Slow Burn by Conrad Jones Page B

cellar network, outhouses, a workshop and stables, and he put them all to good use. When he left school, he studied at college, and then went on to complete a chemistry degree at university. He stayed and completed a Masters, and then a Doctorate. Work in the chemical industry was easy to find, and a brain like Richard Bernstein came with an expensive price tag attached.

     Richard`s career was well documented. He worked on several new pesticides and fungicides, all of which he owned the patent for. He licensed his formulas across the globe, bringing him a substantial passive income every month. Now he spent his time as an advisor to the agricultural industry as an eminent scientist developing fertilisers and animal feeds to compliment his patented products. In his own time, he used his extensive chemical knowledge to develop other things, things that explode. 

     The farmhouse cellar was an extensive warren of rooms and corridors, once used to store seed and grain. Part of it ran beneath the farmyard and underneath the barn. Richard had set up an office area, and a workspace, as well as a chemistry lab and electronics benches. Over the years, he added extra equipment as he polished his art. Explosives, and their behaviour became his passion, and revenge was his driving force.

     Richard was sitting at his desk working; the only light in that room came from the screen of his laptop computer. He`d been searching for information about limited companies that he`d found on the register at the Companies House website. The list contained all the corporate details of every tax-paying company registered in the United Kingdom, and Richard had found over a dozen associated firms connected to Malik Shah`s empire. 

     “Apparently crime doesn’t pay, this list would prove otherwise,” Richard said. He picked up a Yorkie chocolate bar and snapped off a thick chunk. He forced the chocolate briquette into his mouth in one piece, and struggled to chew on it. His white cotton shirt was open at the neck, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows revealing pudgy hands and forearms.

     “How many of his companies have you found, Einstein?” David looked over his shoulder as he worked. He noticed that his younger brother was sweaty, a strong odour drifted up to him. 

     Richard held up his hand while he tried to break down the contents of his mouth, making David smile. It was a full minute before he could reply. “Four registered to Malik alone, and another nine associated companies with the others listed as directors, and company secretaries.”

      “They`ve been busy bees haven’t they?”

      “The drugs trade is obviously flourishing.” Richard clicked on his e-mail message box. “We`ll wait for contact from Ashwan Pindar.”

     David moved closer to the screen to read the information. The companies ranged from computer software retailers, to aggregates and mineral exporters. They all looked well established and financially buoyant. Einstein stored the information onto a memory stick, and shut the programme down.

     “I`ve got all the names and addresses we need. Once Ashwan has found his dealer on his lawn, things should start to move pretty quickly,” Richard bit another chunk of chocolate from the bar.

     They`d dumped the dead body of Abdul Salim on the lawn of Ashwan`s family home, and then waited patiently for a reaction to their gruesome message. “What do you think he will do?” David asked thoughtfully.

      “I think he`ll be very offensive, threatening, and downright rude to be honest!” Richard chomped as he spoke. “I think he`ll shit his pants and phone Malik Shah, especially when he realises his son is missing.” The brothers laughed as they looked at the screen. “I don’t think Shah will be very happy about his dead dealer, do you?”

      “I think that he`ll soon realise who is in charge, and that the police are all over his business interests, that will change his mind.” David