The Fund. Jeff Edwards

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      After all, Harry had told her often enough just how much he loved her and how Wendy had been neglecting him.

      As the tiny boat cleared the harbour, the darkness of the open sea enveloped them. The ocean swell was higher out here and made it necessary for Lindsay to hold on to the boat’s railing for support as spray was whipped up and blown over them. Lindsay hoped that the ship they were meeting was not far off. She couldn’t wait to get back to dry land so that she could change into dry clothing.

      Harry sat down beside her and she gratefully snuggled into the crook of his arm, seeking protection from the cold. Harry smiled down at the beautiful woman while stroking her upturned lips in a gesture of true affection, the tips of his fingers gently caressing the sides of her face, tracing the outline of her classic Asian features before moving down the exposed line of her throat and the string of pearls she wore.

      Suddenly, Lindsay let out a gasp of surprise as Harry’s hands found her throat, his thumbs pushing cruelly, cutting off her breath.

      Shocked, Lindsay writhed beneath Harry’s hands, her long fin-gernails raking across the back of his, trying to force him to let go. Star flashed before her eyes.

      Harry ignored the futile attempts to fend him off and pressed harder, watching in fascination as the spark of life left Lindsay’s eyes. Her arms dropped to her side and her dead body slumped backward in the seat.

      Lee Sang had been watching over his shoulder and now throttled back the motor, finally putting it into neutral before joining his friend who was standing triumphantly over the dead girl.

      ‘The stupid bitch thought that she could dictate to me. She thought she could tell me how to run my life,’ said Harry Soh. ‘No one tells me what to do.’

      Lee Sang patted his friend on the back. ‘You deserve better than the family of a casino owner. You would have lost face if the world found out about her.’

      From a locker, Lee Sang dragged out a length of heavy chain usually reserved for anchoring the boat which they wrapped tightly around the dead body before padlocking the ends together. Lifting the body, they placed it on the boat’s rail and rolled it overboard. With barely a splash, Lindsay Sung disappeared beneath the waves.

      ‘Let’s get going. There’s a ship out there waiting for us,’ said Harry.

      An hour later, the pair of friends were on their way back to Hong Kong.

      Harry’s gold was now safely stored on a cargo vessel which was now continuing on its way towards Europe. When it reached the English Channel, Harry would be there in the middle of the night to meet it and to supervise the transfer of his treasure to yet another small boat for delivery to his bank in Jersey.

      * * *

      Now, as Harry looked out over his cowed employees, the memory of Lindsay Sung’s last seconds came to him.

      Unlike the power he held over his employees, the ultimate power he had exercised over his dead lover was energising Harry, making him feel almost godlike.

      He needed to release the energy within, so he scanned the workers below.

      ‘That one,’ he said, pointing. ‘The one in the third row, second from the end. Bring her to my office.’

      Lee Sang nodded. ‘I’ll get her cleaned up and send her up.’

      ‘Don’t worry about that. Just get her up to my office. I want her now.’

      Chapter 1

      A slight spring breeze fluttered across the field, bringing with it the scent of the roses to the small group gathered on top of the hill. The roses were magnificent in their full bloom, and the breeze caused them to shimmer in the sunlight. Their colour was not unlike the yellow of the cut wheat stalks in the fields beyond the fieldstone fence.

      The wind also carried with it the sounds of the workmen as they went about their preparations.

      Suddenly, the throaty roar of a bulldozer drowned out all other sounds. The hiss of hydraulics and the clank of its caterpillar track now added to the din as the mighty blade was lowered to ground level and the heavy yellow monster moved forward.

      Inching its way across the yard, the blade reached the first of the rose beds. The first healthy, upright plant was slowly pushed over and its blossoms ground into the dirt beneath the tracks of the machine. More plants followed as it plowed its way from one side of the yard to the other.

      The group on the hillock overlooking the work site stood watching silently as the plants were crushed and destroyed.

      Lana Reynolds was close to tears at the sight. She knew that as soon as the flowers, the beds and the blackened pile of bricks that were all that now remained of Mrs Green’s beloved house had been pushed into a pile, it would be dumped into trucks and carried away. And when all trace of Mrs Green’s house had been removed they would begin demolishing the home next door, the house that had, until recently, been hers.

      ‘Such a waste! Those beautiful flowers! They meant everything to her,’ Lana sighed.

      Her husband Brian took her hand and gave it a squeeze of support.

      ‘Don’t worry, Lana,’ said Suzie Brown, standing on the other side of her. ‘The vicar took a number of them for his garden and some more for the churchyard. Toby also had a local nursery come down and take some as well. They’re going to cultivate them for us and we’ll have a good supply when it comes to recreating Mrs Green’s garden in the grounds of The Fund’s new headquarters.’

      ‘I know, but it seems to be such a great waste.’

      The group of eight gathered here comprised the executive committee of The Fund, a charitable institution that was about to begin construction of a modern, multi-storey building to house their burgeoning organisation.

      With the legacy bequeathed to them from the estate of the benevolent Mrs Green, and to a far lesser extent from the public donations, The Fund was in the process of undertaking infrastructure works projects in some of the poorest nations on earth. These projects were designed to improve the standard of living for the people as a whole and concentrated on supplying their basic needs. They were concentrating on providing a long-term drinkable water supply and the infrastructure, seed and education to grow basic foodstuffs. While other charitable foundations tended to look after the immediate needs of the poor, The Fund’s aim was to concentrate on long-term goals and trying to break the cycle of poverty that many poorer nations found themselves locked into.

      Justine Small, the self-elected Chairman of the Board of Directors of The Fund was carefully scrutinising the work below, calculating just how much the building would cost before all the work was done. She knew full well that money was not a problem to The Fund, but she was determined that she would keep an eye on the various contractors to ensure that there would be no padding of expenses.

      Her sharp and calculating mind was in stark contrast to her obvious youthfulness and her amazing choice of exotic and colourful clothing. To anyone meeting her for the first time, Justine seemed naïve. That is until she started to talk when her deep intelligence became obvious.

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