Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 2

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.
 

Interrogation

The drive from City Airport on Sunday lunchtime took 30 minutes, about the same time as the helicopter flight from Clacton. Not long after Gail and the two police officers arrived at the, anonymous, safe house, Gail realised it was just after 1pm and she was hungry, breakfast hadn't happened. There was also a list of things she wanted to know from the officers about her flat, the office, bedsit and her possessions.

The police had David's phone and she was told not to expect it back soon. They also cautioned her against calling any friends using her newly acquired mobile."What friends?" was her response. She'd also handed over her portable hard drive, that held the accounts for her, now dead, client Hamiz Fourani.

Gail was introduced to Jenny, the housekeeper, who would babysit Gail, any suggestion of going outside was immediately discouraged. She wasn't entirely certain where they were, but felt it was near Romford on the far eastern side of London. No doubt the M25, London's orbital motorway/carpark wasn't very far away either.

Jenny produced a plate of questionable sandwiches and a cup of tea, with promises of a proper meal later, "I only found out an hour ago you were coming here, Miss Jones, and this was made up quickly at the other house."

"It's Gail."

"Sorry, the rule is that you're Miss Jones here." What other house, she pondered, as she went in search of a loo.

Twenty minutes later Gail was invited into an interview room. This was most unlike the police station room she'd sat in earlier that day; there were soft chairs, a coffee table, low lighting and a water dispenser. A large screen hung on one wall but was off. The door was very firmly closed and the room fell very silent.

DS Emily Keane was in the room together with a new face, referred to as Mr Brown. His role was not explained at this time.

"Please get comfortable, we have much to do here Miss Jones." A cup of water was placed in front of Gail. "We need to start when you first had dealings with Hamiz Fourani."

"That was in 2005, just after the 7/7 bombings. I'd not long qualified as an accountant. I didn't have an office at the time and used a coffee shop for meetings. Hamiz owned the coffee shop and that led to me looking over some accounts for him. He thought one of his employees was siphoning money out of the business, but couldn't see where from. I found it and he said he was going to fire the employee. I recall that when he came back, he smelt of petrol but said there was a problem at the garage when he'd overfilled the tank. I had my suspicions but he'd killed the guy, but it seemed far fetched."

Mr Brown made a few notes but said nothing.

"So, Miss Jones, how did the relationship develop?"

"He then asked me to look at some bank statements and reconcile them with chequebook stubs and a ledger. I found mistakes and enough questions to warrant digging deeper. So, I asked him if that's what he wanted me to do and I told him what my fee was, plus all the coffee I could drink."

"How much of his business is on the hard drive?"

"Everything from 2006 onwards plus a few bits in 2005"

"Everything?"

"As far as I'm aware, although there were some questions about the current set as £170,000 is missing but it could be even worse."

"Why do you say that?"

"He added two new very small plots of land to the portfolio in the last 12 months but I'm not convinced they physically exist. The addresses are in the files."

Mr Brown made another couple of notes but said nothing.

The questioning continued but Gail was having difficulty remembering dates for events strung over the previous nine years,and it was obvious to DS Keane.

"OK Miss Jones, let's go over yesterday's events again, nice and slow."

Gail repeated everything she'd already said that morning, but added little details where she could. Even with some probing questions, it was clear there wasn't a lot more to be said.

Gail then felt a need for a wee so asked to be excused. Coming back into the room, Gail could see that the screen was on, showing the contents of the portable drive. A mouse was on the coffee table.

"Right Miss Jones, could you show us where your concerns are for the 2013-2014 accounts?" This was Mr Brown and he was referring to the latest completed financial year.

Gail went through the spreadsheets and then the scanned supporting documents, trying to keep the language simple. At various points she was asked to hit the print button even though she had no idea where the printer was.

Eventually DS Keane called a halt, saying they'd done enough for the day. Mr Brown left with barely a nod of acknowledgement.

"Who is he?"

"His speciality is large scale fraud but I don't exactly know who he works for, certainly not The Met Police."

"A spook then?"

"I couldn't possibly say."

"Right, can you at least bring me up-to-date on what's happening at my flat?"

"I can't but another officer will speak to you later. I'd also like you to speak to a counsellor."

"A shrink? Why?"

"Because you seem to be handling all this rather too easily and that worries me."

Gail shrugged, but inside she was torn up. As far as she was aware, the only personal items, including clothes, were those she was wearing plus a few changes in her holdall. Everything else had been destroyed?

A tear rolled down her face and a tissue was produced from somewhere. "I'm sorry."

"Gail, it's not your fault you're caught up in this, but we'll help you sort it out. Okay? Just speak to the shrink, errr, counsellor, and take it from there. We'll get you that update on your flat after you've had some dinner."

"Thanks, Emily."

The housekeeper, Jenny, showed Gail to a bedroom on the next floor with en-suite. Her holdall was open and her minimal clothing had been hung or placed in drawers. Her nightie was folded on the pillows.

"So this is home for the next few days? Are there cameras and microphones in here?"

"I'm sorry Miss Jones, but I know nothing about that, this isn't my usual workplace. Dinner is in an hour."

Gail had a wash and re-did her make-up. A shower could wait, and she really did have to go shopping and get new clothes, but as Gail or David?

Dinner was an odd affair, Gail ate in the kitchen with Jenny but there was very little in the way of conversation. She got the feeling there were others in the house, but only the two of them ate. As Gail was finished, she started to head back to her room but Jenny had other news.

"You have a visitor, she's in the lounge."

Gail went back to the earlier interrogation room and this time noticed the sign 'Lounge' on the door. A woman rose to great Gail as she entered the room.

"Hi Gail, I'm Helen Bell."

"Hi Helen. Are you a police officer?"

"Not exactly, I'm a family liaison officer working out of Stoke Newington police station. I have some information regarding your properties."

"Right, what can you tell me?"

"Firstly, your flat is sealed off as a murder scene but there's not a lot left there after the fire brigade put the blaze out. To be honest, apart from a few bits & pieces, it is a total write off. How was your insurance?"

"Adequate, I suppose I can cancel the rent payments though."

Helen laughed. "And the council tax too!"

Gail was getting to like Helen, in spite of the bad news. "So, there's nothing recoverable from the flat?"

"We have a few bits, and we'll get them to you tomorrow."

"Was my laptop amongst them?"

"No."

So far, this was not fully unexpected, but everything relating to David was at the flat, so she'd have to start again where David was concerned.

"What about my office?"

"Two officers went around there this morning to find you and disturbed two men who were turning the place upside down. Your office looks like you need a complete makeover, like those reality shows."

"What about, downstairs? I have some rooms there."

"That hadn't been touched, nice job of making it all look like storage. We had a local locksmith and a carpenter go there, to secure it. Strange thing was they both said there'd been there the day before, because of a break-in. The carpenter told us what was hidden downstairs."

She decided she should remove that carpenter from her Christmas Card list. "Oh, I need to go there and collect a few things, enough for a few more days at least."

“I guess that's where your female wardrobe is?"

"Yes, although there's not much in the way of day-wear. Is the building secure?"

"Yes, I haven't been told much, but I don't think that would be a good idea. Give me your keys and I'll collect some clothes for you, although it sounds like we'll have to consider shopping too."

"Okay, but I don't like the idea of being cooped up in here."

"That's understandable. But if the counter terrorist unit are looking after you, then it's deadly serious."

"You're right, I guess."

"Let them do their job. Now, I have a suggestion."

"Carry on."

"I guess you're staying as Gail for the time being, not a bad disguise, but you need to do some work on it. If you like, I'll organise a hair stylist and beautician to see you?"

"Here?"

"Yes, they'll be vetted and know not to ask questions."

"I thought you were a family liaison officer with The Met?"

"I might have another job, as and when needed." She smiled.

Gail was shattered by the time she made it up to her room, and by 8.30 was fast asleep.

 
Doctors

Monday morning came streaming through the windows but it was the presence of the housekeeper, bearing a cup of tea, that woke Gail.

"Good morning Jenny."

"Good morning Miss Jones. It's 7am and breakfast is in 45 minutes. I believe your first appointment is at 8.30."

"Thank you." What was the first appointment? Never mind, a wee, a shave, shower and then the dilemma of what to wear. She chose a denim skirt and simple top, although it was very 'plain Jane' compared to the previous day.

The used clothes had gone by the time she returned from the en-suite shower and Gail dressed quickly. She hadn't used anything in her moulded bra the previous day but had a pair of chicken fillet inserts that gave the semblance of a bust in a light bra. She wasn't entirely happy with the look so threw a cardigan over her shoulders. A light touch of make-up and she was ready.

Down in the kitchen a simple breakfast was offered, although she ate alone. When Gail had finished her second cup of tea, Jenny directed her to a room at the back of the house. Opening the door it was very bright and plainly a medical facility.

"Come in Gail, thank you Jenny."

"Err, hello?"

"Good morning, I'm Doctor Hughes and I just need to make sure you're fit and well."

"Okay."

"I was able to get your medical records this morning and it looks like you haven't seen a GP for a few years."

"I wasn't unwell and wouldn't bother a doctor for a cold or anything like that anyway."

"An annual check-up is still a good idea, although women tend to be more willing than men. Can you slip off your shoes and stand on the scales? Right, 60Kg. Now over there, that's right, your height is ...... 1.75m."

Gail stood there not knowing what was next, whilst the doctor wrote down the numbers and performed a little calculation.

"Your BMI is 19.5, so at the lower end of healthy. Come and sit here so I can take your blood pressure."

He wrote the numbers down but didn't tell Gail what they were, just "Okay, now can you take off the cardigan so I can extract some blood."

This was Gail's least favourite part of the examination so far, she hated having blood taken and really couldn't understand why Dr Hughes needed to fill five vials so she asked.

"I've been requested to complete a full screening, so full means full. So, finally, I need you to strip."

Gail was less than happy at this prospect but guessed that if the Doc had her medical records, he knew she was also David so would have a little extra. She nearly ran out of the room, naked, when the one finger glove was put on.

"Really?"

"'Fraid so, prostate cancer is a killer amongst men so you get a free check-up."

Two minutes later Gail was dressing herself and the Doctor was finishing his notes. He beckoned her to join him next to his table again. A small container sat on the desk.

"Could you pop into the toilet next door and give me a specimen please."

Reluctantly Gail did as asked, and returned to the medical room a few minutes later.

"Thanks, I'll have to wait for the bloods to come back but right now you're relatively healthy, perhaps a little anaemic so I'll prescribe some iron tablets. Your weight is a little low but you aren't, at first sight, likely to drop dead tomorrow!"

"Cheers."

"No problem, if anything else crops up I'll ask to see you again."

Gail guessed that he'd ignored her rather obvious lack of enthusiasm as she walked out of the room. Jenny was waiting outside.

“Did he examine you?”

“Yes.”

“You should have called me! You should not be in a room alone with a male doctor, understood?”

“Yes.” Gail didn't remember having this problem before.

"You've got time for a cuppa if you want one before your next appointment."

"What one's that?"

"I don't know, the Met don't tell me anything here."

So far as Gail was concerned, this was an obvious case of left-hand and right hand not communicating. She followed Jenny to the kitchen where a large teapot was sat ready. What was also odd was that apart from Jenny and the few visitors, she had seen no-one else. If this was a safe house, where was the security?

"Oh, Miss Jones, a bag was dropped off while you were with the Doctor, I've put it in your room."

"Thank you," but was it David's or Gail's stuff?

Gail felt more relaxed after the cup of tea, and had almost forgotten the medical examination. Was there a relaxant in the tea? They wouldn't do such a thing, would they - whoever 'they' were. Now she was confusing herself.

"Your next appointment is in the snug, I'll show you the way."

Once again, Jenny seemed to know more than she was telling or was she getting information from somewhere? This was another room that Gail hadn't noticed. Jenny left her at the door and headed back towards the kitchen.

Gail pushed the door open and walked into the small room, just two armchairs and a coffee table. Water and a box of tissues sat ready. The room's occupant rose and held out her hand.

"Good morning Gail, I'm Dr Fox, consultant psychiatrist, here as a counsellor on behalf of the Met Police."

"Hello," Gail replied - very warily.

"Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. My job here is to make sure you're okay and to see if there's anything we can do for you? I have no agenda and I'm experienced in all matters related to gender and transgenderism, as well as post traumatic stress disorder and common stress-related issues."

"But I'm not ......"

"So you don't consider yourself to be transgendered?"

"No, this is all a bit of fun." Gail did not sound convincing.

"Have you ever discussed your cross-dressing with anyone?"

"No."

"Have you been identified as David when dressed as Gail?"

"Only yesterday morning, on Clacton Pier."

"What happened?

Gail explained briefly, although it was clear that Dr Fox had been briefed.

"Do you have any family?"

"No, I lost both my parents to cancer 8 years ago and I'm an only child."

"So how did it start?"

Gail explained that David was not a pub person and wasn't comfortable in a bar with strangers. He was extremely insecure, a lousy talker and had no fashion sense. He effectively had no social life.

Years earlier, when he was a student, David had been the guinea pig for a few girls who wanted him to experiment and had found he could enjoy himself in this way. Gail was born there but he had owned very few items of female clothing and no make-up.

When the idea of going to clubs came up, he'd tried it as David but wasn't enjoying the experience. That prompted building a female wardrobe and experimenting in private before hitting the clubs as Gail.

David was well known to his nosey neighbours at his Hackney flat and had no plans to introduce them to Gail. That prompted the refurbishment at his office in Islington. It became Gail's place to crash on a Friday or Saturday night but not somewhere David could live permanently.

She told Dr Fox how she saw herself as a part-time party girl. She was never short of dance partners, or men buying her drinks. At first Gail thought she'd get thrown out of the clubs for using the ladies loo, until she realised how no-one pays any attention. The bouncers and door staff recognised her and would let her jump the queue from time to time. It was a world away from a 5ft 8" skinny and unattractive male accountant.

"Why did you decide to dress as Gail yesterday morning?"

"It seemed that it was the best way to avoid whoever was after me."

"So, you're more confident as Gail?"

"I suppose so."

“Who is happier, Gail or David?”

“I am, Gail.”

"Would you become Gail permanently?"

"I don't know, I really don’t." She grabbed a tissue as her eyes welled-up,then took sips of water to settle herself before Dr Fox started again.

"Okay, but how do you see things right now?"

"Virtually all my male belongings were either burned or soaked in foam and water. All I have left is my female wardrobe, albeit limited. So do I carry on as Gail until this situation is resolved or try to recreate David straight away?"

"That's an interesting phrase, 'recreate David'. You're referring to yourself in the third person."

"I kept the two lives separate."

"But I bet you sometimes got to go out as Gail mid-week?"

"Yes."

"And did you do client work whilst dressed as Gail, when you weren't expecting visitors?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"So the two lives are not separate, there's a real blurring going on, but is Gail the stronger personality?"

"I suppose it is."

"In that case, under that exterior shell, which are you? Gail or David?"

"Gail."

"Not David?"

"No."

"If I had a magic wand and you could restart your life as Gail, all day, every day, would you want that?"

"I think so?"

"Still some doubt, that's healthy."

"So am I ready for the loony bin?"

"You mean the white coat brigade? No, not at all. Based on what you've told me, you're probably transgendered. Now, although I'll write that in my report, unless you make an continue to see me or another gender specialist then nothing further that can happen. It's your call. I have a surgery at Queen's Hospital in Romford on a Tuesday, here's my card. If you want to see me under the NHS then I'll need a referral from your GP, do you have private health insurance?"

"Yes."

"Good, that lets you queue jump. The NHS wait can be 6 months to a year."

Gail wasn't keen on queue jumping, but figured it might be useful this time, if she needed to remain as Gail.

"Dr Fox, who do you see here? A man or a woman?"

"Gail, it's not as simple as that, it's more a case of how do you see yourself?"

Gail pondered that for a minute, then decided she'd had enough of the probing. "Are we done?"

"Yes, unless there's anything else you want to ask?"

"Not for now."

"Okay, Gail. We may meet again."

"Bye."

Once out of the room she fully expected Jenny to be stood there but the corridor was empty. She was going to head for the kitchen but decided to go upstairs for a wash and to re-do her make-up.

 
Bye, bye David?

As Gail entered her bedroom in the safe-house, it was clear that many of the possessions from her bedsit were now here. David's wallet was lying on a bedside cabinet, she'd not taken it to Clacton, but the male clothes she'd worn on Saturday were absent. Her full make-up kit, hair dryer and curling tongs were on the dressing table. All of her shoes were there, including the soft slippers that she willingly slid into. Hung in the wardrobe, or in various drawers, were the rest of Gail's clothes, including some bits that she knew she'd never wear., but hadn't been brave enough to take back. Right now, however, she needed to do some shopping!

It was now just gone 11am as she made her way to the kitchen, unsure of how the rest of the day would go.

"Hello Miss Jones, I take it that you've been up to your room now?"

"Yes. Any chance of a coffee?"

"I guessed you might need one so the cafetière is ready. Black or with milk?"

"White, no sugar thanks."

"Have I any more appointments today?"

"DS Keane wants to see you but she's stuck elsewhere at the moment, and you have a hairstylist here at 2pm."

"Is there a copy of today's Guardian?"

"No, we have this morning's Metro though. We'll have a copy of the Evening Standard around 4pm if you prefer?"

"Okay, any internet?"

"Sorry, no."

Gail drank her coffee then went back to her room. She really wanted to know what was going on in the outside world.

Her newly bought mobile phone was sat beside the bed. It wasn't as well-featured as her normal phone, and she wondered if she shouldn't ditch that phone now? Perhaps shut up the David Jones Accountancy business and start elsewhere as Gail Jones, specialising in female clients? It certainly sounded like a workable plan, except her Accountancy certificates were in her male name, how to resolve that?

Picking the phone the first thing she saw was "No Service". She turned it off, then back on and waited for it to connect to a network. Nope. So much for even a bit of surfing.

A phone started chirping away on a writing desk near the window, she didn't remember seeing it before. "Hello?" "Ah, Miss Jones. DS Keane is here and is in the snug waiting for you."

"Thank you, Jenny."

Gail and Emily Keane went back over Gail's interviews of the previous day, which had now been transcribed, and looked for any further information that Gail could recall, mostly without success.

"Why are we being so exact over this?"

"In case your statement is needed in court."

"Oh, but then anyone would know that David and Gail are the same person?"

"No, we'll write these up into several individual statements and leave the personal bits out of the main statements. We'll then use Dr Fox's report to back up your need for privacy, so long as it doesn't create a issue for the court the judge should allow that."

"But it might not end up in court?"

"No, but there will be at least one inquest; you could be called as a witness as one of the Fourani brothers died in your flat and the other was due to meet with you today."

"Point taken, how do we handle it?"

"Wait to see what happens. Other government departments are involved so the procedure isn't always standard."

"Other ........."

Emily looked Gail in the eye and just nodded. This was a euphemism for MI5, or the Security Service.

"Now," said Emily, "can you take a look at these photos and tell me if you recognise anyone."

There was a grainy CCTV shot of two men in dark clothing sat in a van on Green Lanes, north London on Saturday morning and a better one taken outside the newsagent on Sunday morning.

"They look like the guys who were in my office on Saturday morning."

"That's what we think. They were stopped in Essex yesterday afternoon coming back from Clacton in a stolen car but ran away from the patrol and haven't been seen since."

"No names?"

"They had stolen driving licences, but it's only a matter of time before we identify them.”

"So what's next?"

"Mr Brown would like to go through the accounts again, you're to highlight any discrepancies that you may have forgotten from previous years. We're also preparing warrants to hit all of Fourani's premises in one go plus seize all of the bank accounts. Because you would be one of the very few who would know the full business information, that places you at the highest risk. If there was even a sniff that they knew where you were, we'd have a major operation in order to relocate you."

"So I can't even search for news about me or the Fouranis?"

"No, and sorry about that, because you might just be tempted to write on facebook, twitter or a forum."

"Who's running the show here?"

"I'm the case officer but I report to my DI and he's signing off everything. I can't say he was too understanding about you as Gail when we showed him a photo of you. That prompted him to call in the shrink, sorry about her."

"She wasn't too bad but the doctor first thing this morning, was that strictly required?"

"Depends on how you look at it, we need to make sure you're healthy. Having a star witness collapse on us is not an option!"

Gail pouted, "star witness indeed! I bet you've never had the finger up the bum treatment?!"

"Maybe not, but wait until you see the stirrups the first time girl!"

That caused a giggling fit and the two hugged before getting back to business.

"Emily, can you at least make sure I can read the Evening Standard each day? The Metro isn't even decent for the outside loo."

"Outside loo? Oh." Laughs. "I can't see it being a problem, I'll arrange a personal copy for you as the house copy soon disappears on these ops."

"Thanks, two other things ..... was my laptop recovered? It was left at the flat on Saturday morning."

"Not there but Essex Police have the stolen car and say there's a laptop in it. We'll have to look at it first, before you can get it back. Even then ....,"

".... no internet access?"

"Got it."

"Okay and the other thing, I need to go shopping. If I had internet I could use my online accounts, but without it, it means going to real shops."

"I guessed you'd want to, but it's not my decision. Let's see what the stylist can achieve this afternoon. The bad guys have seen you in just one outfit and without a professional makeover, let's see if we can surprise Jenny by giving you a completely new look."

"So you know I'm staying as Gail?"

"Yes. I might be a little premature and forward here but, apart from your clients, who knew David?"

"Virtually no-one."

"And how many knew Gail?"

"Very few, I was just a face on a dance floor."

"So if both David & Gail Jones disappeared, would that be a problem?"

"I suppose not, but I do like Gail as a name."

"Yes, Gail and a new surname, I'm sure we can arrange to have the papers drawn up, it would be a risk to use an outside solicitor. You'd just have to think of a new name that broke the connection to your previous life, for your own safety as well as a new start once this is over?"

"I'll think about that one."

"Oh, we've completely emptied the bedsit at your office and what wasn't delivered here is in storage. We feel it's only a matter of time before it's raided again. I'd suggest you put it up for sale?"

"How am I to do that from here?"

"We'll ask Helen to sort it. Don't be surprised if she comes to see you again, she likes you."

 
Judge, jury & Executioner

"Jenny, is the stylist here yet?" Gail had been left to lunch alone and had finished just as Jenny returned from where-ever.

"I've just taken her, Diane, to your room; she's setting up in there. I tidied your personal bits away but she is completely trusted here."

"What about the usual small-talk?" Gail had treated herself to a new hair style twice, both times miles away from home and work.

"She won't, and neither should you. Off you go."

Upstairs Gail found Diane in the en-suite. "Ah, you must be Gail. I guess you haven't had a decent cut for a while?"

Gail had left her hair to grow, only having it trimmed when absolutely necessary. David was his own boss so he decided the dress code, no-one else. "It's been a while, what do you suggest?"

"Let me wash and condition it first, come over to the bath and I'll wash it there, slip off your cardigan and top, don't want them to get wet, your bra and tights too, don't worry, I've been told what to expect and told enough to know what I needed to bring." She pointed at several cases and a bag on the floor, her voice was calming but without compromise. Gail did as asked.

Gail normally rushed her shower and used a 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner that didn't really do a good job. "Yourhair's really dry, you need some strong advice on hair-care Gail!" After 15 minutes, or it could have been longer, Diane was satisfied and had Gail sit in a chair she'd taken into the bathroom.

"Right now you're a passable brunette, but we need to continue and enhance a disguise, don't we, so let's talk colour; I brought several with me." She rattled off a list of colours that Gail had barely heard of. "Now, your skin tone is a little pale, and I don't think you could carry blonde well, so let's look at the earth colours. How does auburn sound?"

"How dark is that going to be?"

"That depends on how long we leave the dye in, but it needs to be enough to sufficient change your appearance, I think you'd look good with a hint of red."

"Okay Diane, I'll let you be the judge." "And the jury and the executioner?" Giggles.

While Gail sat there, waiting for the dye to do its' work, Diane got a nail kit out and started work on Gail's hands. "I think you'll need acrylics, for a while, until your nails have grown. Right now I'll tidy them up, put a light colour on them then I'll do the acrylics tomorrow when we've more time. I can also give you a pedicure today."

It was another half hour before the dye was washed away, gently so as not to splash everywhere. Back in the chair, Dianewas now holding scissors and started making almost random cuts. In practice she was layering Gail's hair and forming a simple bob. Cut correctly it wouldn't need anything more than a wash and a brush to fix it each day.

The floor was a mass of reddish-brown hair, "Diane, how much have you cut?"

"Only the split ends and enough to create a basic style."

Jenny had delivered tea to the bedroom while the girls were busy in the bathroom, so they took five. Gail was wary of small talk but had to ask something, "where do you work normally?"

"For film and TV production companies, I get called in for the difficult or sensitive jobs."

"So, am I difficult or sensitive?"

"Unfair! I was talking about the actors who don't trust the usual make-up or stylists because of past experiences, or unusual transformations. Now, I have something else for you."

She reached into a bag and brought out a box containing a pair of breast forms. "These are theatrical forms, used for TV so have to stand up to close scrutiny. Let's wax you before I attach them. I'll put some clean towels on the bed and warm the wax pot up. Take your skirt off, then go and lie down, this is a heavy duty operation!"

Gail had shaved her legs previously but this was a completely new experience. Diane waxed everything, meaning everything, from Gail's eyebrows to her ankles. It was not a quick process and took Gail some time to get used to the ripping sensation.Afterwards, however, she was amazed how it felt as Diane applied the soothing lotion.

"Can you wait a minute before putting anything on, let the lotion be absorbed. Right, this is the plan: I'll be back tomorrow to do your acrylics then I'll attach the breast forms, that'll give your chest a chance to recover from the waxing. Don't put the chicken fillets back in today, they'll rub on your chest. For that matter, don't wear a bra either, just a cami. No tights either, please."

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning. Thanks Diane."

The stylist tidied up her tools and carried the bags out of the room, leaving Gail very bare and not bothered about it, until she realised that Jenny could appear at any moment. She hurriedly took a clean pair of knickers out of a drawer and started to get dressed. Looking at her useless phone, she saw it was now 4.30 in the afternoon.

After a little make-up and a spray of perfume, Gail made sure she was decent and headed down. The denim skirt remained but a nicer blouse over a vest finished the look, albeit flat-chested. She was now bare-legged, although there appeared to be a little sheen from the toning lotion Diane had used. Walking into the kitchen to check on the dinner arrangements. Sat on the big table was a copy of the evening paper with GJ scribbled in a corner. She was going to read it straight away when Helen walked in.

"Well, well, well, not bad!"

"Thanks, all my own work.""Lousy liar you are too. Come down to the snug for a chat. You've got a while before dinner."

Sat once again in the tiny lounge, Helen first checked if the possessions had arrived,

"Yes, and I understand you have my other bits in storage."

"Including your furniture. Now, we need to get some legal stuff out of the way. I have two authorisations drawn up, allowing Bell LLP to handle your business and personal affairs."

"Who's Bell LLP?"

"Me, silly. Sometimes things have to be done outside the usual police or government structure. My little firm, and I'm a qualified solicitor, handles only a few select cases a year, but we do it properly. If we asked the in-house legal team to draw up any documents, half would have the wrong year on."

"I'd heard stories about them! What am I signing for?"

"Sign here and here as David," Gail did as requested after reading the legalese.

"Now, Emily asked if you'd choose a new surname so we could also kick off the process for new documentation. You don't drive do you?"

"No, never needed to learn in London."

"Too scared to learn probably! Could you have a think about names. Also I'll start the claim on your flat insurance but need a list of the items. Make sure you claim for that laptop."

"But The Met Police have it?"

"And the chances of you getting it in a working state? It was in the flat when you left that morning, right?"

"Okay."

"So include it, here's some paper and a pen. In the morning I'll start the sale of your office and get the utilities and so on off your back. That'll cut your bank account throughput down to a trickle. We'll also wind up your business and close the business account. I'll have the funds come to me temporarily but as soon as we have a new account set-up, I'll transfer the funds there. Finally, we'll close the Gail Jones account, but you might need that money over the next week, or two, so we'll handle that one last. I'll set-up to have your post forwarded to my office. Nothing is to come directly here. Plenty to do."

"What's your fee for this?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's right. I get paid a retainer by certain parts of the Home Office to provide non-standard services that stand up to any investigation. You're covered by that retainer. By the time we're done, you'll have a nice little sum in your new account."

"What about my certificates, passport and so on?"

"Choose the name first, I'll handle the rest."

Not entirely certain that she wanted a new surname, but being swept along by Helen's optimism, Gail made her way back to the kitchen. There were some interesting smells that she hadn't noticed earlier. Jenny must have been nearby as the odd use of Anglo-Saxon drifted into the kitchen from somewhere. Gail remembered the folded Evening Standard she'd picked up, the front page had one story, "Huge arms cache found in North London."