week earlier, was slightly different. It read: âStop now. This is your last warning.â
He had told only one other person about the messages â his lawyer, Chuck Warberg. He certainly hadnât breathed a word about them to his brother. Chuck had, as always, advised caution. But, when it came to self-preservation and retaining power, Johnny was a very cautious man. Chuck had advised him to go to the cops, but to Johnny it was obvious this was the last thing he should do. He did not like the messages, but equally he could not hold up the project because of them. And so he had decided to say nothing.
The warnings had begun to appear as the hotel infrastructure was completed and crews were starting to fit out the interior. He had employed some tech guys to trace the emails, but they had drawn a total blank. It was then he had turned to Chuck, and been given the advice he did not need.
He called Chuckâs mobile number. He was in London on business. It was early morning there, but he knew his lawyer would be working even if he was in his hotel room. He was always working.
âChuck, Iâve just been going through those emails again.â
âFor Christâs sake, Johnny. Iâm shaving. Can I call you back?â
âNo, Iâve only got a minute.â
Xavier could hear his lawyer produce a resigned sigh. âI told you to go to the cops, didnât I?â
âThat was not an option, Chuck.â
The lawyer said nothing for a moment, then produced a small cough. âJohnny? Have you thought about ducking out of tonight?â
Xavier laughed. âChuck, for a smart guy, you can sometimes say the most fucked up things.â
âOkay.â
âBy the way,â Johnny Xavier went on, â you are conspicuous by your absence here tonight. Youâre probably the only person to turn down the invitation.â
âI couldnât make it.â
âWhatever,â Johnny slurred. Years of living in California had polluted what had once been the crisp British private school accent his older sibling still retained. âAnyway, as if I would duck out and let big brother take all the credit! So, what are you going to do about these messages?â
âWhat do you expect me to do?â
âJesus,â Xavier hissed. âSometimes I wonder why I pay you.â
âOh please. Donât give me that BS. You know why you pay me. Donât forget whoâs covering your arse, Johnny boy. Donât forget whoâs cleaning up the money for your little hedge fund. Donât forget whoâs keeping nosy parkers off your case.â
âSo youâre saying thereâs nothing you can do about these emails? Is that it?â Xavier snapped.
âGot it in ... what? ... Three.â
There was a pained silence from the other end of the line.
âYou tried the tech guys?â Chuck Warberg offered.
âYes. I tried the fucking tech guys. They were about as useless as you.â
âOkay, Johnny. Gotta lot of work to do. Iâm not going to stand here and let you insult me.â
âWell go stick your bald head up your fucking arse then, you...â But the line was dead. Johnny slammed down the phone and looked up as the doorbell sounded.
âYeah?â he called.
âItâs me.â
Xavier sighed, pulled himself to his feet and strode to the door. Hilary pushed her way into the room and Johnny closed the door quickly.
âHilary! Weâre supposed to be downstairs in 20 minutes. What the hell are you doing?â
She turned to him, swaying slightly.
âOh fuck, youâre...â
âYes, Johnny. Iâm drunk.â She flopped onto the sofa and buried her head in her hands. Johnny looked around the room using all his reserves of patience to control his anger and frustration.
âI just donât know how that man does it.â
âWhich man?â
âYour damn brother. Who
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