during the morning. One brown eye and one blue eye would
have been hard to explain at the office. Worse was the possibility
that she had left behind a clue to her identity.
Not being
identified was clearly a key objective when one was working as an
assassin, and so when she was working on assignments the Chameleon
liked to wear uniforms, because witnesses could rarely see past the
uniform to notice any identifiable features on the wearer. Then,
just to be certain, if you could hide your hair and change your eye
colour, the chances of the witnesses providing a worthwhile
identification were almost nil.
Gil sat down
at her desk, but before she had time to worry about missing contact
lenses her assistant came into her office.
“ Miss Davis,
I have been trying to call you all morning. The accountant has been
on the phone and he wants you to call him immediately.”
“ Thank you,
Sheila, I’ll do that now before I get drawn into other things.” The
assistant left her office and Gil dialled a familiar
number.
“ Duncan, this
is Gil. I believe you called me and left a message.”
“ Gil. Yes, I
did. Great news, I think. Anyway the Clayton Card Chain has upped
the offer for Celebrato. They have almost no online service and we
have no shops. They see a tremendous synergy.”
The Celebrato
MD sighed. During the last year, Clayton Card Chain had made an
offer for her business almost every month.
“ Then they
are wrong, Duncan,” she answered. “You know as well as I do that if
we had our own card shops the major retailers would be reluctant to
stock our cards, and that’s where we make most of our turnover. I
agree that the high margin sales would increase if we sold through
an extra one hundred and thirty card shops, but ultimately we would
lose turnover. They must know that.”
“ Gil, maybe
they do and maybe they don’t. Perhaps they have a strategy to
overcome the risk of reduced turnover and maybe they don’t. What I
do know is that they now think that we are worth fourteen and a
half million pounds.”
Gillian tried
not to react. Her share of the company would net her well over ten
million pounds in a scenario such as that, a five fold return on
her investment over the past two years.
“ OK, Duncan,
tell them I am ready to talk, but that I want an exit plan for the
end of the year. I’m done with working for other
people.”
The Chameleon
sat back in her comfortable leather chair and breathed out heavily,
relaxing every muscle. She was on the verge of a fourteen million
pound deal and she still had the Chameleon money in the bank in
Grand Cayman, amounting to over eleven million dollars, with a
million more due today.
Gillian Davis
was a rich woman, thanks to both the original Chameleon and her own
business acumen. She thought back to Mac, the original Chameleon,
and how he had not lived to enjoy the fruits of his labours. He had
earned just less than half of the US Dollar account, but on his
demise the joint account became hers alone.
Out of nothing
more than sentimentality, Gil had spent almost a year searching for
Mac’s relatives so that she could pass on the frozen remains of her
partner for burial and dispense his share of the money, but she
found only two living relatives, a wife and daughter who both
refused to bury his remains. They were so awful when she spoke to
them that she wanted to terminate both of them. Whilst she
restrained herself, she could not bring herself to pass on his
money to women who vilified him so completely.
Gil missed
Mac, otherwise known as Douglas Mc Keown, because he had been both
her partner and her confidante. The age difference also meant that
he treated her like a daughter and never made any romantic
advances. He was almost a replacement for Uncle Nick; almost, but
not quite.
Mac had an
intense dislike of working with governments who had to use
mercenaries to win or maintain control of their own countries, but
as an assassin it was inevitable that he would
have been hard to explain at the office. Worse was the possibility
that she had left behind a clue to her identity.
Not being
identified was clearly a key objective when one was working as an
assassin, and so when she was working on assignments the Chameleon
liked to wear uniforms, because witnesses could rarely see past the
uniform to notice any identifiable features on the wearer. Then,
just to be certain, if you could hide your hair and change your eye
colour, the chances of the witnesses providing a worthwhile
identification were almost nil.
Gil sat down
at her desk, but before she had time to worry about missing contact
lenses her assistant came into her office.
“ Miss Davis,
I have been trying to call you all morning. The accountant has been
on the phone and he wants you to call him immediately.”
“ Thank you,
Sheila, I’ll do that now before I get drawn into other things.” The
assistant left her office and Gil dialled a familiar
number.
“ Duncan, this
is Gil. I believe you called me and left a message.”
“ Gil. Yes, I
did. Great news, I think. Anyway the Clayton Card Chain has upped
the offer for Celebrato. They have almost no online service and we
have no shops. They see a tremendous synergy.”
The Celebrato
MD sighed. During the last year, Clayton Card Chain had made an
offer for her business almost every month.
“ Then they
are wrong, Duncan,” she answered. “You know as well as I do that if
we had our own card shops the major retailers would be reluctant to
stock our cards, and that’s where we make most of our turnover. I
agree that the high margin sales would increase if we sold through
an extra one hundred and thirty card shops, but ultimately we would
lose turnover. They must know that.”
“ Gil, maybe
they do and maybe they don’t. Perhaps they have a strategy to
overcome the risk of reduced turnover and maybe they don’t. What I
do know is that they now think that we are worth fourteen and a
half million pounds.”
Gillian tried
not to react. Her share of the company would net her well over ten
million pounds in a scenario such as that, a five fold return on
her investment over the past two years.
“ OK, Duncan,
tell them I am ready to talk, but that I want an exit plan for the
end of the year. I’m done with working for other
people.”
The Chameleon
sat back in her comfortable leather chair and breathed out heavily,
relaxing every muscle. She was on the verge of a fourteen million
pound deal and she still had the Chameleon money in the bank in
Grand Cayman, amounting to over eleven million dollars, with a
million more due today.
Gillian Davis
was a rich woman, thanks to both the original Chameleon and her own
business acumen. She thought back to Mac, the original Chameleon,
and how he had not lived to enjoy the fruits of his labours. He had
earned just less than half of the US Dollar account, but on his
demise the joint account became hers alone.
Out of nothing
more than sentimentality, Gil had spent almost a year searching for
Mac’s relatives so that she could pass on the frozen remains of her
partner for burial and dispense his share of the money, but she
found only two living relatives, a wife and daughter who both
refused to bury his remains. They were so awful when she spoke to
them that she wanted to terminate both of them. Whilst she
restrained herself, she could not bring herself to pass on his
money to women who vilified him so completely.
Gil missed
Mac, otherwise known as Douglas Mc Keown, because he had been both
her partner and her confidante. The age difference also meant that
he treated her like a daughter and never made any romantic
advances. He was almost a replacement for Uncle Nick; almost, but
not quite.
Mac had an
intense dislike of working with governments who had to use
mercenaries to win or maintain control of their own countries, but
as an assassin it was inevitable that he would
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