Intoxifresh

Chapter Twenty-Five

After the seven disgruntled company reps had left the room, Greg Smyth relaxed into a seat and laid down the contract of purchase he'd already prepared. After Dexter had read it through thoroughly all George had to do was sign and the deal would be complete. 'Don't you need to test the pills?' George asked.

Greg beamed. 'I've seen everything I need to,' he said, cheerfully pointing a finger towards the security camera fixed to the corner of the room.

George signed the contract and then noticed the company name had changed to Smyth Pharmaceuticals.

'You see, Marvin didn't have any family. He left everything to the firm,' Greg said, his face despondent.

Acting on a tip-off by two smartly dressed drunken informants, a small group of journalists had gathered outside the Conference Centre. Leather cases hung neatly on shoulders and tall tripod frames stood close together supporting large cameras. They were eagerly waiting to see who would emerge as the new owner of, what they'd been told, was a remarkable orange pill called Intoxifresh.

Helping Greg Smyth down the concrete steps and into his Rolls, George was unable to hide his face from the cameras. As he held the rear door open he noticed a small dent in the cars roof but decided not to worry Greg with it. Once the luxury card had pulled away from the curb George held his hands close to his face. Dexter held George's arm and guided him to the Porsche as quickly as he could. He pushed the car into gear and they sped out of sight. 'You're safe to put your hands down now. I'll drop you home.' Dexter said, snaking through the traffic towards Twickenham.

George lowered his hands. 'Do you think they got my face?' he asked, fearing the worst.

'I'm not sure but you did it! You must be ecstatic. Fifty-million pounds.' This was by far the largest sum Dexter had helped secure for one of his clients. He was still surprised at the amount.

The Porsche pulled up outside Tom's house and George thanked Dexter for the ride. What they'd failed to notice was that, not far down the same road, another car slowed to a stop.

Guang, Huojin and Ming-Tun were highly adept in the way they controlled the goons and, without raising suspicion, they closely followed Lanying to a local public house.

Inside the White Swan, to the left of the bar, a small stage was gradually filling with drums, guitars, amps, stands and cables as the band worked at their own pace to get everything in place. To the right a dozen or so people sat with drinks, waiting for the entertainment to commence. In a rare and generous gesture, Lanying paid for a round of drinks before the group relaxed into seats close to the stage. Once the band had set up their equipment they went to the bar for drinks before sound checking.

Without the funds for a second round of drinks the triad and mafia gangs drank slowly and discussed possible ways to get hold of Simon Sampson. Each wanting to get this mission over with as quickly as possible, none of them enjoyed sharing a one bedroom apartment with eight others.

As they talked more Marco heard someone say small orange pill. Instinctively he turned around and saw a television fixed to the wall. 'Shut the fuck up!' he shouted to his goons and the Chinese before resuming his attention to the television. They followed his line of sight. On the screen the local news was being broadcast and behind the man talking into a microphone were the words Merrick and Smyth Conference Centre on the front of the building. A White Rolls Royce could also be seen on the left of the screen.

As the news reporter spoke about what was going on inside the building the band began their warm up song to check sound levels. 'Stop them, now!' Lanying screamed to Huojin. He leapt out of his chair and ran onto the stage, ripped a guitar from the arms of one of the band members and grabbed both drum sticks from the drummer before casually walking back to his seat.