Mitchell Parker Crime Thrillers Collection

Chapter 8

“Gentlemen, it’s time to play,” Lawrence Hackett said as he turned his back on the bleak London day and swiveled his chair to face the directors around the board table. “For the few of you that were not with us five years ago when we last played, let me remind you of the rules of the game. Contestants must mastermind and carry out the perfect crime. A prize pool of five million pounds will be divided amongst the Mastermind entrants that succeed. So, the less who succeed, the better for the winners. Clear?”

The directors nodded in agreement.

“Rishi, another one?”

“Entry is by invitation and only six entries will be selected to play.”

“Bravo. Richard?”

Richard cleared his throat. “I’m too old for a pop quiz, Lawrence.”

Lawrence laughed. “Indulge me, Richard.”

“For security reasons, one person only will represent each group. No other members of the group are to have contact with us or be aware of Mastermind. They are briefed on the job, not the competition. Should the team rep withdraw, the entry is disqualified,” he rattled off.

Lawrence heard Daniel Reid shuffle in his seat. He turned to him. “Daniel, you haven’t played before …”

“But I know the rules. Mastermind directors will be accessible one month prior to the event in the capital city of the entrant. This will be the contestants’ only point of contact.”

“Go on,” Lawrence encouraged him.

“The Mastermind act cannot be a Mastermind that was performed in past events.”

“Correct, and finally, when you are allocated a Mastermind entrant, get full security checks on all team members, and confirm everyone’s timing is going to work. It must happen between November 1 and 30. If your group fails and keep their mouths shut, you can offer them legal help – otherwise pull out and disown them. Make sure the team reps know this. Anything else, Andrew?”

“Yes, if they succeed, they’ll be paid on December 1. They also get to keep the spoils of their crime. I’ll have Mastermind projects allocated to directors by tomorrow.”

“Good,” Lawrence concluded. “Let the fun begin! We’ve got some good ones this year.”

“What’s your all-time favorite, Lawrence?” Daniel Reid asked.

“Ah, there have been a few. I liked the Swiss Mastermind in the inaugural competition, before your time, Daniel. The entrants held up a bank, handcuffed and blindfolded the staff and customers, then transferred funds to untraceable accounts. After the transfer, they tied themselves up and joined the hostages. When the cops burst in, they were released with the hostages. It was beautiful. What was your favorite, Richard?”

“All bias aside, since I worked on it, I liked the New York print run in Mastermind-2.”

“That was the thanksgiving weekend wasn’t it?” Lawrence recalled.

“Exactly, a traditional busy time. The Mastermind entrants dispersed half a million worth of counterfeit notes across four U.S. borders that weekend. Simple, effective and by the time the notes were detected, the perpetrators were sunning themselves in the Cayman Islands.”

“What was your favorite, Mike?” Lawrence turned to Michael Germaine.

“It would have to be another one in the Mastermind-2 competition – the selling of the Parisian apartment.”

“Yes, the second round gave us some great ones,” Lawrence agreed.

“It was classic,” Michael continued. “The entrants sold that block of units while their landlord was out of the country. When he came back two months later, his units were being demolished and they were gone with a large wad of French francs and their Mastermind payout.”

Lawrence laughed. “Yeah, that was great. So, we had three Masterminds succeed in our inaugural Mastermind and two in Mastermind-2. Let’s see what this year brings us for Mastermind-3. Who do you think will take it out, Andrew? How about a bet?”

“OK, fifty pounds on Monaco,” Andrew Kenny started the betting.

Lawrence turned to Alan Peasely.

“Tokyo,” Alan answered.

“Ian?”

“Hmm, tough one. I’m going for Nevada.”

“And you, Lawrence?” Richard put him on the spot.

Lawrence answered without hesitating. “My money’s on Washington D.C.”

Mitch rang the bell on the desk in the university’s administration building. He looked over at Samantha.

“Sam, see if you can see what name the lab’s booked under.”

“Will do.”

A young woman came out from behind a glazed partition.

“Faculty bookings? Yes I can help you,” she responded to Mitch’s request. “Where were you looking to book?”

“The main lab in the science faculty.”

“I’ll get the book,” she looked under the counter and pulled out a large diary.

“Now … the main lab … hmm. It seems to be booked for a while. When did you want it?”

“As soon as it’s available,” Mitch attempted to read the book upside down.

“It’s been booked for …” she rifled through the calendar, “at least the next three months – and they have first right of extension.”

“Must be a significant project?”

“Yes, science is a growth industry,” she agreed.

Mitch waited, hoping she would elaborate.

“We might not need as much space as the main lab,” Samantha said. “Is there a smaller lab we could access?”

“Let me see.” She shuffled through the bookings. “For how long?”

“Three months, with an option for another three,” Mitch confirmed.

“Yes, that won’t be a problem. There are two small labs available.”

“I’d like the one closest to the main lab. I’ll have staff working late, so I’d rather other people were around … just in case.”

“Of course. We have campus security; you can ask them to escort your staff to their cars. Lab G is on the same level as the main lab.”

Déjà vu, Mitch recalled squatting with J.J. on the Lab G floor.

“That will be fine. The booking’s under the name of James Owen, company name of Innovation Enterprises,” Mitch said using one of his issued and untraceable names.

“You’ll need to fill out a booking form,” she said, looking around the counter. “Sorry, I’m just temping, I’ll have to go ask someone where they are.”

Mitch waited until she was out of sight and spun the book around. Scanning down the list he found the entry. He frowned at its name.

“She’s coming,” Samantha nudged him.

He turned the book back.

“Here’s the form, Mr. Owen,” she smiled. Mitch read the signs.

I might get more information on that booking yet, he thought.

“It’s this one,” J.J. said indicating a building to Ellen as they made their way through campus. They mounted the stairs.

“Wait,” Ellen grabbed his arm. She nodded towards reception. “The security guard’s an older guy. Why don’t you try the buddy system? I’ll wait out here.”

“Alright,” J.J. agreed. He ran up the final few steps, entered and stopped at the desk.

“Can I help you?” the security officer looked up.

“Yeah buddy, thanks,” J.J. began. “I’m with the Science Gazette. We’re a web-magazine and we’re doing a story on the rush for university facilities by independent medical and science teams.”

“You’ll need to talk to our media unit,” the guard interrupted him, writing down the phone number on a card.

“OK, thanks. I hear you’ve got a few labs booked out after hours, including one booked for a huge research project?” J.J. slouched across the counter.

“That must be the main lab guys.”

“Sounds exciting. What are they up to?”

“Good question, not sure myself. Something to do with …” he looked over at the booking sheet, “yeah, the Aurum project. Got the lab booked for three months.”

“Hmm. Interesting,”

“Yeah. They’re not too hard at it though.”

“Been knocking off early?” J.J. asked.

“Well, I finish here at seven and I hardly ever see them. Their booking’s from five. Joe, he’s night-shift, he never knows when to expect them. Some nights they’re in for an hour, other nights for two hours, and then we won’t see them for a few nights.”

“Where do I get a job like that?” J.J. asked.

The security guard laughed.

“Big team?”

“No, three of them come regularly. The fourth one, a British guy, all swanky in his suit, briefcase, the whole bit; you know the type, he’s only been here two or three times.”

“Might be their bank manager,” J.J. joked.

The security guard handed J.J. the card with the media unit’s phone number written on it.

“Thanks. I’ll give them a call.”

“No problem.”

“Have a good one,” J.J. said with a wave. He headed out of the building, took the stairs two at a time down to the campus courtyard and found Ellen.

“The Aurum project, booked in for three months, four people all-up, including a Brit. How much damage can they do in that time?”

Ellen frowned. “Substantial.”