So much paper. A mountain of it. How did it all even fit on the desk?
Laura put all her weight on an elbow, delivering an accusatory sigh at the white peppered desk she sat at. The tedium we endure for the sake of a high paying job.
Shuffle, stamp, sign, on to the next document. New J26 forms for the Jacksonville account, she quickly composed an email and flicked it off, letting the family know she needed more information about their income before their tax returns could be finalised. In her inbox, she saw a request for advice from a paying customer about taxation around the new airport he was investing in. She passed that one on to her sub-contractor. What’s next?
Ah, right. Mr Cherrywood. The reclusive local billionaire. She flicked through his documents, adding the numbers and entering data onto a spreadsheet methodically. Her eyes drooping but staying open. A few numbers tapped into a calculator, a few percentages worked out and… what?
Something was wrong.
Frowning to herself, Laura made the calculations again. Wrong.
“…I don’t make mistakes”
The timer on her phone went off. Mechanically, she slid open her office drawer and shook two pills out onto her hand before swallowing them, chasing them down with a swig from her water bottle. For a moment, she leaned back in her chair massaging her temples. Then she opened her eyes in game mode and began doing her job.
Funds from the secondary account according to the national bank were directed through this private agency but expenditure approximates only…
Again, Laura had to stop.
There was only one conclusion behind all the data. Mr Cherrywood, billionaire investor, owner of over 300 different brands and CEO of Nanosoft technologies was up to something.
Millions of dollars had quietly been shifted around personal funds and trusts with enough money disappearing between the paperwork to purchase and fund a personal yacht. What was he up to?
Hidden slush funds? Bribe money? Mob connections?
Laura ran a hand over her forehead and took another swig of water.
“Caaaalm down you crazy person—I’m sure there is an explanation you have not considered.”
She swivelled on her chair, the awards pinned up at the back of her office catching her eye. For her to make a mistake? Where numbers were concerned?
Laura picked up the phone, it was time to make some calls.
Two hours later she had more answers and even more questions.
Nanotechnology, advanced polymers and metallic superalloys purchased from multiple different start-ups, aerospace companies and brand-new research labs had been funded using shadow accounts set up by Mr Cherrywood, then promptly been picked up by overpaid delivery staff and shipped to his mansion.
Companies had been set up by the billionaire, then made to look well established so he could move resources through them without drawing attention.
She made one last call. The phone rang only once before the voice of a young man answered.
“Laura, hey. Long time to not hear from you. How’ve ya been?”
“Hello Evan, I have been investigating a suspicious account and need a warrant to audit a mansion. I have sent you an email with the relevant details”
A burst of static accompanied a sigh from the other end of the phone.
“Ever the conversationalist. I suppose you’ve—Yup there’s the email. Lemme see…”
Laura waited straight backed in her chair while Evan skimmed the email summary she had sent him.
“Hm, this will take a bit more reading into. I’ll reply to this email with the warrant, I’m sure it’s valid, this is you we are talking about after all.”
“Thank you Evan…”
Laura paused. There was something else she should say here…
“I appreciate the effort you go through for me”
“No problem Laura”
She could hear the amusement in his voice.
“I’ll pass that warrant right on to you.”
Three hours later, she was pulling her car up before the gates of a mansion that would not have looked out of place in some high Gothic fantasy movie.
The looming shape of stone and wrought iron sculpture dominated the landscape of peaceful suburbia held at bay from this relic of the ancient past with ivy covered walls.
She stepped from her car and took a moment to take it all in.
Someone looking from the camera mounted at the iron gate would see a young woman in a form fitting business suit and sensible flat black pumps. Her hair tied back in a bun with not a single strand out of place and her narrow-framed glasses doing little to mask the severe expression that permanently lay across her face.
The intercom buzzed at her touch. She put her hands back at her side, looking not at the camera, but directly forward at the mansion, her eyes missing nothing.
“…You have reached the Cherrywood residence; do you have an appointment with the master of the house?”
“My name is Laura Kite, from Kite tax investigations limited. I have an audit warrant for this residence. Please open the gate.”
There was a long pause as the person on the other end of the intercom processed that and presumably checked their records.
“I have no notification of an audit.”
“This is a surprise inspection as mandated under the Tax Evasion Act of 1968, section 12, subclause 4c. I have both a licence to conduct it and a warrant granted based on suspicious account movement. Failure to comply may result in criminal prosecution…”
She paused to consider.
“Trust me you do not want to get lawyers involved in this one.”
There was a long pause from the other end. Laura’s phone buzzed, and she considered going to her car for her pills, but she did not want to miss the reply.
“…I’m opening the gate, please meet me at the entrance.”
The gardens of the mansion showed obvious signs of care and effort. Sculpted hedges and well-tended rosebushes lined the driveway which led to a fork. Laura slowly navigated down the path that took her round the face of the house where the entrance was flanked by parking spots.
She missed nothing as she drove and even less so when she stepped out of the vehicle. There were very few tire tracks on the natural dirt road, not a commonly travelled driveway. Mr Cherrywood was supposed to be highly reclusive, so the additional parking spaces did not really make sense. But, Laura reminded herself, this mansion was inherited, those could have existed before his time.
A man of about 60 stood with practiced stillness by the mansion entrance watching owl-like as the car approached. He possessed an impeccably trimmed moustache and a combed back streak of silver hair that most men can only dream of one day possessing in their twilight years. Cast against the painted ornate wood of the white doorway behind him, he almost seemed a part of the mansion itself.
She collected her warrant and documents before leaving the car and approaching the older man.
“Welcome to Cherrywood estate miss Kite. My name is Erik, I am the butler and personal manservant to master Cherrywood.”
She had to stop herself from reaching out her hand to shake when Erik delivered a curt bow with a perfectly straight back.
“Thank you Mr Erik. I wish we could meet under more amicable circumstances”
Erik’s grim demeanour echoed the sentiment. He unlocked the door with gloved hands and ushered his guest in.
“Tea or coffee Miss Kite?”
“I’m fine thank you—and please, call me Laura, would it be possible to meet with the master of the house? I think it would be best if he could clear up the numbers personally.”
Laura began her appraisal the moment they were inside. A spiral staircase on either side of the room. Primary highlights in cream with red carpets and mosaic style tiling. Classic art adorning the walls with Greek inspired busts sitting in alcoves. It was a scene to impress and Laura was forced to admit, it was working.
She was led to a study on one of the upper floors. Erik knocked politely, and a deep voice answered from within.
Mr Cherrywood was young and classically handsome. Striking features and hair that Laura quietly suspected was dyed to appear darker. But by far the most eye-catching element of his appearance was how fit the man looked. Not built like a competition bodybuilder, but compact and with muscles that no adult woman would fail to notice.
“Miss Kite!”
He stood from the leather armchair he had been reclining in, greeting her like an old friend and, unlike his butler, offering his hand to shake.
“Alan Cherrywood but you can call me Alan, pleasure to meet you!”
Alan’s smile went from ear to ear. Everything about the man, from his tone to his posture was welcoming.
As she took his hand and returned his introduction in kind, Laura searched the man’s eyes and found a familiar look. Alan Cherrywood was disciplined in his charisma, but he didn’t want to be having this conversation.
“Thank you for your welcome Mr Cherrywood. Please call me Laura.”
They both took out a seat as Laura placed the relevant documents on the table in front of her. from the back of the room, she heard the click of the door as Erik quietly excused himself.
She cleared her throat and took a second to centre herself before she began.
“Mr Ch—Alan. These documents detail some troubling discoveries I have made. Primarily they concern significant assets that have been funneled through this mansion before promptly vanishing. They especially seem to concern some very bleeding edge materials and equipment from multiple aerospace and science laboratories, some…”
She lowered her gaze to peer at the billionaire over her glasses,
“…of which were clearly set up by you, specifically for this purpose and nothing else.”
Erik flicked through the documents as she spoke, his leg lightly jumping up and down in what Laura could only assume was some form of nervous tick.
“OK Laura… I promise there is a reasonable explanation for this, why don’t we go for a walk and I can show you my home.”
Despite having just sat down, Laura stood immediately. This was what she came for.
The mansion was huge.
Alan barely stopped talking the entire time as they were walking, not because he was a chatterbox, but because of the sheer volume of history and interesting information about every room they passed. There were family heirlooms from as far back as 1902 when the mansion had been made and more modern touches from himself and his mother whom he had inherited the mansion from.
“My tastes can be a little unusual by ordinary perspectives as you can see, don’t hold it against me! Here, let me show you the theatre, this was built in 1999 by my mother when she decided—”
Laura let his voice become background noise as she examined her surroundings. The architecture of the buildings was sublime, but there was something strange about the structure of this room in particular.
The theatre was dark of course, with low mood lights highlighting the red velvet of the luxurious theatre chairs. Alan’s voice was muffled in the echoless way of a room designed with sound in mind.
“—If you know what I mean haha”
She glanced over at Alan in time to catch his charming wink. She stared blankly for a moment, processing everything he had been saying.
“Would you like me to put something on? I love impressing guests with this setup, you’ll find nothing else quite like it.”
“That… won’t be necessary Alan. Thank you for the offer. Your family theatre is most impressive” She replied.
He frowned for a split second before his usual twinkle eyed grin settled back into place.
“Come on now, you gotta let me treat you to something”
He placed a hand on his chest and raised a finger in a gesture of mock pride.
“I know, let’s head over to the library. There are some paintings there that I had to fight tooth and nail to acquire. Never let it be said that Alan Cherrywood does not know how to treat a guest!”
Laura puzzled over his stance and mannerisms. Was he trying to flirt?
But there was also a strain to his eyes and gestures. Maybe she had things wrong. Was he acting like this to make her uncomfortable? Did he want her out of this room?
“…perhaps a demonstration then, if you are so proud of it, it would be only courteous to witness the marvels of such a historic theatre myself”
Laura stared sharply at the billionaire’s face as she spoke and saw her answer on the sweat of his brow. Alan hid is panic well, but not well enough. He didn’t want to be here.
“S—sure, lemme just pick something”.
As Alan walked over to the back of the theatre, presumably to fetch a remote, Laura walked swiftly to the east side of the room.
Here it was. This was the gap in the architecture. There should have been more room here than there was. She put her ear up to the slightly padded wall and rapped it with her knuckles. Hard to tell with the sound absorbent material, but there was definitely a hollow space behind here. She began running her hands along the surface.
“MISS KITE!”
Alan’s voice from behind her made her jump, but she didn’t stop. If anything, the naked alarm in his tone only served to convince her she had the right idea.
“MISS KITE PLEASE!”
Heavy footsteps on carpet floors thudded towards her, felt more than heard.
A hand on her shoulder. A grip that was firm but also hesitant.
And a hidden pressure panel embedded in the wall.
With a pneumatic hiss, the floor and wall separated and a large section of the room opened up. Laura skipped out of the way in surprise as hidden mechanisms revealed a utilitarian metal staircase behind the wall, leading into darkness.
She turned to a resigned Alan, unable to entirely keep the smugness off her face.
“Your theatre Mr Cherrywood, is very impressive indeed.”
Through clenched teeth, Alan replied.
“Miss Kite… I know what this looks like, and I cannot stop you from investigating down there.”
He clenched his fists at his side and looked up at the ceiling with a defeated sigh.
“But I promise you, everything I have done is for the greater good. You will see.”
Unsure of how to respond to that. Laura turned to the secret entrance, and boldly walked in.
Submitted August 07, 2018 at 05:39AM by ThreeDucksInAManSuit https://ift.tt/2Ok6ck5
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