hand, had a hell of a time with him, playing like mad and been taken out for long country runs, what could be more exciting for a dog?

Just at this moment the advertising board displayed the new arrival time for the flight from Paris Charles De Gaulle. Twenty-five minutes earlier but he same gate now it was almost time to go. Harry paid the waiter, marched downstairs to the reception area. He grabbed a trolley on the way to the customs counter, just in case. The landing announced, now it would be time to work out what to talk about on the trip back, small talk or serious business. It was impossible for him to make his mind up, so he decided to wait and be vigilant not to dump himself in or say the wrong words. Well, Ron was not a bad boss, even so he hardly knew him. The weekly senior staff meetings didn’t lead to any private chats or exchange of niceties, privately they never met. Fair, tough, brief and absolute down to business, that was Ron. Why he was in Paris and why he wanted to be picked up by Harry was a mystery.

Not long and Ron appeared, waved briefly, turned and headed straight for the baggage belt. He must have proceeded through immigrations without delay, as far as he could recognise he was carrying only his briefcase. Deep breath, waiting, that’s all Harry could do, even if his mind was working overtime.

‘Hi Harry', a well-known voice interrupted his concerns. With a bright smile, Ron was passing the last check, carrying his suitcase in his left hand, passport and briefcase in the right. No duty-free items or newspapers as far he could see. Strange, he is using an old fashion suitcase not one of those with wheels, thought Harry, smiling back and stepping forward.

Harry registered that the warm, firm handshake was unusually long and asked: ‘Ron, how was the flight, no problems with customs?’

‘No’, Ron answered ‘absolutely smooth, I had a good sleep on the plane, this is the advantage of being the boss and allowed Business Class. Super weather at the Continent but unfortunately not a spare moment to look around. I wish there would be a time to enjoy a day without business.'

‘Shall we make a move? I have my car parked near the car rentals’ asked Harry, lifting the suitcase on the trolley. Ron quickly grabbed the handle, started pushing towards the exit, just nodding.

Harry was surprised and speechless but Ron smiled, ‘Hey, I am grown up and can look after myself. I appreciate your help but also your judgement, your integrity. Forget the Boss for a moment, relax!’

Harry was completely confused. Why did he have to throw a business aspect into the conversation? What was wrong and why was Ron so human? True, there was hardly something you might call a private conversation before but now it seemed they were good friends for a long time. No wonder, all alarm bells started ringing and it took all strength to be the same than ever.

Entering the lift, Ron took the suitcase of the trolley and kept the door open for him, no word, only a smile. On the platform, again small talk ‘Where did you park your car? Ah, at the car rentals, let’s see which stop it is.’, said Ron, checking the timetable. Only minutes later the train arrived. ‘Harry, did you have to wait long for me, I hope you didn't', Ron started a conservation.

‘No, I took enough time but look at the weather, I wasn’t really in the mood to get out of my bed at all’, Harry replied, to see how Ron would react.

‘Oh, I know the feeling well and when I am in the office and I see your miserable faces, how do you think I feel?’ Ron asked back with laughter. Now Harry’s confusion was complete, nothing that he expected, no indication what Ron was up to. Luckily several passengers started to move to the door as the next stop was announced. Ron was in an excellent mood but Harry felt a certain watchful eye on him. Alright he thought, all I can do is to wait and see, relax and be yourself, it can't get worse. Ron started chatting to a little boy with his own tiny suitcase when they reached the car park. Again Ron took his suitcase and refused any help but allowed Harry to carry his briefcase, again those watchful eyes which made him uncomfortable. Walking ahead of Ron made it possible to avoid a conversation for a while. Reaching the car, Harry placed the suitcase into the trunk, securing it with an elastic strap so that it could move around.

‘That’s what I like on you’ said Ron ‘thorough, reliable and thoughtful. I don’t have a strap in the boot and every time I hear something sliding I tell myself to do something about it. But, I can see your mind is working overtime, I can sense it! Let’s get in the car and talk before you burst.’ Harry’s mouth dropped open, turning his head towards Ron, wanting to say something but what was there to say?

They drove out of the car park, turning to the highway westbound when Ron started to talk. ‘You are wondering, why I asked you to pick me up, right? You wonder what to say or what I would say, right? You wonder if your job is on the line or if you have done something wrong, right? Well, there is no simple answer to it, no, Harry, you haven't done anything wrong, your job is not on the line. Quite the opposite, I need you more than you think. I believe I know people quite well and I have a proposition to make to a person I trust. It has something to do with the strategic direction of our corporation and no one knows better than you that our crop science business is tough and gets tougher. You probably know that I studied not only here in the States at Harvard but also at the London School of Economics. The old boy's network from those days is still active today, telling me about changes in the legal frameworks at the Continent which could kill us.’

‘So’, Harry asked ‘what has this to do with me and more to it, with you?’

‘OK.’, said Ron ‘Am I right to say that you are on board and, if you think you don’t want to do it, this conversation never took place?’

‘Ron, how long I am working for you? Nearly 14 years, isn't it. We managed to weed out embezzlement and found a watertight way to deal with backhanders, sorry compensations. Please, trust me also this time.'

‘To cut a long story short, that’s what happened at the Continent’ started Ron and the story unfold.

Ron was managing the crop science division of ‘Golden Harvest' as CEO for the last 16 years. He was the driving force behind the GM or Gene Manipulated Seed business. Good contacts with old buddies, governmental agencies and institutions paved the way, so that the FDA clearance came without restrictions for most products. As the profit margin of farmers decreased because on an increase of costs, the whole agro-business, depending on farmers spending, was on the verge of collapse. The promise of a higher yield per acre, as well as pest resistance, came as the saviour. The Government was happy as the farmers needed less support, the export boomed, therefore, the new ally ‘Golden Harvest' received preferential treatment. It was only natural that the European Union as a major importer of seeds and grain had to be ‘convinced' through the Government, that all was safe and under constant control. Quickly, new subsidiaries abroad were founded which promised excellent profit maximisation. Finally, it dawned in the States that something didn't work out as planned. On the Continent, Green Parties and other environment organisations where resisting, putting up a strong case against GM food, except in England. The old friends everywhere in the governments insisted there was no problem with it. Eventually, the big stick World Trade Organisation forced the door open. The cheers in the corporation soon fell silent as the obligatory food labelling in Europe showing it contained GM foodstuff lead to a near consumer boycott. With the collapse of the business forecasts and the abrupt end of the new boom, the negative impact on the whole business shook the brave world. Soon grain merchants were facing the problem that customer in Europe demanded that their shipment was free of any grain of Gene Manipulated Cereal. Large stockpiles were left unsold, eventually, farmers had to stop growing GM crop, as the markets dried out.

It couldn't get worse but what Ron heard from London was a disaster waiting to happen. Old university friend revealed to him that GM crops in England managed to cross-pollinate with other grains and even weeds. That meant compensation claims, court cases, opening research records. There was of cause no long term testing over years, the existing brief test results would most certainly classed as insufficient even grossly negligent. So the outcome of any court case was foreseeable and would wreck ‘Golden Harvest' as well as any other company dealing in those seeds. Similar findings of GM crops behaving badly were reported in Australia where trials with peas had to be abandoned by governmental agencies. This meant that this could only be the tip of an iceberg. Monsanto, the biggest producer of Gene Manipulated Seed was running against a brick wall in Canada by trying to persecute a farmer called Schmeiser for having illegally GM plants on his field infringing their patents. Finally, the case collapsed at the Supreme Court of Canada as there was no proof of it but this was a signal that David could win against Goliath, a wake-up call for a fight.

Something had to be done and it had to be done fast before it was too late! Too much money had been ploughed into this business, any major loss would cripple the company if not bankrupt it!

Harry looked at Ron: ‘You are telling me my job is not on the line but we are sailing straight into disaster. This tells me you have a plan but how do I fit into all of this?’

‘Listen, Harry, currently only you and I know about it. I was meeting the Board before I left, asking them for a free hand to prevent substantial losses from ‘Golden H' because of market saturation, whatever it takes. Thank you by the way for your excellent analysis of the medium to long term prospects of this particular section, it was very convincing with the right interpretation’ he started smiling. ‘My message was: Either we are expanding like mad and turning GM Seed into our core business or we have a constant fight for market share at hand. Which according to your analysis, hardly leaves a profit but an uncertain future. Mentioning also the disenchanted stockholders and dwindling reserves was very successful. The Monsanto versus Schmeiser case in Canada sends a shiver down the spines even of hard knock opponents of my request. You know, I had to keep my first sketchy information to myself until I could verify the facts and find a solution. I was thinking that we must find a way to sell GM Seeds without waking sleeping dogs or before the first court case is lodged against us. Harry, you grew up in the seed business as I saw from your personnel file. So, you know how the business ticks at all levels. If we use some creative bookkeeping, some smoke screens and if we wake the greed of certain investors, it might work.'

Harry needed some time to digest but this plan tickled him. He was needed and this offer gave him the power and cloud he dreamt of but never believed it really would come to him one day. It could not only work but save their skins in particular as Ron was keeping the Board out of it.

‘Well, I suppose now it is time to decide, I am on. But, Ron, you must be aware that we are sailing very, very close to the wind. We need the backup of trusted legal advisers where ever we act, no scruple, no mercy, we need to keep even our own colleagues in the dark or lead them astray. Don’t even think we can confide in our family, are you willing to do it?’

Ron looked at him, offered his hand, confirming with a strong ‘Yes!’

The next words left Harry absolutely speechless: ‘Right, you are no longer the Chief Financial Officer. Since the beginning of the month, you are the Head of Corporate Financial Risk Management, your own strategic department, responsible to the corporate board. Your new office is next to me, your staff will be appointed today, I prepared a list of people I think are suitable, we have to agree on it. Your new car sits on the executive parking deck, keys and papers you find in your office safe, your new credit card is waiting for you. Remind me to give you the envelope in my briefcase with the new appointment, the initial safe code as well as the new computer login. And, do me a favour, smile!’

Chapter 2

Special Agent Robert Maartens could not understand why he had not been able to shed more light on his case or even coming close to it, except for his lab results. After all those long years of duty, this case drove him crazy. There are now several dead women all over the States in seven years, at least to his opinion. Different ages, different professions, different status, different appearances and no clue where the commonality lies, except an impression of a possible signet ring. It took him years to proof that some cases were related despite in the records of the National Crime Information Centre all of them showed up as individual incidents. Why he could link the first cases was a coincident and his instinct. The FBI lab was asked to analyse a certain strange hair found on the cloth of a dead woman. As it turned out it was the hair of a dog and belonged to a pure-bred Rottweiler not a cross of it.

He inherited the case because his colleague retired, several unclosed files were left, some of which now allocated to him. This was nearly four years ago, ever since he was asked nicely to find a way to close them, as no further evidence came to light. In the meantime, he discovered more similar cases. To be fair, he closed all of the others 'normal' ones but those he followed were a real challenge! Everything looked so easy at first but there was a big but and the mystery could not be solved by the local homicide squads, still he didn't understand the circumstances completely. How had it all started?

A woman in her early thirties was found dead at the bottom of the stairs down to a basement in the early hours on a cold damp late autumn morning by the paper boy in a small township of East Windsor in New Jersey.

He delivered the newspaper every day, was reliable as a Swiss watch but never saw anything exciting on his paper round except Nancy Hooper's sexy lingerie on the washing line behind her garage, hidden from prying eyes. A few blocks on, as usual, he leant his bike again the stair railings to the basement of an office block to reload the front bags. Suddenly he spotted someone at the bottom of the stairs. He greeted but no one answered, so he looked down and saw a woman's body lying in front of the door on her back, one leg up on the stairs. Realising now that the person was probably dead, he started screaming and trembling, then running to the nearby drug store just getting ready for business, stuttering something about a woman he found.

The shop owner tried to calm him down in order get a clear word out of him but only the word ‘dead’, ‘woman’ and ‘down’ where halfway understandable. Whilst one shop assistant comforted him, Wayne, the manager stepped out of the door to see if he could spot anything that might explain the horror of the boy. Down the road he saw the bike with the big yellow bags he knew well. There was only one thing to do, calling the police! Let them find out what happened. He didn't want to leave the shop despite being curious what went on in their street. Well, except the odd shoplifting there was not much crime in his area and a possible murder wasn't heard of in his lifetime. Yes, many could have killed their partner here, men and women but no one actually came close to it.

Moments later the sound of the siren was homing in. Not in a hurry, thought Wayne because it took quite a while until the car stopped in front of the door. Two officers on their last round appeared, obviously annoyed that this call might spoil their well-deserved end of the shift. Quickly he reported what the boy told him. Mike, as he was known, was chubby, red-cheeked and always friendly to anyone. Except the odd prank, like shaving the Mayors prized show rabbits clean, he was never in any trouble.

Seeing the police did not stop the boy from shaking, together they tried to find out what he discovered. With his 14 years of age, the poor boy had seen on TV enough crime and murdered people but never a real dead body. His fantasy ran wild and his darkest fears made him shiver. The police were one institution he didn't want to be in trouble with, the other one was his mother. What would they think of him as he ran in a panic?

Well, it didn't help, he had to tell his story, otherwise who knows what would happen to him, and even so, there was not much to say. The events were quickly told, from the start of his round until he discovered the body, the little detour through the back gardens to see if Nancy Hooper had her laundry pegged up, he left out. No, he didn't see anything unusual, there was nothing different to the day before. Finally, he answered all their questions, calmed down and was ready to walk them to his bicycle.

Hesitating he peeped over the railing to see if the body had vanished. So, did the policemen as well as Wayne, who couldn’t resist being nosy, it was a woman, the face looked somehow familiar to Bob. Only now the men started to remember their training. Whilst one of them moved Wayne and Mike back on the opposite pavement, the other one called the station, reporting their find, asking for the forensic team to swoop it.

Eager they drove anyone away who came to close to the crime scene. As a matter of fact, Matthew the patrol team leader was also scared to touch a dead body or come too close. Securing that no evidence was destroyed was the least he could do. The sleepy town had a forensic team, which was only too pleased to prove their valuable service to the community.

The forensic pathologist had to be called in from the district town – not enough murder cases here. Suicides didn't happen either, it was said that those candidates were falling asleep thinking about it.

Soon the forensic team arrived at the scene with flashing lights, siren and great speed. It was a real show for the public, especially as the local newspaper appeared in as well. In the meantime the clock showed 7:30am in the morning, somehow the rumour must have spread that something unusual had happened. The crowd grew from minute to minute and held back only by the barrier and the yellow tape reading ‘Crime Scene – do not cross' which was quickly attached. The only one allowed through was the ambulance with the contractual doctor to the police department.

With great care, the men watched their steps as they moved downstairs in their shoe protection. Evidence was all important and the first report of the patrol-men was not at all conclusive. The camera flashed endlessly as they tried to capture the stairwell, the bannister with Mike's bike and finally the woman lying on the floor in a kind of track suit.

‘Strange', said the doctor, ‘it looks like she lost her balance and was falling over the bannister. There is no pool of blood on the floor, those minor cuts did not bleed much either. Well, we will know more when we can recover the body to examine her thoroughly.’

‘So, she is dead and not just unconscious’ asked Matthew?

‘There is no pulse, no body temperature, no pain reflex, the irises show no reflection’ was the answer. ‘The pathologist can tell us more. He is on his way, isn’t he?’

‘Should be here any minute but what can he do, you can’t?’ asked Matthew.

‘Well, his general responsibility is to deal with the examination of deceased people. After your studies as a medical doctor, you add four years training to it, after that you need one year practice. It is not that simple but we all have to specialise if we want to be on top of the crooks.'

Carefully the body was examined to confirm the death. Nothing moved, extensive photographs recorded cuts and bruises on the body, tears on the clothing as well as the position. One thing was definitely strange, a ladies wristwatch lying on her chest. The police photographer stepped back in the middle of the stairwell to take another set of shots, as the door to the basement woke his interest. Obviously, it hasn't been open since the body was lying there. Leaves were blown against the door and under the steps but none could be seen next to the body. The building was housing offices and until now, no early bird tried to enter. No concierge or porter seemed to guard the premises, no cameras monitored the outside. The big alarm bell and the flash-light indicated only indoor security.

The pathologist had finally arrived and was briefed by the forensic team leader. Nothing was found so far what looked like evidence of a crime. He joined now the officers, busy marking the contour of the body with chalk. The local doctor knew him, as he was also in charge of the examination of institutional death ordered by the coroner. Quickly the necessary information had been exchanged, there was little left but to confirm the initial findings.

The body was carefully lifted to have a closer look at the bag on which the right shoulder rested. No, it was not a handbag but a quite expensive sports bag. Further photographs were taken before the bag was recovered to be marked as evidence. Plastic bags for the watch and other items now been prepared. Everything was done with great care under the watchful eye of Matthew who recalled the textbook ‘Care must be taken not to alter, distort, or contaminate the evidence prior to its analysis’, ’ The collection of physical evidence requires careful attention to the type of evidence encountered with respect to proper packaging’ and he did not want to make any mistakes.

Slowly the body was placed on a stretcher with the help of the forensic pathologist, covered with a blanket and secured with straps. ‘Did you see anything unusual?’ asked the doctor. ‘No, there is only this long bruise to the side of the neck. It looks like it was caused by the heavy impact of a blunt instrument, we already recorded and photographed it. We have to have a good look at it during autopsy.’

In the meantime the watch, now in an evidence bag, neatly marked, placed into an evidence envelope, now the sports bag was going to be inspected. An officer turned it to see if anything unusual could be discovered on the outside, again nothing, except some dust and dirt. Another officer just put a pair gloves on when the pathologist asked if someone knew why the surgeons were wearing gloves. On everyone's faces the same expression, speechlessness, guessing, no clue. ‘Hey,' he answered, ‘isn't it obvious that they do not want to leave any fingerprints?' Even the doctor had a giggle, it was an odd situation, the seriousness of a death and there is the pathologist cracking a joke.

Whilst the first officer was holding the sports bag the second opened the zipper to inspect the content. There was a polo shirt, a pair of knickers, socks, a towel, a wash bag. A little side pocket contained a large purse with bills and coins together some forty dollars, seemingly untouched, no credit card. Again, everything was photographed and registered, strict by the rule book. Then they discovered a driving license, the picture on it was that of the women, Helen Summers she was called. Name, address and further details immediately forwarded to the police offices to see if she was missing or if any other reports could be related to the incident. Finally, the team moved upwards to investigate the area around the bannister.

It didn't take long until the first link was found. Her husband had called the local police after midnight, telling that he was worried that Helen didn't come home from her Wednesday bowling night out. He phoned apparently a girlfriend of Helen around midnight only to hear that she dropped her off at West Avenue corner an hour before, just five minutes from home. Then there was another call around 5am, asking if there were any news, any accidents or emergency calls. He also told them that he walked around the block to see if he could find her and that he would stay at home this day as he was worried sick but also had to see the children to school.

In the meantime, an investigating homicide team was established and took over the case. The facts so far made an accident doubtful. Defining the elements of crime – to proof that a crime has been committed was now the order. The body had been transferred to the morgue, all the evidence brought in as the forensic team finished their work at the scene. It was very, very little they were able to collect, dirt samples, some fibres found on the handrail, footprints on the steps and on the pavement, some waste paper. Nothing unusual was found at the scene of the incident or in the vicinity which could provide a clue what happened. A little bit later the clothing of the women came in from the morgue, now the forensic investigation started.

Still the location was guarded and sealed off when the door to door questioning began. This stretch of the main street consisted largely of offices and shops, with the residential housing area behind them. It came as no surprise that no one had seen or heard anything. That the car with the girlfriend stopped at this corner went absolutely unnoticed.

If it was a homicide, what was the motive? Who would have a reason to kill a mother and housewife? What was hiding behind those middle-class façades? Was there a secret well kept? Questions and no answers, at least so far, could it really be that this borough was lost in time, no serious crime, only nice people?

Chapter 3

Harry drove carefully through the drizzle. He looked over to Ron in his thoughts, only to see his bright smile. ‘Ron’, he asked after a while ‘all those years we have known each other we have been colleagues. Well, you the boss and I the employee but I didn’t know we were real buddies.’

Ron smiled again, ‘Buddies and partners in crime. Over the last years we forged this company, forging our future. Think about it, didn’t we treat ‘Seed Science’ as our baby, as our own company? Haven’t we been the real driving force and the corner stones? Now, tell me, didn’t you feel that we were more partners than anything else? I can’t remember one day when we had to exercise the ‘Dear Boss’ game!’

‘Actually, you are right. I never felt anything else then being the co-partner of our own company. You gave me all the freedom and never did you question my decisions. Surely, I had the feeling that you were watching me when I brought the other administrative departments under my control until it was only natural to be promoted Chief Financial Officer of our Division. You had the same vision then I and somehow we didn’t have to talk much about strategy. It all came natural, I don’t know, I never took the time to work it out’.

‘Well,’ replied Ron ‘I am salesman who sells dreams to some but for others I build a future. Those others are those who are with me and amongst those there are very few I trust. The others are not only in our company but everywhere I went because they want to create something lasting or support those who create. I have seen how the business ticks, not only here but all around the world. I have seen that few created and many others harvested. Like you, I love to plan, to create, to enjoy the rewarding feeling of having achieved the impossible, even if hardly anyone recognises it.’

‘Hey Ron, you are a born philosopher and a very thoughtful man. When you are saying ‘like you’, you must have watched me for a long time but what’s about our families? You haven’t spoken about yours and I am sure that I never spoke about mine either.’

Ron did no longer smile. One could hear his mind working, after a while he said ‘I love my wife, I love my children but the job puts a real strain on the relationship. I ought to do something about it and I have to be fast before it is too late. Ah, you were asking me about the families. I assume you tried to ask me how we slot them into our little plot, right. To be honest, we better keep quiet about it as you suggested. Sally will be worried sick that I bit more than I can chew and this in return means a lot of good advice on how to run the show, even she doesn’t understand the business nor the little booby traps waiting for us. No, I don’t think there will be more than a brief mentioning of the new project we might have to find some plausible excuses for the activities.’

‘Ron, I believe that I haven’t spoken much about my family either. You know that Lisa and I have no children except my dog. The contact to the rest of the family is so scarce, that I don’t even remember when I have seen them last. Lisa, well she likes to read, to eat out but that’s it. No, I stopped talking about the real job a long time ago because it bored her to hell. On the other hand I get a good portion of instructions on a good day just like you. Strange, I got used to her advice but it still nickels me because to her I don’t seem to have a clue of what I am doing or how to do any other job.’

This time it was Ron’s turn to smile then giggle, finally he replied ‘We are a right pair of heroes! We are going to land the coup to the century by ripping off some world’s first class corporations but we are not able to sort our relationships out!’

Again a long pause followed and in the distance they could already see the turn-off for Bridgewater. The two men stayed silent until they reached the Commons. Harry turned into the grounds of the Corporation, passed the big parking lot, heading towards the management parking area, next to the main building within the security fence. The guard at the gate inspected thoroughly the car. First he scanned the hologram permit at the windscreen, after it matched the senior management, next asked to see the entry batch which was scanned as well. Only now, after a match of permit and batch, the trunk inspected as well as the inside of the car. Finally he was satisfied and opened the first barrier. Slowly the car rolled over the bumper with the tyre cutter, stopping in front of the second barrier.

‘God’ said Ron ‘this is really like Fort Knox. No wonder, that we lose half an hour each day just to get in but it doesn’t help, we have to protect our research facilities.’ The first barrier closed, this time Harry had to swipe his batch and look into the video camera mounted on the reader.

Harry parked the car in his usual slot of the underground car park. Quickly he took the suitcase from the boot and was surprised how heavy it was. He must have some strength shot through his mind, before he was able to turn round, Ron grabbed the handle, ‘Come on partner, don’t drop my Whisky collection of classical malts. I may allow you to carry my case but please, open it first so you can sign your death sentence.’

Harry placed the briefcase on the trunk lid and opened it. Ron took the mentioned letter out of the top file, handing it over to Harry. ‘OK. - five minutes maximum, I want to see your signature on page 5 plus your initials on each page.’ Harry felt a little bit dizzy when he read the new contract briefly, his job description as well as the far reaching authorities. The greatest shock was found on the last page – signed by President of the Board and the Company Secretary, only his signature was missing! What had Ron up his sleeves that he could get such an appointment through without any resistance in total secrecy even as board member?

Ron stood next to him, showing no emotions. After Harry turned the pages forward and back, he took a pen from his briefcase, pushed it in his hand, commanding with his clear voice ‘Sign!’ Still dizzy he put his initials on each page, signed the last. The date was already there. He saw absent minded how Ron folded carefully the contract and put it back into the envelope: The folder was opened again, in went the envelope and out came another one. ‘This is your copy – sign!’ Harry did as ordered and handed the contract back to Ron. ‘Hey, that is yours!’ He heard it like a distant voice, saw Ron folding the contract neatly, putting it back into the envelope, opening his suit jacket and pushed it into his pocket. The words brought him back into live: ‘Wake up Harry, you don’t get paid for sleep walking, here is the next envelope with your codes, the keys to your office and the safe. This time I won’t put it in your pocket!’

‘Ron, Sorry I think that something just hit me. Don’t worry it wasn’t a heart attack.’ Ron nudged him, closed his briefcase, grabbed his suitcase, ‘Hey, get my case, please, we have to go!’ Harry grabbed his own from behind his seat, took Ron’s, following him like a porter to the lift. Slowly his mind started to work again beginning to re-assess the situation.

What the hell was going on, what did he let himself in for? It started so normal this morning! Then he met Ron, his life took an unprecedented turn. A few paragraphs of the contract were all he could remember but those gave him a power he never dreamt of.

Silently he followed Ron, as if he wouldn’t know his way round. Ron marched straight to his office, swiped his card, unlocked, opened the door, parked his luggage behind it when his P.A. Peggy came in.

‘Ah, great, just wanted to come round and tell you that I am back. Is everything organised and on track? Hope you didn’t run the company in absence too well otherwise they will sack me for incompetence’, he joked.

‘Come on Ron, seven days away hardly gave me peace and quite. Yes, I have done what you told me, all is set for today. Let me first of all congratulate Harry to his new appointment. Next he needs his new batch, which is in your safe, the staff proposal is on your desk.’

Obviously Peggy was working all the way along with Ron, shot through is mind. He was puzzled how many people must have been involved to get him hooked. More to it, he was worried what he actually signed as he could only remember some passages and the contract was backdated! Was he the scapegoats lead to slaughter for the sins of others or was he used as a pawn in a much bigger unknown game? How could they actually know what would break down his defences and made him jump for the opportunity? Yes, they knew that he had a sharp mind and that he was a good analyst. They also knew how alert he was, despite appearing to the outside world as laid back and sleepy.

What they didn’t know was how hard it was for him to hide or control his temper, his frustration with his private life. Lost hopes, shattered dreams, all together with many events which challenged his love to Lisa had changed him, made him angry and bitter. No, professionally he never had a real problem, he was a quick learner and had a good memory. Always straight down the line, even when it ended in a confrontation or to his disadvantage as Lisa would say. Well, he stayed a stranger to many people who tried to analyse him, predict his moves and thoughts. Finally they claimed to know more about him then there actually was. At first he tried to fight it, put up a stance by telling them how wrong they were only to hear that he was denying the obvious facts. Then he realized that he had no real chance to convince otherwise – his attempts where interpreted as hiding something. This in return led to constant suspicion and mistrust which pushed him in a corner from which he could not escape. Here he was, focused on the business, which gave him an outlet to meet people, to proof that he wasn’t the dimwit Lisa saw in him. He was respected for what he was and what he gave, enjoying his success been proud of it – if he could only share with Lisa.

Peggy went to the safe, waiting for Ron to open it but he was busy booting his laptop which he had placed into the docking station. Impatiently she called him ‘If you don’t open it, I have to do it, people would think we are sharing dirty secrets hidden in your safe!’

Ron looked irritated up, turned his head to Harry, then to Peggy and mumbled ‘You see Harry how hen pecked I am! If you thought we get rest and recreation in the office from our better halves, along comes our PA and your day is miserable.’

As Harry could observe there was a certain intimacy between those two but still the distance one would expect of colleagues.

‘You know Harry, eight years working for Ron – I should know better. It is my own fault, working twice as hard, managing the division, getting half the pay – for what? Ron gets all the credit and I the heart attack with a nervous breakdown as added bonus!’

Ron started laughing and Harry couldn’t hold back either, ‘Harry, Peggy is not only a treasure, she is priceless, don’t even think you can poach her. If she thinks she can make me feel guilty for telling you that I am not doing enough for her, she is wrong.’

Peggy started to laugh as well, confirming ‘Ron is the best boss I had and Harry, I know what I am talking about. If he would only do what I tell him, life would be so easy! Now, are you opening your safe or not?’

Ron looked round, shook his head and trotted to the safe ‘Harry, tell me please, what is wrong with the women today? Bossy, cheeky, always the last word and tell me, do they have to rub it in when they are right? When do we club together to form a man’s lib movement but one of the radical kinds? Can’t they just disappear into the kitchen or better the bedroom and keep quite?’

Harry stood shell shocked in the middle of the office and didn’t understand the world any more. As tough as Ron was when it came to push a decision through, the person he met now was so different which again added to his confusion.

Somehow Ron managed to open the safe and found eventually the envelope with the batch with the receipt for it. Peggy went up to him, took a second envelope out and handed it over to Harry ‘Your new credit card as board member. These accounts are managed by the boards member accounts department. The instructions are here as well. Now, I need your card, please, I witness the signing of the new card. Here is the receipt for this act.’ As told, Harry signed that he received the new card, compared the card number on the sheet, added the date, put his signature on the receipt for the batch. Next, he signed the credit card as instructed. Peggy took his old card, started to cut it to shreds, put them with the receipt back into the envelope.

Ron smiled again, took the said envelope from his desk ‘Right that is settled now. Harry let’s try the batch for your office, I gave you the keys already. Remember that using the key without the batch releases