Until Eckhart uncovered incriminating and irrefutable evidence that would severely damage Calgiliano's reputation and career, even to this day.
This was joyous news for us. The remaining piece was having an effective liaison to deal with the Cardinal.
'I have someone in mind Picker. I'll handle it, don't worry.' I had no reason to question Connor's effectiveness. Everything that he had done to this point was better than I could have ever expected. I decided to drop the matter.
'Do I have 40 million… The gentleman in the back is now high bidder at 40 million… Ladies and gentleman, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity… 45 million anyone, 45 million…
Kelly and I were observing the proceeding from the back of the room. 'Excuse me darling, I have to use the restroom.' She leaned in, ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my cheek.
A couple of moments pass and I sense someone standing next to me. LaVache.
'Monsieur Picker, how nice to see you again.'
'And you, Jean Pierre.'
'It's a pity about the painting.' Yeah, a pity that he didn't get it.
'I don't suppose it would help you to know that it's not real.'
'No difference, Mon ami. By the way, a little secret between you and me. The gentleman that I work with made it very clear that you were to be…'
'Eliminated?'
'Oui.'
'And you didn't because…?'
'Very simple, Monsieur. You conducted yourself with honor throughout this entire affair.'
'Plus, I didn't shoot you when I had the chance.'
'There is that.'
Unexpectedly, Uncle Moe leaned over and whispered in my ear. 'Laddie, this man knew your father. You might say that they were friends, of sorts.' Why he whispered is beyond me, no one can hear him.
'Huh?'
'There's more, boyo. He's the one that handled the deal with the Bead Mumbler.' Moe was talking about the Cardinal.
'No shit.' Did I say that out loud? I turned back to LaVache. 'Much appreciated, JP. By the way, how long are you going to be in town?'
'A few days, perhaps a week.'
I reached into my sports coat and extracted two tickets. 'Jean Pierre, maybe you can take in a Yankee's game while you're here.' Box seats, third base line near home plate.
'Merci bien.' He offered his hand, we shook. 'Perhaps our paths will cross again.'
I had to laugh. 'Perhaps under more pleasant circumstances.'
LaVache turned and began to walk away. He paused, looked around and said, 'England.'
'Beg your pardon?'
'The name that you want, it's Terrance England.'
April 1997 Buckinghamshire
No man knows what tomorrow may bring…
Two Scotland Yard Inspectors arrested Simon Jones when he stepped off the plane twenty five years ago. He had just stolen a hundred million dollar work of art; killed one man and was complicit in the murder of a second. Instead, they got him on the Russian Mafia money laundering scheme. This, of all things, is the one for which he goes down.
I hear that your mother never gave you a first name. They call you Picker. Well, Picker, I'm making this video for you…
Simon Jones is finishing up a twenty five year sentence. Originally he was jailed at the high security Wandsworth Prison in South London which held murderers, robbers and other violent criminals. Due to consideration for Simon's particular skill set, he was quickly transferred to a Category D facility that housed white collar criminals.
I look forward to meeting up with you, circumstances permitting. However, there are some items that I wish to clear up in the event that such a reunion fails to materialize…
Spring Hill Prison in Buckinghamshire is a minimum security facility, set up in a manor house surrounded by immaculately manicured lawns.
I don't know how much you've heard. I'll fill you in best I can. Whatever gaps there are can be covered by one or two people who will make themselves known to you at the appropriate time…
Simon Jones spent the last quarter of a century making money for his jailers. This was accomplished by utilizing the laundering and investment skills acquired as a younger man. In turn, Simon was permitted certain privileges.
Twenty seven years ago I was involved in a project which brought me to the states. It was at this time that I met your mother. We fell in love although I was married and had a son, Connor…
This last week of incarceration, prior to his release, Simon received a telegram:
‘Engelond's progeny vows retribution. Extreme caution advised. JP’
The project which I mentioned came to an unpleasant end in Sweden. My plans were to return to London; confide my plans to my wife; and return to America to spend my life with Emily, your mother, and to raise you…
A guard interrupted Simon's recording. 'Jones, you have a meeting in the conference room with your solicitor. Five minutes.'
Well, the best laid plans and all that. I stepped onto the tarmac at Heathrow and was met by two lovely gentlemen from Scotland Yard. A trial followed; found guilty and sentenced to twenty five years. Some old business with the Russians. Anyway, that's how I arrived at my present living situation.
Simon stopped the video for the time being and made his way to the conference room. Harold P. Smythe, solicitor, sat at the end of a long table; briefcase opened before him.
'All arrangements are taken care of, Simon.' Smythe slid a yellow tablet across the table. 'This is a list of everything that you'll need to know initially. We've set up a fully furnished flat, the address is right there. Your suits are ready and have been delivered. One will be here for you to change. A ledger with accounts of your funds is waiting at the flat along with bank cards, identification and your passport. I believe that we've thought of everything. Of course, if you can think of anything else, let me know. Be happy to handle it.'
'Thanks, Harold. You've been a good friend. I'm in the process of making a video. Please make sure that it makes its way to my American son, that is, in the event of my demise. You already have my will. Coordinate with Connor.'
'Don't be silly, old boy. Everything will be fine. Ah yes. I nearly forgot. I've arranged to have the Morgan delivered here on the day of your release. The Warden will pass you the keys.'
They made their goodbyes and Simon returned to finish the recording.
I made arrangements for both of you to be provided for during my absence. My Uncle Moe was on hand to look after you. It pained me greatly to hear of your mother's passing when you were only six. Still, I thought, Uncle Moe could be counted on to raise you…
A little more than a year later news reached that he too passed on. Although I'm afforded certain liberties, communicating and coordinating with the outside was painfully slow…
By the time anything could be accomplished it turned out that you were already in the foster system. Undoubtedly sped up by the fact that your Mother had no living relatives…
Eventually, my people tracked you down. Over the years I've managed to keep informed on your progress. The going seemed a little rough for a while. Nonetheless, you have turned out to be a fine young man. I'm sure that your Mum would be proud. I am…
