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Back The Family Trade Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Contents
  2. Part 1
  3. Pink Slip
  4. Weatherman
  5. Weatherman
  6. Pink Slippers
  7. Pink Slippers
  8. Walk on the Wild Side
  9. Walk on the Wild Side
  10. Hide-and-Seek
  11. Hide-and-Seek
  12. Part 2
  13. Meet the Family
  14. Hotel Mafiosi
  15. Hotel Mafiosi
  16. Cinderella 2.0
  17. Cinderella 2.0
  18. Economics Lesson
  19. Economics Lesson
  20. In the Family Way
  21. In the Family Way
  22. Part 3
  23. Hothouse Flowers
  24. Revenge of the Invisible Woman
  25. Revenge of the Invisible Woman
  26. Court Appearance
  27. Court Appearance
  28. Wait Training
  29. Wait Training
  30. Fire Wall
  31. Fire Wall
  32. Part 4
  33. Killer Story
  34. Hostile Takeover
  35. Hostile Takeover
  36. Business Plan
  37. Business Plan
  38. Part 5
  39. Runaway
  40. Encounter
  41. Encounter
  42. Epilogue
  43. Epilogue
  44. Preview
  45. Learned Counsel
  46. Acknowledgments

Part 4

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Killer Story

Hostile Takeover

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Hostile Takeover

The interview room was painted pale green except for the floor, which was unvarnished wood. The single window, set high up in one wall, admitted a trickle of wan winter daylight that barely helped the glimmering of the electrical bulb dangling overhead. The single table had two chairs on either side of it. All three pieces of furniture were bolted to the floor, and the door was soundproofed and locked from the outside.

“Would you care for some more tea, Mr. Burgeson?” asked the plainclothes inspector, holding his cup delicately between finger and thumb. He loomed across the table, overshadowing Burgeson’s frail form: they were alone in the room, the inspector evidently not feeling the need for a stout sergeant to assist him as warm-up man.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Burgeson. He coughed damply into a wadded handkerchief. “’Scuse me…”

“No need for excuses,” the inspector said, as warmly as an artist inspecting his handiwork. He smiled like a mantrap. “Terrible winters up there in Nova Scotia, aren’t they?”

“Character-building,” Burgeson managed, before breaking out in another wracking cough. Finally he managed to stop and sat up in his chair, leaning against the back with his face pointed at the window.

“That was how the minister of penal affairs described it in parliament, wasn’t it?” The inspector nodded sympathetically. “It would be a terrible shame to subject you to that kind of character-building experience again at your age, wouldn’t it, Mr. Burgeson?”

Burgeson cocked his head on one side. So far the inspector had been polite. He hadn’t used so much as a fist in the face, much less a knee in the bollocks, relying instead on tea and sympathy and veiled threats to win Burgeson to his side. It was remarkably liberal for an HSB man, and Burgeson had been waiting for the other shoe to drop—or to kick him between the legs—for the past ten minutes. “What can I do for you, Inspector?” he asked, clutching at any faint hope of fending off the inevitable.