The Tough Guy

By Ashley Zacharias

Raleigh, dear, you’ve got an assignment in London. Someone has been naughty and leaked a bank’s confidential documents. Just jet over there and find the leak. Don’t be misled by those kinky Brits. They might be uptight in public, but they can be submissive in private. Except if he’s a rapist, of course. By the way, that handsome bloke who’s snooping around is just another corporate spy. Don’t let him get in your way. And, for God’s sake, don’t fall in love with him. He’s the most dangerous of them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Zacharias
• Release date: Aug 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370524525

Ashley Zacharias

I am a post-modern woman who lives a vanilla life but fantasizes about adventures in masochism. I appreciate readers who purchase my books but, more than money, I need your honest response to my writing. Review my books or contact me at ashleyzacharias.com and let me know what you think of my stories. Good or bad, as long as you are not indifferent, your honest response will help me to write more and better stories.You can find my thoughts about my own stories athttp://ashleyzachariascommentary.wordpress.com/Yours, Ashley

Book preview

Chapter One

Sonia is dead. Murdered.

There was only a short article about it in the news. Raleigh Bern was devastated to read that her mentor, her colleague, her friend, had been shot twice in the chest and once in the head. She had been executed by persons unknown and her body dumped in a suburban church parking lot.

Almost as soon as Raleigh learned about her friend’s murder, their employer, an old woman who called herself Granny, instructed her to fly to London, England on her first solo assignment.

A direct flight from San Diego to London takes ten and a half hours and crosses eight time zones. That gave Raleigh a great many hours to mourn her friend, to wonder who murdered her, and to swear that she would track down the persons responsible and find justice. Or at least, take revenge.

It didn’t matter that her first class ticket cost as much as a new car. It didn’t matter that she was spending her hours in a pod that reclined into a full bed. It didn’t matter that she ate gourmet meals paired with wines selected by an excellent sommelier. It didn’t matter, even, that she had unlimited access to all the spirits that she could drink between meals.

Sonia had been murdered, and that was all that mattered.

Granny’s timing was suspicious, to say the least. Granny had told Raleigh that her training was over and that she would no longer work with Sonia; twelve hours later, Raleigh had learned from the news media that Sonia’s body had been dumped in a church parking lot in the middle of the night; and twelve hours after that, she was on flight to the other side of the world.

She could not convince herself that those events had occurred that quickly and in that order by accident.

Granny had to know that one of her senior agents had been murdered, yet she had not informed Raleigh of Sonia’s death herself. Instead, she had sent only a short encrypted message saying that she had to go to London, England, and that their client, Willard Crib, was expecting her to phone as soon as she arrived.

Raleigh had no idea who Willard Crib was, where he worked, nor what service he would need. She knew only that the job would require corporate espionage and sabotage because all of Granny’s agents were corporate spies. All were beautiful women who were expected to use whatever means necessary to complete their assignments – lies, coercion, blackmail, theft, and above all, seduction.

Whatever the job, Raleigh would get it done as quickly as possible so that she could return to San Diego and find out who had killed Sonia.

Chapter Two

Between the time that Raleigh had been given her assignment and the time that she had left for the airport to catch the first available flight to Heathrow Airport, she had searched the web for information about Willard Cribb of London, England.

She had found nothing.

Having no information about where Cribb worked or lived, and no idea what this assignment might entail, she had made reservations for two nights in a hotel in the center of London, above the Charing Cross station, right off Trafalgar Square.

Raleigh had never been to England before, but she understood that everybody used the Underground to get around because it was the most convenient mode of transportation. A hotel room near the railroad and Underground stations would give her easy access to any part of the city.

The room was large and comfortable. Not cheap by any means – two nights would cost well over a thousand dollars – but Granny’s agents never worried about the price of good accommodations. The fees that they collected when assignments were completed justified any expense. If Raleigh had to stay for a month, then Granny wouldn’t hesitate to pay a twenty-thousand-dollar hotel bill.

She arrived in late afternoon. Unpacking took only a minute because Granny’s agents traveled light. Sonia had taught her to bring only what she could fit under an airplane seat, even for an indefinite stay in a foreign city. As soon as she was settled, she dialed the phone number that Granny had given her.

Cribb speaking. His British accent was manifest in those two words.

Mr. Cribb, my name is Raleigh Bern. Granny asked me to call you when I arrived in London. Her accent was as prominently Californian as his was British.

Where are you?

In a hotel just off Trafalgar Square.

Can you meet me in the Admiralty Pub at six? It’s at the corner of Spring Gardens and Cockspur. You can see it if you look southwest from Nelson’s Column.

I can find it.

What will you be wearing?

A black trench coat over a blue blazer, white blouse, and blue skirt. Those were the clothes that she’d worn on the flight. The key to packing light was wearing clothes that were as generic and as versatile as possible.

Wait by the door to the Admiralty at six. I’ll find you.

Raleigh left the room a little early. She wanted to give herself extra time in case she got lost.

She didn’t. It was but a block to Trafalgar Square, and the Admiralty Pub was another couple of blocks around the square. She found it by five-forty. In early October, London is often cold and damp. Today it felt like rain, but was not actually raining. To kill a few minutes, she walked around Nelson’s Column – a needlessly tall support for a statue of the famous Admiral – and admired the huge bronze lions that stand guard at the four corners of the plinth.

The scale and history of the square hammered home that these few square miles had been the center of the British Empire for more than three hundred years. She felt far from home and wished all the more that she were back in San Diego, trying to find out who killed Sonia and why. She would wrap up this assignment as efficiently as she could so that she could leave as soon as possible.

She returned to wait at the door of the pub at exactly six o’clock.

Miss Bern?

Willard Cribb was a distinguished-looking fifty-year-old man, slender with gray hair, wearing a black pinstriped suit with a coral shirt and burgundy tie.

Call me Raleigh, please.

Willard Cribb. Everyone calls me Cribb. He opened the door for her. May I buy you tea? The pies are recommended here, and they offer a fine selection of ales.

Raleigh was confused. Did the English drink tea with pie? And why did he mention ales if he were buying her a cup of tea? I’ve never been to England before. Would you mind ordering for me? I’m sure that I’ll like whatever you recommend.

I would be delighted.

He followed her into the pub.

It was large, laid out on two levels, and not overly busy.

He ushered her to a table in a corner near a window. There was no one else nearby. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll place our order.

He returned a few minutes later with two pints of beer. The glass that he set in front of Raleigh sported a red shield. If it’s your first time in a London pub, then London Pride isn’t a bad introduction to our fair city.

His glass had a different logo; the letters HSB were emblazoned in white on a red and green oval.

Raleigh was not a beer drinker. Her British ale far more astringent than American beers. She found it barely tolerable. That’s nice.

Cribb smiled. We Brits prefer a bit more taste in our beer than Americans. Though, I must say, your tastes have been changing over the past few years. Some of your craft beers are quite good.

I normally drink Budweiser.

Cribb winced. I hope that you’ll try a few different ales while you’re here.

I will. She paused. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. I haven’t been told anything about this assignment. You’re going to have to tell me what you require of me.

You know that I work for the Mansfield Trust Bank.

She shook her head. No, I didn’t know that. I’m afraid that I’m starting from scratch.

He frowned. I’m surprised. How can you help if you don’t know anything about us?

Granny has a reputation for getting jobs done. Sometimes a fresh perspective can see solutions that have eluded those who are too close to the problem. If you tell me what you need, I promise that I’ll put everything that I have into satisfying that need. And if I don’t then you won’t have to pay Granny’s fee. We only ask for payment when we get results.

I don’t care about the payment. I care about staying out of prison. If you don’t succeed, then I and several of my colleagues could face criminal charges.

In that case, you better tell me as much as you can so that I can get started right away.

He sighed. "Great Britain has five major banks. But it also has a large number of small, independent banks. Mansfield Trust is one of the largest of the independents. We’re a venerable institution that has occupied offices in the City of London since the colonization of India. I am the Senior Vice President at Mansfield Trust.

All was going well until three months ago. Someone posted some highly confidential documents on the Internet. There is a… His face contorted into a grimace of disgust. …service on the Internet that calls itself Wikileaks. This so-called whistleblower site encourages people to anonymously submit documents of a confidential nature. These confidential documents are then published for the world to see. I’m sure that I don’t need to tell you that a bank – any bank – has a great number of documents that are highly confidential and that would embarrass both the bank and its clients if made public. He paused and looked at her.

I understand. I’m sure that you’ve already investigated this leak.

Our investigation was thorough. We determined who had access to the documents that were leaked and we vetted each employee. If we found even a hint of suspicion about someone, we let him go. In all, we escorted six employees out of the office, never to return. It caused us considerable pain because five of them were undoubtedly innocent, but we were not going to take any chances on further leaks.

And?

And a month later another batch of even more sensitive documents was leaked, causing the firm even deeper embarrassment.

Could one of the employees that you let go have held back some of the documents and released them after he was laid off?

No. The documents in the second batch included information that was more recent than the layoffs. The leak has to be someone who has access to current correspondence.

Maybe it’s someone in your client’s company. The leak might not be in your bank at all.

That was easy to rule out. The documents that were leaked included correspondence from several different clients. Only the employees at Mansfield have access to all of the information that was leaked.

Not necessarily employees. Maybe contractors. Maybe technical support.

No. These documents were extremely sensitive. Mansfield would never allow anyone other than full-time bank staff to have access to them. We have our own internal technology team that manages our computers and networks. We’ve investigated those employees thoroughly. Four of the six employees that we laid off after the first leak were from our technology group. Everyone who is left in that group is unimpeachable.

Unless one of the terminated employees left a hole in your networks so that he could get back into your system from a remote terminal and keep stealing documents after he was fired. Raleigh understood the procedure. On other assignments, she had compromised corporate computers herself by sneaking viruses into them.

Cribb looked annoyed. We’re not incompetent. We’ve ruled out anything so obvious. Our computer systems are sealed tight. We use encryption, air gaps, faraday cages, all of the latest technologies. I guarantee that the leak is a compromised person, not a failure of technology. All I want is a name. If you can tell me who is leaking these documents, then we will handle the problem internally.

Okay.

Not that I have much confidence that you’ll be able to do it.

Cribb’s blunt statement annoyed Raleigh but she held her temper. You’ll be surprised by what I can do.

I’ll be surprised if you can accomplish anything at all. You’re only, what? Twenty-five years old, maybe? You’re American. You admit that you’ve never been to Britain before. You’re no banker. That’s bloody obvious. You’re a fish out of water in this city. How in bloody hell are you going to discover anything that we haven’t already discovered ourselves?

He’d forgotten to add that she was completely alone. He probably thought that she had Granny’s whole agency at her fingertips. In fact, Granny expected her agents to complete their assignments solo. Every agent had complete independence and complete isolation.

So how in hell was she going to find the Mansfield leak?

A pretty waitress in a short skirt brought food. Who has the steak and kidney pie?

Kidney pie? Raleigh froze like a deer in headlights.

Thankfully, Cribb waved his hand and the waitress set that pie in front of him.

Then the steak only must be yours, miss. The waitress set the second pie in front of Raleigh. The small pie was accompanied by a side of mashed potatoes and gravy.

The steak pie was delicious, but Raleigh could only pick at it. She had not eaten much on the plane – she’d been too upset about Sonia’s death. Now, a few hours later, she faced a new problem and a client who had no confidence in her ability to solve it. That did not restore her appetite.

What kind of documents were leaked?

Confidential documents.

I’m sure that I can find them on Wikileaks, but it will save time if you summarize them for me.

Cribb groaned softly like a man in torment. We’ve had three leaks in all. Each batch of documents was released on the first day of each month for the past three months.

Three? He had mentioned only two leaks.

The first leak disclosed the existence of accounts that are held by our bank for a group of our clients who have unsavory reputations. The documents revealed not only the names of companies, but also the names of the principles who own and operate those companies. We, of course, claimed that we are merely the bankers and don’t know anything about the operations of our clients.

Do you?

Of course we do. We don’t extend our highest level of service to just anyone who walks in off the street. The correspondence that was leaked included my personal assurances to these clients that if they dealt with the Mansfield Trust Bank, we would extend to them every service necessary to fulfill all their financial needs. Cribb looked unhappy when he admitted this.

Were these new clients?

Yes and no. Most of principles are from families that have used Mansfield for generations, but most of their companies were new accounts. The kind of business that these men undertake requires that they form new corporations at frequent intervals. He raised an eyebrow. To avoid the scrutiny of the authorities.

Was the second leak the same?

Worse. The first leak identified the companies, the second leak released details of their recent transactions. They do business with each other, with dictatorial governments in Africa, Asia, and South America, and with individuals of low moral character. Most of the transactions were between corporations that would have been anonymous, had the first leak not already pulled the masks off the owners and managers of those corporations. Again, we claimed no knowledge of the faces behind the transactions. Given the personal tone of our correspondence, few people believe our denials.

What was the third leak?

Three days ago, our traitor published a considerable body of correspondence in which Mansfield executives, including myself, told the principles of these unsavory corporations how to move assets offshore to avoid having to declare income to government tax collectors. Mansfield has subsidiaries in these tax havens so that the funds are moved on paper, but remain within the Mansfield family of corporations. These letters and emails implicate me and a number of other Mansfield executives in tax avoidance schemes that are barely legal. Our lawyers assure me that I’m unlikely to be imprisoned if I’m taken to trial, but the government may consider prosecution anyway, just to drive home the point that I’ve been skirting too close to the edge. Cribb looked at Raleigh with frightened eyes. And that assumes that there will be no more leaks.

Can there be another one?

The pattern is clear. Each leak has been more damaging than the previous one. I’ve reviewed my correspondence with these companies. There are some letters and emails that have not yet been leaked. Those remaining letters and emails will be devastating if they are made public. They show that I had full knowledge of crimes that these companies were committing and that I appear to have been actively helping them perpetrate those crimes and launder the profits that accrued. If my remaining correspondence is presented in court, I could be convicted of a number of criminal conspiracies. And I will not be alone. At least four other senior Mansfield executives will be in the prisoner’s dock beside me. It is imperative that I find the person who is leaking my correspondence before the first day of next month. He fingered his wedding ring. I’m a married man. I have children in school. My family will be humiliated if I’m put on trial and devastated if I’m sent to prison. He looked at her with the face of a condemned man contemplating the gallows. His expression also said that he had no confidence, whatsoever, in Raleigh’s competence or abilities to rescue him.

And she couldn’t blame him for that. She’d never felt less confident in her life.

Chapter Three

Suffering from eight hours of jet lag and burdened with the thorny problem that Cribb had thrown in Raleigh’s lap, she got almost no sleep at all.

All of her previous assignments had required that she obtain confidential information from a corporation. This assignment was the exact opposite: it required that she keep help a corporation keep information secret. This