No Mercy (Sgt Major Crane story) Read online

All in all another satisfactory day, thought James Walker as he climbed into his Jaguar XJS. After carefully adjusting his jacket, so as to avoid creases, he glanced into the rear view mirror. Smoothing back his black glossy hair with an equally well groomed hand, he smiled at his reflection. Not bad for 40 he mused. Clear blue eyes shone out of a slightly tanned face, which radiated health. Adrenaline suited him. Being the top salesman at GeoTech was a feat he was justifiably proud of. It took hard work, a little bit of luck and sometimes perhaps, a distinct advantage. And James was a master at giving himself a distinct advantage.

  A tap on the car stopped him from pulling away. Lowering the window he smiled up at Jenny and Sarah, the two young Receptionists from the front desk.

  “Hi girls,” he called, giving them the full benefit of his gleaming white smile.

  “Hi Mr Walker,” said Sarah blushing furiously, nudging Jenny to join in the conversation.

  “Sorry to bother you, but we just wanted to congratulate you,” added Jenny

  “Thanks girls, but it was nothing really. Just all in a day’s work you know.”

  “Yeah, right, a huge contract like that, you must have worked really long and hard to secure the deal,” gushed Sarah. “Everyone’s very impressed.”

  “Well, thanks again, but I really must be going,” James said as he began to close the window. “I’ve got to meet the clients for a champagne celebration,” he waved goodbye and glided out of his car parking space.

  James caught a glimpse of the girls in his rear view mirror as he waited to turn left at the exit of the car park. Nice girl that Sarah, early 20’s, clearly works out to keep her figure in trim and always immaculately turned out. Maybe he would cultivate that one. But then again, maybe not. Playing away from home wasn’t his style. He had a beautiful wife waiting for him at home and that’s all any man should want.

  He got his adrenaline rush from the cut and thrust of business deals. Sourcing new clients and making sure he closed the deal before anyone else could. Being top salesman was what excited him. Many times it had been suggested that he could become Sales Director in place of Bob, but that would mean too much paperwork, staff problems and budget restrictions. This way he earned more than Bob anyway. His commission so far this year had totalled over £100,000. His savings were steadily growing and with £250,000 salted away already, he was on target to have £750,000 saved by the time he retired. No Bob could keep his job as Sales Director. He was the one person in the office that didn’t attract James’ unwelcomed attention. Everyone else on the sales team was fair game.

  At the thought of money, James reached for his mobile phone to call his wife Liz, wanting to share the good news. As he drew up in front of the local hotel there was still no reply from home. Thinking that she was probably just in the bath and hadn’t heard the phone ring, he went to join his clients for a couple of glasses of champagne.

  “James, there you are!” Smiling, Bob crossed the hotel lounge, hand outstretched, looking relaxed, if rather crumpled, from a long day at the office. His ample waist straining against his white shirt and his tie spotted from their earlier expensive lunch. “Well done again.” Firmly shaking his hand Bob smoothly guided James away from the clients sitting around a low table littered with champagne bottles. At the bar Bob lowered his voice and said, “Come on then, you can tell me, how do you manage to close so many leads, with so little effort? I’ve been wondering for a while what your secret is.”

  “Secret? There’s no secret. I guess I just happen to be in the right place at the right time. More luck than judgement probably,” laughed James depreciatingly.

  “Really? You know, I’m not so sure about that. If I didn’t know you better I’d think you were being modest.”

  “Am I not?”

  “Quite frankly, no. Covering up, lying probably, but modest, no.”

  Startled at the way the conversation was going, James surreptitiously dried his sweaty palms by patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes. Keeping his smile firmly fixed in place.

  “Whoa, Bob, what’s all this about?”

  “Let’s just say that I’ve been hearing things, nothing definite, just rumours. But sometimes rumours have a way of turning into problems.” Bob’s eyes were hard.

  Glancing down to light his cigarette, James was glad to break eye contact. Taking a deep breath he decided to face trouble head on.

  “Stop talking in riddles Bob.”

  “OK, I’ll spell it out for you. I’ve got problems with unhappy staff and lack of morale in the sales office.”

  “What? With the figures I’ve been pulling in?”

  “Exactly. The figures you’ve been pulling in. No one else, James, just you.”

  “Well, it’s not my problem if they’re not as good at selling as me. That’s yours as Sales Director.” James took a deep puff of his cigarette. “Now can I have that drink to celebrate my big order?”

  “Actually, buy your own,” retorted Bob. “Somehow I don’t feel like celebrating with you tonight. I’ve just come from a meeting with Ken. Remember Ken? He used to be our biggest earner until you joined us two years ago.”

  Startled by the rebuff, but still determined not to let it show, James replied smoothly, “Perhaps Ken is just getting a bit too old for this game Bob. He’s slowed down too much, that’s all.”

  “Or maybe he’s being forced to slow down by someone who is stealing his contacts and information. Undermining all his hard work by contacting his clients at the last minute, offering them a better deal if they sign immediately.”

  “But who on earth would do that? We’re a team! OK I may be a major player but I still value my colleagues.” James threw his arm over Bob’s shoulders. “Now let’s have that drink.”

  Pulling away from James and fishing his car keys out of his pocket Bob turned for the door. “Sorry, must go. But I’d like to carry on this conversation please James at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning in my office.”

  Stunned, James watched Bob cross the bar, say goodnight to the clients and walk out of the hotel without a backward glance in his direction. Deciding that perhaps a drink was not such a good idea after all, he slipped into the Gents Toilets to run cold water over his face.

  Calmer, he pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and dialled his home number, wanting to hear Liz’s welcoming voice. Strangely, once again there was no reply. Still, he would be home in about 30 minutes and everything would be alright then. Liz would be there with a good meal for him and listen eagerly to the story of his latest success. Though he would edit the part about the amount of commission he had made. No need for her to know exactly what he was worth.

  As he drove home James’s thoughts turned to Ken. What a little worm! Still what could you expect from someone who had worked in the same firm for the last 20 years! Mr Boring personified, that was Ken. Everyone seemed to like him well enough though. Ken always seemed to be on everyone’s Christmas card list, was invited to dinner a lot and people seemed to confide in him. James couldn’t see the attraction personally. Certainly Ken wasn’t physically attractive. Just normal, conservative and boring!

  Strange then, that Liz had seemed to like him. James remembered them getting on rather well at the office party last Christmas. He knew he should have paid Liz more attention at the party, but as Senior Salesman, he had an obligation to go round the tables and talk to everyone, regaling them with his stories, charming each and every one of them. Making sure he got as much information out of them as possible while their guard was down. Information he filed away for future use about their clients, deals going down, deals coming up.

  And now the worm had the audacity to crawl to Bob with suggestions about James’s somewhat unorthodox business practices. Shit! Still there are no problems, only solutions, was James’s motto. He always could charm the birds out of the trees, so he would be able to pull it off somehow.

  The gravel crunched underfoot as he approached the house. It was in total darkness. Where on e
arth was Liz? He hurried through to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went. Calling her name proved futile. The house was as quiet and dark as the grave.

  He entered the kitchen looking for evidence of dinner being cooked. But found none. Only a note on the kitchen table with his name on it.

  James,

  I would like to say I’m sorry for not being home. But I’m not. I’m glad. Ken and I have had enough of your deceit, greed and blatant disregard for anyone’s feelings but your own. So I am leaving you and Ken is leaving the company. He had a meeting with Bob today and has handed over the evidence he has collected about your crooked business practices and stolen sales leads. I fully expect you to lose your job tomorrow.

  By the way, I don’t want your money you’ll be relieved to hear (£250,000 by my reckoning). I’ll have enough money to live on - Ken and I won the lottery last week a cool £2.5 Million.

  Liz

  The note slipped from James’s fingers and floated to the floor.“Two and a half million,” he repeated over and over again, burying his head in his hands.

  The Telephone Call