The CRES code

Chapter Forty Four - Randall Meets a Baron

     "I thought it was time we met," said Randall.

     Baron Hawke stared in surprise and dismay at the people gathered in his sitting room. All working class rabble by the look of them, except for a butler, a maid, his wife and his two young children, sitting in wide eyed terror in chairs that had been moved into a line in the middle of the room. They each had a knife held to their throat by one of the intruders standing behind them and had their hands tied behind their backs.

     "I apologise for the rough treatment of your family," said Randall, taking a step forward, his hands held out before him placatingly. "They won't be harmed, you have my word. We just couldn't have them running off and fetching the police."

     "Take what you want," said the Baron, gesturing at the silver ornaments sitting on the shelves and alcoves of the spacious room. He stared at his family and they stared back at him, their eyes wide with fear. "I have money..."

     "All I want in a few minutes to talk to you. Then we'll all leave you in peace and you can get back to your normal lives. Is there somewhere private we can go?"

     "I have no secrets from my family, and I'm not leaving them alone with your gang of cutthroats."

     "No secrets?" asked Randall, his eyebrows rising with amusement. "They know everything? Even about Victor Monson?"

     "How do you know about..." The Baron cut himself off in sudden alarm, his eyes flying back to those of his wife. This time, though, he looked away in shame and alarm. He looked back at Randall to find the hibernator looking at him questioningly. "My office," he said, pointing back to the door he'd come in through. "If anything happens to my family..."

     "Nothing will, I swear it," Randall reassured him.

     "If anything happens to them, there's nowhere in the world you'll be able to hide from me. I will hunt you down and I swear that I will make you scream for a whole day. And tell them to take their knives away from their throats!"

     Randall gave a hand signal and the knives were withdrawn, although the labourers remained close beside the prisoners. Randall then signalled for the Baron to leave the room. The Baron gave his family one last agonised look, then left, his face pale and sweaty. Randall followed close behind, closing the door behind him as he went.

     There was a small office just down the corridor, just large enough for a desk, a chair and a row of cabinets opposite the window looking out over the neatly tended garden. Randall gestured for the Baron to sit in the chair, then closed the door behind them.

     "I assume you intend to blackmail me," said the Baron, gathering his courage and looking the hibernator right in the eye. "You want money or some kind of service from me and in return you won't reveal my connection with Victor Monson."

     "More or less," replied Randall. "I assume you know who I am. My name is Watt Fletcher." He waited to see how the other man responded to the name.

     "Never heard of you," replied the Baron.

     Randall nodded to himself. He'd suspected as much. He had quite a following in the outer circle of the city by now, but the aristocracy would only care what the working classes did if it affected them directly. In the normal course of affairs it would take Randall months or even years to reach that point, so he had to hurry things along a bit. He had to bring himself to their attention. It was a high risk strategy, but if he played his cards right with Baron Hawke the entire aristocracy would know his name by the end of the week and they would have no choice but to take him seriously.