Becoming Saint Peter by Hamish Hudson

Author:Hamish Hudson [Hudson, Hamish]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hamish Hudson
Published: 2021-06-14T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Odell reclined on a leather armchair in the back corner of the Rum Bar. He was sipping a Daiquiri from a tall cocktail glass.

I sank into the armchair opposite him, completely bemused. “What do you mean it was all a lie?”

“Mr Black,” he said, spreading his hands out and addressing me in the deferential manner he always did. “Sometimes in your role, Cassandra and I need to keep you in the dark. It makes your saintly image more authentic, you understand. It’s how we’ve always worked.”

“I know that,” I lied. “Can you fill me in now?”

“Let’s get some drinks. Do you want one of these?” He waved his half-empty glass towards me, tempting me momentarily. “It’s not as good as the ones in Manhattan, but it’s good enough for a Thursday lunchtime. Or maybe you fancy a Monkey Shoulder Old Fashioned, like normal?”

I guess an Old Fashioned was my brother’s tipple of choice. As a lowly drug runner growing up in a Glasgow gang, I was used to drinking the cheapest alcohol by volume. Taste never mattered to me; I just craved the warm alcoholic embrace.

Odell waved the extensive drinks menu at me. My eyes locked into his, and I said, “No thanks. I don’t drink anymore.” It’s another technique I learnt at the residential detox clinic to control my alcoholic urge, The Weasel.

He froze, with his cocktail glass just below his mouth. “What do you mean? You love a drink. You’ve got a drinks cabinet the size of a spirit still in your office, for crying out loud!”

“That’s true, but I need to make changes. Losing my brother was a wake-up call. Anyway, you’ll see a few changes in me from now on. End of story.” I changed the subject. “Tell me about DataFeed.”

He closed his gaping mouth and, like a professional, carried on with the business at hand. “You remember we bought five thousand stolen identity records from Cassandra’s contact, Gavin Williamson?”

I nodded. “Those identities were from employees of a national accountancy firm that went bust. Williamson worked at the Department for Work in a team supporting those poor sods to find new roles. Cassandra sweet-talked the guy into selling us the data for a few hundred grand.”

Odell smiled. “Your amnesia hasn’t affect your memory creation, I’m glad to see. Cassandra then lined up Ray Woods to buy the data for a few million from us.”

“So how does that scam link to DataFeed?”

Odell placed his cocktail glass on the ebony table and leaned forward. “Everything you showed Charles, and the Mayor was a charade. We’re using the stolen identities to claim that those people work at DataFeed, recruited through the Reboot Employment scheme. We earn fifteen grand a person.”

“What about the two hundred-odd people working in the office? I saw them with my own eyes. And what about Rachel Booth, the operations manager?”

“Rachel’s in on it. She knows the deal. Apart from her and a handful of others, the rest of the people you saw are actors, paid for a day’s work! If you go back tomorrow, you’ll find it deserted.

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