The Second Son Read online

  “Got it in one, partner,” said Tom with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

  Arriving at the Flamingo club, Grenville said, “Not the Carton Club, is it?”

  “Carton Club?” Tom asked.

  “In London, very exclusive, one day, old man, I will treat you to lunch there.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Tom. “Bet it looks better inside,” said Tom, smiling.

  “That I doubt,” said Grenville, laughing.

  Walking up to the main door, Tom pushed and found it was locked. “Perhaps it’s too early for opening hours?” asked Grenville.

  “Doubt it,” said Tom, “more like it’s members only.” Tom knocked on the door and a hatch opened. “Two please,” said Tom, passing some notes through the hatch. The hatch closed and the door opened and they entered.

  “Money talks,” said Grenville.

  “Always,” said a smiling Tom.

  Tom was wrong; the inside was no better than the outside. Along one wall was a bar, the other side a stage and several tables with chairs scattered about. The place was quite empty now which was not surprising for the time of day. Also, dimly lit, it was hard to see the entire room. They both walked up to the bar, as Tom smiled at the oncoming barman. “Two large rum and Cokes,” said Tom.

  “Large?” said Grenville in a whisper. “Pushing the boat out a bit, aren’t we?”

  “Drinks in memory of Max,” replied Tom.

  The barman retuned with the drinks, and said, “Twelve dollars,” which Tom handed over. Tom passed one of the drinks to Grenville.

  “For Max,” said Tom, taking a gulp of his drink,

  “For Max,” replied Grenville, also taking a good drink. Grenville turned and walked towards the table in the corner, sat down and realised Tom was still talking to the barman. Eventually Tom joined Grenville at the table. Grenville said, “Everything OK, Tom?”

  “Yes, Juno Broutini is not in yet so we will wait,” replied Tom, smiling.

  Eventually Tom looked at Grenville and said, “So what you going to do, Duke?”

  “Well old man, I think it’s best if I return home to face the music.”

  “Thought as much,” said Tom, smiling.

  “Really,” said Grenville, “am I really that predictable?”

  “Yup,” said Tom, “after all this time I must admit, I am going to miss you.”

  “And me you, old fruit. But I have been wondering about that.”

  “Oh really?” said Tom.

  “Yes, I think I can help you even from the UK,” said Grenville.

  “What do you mean?” said a shocked Tom.

  “Now Max is dead, you will need help in the future so what if I become your contact, tracker-down of people for you?”

  “Hang on a minute my Lord, I cannot ask you to do that.”

  “Of course, not, that’s why I am asking you, after all, who would suspect the heir to a dukedom helping you?”

  Tom thought about it, and said, “OK, let’s discuss this when we are back at base.”

  Just then the barman nodded to the door; a small, scruffily-dressed man had just entered the bar with another man. They sat at a table near to Tom and Grenville and one of the men went to the bar and brought back two beer bottles to the table.

  Tom told Grenville to stay put, and look out for any surprises; not sure what kind of surprise Tom was referring to, Grenville said, “OK,” and watched as Tom casually walked over to the table where the two men were sitting. Grenville watched Tom sit at the table of the two men, when Grenville noticed one of the men flop forwards as if he had fallen into a deep sleep. Watching the other man Grenville noticed he was looking scared, but then Grenville thought he would look scared if someone like Tom was asking him questions in his mood. Once again Grenville smiled; he was so glad Tom was on his side.

  Grenville noticed Tom smile at the man and then tap his face, then the man slumped forward like his friend, then Grenville noticed Tom nodded towards the exit. Grenville stood and followed Tom out of the building; on the way, out Grenville glanced at the two men and realised they were both dead.

  Once outside Grenville said, “Well, what happened in there?”

  “Max was definitely set up by that scum bag in there,” replied Tom. “But the plot thickens; Max seemed to have opened a hornet’s nest asking about the name on the piece of paper I gave him, and the wrong people got to hear about it, and did not like it, and had Max killed.”

  “So, what happens next?” asked Grenville.

  “Well, my friend, we shall go home, and further discuss your proposal.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Grenville, which made them both laugh.

  Next day Tom came back into the room and handed Grenville a battered looking box file. “In here will explain it all,” said Tom, smiling. Once Tom had handed Grenville the box file, he said, “I will leave you to it,” then left Grenville alone. Grenville slowly opened the box file and removed the contents.

  There were not many documents from the box file, but most of the pages looked new as if they had not been handled much. The first document, which was an official looking document obviously written in Russian, looked like a trading licence for a company. Although Grenville could not read Russian, he worked out the company was called S&T Imports, and it was a Russian company, but it was owned by a Tom Backer and a Sebastian Sharapova. Grenville wondered who they both were. Grenville placed the document down and picked up what looked like a marriage certificate for a Tom Backer and a Natasha Sharapova. Grenville knew that Tom had been married. Grenville picked up another document; this was a birth certificate for a Grace Sharapova. Grenville suddenly realised that Tom had changed his name from Backer to Sharapova and taken his wife’s name. Grenville also knew; Tom had had a child, but he had never mentioned it was a girl called Grace, if fact apart from the one-time Tom had never mentioned his lost family.

  Grenville picked up another document that was stapled with another. Reading both, Grenville worked out they were both death certificates for a Natasha and Grace Sharapova. Grenville now understood why Tom did not speak of his wife and child much, Finally, Grenville picked up several press cuttings obviously cut from newspapers. Flicking through them, although they were in Russian, and Grenville could not read them, they were obviously about a car crash as the pictures with the articles showed an upturned car that had obviously been in a major car crash. The pictures showed in graphic clarity the aftermath of the crash with emergency service personnel standing around the crash site. The last document was the most interesting to Grenville, as it was written in English, Grenville noticed the hand writing was beautifully penned, and filled five double sided pieces of A4 paper, and was titled “Tom Sharapova.”

  As Grenville read the document, he realised it was Tom’s life so far, how he left England after being accused of murder, heading for Odessa, on board the Red Star, the heartache of leaving his mother, arriving in a strange country not knowing what the future held, setting up his trading company with his new best friend Sebastian, marrying his sister Natasha, taking her name once they were married, and the child that was born to them which they called Grace after Tom’s mother, then Grenville read the tragic death of Sebastian and then the deaths of both Natasha and Grace. Grenville had tears in his eyes as he read; the author, who he suspected was Tom, was laying out the facts in a logical and clinical way void of any emotion, just concentrating on the facts. Although the narrative was very well written, it did not comment or venture any comments or try and embellish anything, just the pure facts. The document finished with Tom arriving in Belize and his mission to find the people responsible for the death of his family.

  After reading the document Grenville closed his eyes and tried to process all the facts the documents had laid out. He tried to place himself in Tom’s shoes: how would he have reacted to the tragedies that had befallen Tom? He now understood Tom better and his drive. The part Grenville struggled with was how Tom had gone from a happy married m
an with a child with a successful business to a ruthless killer void of any emotion, but Grenville realised that not everyone in this life is the same, and everyone handles loss in their own unique way. No doubt to some, seeing their wife and child die in front of them within minutes, knowing they were helpless to help, would have sent some spiralling into a pit of despair full of darkness, never to return – eventually leading to ending their own life, knowing that there was no escape from the pain of the loss they had endured. Others would have accepted what life had dealt them, drifting through life void of colour, not having the courage to end it all but waiting for death to finally come; but for a rare few like Tom, they would be burned up with vengeance and anger, leaving all emotion behind, tuning their hearts from one full of love to a heart full of hatred and anger. Grenville was unsure how he would have coped with the tragedies that had befallen Tom, but suspected he would have taken the first option rather than the latter, but he now understood Tom’s drive and commitment on finding the people who had caused him to lose his family, and bringing them to his own form of justice.

  Grenville reasoned that to Tom he would have convinced himself that his cause was just, and he must kill them all, but to achieve this he had to change his whole personality and being, circumstances had turned Tom into a cold-blooded killer.

  When Tom returned, Grenville was staring out into space with tears in his eyes. He turned to Tom and said, “My dear chap, I had no idea. You don’t know how sorry I am.”

  Tom waved it off and said, “It’s who I am and the way I am.”

  Grenville nodded and said, “I totally understand.”

  Grenville asked Tom, “So what happened after you left Odessa?”

  Tom said, “We found out the two-people involved in the assassination attempt on my uncle had fled Odessa on board a ship bound for Belize, so the hunt for those involved started here. As Uncle Ivor was shipping out to here, I tagged along, Max was the family contact in Belize and he found me this place. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  Grenville asked, “What happened to S&T Imports?”

  “Well, technically it’s still trading,” said Tom. “We registered it under Russian law, so it’s still a viable company.”

  “Good, good,” said Grenville.

  Tom looked at Grenville, and Grenville could see by Tom’s puzzled expression that he was confused. “Don’t worry,” said Grenville, “I have a brilliant plan, just need to work out some details.”

  Over the next few days Grenville and Tom worked on the plan. As the pieces fell into place Tom was impressed with Grenville’s enthusiasm and flair; Tom in a million years would never have thought of half the things Grenville was suggesting. Then again, he had known one other person like that many years ago; this brought a smile to his face.

  “So,” said Grenville finally to Tom, “first things first, once I am back in the UK I will register S&T imports as a private company and register it in the UK. I will also open a UK bank account for S&T Imports which we both can add and withdraw funds from, and with the money we have already, and the money we will make, we will create a world class import and export business, delivering worldwide, above the radar or under the radar, depending what the client wants. We will become the name to be trusted to deliver anything anytime anywhere, and as we build we will expand. In the shadows, I will create a clandestine operation to rival any top government intelligence agencies. I will employ the very best programmers and analysts; none will know the whole picture, or what they are doing; as far as they know, it will all be working towards the import and export business, but only you and I will know the real reason for S&T Imports. As you pass me a name, I can find them, check them and pass on their profile within months, possibly weeks, or even days, and ‘hey presto’, we are in business. What you think then, Tom?”

  Tom stared at Grenville and realised he was not joking he was serious and started to believe Grenville’s commitment.

  Grenville said, “The money in the safe is easy to move, but the other stuff like the diamonds, gold and other trinkets you have acquired over the years will be more difficult; it will take me some time to finally shift it all, and convert it into cash.” This brought a smile to Tom’s face.

  Grenville went on, “You need to get in contact with your Uncle Ivor and ask him when he is next planning a trip to the UK. I am sure we can make a run to the UK worth it.”

  “I’m sure we can,” said Tom, smiling. “What has uncle Ivor got to do with this?”

  “He, my dear chap, is going to smuggle all the gold into the UK for us.”

  “Trinkets.”

  “Sorry?”

  “And trinkets,” said Tom, laughing.

  “Yes of course, trinkets,” replied Grenville seriously.

  “On paper the plan looks excellent and well thought through,” said Tom, smiling.

  “I can feel a big but coming,” said Grenville, laughing.

  “I applauded your enthusiasm Duke, but this is not a game to me, it is serious, and I will not stop until it is over,” said Tom quietly.

  Grenville smiled, “Tom, I do not understand your commitment but I understand what drives you, but you have given me something to dedicate my life to, sink my teeth into. Before I went home I was worried and wondered what life held for me, now I know. You have your quest, I now have a chance to become part of that quest,” Grenville continued, “and together we will track down the rest of the people responsible for the death of your family, and make them pay,” he said, looking Tom directly in the eyes.

  Tom could see Grenville was serious and finally said, “OK then, put it there, partner,” as he held out his hand. Grenville waved the hand away, and opened his arms and leaned in for a hug. They both hugged and started to laugh. “So, give me the piece of paper with the name on it, I saw you fail to give it back to the policeman,” said Grenville, smiling.

  “Not yet, you get set up then once we both decide you are ready you can have it, deal?” said a smiling Tom.

  “Deal,” said a reluctant Grenville, taking Tom’s outstretched hand.

  Next morning, Grenville told Tom that he needed to go to the British Embassy to get a new passport and sort some things out. Tom looked confused. “What about the one you have already?”

  “I need an excuse to get into the Embassy. Once they realise who I am, they will be falling over to help me, and I need their help to get my large holdalls through customs via the diplomatic route.”

  “Sneaky,” said Tom.

  “Practical,” said Grenville. “If there is one thing I have learnt from you after all this time, is always have a plan.”

  Tom dropped Grenville at the British Embassy gates, and went to the docks to see if the Red Star was in, or if she was likely to return soon.

  Watching Tom depart towards the docks, Grenville went up to the buzzer and in his best accent said, “I would like to speak to someone about a lost passport.” Eventually the door buzzed and opened a fraction and Grenville entered the British embassy. Grenville went up to the front desk, smiling.

  “Can I help you,” said the girl behind the counter with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

  “I wish to talk to someone about a lost passport,” said Grenville.

  “Of course,” said the girl. “Please take a seat,” indicating to the seating area.

  Grenville smiled. “Thank you, most kind.” Grenville went and sat down. There were already a few people waiting. No doubt by the looks of them they were locals waiting for a UK visa. After about ten minutes, a man went to reception and spoke to the girl who indicated to Grenville. Grenville smiled; here comes the fun.

  The man walked over and said, “I am Mr Forbes from the Embassy, Mr…” letting the Mr hang in the air.

  Grenville stood and held out his hand and said, “I am the Earl of Eastleigh, son of the Duke of Hampshire.” Mr Forbes stared at Grenville and was not sure what to say. He just stood and was trying to work out if the scruffy man in front of him was genuine
or raving mad. Grenville went on. “I do apologise for my appearance, old man, but had a hard few days since I was robbed down south.”

  Forbes decided to err on the side of caution. “Please, my Lord, will you follow me.”

  Grenville smiled and said, “Thank you, old man.” Grenville followed Forbes through the security cordon into a back office.

  Opening the door, Forbes said, “Please can you take a seat, my Lord, so we can determine the facts correctly.”

  Grenville sat as Forbes closed the door and left. Grenville smiled and knew “determine the facts” meant to make sure he was who he said he was and if not, Grenville was sure he would most probably be shot for wasting Embassy time.

  After about fifteen minutes Forbes returned and Grenville could tell by his attitude the news was good. “I do apologise, my lord, for the delay, but protocol and all that,” said Forbes.

  “Understand absolutely, old bean,” replied Grenville, smiling.

  “Please can you follow me, my Lord, the Ambassador will see you now.”

  “Thank you,” replied Grenville.

  Forbes led Grenville through the maze of the Embassy, eventually arriving at an open door. Knocking, Forbes said, “Ambassador, the Earl of Eastleigh.”

  “My lord,” said the Ambassador, coming from behind his desk to greet Grenville, holding out his hand. Grenville took the offered hand. “James McLeish” said the Ambassador, smiling. “This is a lucky encounter,” said the Ambassador.

  “Really,” replied Grenville.

  “Yes, only got word this week from the FO to find you.”

  “Excellent,” said Grenville, trying hard not to laugh.

  “I went to school with your father,” said the Ambassador.

  “Really, you are a Rayleigh boy as well, how wonderful,” replied Grenville.

  “When you get home please give my regards to your father, the Duke,” said the Ambassador.

  “I will pass on your best wishes and let him know how helpful you were to an old-school friend’s lost son and a fellow Rayleigh boy.”