Dory's Avengers (55 page)

As Lord William was enjoying Faye's body once again, a weeping Sarah Lonsdale was being comforted by her friends in The White Lion. Even Jenny had understood the gist of His Lordship's pronouncement; Sarah's brother Rick and
his family were going to lose their comfortable and friendly home on 18 June, Theo's birthday. No one had any doubt that Lord William had deliberately chosen the Lonsdale family and their friends as the first to become homeless. The blow was made even harder to bear for Sarah as she had no means of communication with her brother, no means of finding out where he and Lisa intended to go, no way of offering her support. Theo was naturally upset about the date His Lordship had chosen to embark on this latest atrocity, and Izzy had her work cut out persuading her son that he was in no way responsible for His Lordship's crimes. The London Unsponsored who'd remained in Applethwaite for a few days following Chris and Georgie's wedding, and who had subsequently become trapped in The White Lion, were also frustrated at being so helpless while their friends in the capital suffered.

Since the day of the pitched battle between the Applethwaite Unsponsored and his security guards, Lord William hadn't let anyone leave The White Lion, and that included the Lorimer family. By the second week in June, the Unsponsored UK branch of Europe Logistics was becoming increasingly anxious at not having heard from Philip Lorimer for nearly a month; not even a phone call since he'd left to attend a wedding in the North-West. Every time Philip's second-in-command, Jon Morison, called Philip's mobile phone, his call went straight to voicemail. It was unprecedented for Philip to be unreachable for so long, and eventually Jon decided that perhaps Lord William St Benedict could help. When Lord William was next in London, Jon made an appointment to see him.

‘Good morning, Mr Morison,' said Lord William, smiling warmly as Brian Mooreland showed Jon Morison into the office. Shaking Lord William by the hand, Jon sat down in the chair offered to him by Mooreland. Jon had experienced enough hard-headed businesspeople in his time not
to be taken in by Lord William's amiable expression; there was no way that His Lordship would be the all-powerful man he was without also being shrewd and ruthless.

‘What can I do for you?' asked His Lordship, once Jon Morison had been supplied with a cup of coffee.

‘Your Lordship, I need your help as a matter of fact. I appreciate that time is precious to you, so I'll get straight to the point. I need to get in touch with Philip Lorimer, but he appears to have vanished off the face of the Earth. With the Games coming up, we at Europe Logistics UK really need him back in London. Now, Your Lordship, you are arguably the most powerful man in the country. If you would be so kind as to use your influence…'

‘I understand your concern, Mr Morison, but what makes you think that I know where Philip is?'

‘He was last seen in Applethwaite, Your Lordship, attending a wedding that I believe included you among its guests. I'm also aware of the troubles in Applethwaite since said wedding, and I confess that I'm worried that Philip may have inadvertently become caught up in these troubles.'

‘I fear you may be correct, Mr Morison. The Unsponsored in Applethwaite have become very rebellious; indeed, they have turned my son and daughter against me.'

Knowing a little of Theo's past from Philip, Jon thought that Lord William had probably done a good enough job of alienating his son without any help from the Applethwaite Unsponsored. Wisely, Jon kept his thoughts to himself as Lord William continued.

‘I shall be returning to Applethwaite in an attempt to restore order tomorrow morning. Why don't you come along with me? There's more than enough room in my car.'

‘With respect, Your Lordship, I'm needed here in London. What with Philip's absence and the Games fast approaching…'

Lord William smiled. Jon Morison's frequent allusions to
the Games weren't lost on His Lordship, a subtle reminder of the Sponsors' need to maintain a good business relationship with Europe Logistics UK.

‘Very well. I understand,' said Lord William. ‘I shall pass on your message to the Unsponsored, and hopefully find a way to ensure Philip's safe and immediate return to London.'

Once Jon Morison had left, Lord William sat at his desk thinking for quite some time. What a fool he'd been! He'd promised his Sponsors that he wouldn't get distracted by sentimentality anymore, and instead he'd become distracted by his overwhelming desire to crush the Unsponsored. Of course, they must be crushed; any opposition to the Scheme must be stamped out, but to imprison the head of Europe Logistics UK with the Games coming up? That was just careless. Reaching for his phone, Lord William decided there wasn't a moment to lose.

In Applethwaite a few minutes later, Mortimer O'Reilly was very dismayed at the orders he had just received from His Lordship.

‘No arguments, Mortimer. I want the message relayed to The White Lion immediately, and I have chosen you to do the relaying.'

‘But Your Lordship,' begged Mortimer desperately, ‘I don't think they'll let me in. Surely Faye or David would be better choices, as their offspring are in The White Lion…'

‘Which is precisely why I decided against sending either of them. This is important. The head of Europe Logistics UK needs to be made aware immediately that he is required back in London, and I have chosen you to pass on the message.'

‘But Your Lordship…'

‘O'Reilly!' roared Lord William, completely losing his temper and compounding his money man's distress. ‘Are you disobeying an order?'

‘No, Your Lordship,' replied Mortimer, almost in tears. ‘I would never…'

‘Good. Now you know what I want you to do. Let them know you bring a message concerning Lorimer. Stress to the Unsponsored scum that you are alone, I'm sure they won't hurt you. They claim that they always act with integrity; now's their chance to prove it.'

Mortimer's mouth became as dry as a bone.

‘Convince them that we didn't realise that Lorimer and his family were holed up with the Unsponsored, and that we're very distressed at the misunderstanding. You're clearly distressed already, which should make that claim all the more plausible. Now go! I shall expect a report back from you before the day's out.'

A few minutes later, Jess Donatelli was astonished to glance out of the window and see a visibly shaking Mortimer O'Reilly coming up the path towards the front door of The White Lion. Asking the band to stop playing for a few moments, she crossed to the door as a timorous knock sounded.

‘Mr O'Reilly,' called Jess through the door. ‘What do you want?'

‘I h…h…have a m…m…message,' stammered Mortimer, ‘c…concerning Philip…'

‘Are you alone?' asked Jess.

‘C…c…completely alone.'

Turning to the assembled company, Jess shrugged helplessly. It was Lysander who suggested they let Mortimer in.

‘He's a coward; he won't try anything silly. I for one would like to hear what he's got to say…'

‘And so would I,' interrupted Philip, ‘being as it concerns me.'

Nodding, Jess unbolted the door and let Mortimer into the bar, while Izzy slipped away to conceal herself in the backroom. Theo and Max went to fetch Louis from the
cellar and help him bring Gideon back up to the ground floor. Whatever Mortimer had to say, he would be saying it to all of Dory's Avengers.

‘Morti!' said Lysander, patting Mortimer's chubby face as Jess bolted the door behind the trembling money man. ‘I've missed you; you big, fat charlatan…'

‘Dad, don't bully him!' said Louis, helping himself to a glass of water.

‘What, not even a tiny bit?'

‘NO, Dad! Seems you still have a bit of the Sponsor left in your soul even after all this time.' Suitably admonished, Lysander went back behind the bar and showed off his prowess with a cocktail-shaker as Louis walked over to Mortimer.

‘Don't be scared, Mr O'Reilly,' he said kindly. ‘We won't hurt you.' Mortimer continued to tremble, and looked in panic at the bolted door blocking his path to freedom.

‘Really, we won't hurt you. You're free to go as soon as you've passed on your message. The locked door's our own insurance policy against them.' Louis gestured out of the window to where Dyer was smirking in the street, a gang of thugs behind him, waiting for Mortimer to conclude his interview with the Unsponsored.

‘Hello, Mortimer, how are you?' asked Theo, approaching with a cocktail which he handed to the money man. ‘Drink this – it'll steady your nerves a bit.'

Unconvinced, Mortimer said, ‘Trevelyan mixed it, didn't he…?'

‘Yes,' called Lysander from the bar. ‘It's a heady mix of arsenic and cyanide. Sup it down, Morti old bean…'

‘DAD!' yelled Louis, while Gideon and one or two others in the bar tried to stifle laughs. Turning back to Mortimer, Louis added, ‘Theo's right, Mr O'Reilly. It'll steady your nerves, and I promise you it's perfectly safe.'

Feeling rather backed into a corner, Mortimer took the
cocktail in trembling hands and sipped it. It turned out to be delicious, and did indeed succeed in calming his nerves.

You're…' began Mortimer, looking at Louis, who interrupted with a grin.

‘I'm Louis Trevelyan. Son of Lysander, friend of Theo and subject of predictions…'

‘I'm sorry,' said Mortimer, looking ashamed. ‘You're not the subject of any prediction; I've never had the gift of sight…'

‘No shit, Sherlock!' said Lysander from the bar, starting to laugh.

‘DAD! Will you stop bullying him! It's not how the Unsponsored behave. I'm sorry, Mr O'Reilly,' Louis continued. ‘My Dad's a bit full of shit sometimes. Do you want another drink?'

To Louis's surprise, Mortimer said that he'd love one.

‘Come on, Dad; make yourself useful and mix another drink for Mr O'Reilly, please. Now then,' said Louis, turning to Mortimer as Lysander delivered the money man's drink with a smile and no wisecrack, ‘I'm sure Philip's dying to know what this is all about, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say the rest of us are curious too.'

‘Ah yes,' said Mortimer, draining his second glass of Lysander's cocktail and ceasing to tremble. ‘Mr Lorimer; His Lordship wishes to extend his sincere apologies to you. We didn't realise you were here with the Unsponsored until a…Jon Morison?'

‘Yes, Jon,' confirmed Philip, ‘my colleague and friend.'

‘Jon Morison made us aware that you were missing, and His Lordship put two and two together. Of course, you and your family are free to return to London any time you wish.'

‘Odd that my mobile phone was cut off, being as His Lordshit didn't know I was here,' said Philip, noting Mortimer wince at the offensive name the Unsponsored used for his boss. ‘However, I will play the game and pretend it
was all just a big misunderstanding. I realise that you are simply the messenger here, Mr O'Reilly, for which I thank you.'

‘His Lordship…' began Mortimer, only to be interrupted by Chloe.

‘In this bar,' she said, ‘the tyrant in charge of the Sponsorshit Scheme shall only be referred to as His Lord
shit
…'

‘Not by me, young lady,' said Mortimer. ‘Lord William is my boss, and that's how I'd like it to stay. I'm in enough trouble as it is…'

Mortimer shut up abruptly, but it was too late. Lysander immediately pounced on his loose words.

‘I wondered why you were exiled up here, Morti old chum. Been a naughty boy, have you?' If Mortimer hoped that Louis would chastise his father again, he was to be disappointed. Louis was waiting for Mortimer's reply as expectantly as everyone else.

‘A few of us had a drink together, discussed one or two things. No, I'm not going into details. Let's just say, we were maybe a little indiscreet, and Mooreland heard every word…'

‘What did you say that was so bad?'

‘Actually,' said Mortimer, meeting Theo's eyes, ‘a lot was to do with you, Lord Theodore…'

‘AARGH! Please, Mortimer; just call me Theo!'

‘It was to do with how His Lordshit…er, Lordship…used to treat you.' Ignoring the chuckles of the Unsponsored at his slip of the tongue, Mortimer ploughed on. ‘We wanted Faye to know what His Lord
ship
was capable of, how he'd stop at nothing to protect the Scheme, not even…'

‘Beating seven barrels of shit out of his own son,' said Matilda, joining the group and ignoring her father grumbling at her choice of phrase. ‘So Faye was with you? Did she approve of His Lordshit's methods?'

‘No,' replied Mortimer, ‘none of us did. That's why we're in trouble. Theodore…'

‘Yes?' prompted Theo when Mortimer hesitated.

‘What you suffered was awful. Just awful. You deserved so much better, and I'm glad you've escaped from…well…all that…'

‘Thank you, Mortimer,' said Theo, smiling at the money man who was rapidly returning to his former state of terror.

‘I must go now,' said Mortimer, pulling himself together with an effort. ‘His Lordship will be expecting a report. Mr Lorimer; if you wouldn't mind leaving as soon as possible…'

‘I'm reluctant to take orders from your tyrannical boss, Mr O'Reilly, but I shall do as he wishes. Only because it coincides with my own wishes, though.'

‘Thank you,' said Mortimer, crossing over to the stage where Alan had been playing Theo's Les Paul quietly all the time the conversation had been going on.

‘You're an excellent guitarist,' said the money man. ‘I guess you must be Alan Santiago.'

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Alan replied, ‘Yes I am, but I wasn't aware I was famous.'

‘Faye talks about you a lot. I don't think she realises she's doing it half the time, especially when His Lordship's around. It seems a little tactless to talk about one man while sharing the bed of another…'

‘WHAT?'

‘Faye, who is your mother – am I correct?' Mortimer said, turning to the shocked Matilda. When she nodded, he continued. ‘Your mother and His Lordship are sleeping together, but it doesn't take a genius to work out from the way she talks she'd rather be sleeping with your father.' Turning his attention back to Alan, Mortimer added, ‘I imagine the feeling wouldn't be mutual, though. I gather you prefer the company of men.'