"Whoo-hoo! Eat that, Ash!" yelped Sean in triumph, bobbing and weaving with the games console controller in his hand.
Ash sighed, already disgruntled with what he considered to be a vastly un-entertaining form of entertainment.
"What in the wide world...?" began Albert as he entered the crew's communal lounge area, then realised the source of the disturbance, and joined Ash in muttering, eye-rolling, and general deprecation. "I thought you were meant to be doing some research for me," he said, with a hint of disapproval in his voice.
"Done," replied Ash as he stepped across the room, stretched over the table by the window, and lifted a sheaf of papers which he passed to Albert. The senior hustler took a seat in order to study them at his leisure, and Ash strolled over to the drinks cabinet to pour them both a libation. He handed Albert a Scotch and sat opposite him to await the verdict. Sean was continuing his battle with the Wii, oblivious to the others' conversation.
"Hmmm," murmured Albert. He set the leaded crystal tumbler down on the table beside him and leafed through the pages once more, apparently seeking something in particular. "Ah!" he exclaimed, pleased at last to have found it. "I think this idea is the most appealing." He showed the page to Ash, who took it, nodded with a growing grin and said, "Think it'll fly, then?
Eight days earlier
Best business suits on, Sean and Mickey walked into the reception area of an up-scale City office.
"Can I help you?" the bespectacled woman at the desk enquired.
"Yes, we're here to see Miss Nicole Harris," answered Mickey smoothly. "If you'd like to tell her we're here..." He proffered his business card.
"Please take a seat." The receptionist indicated some leather couches nearby, and pressed some buttons on her switchboard. "A Mr. Gardiner is here to see you...yes, I will." Replacing the receiver, she turned to Mickey and announced, "Miss Harris will see you now." She indicated a door in the far corner of the room. Mickey nodded his thanks to her and, with Sean, walked briskly over and knocked on the door.
"Come in," said a pleasant, young voice.
The pair entered the office to be met by a fair-haired, very attractive woman, probably in her late twenties. She offered them a seat and some coffee (which they politely declined), and, rather than sit behind her desk, joined them on the easy chairs that formed a semi-circle by the picture window.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" she asked in a kind but forthright manner.
"Well, we have a bit of a problem," began Mickey hesitantly, and a bit of eye-play between him and Sean served to pique Miss Harris' interest.
"Go on," she prodded..
"Right...as you may be aware, certain Members of Parliament are...how can I put it...leaving town on the next train?" Mickey raised a cynical eyebrow, and Miss Harris couldn't help but smile at the analogy. "My associate, Mr. Quinn, and I are employed by the taxpayer to look after the interests of some of these MPs, and we're concerned that the aftermath of their departure may leave us in a somewhat precarious situation."
"You think the MPs who have been forced to resign will be looking for someone to blame?" Miss Harris queried.
Again, Sean and Mickey exchanged meaningful glances, and the latter replied, "Not so much to blame – they've got themselves into this situation – more like 'take it out' on someone. They're angry, they've lost not only their positions but their excessive privileges, too, and they want to find someone to whom they can give a good kicking, so to speak."
"I see." Miss Harris sat back in her chair, mulling it over. "I would need to see copies of your contracts before I can say with any certainty how you stand."
Sean smiled and leaned down to extract a file from his pilot's case. "We thought you might need to look at those," he said, handing her the paperwork.
"You obviously are aware of the contents of these already," she stated, glancing through the documents. "Do you think you have a case?" She looked over her rimless spectacles, first at Mickey, then Sean.
Mickey laughed lightly, incredulous. "Do we think we have a case? Sorry, Miss Harris, but that's why we came to you, to find out if we were on shaky legal ground, should the worst come to the worst."
Miss Harris returned his smile politely. "I find, Mr. Gardiner, that very often potential clients know exactly what they want to do, and how they want to do it, before they come to me. They just need me to enable the process." She now stared fixedly at Mickey. "The most important thing in that process is for you to be honest with me from the start. If you have suspicions about people or situations, ideas of how things may pan out, then you must tell me. I'm a lawyer, not a psychic or a mind-reader."
"Understood," Mickey said, with a conciliatory nod.
"Now, if you'll give me a day or two to go over these, I'll see what I can do." Miss Harris returned to her desk and made a call. "Lorraine, can you make an appointment for Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Quinn for Wednesday afternoon, please? Thank you."
Seven days earlier
"Mick, I think we've struck paydirt." Ash leaned out onto the balcony, steadying himself with a hand on the glass either side of him.
Mickey looked up from his conversation with Emma, saw the keen anticipation on Ash's face, and immediately followed him back into the suite. They sat together at the table and looked at the laptop screen.
"I've been listening in on the live feed from the legal eagle's office, and this is a transcript of what I've heard today, insofar as it relates to us. I mean, there've been people in and out all morning, but this is pure gold."
His friend's eyes danced as he read the word-for-word account for himself. "Brilliant, Ash. This is exactly what we needed." He sat back, relieved, hands behind his head. "I have to admit that half of me thought we'd gone to the wrong person." He sat forward again, excited at the prospect of success, re-reading the text just to prove to himself that it was real.
Emma looked over his shoulder. "So I guess I'm on?" she asked.
Later that day
"My name's Nicole Harris, Mr. Whitchurch. How do you do?"
"Tremendous to meet you, Nicole. You don't mind if I call you Nicole?"
"Of course not." Smiling sweetly, she sat down and motioned for the man to do so too.
"Then please call me Barnaby – all my friends do."
"Barnaby. What a charming name." Well, if he was going to be patronising and gushing, she would be too. Tossing her blonde curls over a shoulder in the manner of a hairspray commercial, Emma leaned confidentially towards "Barnaby". "How can I be of assistance?" she said in a low, deliberately sexy voice.
It worked a treat. Whitchurch cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and stammered awkwardly.
Emma poured him a glass of water, trying not to smirk too much.
Finally regaining his composure, Whitchurch began again. "Well, Nicole, I'm sure you're aware of all the adverse publicity that elected politicians have been receiving over the past year." When she nodded sagely, he went on, "Many of the problems connected with this, er, difficult situation, have been caused by civil servants who have made a terrible mess of things like expenses claims."
Nodding in agreement, Emma daintily crossed her legs, and replied, "It must be very difficult for you to have to undergo such a public pillorying. I'd like to handle your case for you, if I can."
Hardly able to tear his eyes away from her elevated hemline, Whitchurch took another drink. "I'd be most grateful if you could, Nicole. I have several colleagues who would also be very interested in talking to you; they've asked me to test the waters, if you like."
"Well, I'd be delighted to meet with you as a group, if that would be suitable?" offered Emma.
"Indeed, indeed it would! Let me set that up for you – I'm sure we can get the use of one of the parliamentary meeting rooms at Westminster...perhaps a spot of lunch too, eh?" he winked smugly. Emma restrained her scorn at the ludicrous irony which Whitchurch seemed aware of, but certainly wasn't embarrassed about.
Six days earlier
"Do come in, Mr. Gardiner – Mr. Quinn. Have a seat."
"Thank you." Mickey and Sean sat down, and looked expectantly at Nicole Harris.
"I'll be honest with you, gentlemen. I don't think there is much possibility of you being successful. I've read over your contracts, and they don't leave any room for manoeuvre on your part. Whoever wrote them was very careful not to allow you any latitude at all. I'm sorry."
Mickey moved forward to the edge of his seat and leaned across the desk between him and Harris. "Surely there must be some way..."
"Unfortunately, no. There are no loopholes, no get-out clauses – just a very cut and dried contract that places responsibility fairly and squarely on your shoulders, I'm afraid."
"I see." Mickey looked dejected, Sean absolutely shell-shocked as they both stood up to leave. "Well, thank you for your time, Miss Harris. We're sorry to have troubled you."
"Not at all." The lawyer shook hands with them. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more to help you." She saw them to the door and closed it gently behind them.
Still looking downcast, the two men left the building and flagged down a taxi. Once in the cab, Mickey made a phone call.
"Albert? Over to you." He rang off with a broad grin at Sean.
Somewhere in the city
"Patrick Carney. I've come about the night doorman's job," announced the Irishman.
"Oh, yes. Wait a minute, I'll call the building manager for you...Maddie? There's a chap here to see you, a Mr. Carney...OK, I'll tell him." Turning to Albert, the security guard said, "Miss Black will be right with you."
Five days earlier...and counting...
Ash's overalls and toolbox ensured that nobody looked twice at him as Albert admitted him to the premises, despite the fact that it was two in the morning.
"Now, the lift is monitored with a close-circuit camera, so I suggest that you take the stairs – they're not covered at all," Albert briefed Ash.
"Right. Anything else I need to watch out for?"
"There is a security patrol, but it's contracted to an outside firm, and they're not due back here until 3.30 – that's why I thought 2 a.m. would be best, it leaves you the longest possible time before they show up again."
"Great." Ash clapped Albert on the arm and made his way down to the basement. Once there, he checked his compass to make sure of his bearings and selected the north wall. Then he took his netbook from its hiding place in the toolbox, placed it on a workbench and fired it up.
"Right...let's see who else is here..." He clicked an icon at the bottom of the computer screen, and a list of wireless networks popped up. "MRPG...boomer...here we are, nharris...ahhh, an unsecured network." Ash grinned with satisfaction as he clicked on "Connect". "I love it when technophobes leave everything running all night," he muttered happily to himself.
