The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1) (13 page)

            “Why are you doing this? What do you want? Leave Stratford as it is!”

            The three men pushed past the policemen guarding the entrance. Bada turned and smiled at the crowd before turning back through the doors.

            Every seat inside the large hall was taken and those without seats stood in the aisles against the walls on either side. Thorne and Freddie found seats on the front row next to Bada, Rainier, and Devane. Thorne looked around to catch a glimpse of Raskin, Blackstone, or Kirk-Halstrom, but did not see them.

            At the front of the hall, ten people were seated behind a long table. A large man in a dark suit arose, and stepped behind a lectern set in the middle of the table as the crowd applauded, showing they liked Mayor Ralph Dell. He was a big, overweight, and balding man of fifty years with a pleasant, lumpy face, and a non-threatening, almost humble, demeanor.

            He held his hands up for quiet. In a high-pitched voice, he said, “Thank you, thank you, for that nice welcome, ladies and gentlemen.”

            “Welcome to this meeting of the town council. I’m Mayor Ralph Dell, and I’ll be conducting the meeting tonight.” He paused and scanned the audience. “As all of you know, we’re here for a special meeting of the Council”—he waved his hands in the direction of those seated at the table—“to make a final determination on the Kilshire Castle project.”

            A smattering of applause arose amid the uproar of shouts and loud comments.

            “We don’t want Shakespeare brought down by pretenders!”

            “Get rid of the deceitful de Vere bookstore!”

            “Don’t make us the laughing stock of the world!”

            The Mayor put up his hands, palms forward, trying to calm the crowd. “Now, now,” he said, leaning forward, closer to the microphone. “We’ll all have our say here. You all know me, I’ll conduct a fair and open presentation of opinions.”

            “Hear! Hear!” a voice yelled from the rear of the room.

            The mayor turned and motioned to those seated behind him. “I think you all know the Town Council.” He turned back and gestured toward the front row. “I would also like to introduce the applicants, Mr. Gilbert Bada of Bada, Limited and Mr. Jacques Rainier, his architect.”

            The Mayor motioned to a table to his right where five people were seated in front of a large map of Stratford. “I would also like to introduce our esteemed Director of Architecture, Mr. Neville Forestal. Mr. Forestal and his staff have worked hard in presenting Bada, Limited’s plans for the approval of the Council.”

            To those who hadn’t spent hours and hours before town councils and design review boards, the comment by the mayor went unnoticed. Thorne had seen this all before. He recognized the wording that was a tip off as to the mayor’s position. Dell had said ‘approval’. He had not said ‘approval or
disapproval’
.

            “Mr. Forestal will now explain the applicant’s final scheme,” the mayor said and sat down.

Chapter 25

Neville Forestal motioned to his assistants to bring forward two large boards. He was a tall, well-built man in his early thirties with long, neatly combed dark hair that covered his ears. His hair framed a strong, though not necessarily handsome face. There was a reserve behind his dark eyes and a lack of animation in the man.

            The boards showed drawings of Kilshire Castle and the castle grounds. The castle was shown in a bright red, and the Royal Shakespeare Theater, across the river from the castle was shown in a calmer, subdued blue. Thorne smiled at Forestal’s psychological use of colors emphasizing the character of the competing structures.

            After a short contained silence, Forestal produced a laser pen. “I’ve been charged by the mayor and council to investigate the application for approval—or non-approval—and present an objective interpretation of the requirements and compliance with the codes and ordinances.”

            Thorne noted Forestal had added the wording omitted by the mayor—or
‘non-approval’
.

            Forestal continued. “That said, I will now present the applicant’s proposal. As you all know, the Bada Corporation is the owner of Kilshire Castle and the surrounding property. The castle was built in 1580, and dilapidation of the stonework on the castle has progressed over the centuries. The Bada Corporation has performed admirably in correcting many of these problems, and I don’t oppose continued renovations and additions to the current structure. However, I do have reservations about the wisdom of a bookstore being located there.”

            He paused for effect before proceeding. “As you know, the bookstore has a history of presenting questionable publications. Publications I feel are damaging to the reputation of our most prominent and illustrious citizen, Mr. William Shakespeare, and in turn to the well-being of Stratford”

            Once again, scattered yells erupted from the crowd. The mayor and a few members of the council shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as Forestal waited. No effort was made to interrupt their demonstration.

            Forestal continued after the noise subsided. “That said, I will now present the plan prepared by the applicant.” He pointed the laser light beam on the boards and proceeded to describe the technical aspects of the project.

            Freddie whispered in Thorne’s ear who the supporters and non-supporters on the council were. Thorne studied the faces of the mayor and council members. All had seen the presentation numerous times before and were thankful this would be the last.

            Forestal concluded his remarks. “In light of the applicant’s compliance with presentations of required drawings and documents, the Architectural Review Board concludes its deliberations. As Director of the Board, I recommend approval for the work on the castle—and recommend disapproval for the use of the castle as a bookstore.”

            Thorne smiled at the arrogance of the man. After all, he was the town’s architect and had no business injecting himself in the politics of the bookstore’s relocation.

            Forestal sat down, and the Mayor Dell once again appeared at the lectern. “Thank you, Mr. Forestal, for that excellent presentation. Now we will hear from the applicant.” He looked in the direction of Bada and Bada shook his head, declining the offer. Dell immediately said, “The applicant has declined to make additional comments or presentations.

            “Now, prior to the final vote, we will recognize those individuals who wish to ask questions or make comments. You’ll find a microphone in each aisle, so please form a queue behind each microphone, and please limit your comments to two minutes.” He waited for the lines to form behind the microphones.

            The first in line at one of the microphones was a large man in a dark blue pin-stripe suit and a bright red club tie that stood out against a crisp white shirt.

            Freddie whispered, “There’s our man, Linsdame.”

            Roger Linsdame was a heavy, red-haired man with intense light blue eyes set close together over a large bulbous nose. There were two distinct vertical furrows in the middle of his broad forehead, the result of a permanent scowl. He wasn’t more than forty years old,  but projected an image of an older, more experienced man.

            The portentous Linsdame stood erect, raising the chin of his square head and pulling his shoulders back. He placed his hands on his hips and didn’t lean into the microphone, but began in a voice loud enough to be heard without the microphone. “Well, so much for Bada Corporation altruism.”

            He glanced around the room, packed with his supporters and strategically sprinkled throughout the audience to appear greater in numbers. He returned his attention to the head table. “While I’m not an architect, even I can see this is far from a well-thought out project.” His supporters arose in unison and began yelling at the mayor and the council. He continued, “I hope all of you see how much support this proposal has—none!”

            Thorne had to laugh. He’d seen this type of crowd organization numerous times before to support or oppose a proposal before a town council, but he had to admit Linsdame was good at it.

            Linsdame ranted on describing his background as a major figure in the Stratford community. He described his expertise in design and construction of his own projects, telling everyone the castle was in disrepair and was unsafe. He then added vitriolic comments about how this would damage the economy of Stratford. He cajoled and offered veiled threats to the council, even though he knew they were going to support the proposal.

            Linsdame gave no indication he was beat, and from his victorious swagger back to his seat, one would have never known it. His minions lined up before each microphone, but Thorne read the disinterest on the face of each council member. They knew what the votes were and just wanted it to be over with.

            The mayor, the consummate politician, kept up a strong front and a big smile during the onslaught. He wasn’t obligated to vote, and even though he knew the resolution would pass, decided he would be charitable, and listened patiently to both sides before calling for the vote. It passed seven to two.

            Gilbert Bada made a few perfunctory remarks thanking the town council and describing how the project would benefit Stratford.

            The meeting broke up and the mayor went to Roger Linsdame and they both laughed as the mayor said something behind his hand. The mayor waved as he exited the hall amid the shouts, a fixed smile still on his face.

            Linsdame stood amid a coterie of supporters shaking hands and smiling. He glanced once in the direction of Bada, Freddie and Thorne, and his smile disappeared momentarily. Thorne saw something dark and foreboding in Linsdame’s light blue eyes. Linsdame turned back to his supporters, and continued shaking hands and smiling at well-wishers.

Chapter 26

Outside the hall, Bada and Freddie were talking to two well-dressed men in suits. Freddie pulled Thorne aside and handed him the keys to the car. “I’m afraid I have to go to a meeting with Gil. You take the car; I’ll get a ride home with Gil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            The parking spaces on the street had been filled when they arrived, so Freddie had parked the car two blocks away in a small parking lot. A light snow began to fall as Thorne wrapped his wool muffler around his ears, and trudged through the slush the two blocks to the car. As he approached the car, two figures appeared from the front and rear of the car, boxing him in.

            The first man was wearing a heavy top coat, and moved around from the hood of the car. “Cold night out, ain’t it?” said Victor Roberts

            Thorne recognized both men. The first was as the man who tailed him in London. There was no mistaking the other, the big, foul-breathed man who attacked him in Phoenix. Roberts chuckled and glanced to Kelly who was now leaning against the rear fender on the driver’s side.

            Thorne knew it was useless to talk, and tried to play for time. “Look, I don’t know—“

            “Well, Mike,” Roberts said with a puckish grin, “it looks like the Yank doesn’t know he’s not wanted here. He had his right hand in his pocket and moved closer to Thorne. I think he’s used up all his luck.“

            Kelly moved forward and pulled a pistol and suppressor from his pocket. He screwed the suppressor onto the barrel of the pistol. ”Let’s talk to him in the van, Vic.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Thorne saw Kelly was no more than an arms-length away. Thorne slipped both hands into the pockets of his coat and grasped a roll of pence in his right hand. Without looking at Kelly, he jerked his hands from his pockets and his right hand shot up, catching the heavy man in his midsection. The heavy leather jacket Kelly was wearing cushioned the blow, but the force of the blow to his solar plexus momentarily knocked the breath out of him. As he leaned forward against Thorne, he gasped for breath, the pistol dangling loosely in his hand.

            Thorne pushed him back with his forearm and readied to hit him again when he felt a hand on his shoulder and the ring of a heavy metallic thud on the back of his head. He reeled along the side of the car and fell in the slush.

            He lay there, still conscious, his head ringing from the blow. He glanced up just as Kelly delivered a kick to his ribs. He grabbed his side and winced in pain as he waited for the next blow.

            The blow never came. Instead, he heard Roberts’s soft voice. “Come on, Mike, that’s enough. Let’s get him in the van.”

            Mike grinned menacingly, his yellow teeth showing. “I’m not sure, Vic. Maybe he needs another.”

            Roberts said, “No. I think we need to drive him somewhere quiet and private.” He looked up and saw groups of people arriving at the parking lot. They were looking in his direction and Roberts leaned over Thorne, grasping the lapel of his coat. “Next time.” He dropped Thorne back into the slush, and both men ran to their van parked on the far side of the lot.

            Thorne grasped the door handle of the car and pulled himself to his feet. A man came over and asked if he could help, but Thorne shook him off. “Thanks, anyway.”

            He twisted the key in the door lock and crawled inside the car. He reached over and flipped the door lock switch, and all four doors clicked. Glancing across the parking lot, he saw the van, speeding out of the lot.

            Thorne sat for a moment touching the back of his head and winced as he put the keys into the ignition. He was not sure he wanted to continue with the job unless he had protection

            He decided he would correct that situation tomorrow.

Chapter 27