Saints and Sinners

Chapter Twenty-Two

Meadvale

Surrey

Connor Symonds bent down and placed a large posy on his father's gravestone. He then hung his head as if in prayer, which he was not, well aware that there were other people in the graveyard and that they knew who he was. Behind him, the old cathedral, Pastor Richard Winstanley's original basilica, built with SHR cash, basked in the April drizzle. He was still furious with the old man, not so much for his crimes but for his cowardice. Putting a bullet through his head was the easy way out, and he had left his sons to clean up his mess. And what a mess it was. Fletcher was right, every member of the Symonds family had been well looked after in the will, with at least fifty million tucked away in their banks. No one was going to the poor house anytime soon. But that was not the point, of course. The Symonds investment fund had two purposes, firstly to finance a dynasty for decades to come and then secondly to continue to drive the Reformist movement forwards. That had always been his father's dream, and all of a sudden, his dream was at risk, because he could not be bothered to put up a fight.

"Your umbrella, Sir?" Brett Stoddart said, interrupting his reverie. But the rain was getting harder to be fair, and he was not going to get any answers from beyond the grave. He looked at Stoddart and sighed, taking one last look at the gravestone.

"Is Cartwright here?" He demanded, grabbing the thing from the boy. And that was what Brett was, of course. Nothing but a stupid boy, making mistakes. Thirty-one, still wet behind the ears, but horribly ambitious. Americans were like that, in his experience. Always striving to jump another rung up the ladder, and not really that bothered about how he took the next step. Hence his apparent willingness to betray his own country, his own father even, and that was something that Connor Symonds would never understand. To be fair, he had never had to worry about a career himself. He remained where he was born to be, right at his father's side, which was not always an easy place to be, but at least he did not need to worry about any career ladder, because he was already at the top of his. But he never went against his father. No matter what the old bastard did, Connor had stayed the course.

"Up at the house for eleven, we said?" Stoddart confirmed, walking at his side. "Do you want to go over the report again before we meet him?"

"We aren't meeting him...you aren't staying."

"Sorry, Sir...I don't understand?"

"You're fired, Brett...I suppose I admire your pluck...jumping ship after giving up all of my secrets, just because you saw a brighter future with me? But I can't trust you...and this business with your wife...it shows weakness?"

"But I let Grace go to stop them outing me?" Stoddart muttered, stunned to his core. But he did not deny his guilt, something about the way Symonds was speaking to him told him that there was no point.

"Don't be an idiot? You know far too much about their operation...the infamous Rosen Foundation...they had to burn you?"

"But I'll tell you everything..."

"I said don't be an idiot...they would have started changing the locks as soon as you got on that fucking plane with Bateman," Symonds growled as they approached the car. "You were on secondment to me...technically, you are still employed by BIB...so, pack your bags and get on the next flight and go back to work, son...but you won't be making partner any time soon...and if you cross me again, I'll kill you?"

Reece Cartwright waited for Symonds on a chair outside his study. He felt like a schoolboy sitting outside his headmaster's office, but he felt that he was doing a good job, so he was not expecting the cane. Dealing with his wife had helped him, according to the archbishop at least, and his work on securing decent nuns for the Boston convent was going well, because he had Carter onside. It was costing Symonds dearly, but he could afford it and had seemed pleased about it when they last spoke. But being summoned for a private meeting was slightly disconcerting.