The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (best finance books of all time .txt) 📕

BRINTON SIGHED AND went back toward the assembly plant. Unlocked the double doors. Stepped into the inner hall. Locked up behind him. Glanced to the right at the locked and silent pep talk room. Went on ahead. Opened the doors and went inside. Locked up behind him. The same hum of Britain at work. Hi-tec industry, where the future lay, miniaturisation, that was the key. Every time a new development came into the market it was based on doing the same job better with a smaller component, it had been going on since the first transistor appeared, Brinton knew that well enough, and it would continue until phones and televisions and tablets were the thickness of a sheet of decent paper, yet carried the memory and capability of a mainframe computer.

There had been a shift change since he was last in the plant. All units in Minstrel worked twelve hours on and twelve hours off. One day a week off for each unit, when the lazy prats lounged about watching television and recharging their batteries, though the day off was staggered, and in that way it meant the production line was never interrupted, producing goods 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. That was the future. Never any downtime, never any non-productive days, hours, minutes or seconds. So why the fuck were they still way behind with the order?

He went to the metal staircase and sprinted to the top.

Monica was sitting at the desk, studying her computer.

Debs was opposite, auditing some figures, trying to look busy, thought Brinton. He lip-read Debs two words. ‘Brinton’s back.’

Monica glanced over her shoulder and saw him approaching. She jumped up and walked toward him.

‘Yes, I know, I know, the figures are not as you would like.’

‘You can say that again!’

‘Everyone is working very hard, surely you can see that!’

‘Excuses, excuses, that’s all I seem to fucking hear!’

‘Not excuses, facts.’

‘Can we get some of the off-shifters back at work to help catch up?’

‘They can’t work any more. They are all tired.’

‘Tired, my arse!’

‘It is difficult work, hard on the eyes, and the fingers, they must have a break, if they work when they are over-tired they make mistakes. That will cost you in the long run. It won’t work, it’ll be worse, they must have a break.’

‘Something’s got to be done!’

‘Working them to death won’t do it!’

‘We’ll see about that. Come with me!’

Monica glanced back at Debs. Brinton did too. Shouted back at the deputy dog, ‘Debs, whatever your fucking name is, you’re in charge, kick some ass, get them working, understand?’

Debs nodded and shouted, ‘Yes, Mr Brinton,’ but by then he was skipping down the steps, Monica hustling to keep up behind. He headed toward the main doors and out of the place. She followed. He was in a hurry; that was clear enough. He unlocked the doors. She made to step through.

‘Just a minute, just a minute, you know the fucking rules. Units are only allowed outside on a lead.’

Monica blew out and shook her head. Brinton went to the left of the door where there was a small table with a brown cardboard box set on the top. The box was full of dog leads. He grabbed the first one to hand and fixed it to her right wrist. Pulled the door open, stepped through, tugged her into the inner hallway. Locked the doors behind them, went ahead to the next set of doors. Opened up, stepped through, tugged her behind him again, locked up, no one about, all quiet, headed down the corridor, yanking her behind him, past Pryce’s office, door closed, stopped at his own office, opened the door, pushed her inside. The Venetian blinds over the one window were closed, went in after her, locked the door behind him.

Forty-Four

Acting Inspector Jun Woo, or Lily Sang, was bundled into the back of a van. There were no windows in the vehicle and she had no idea where they were heading, but she wasn’t to be in there long. The van came to an abrupt stop, the squeaky brakes protesting at the poor driving. The van door opened and she was ordered out onto the tarmac.

They were in the Hong Kong container terminal, she knew that well enough, she had studied the port layout, guessing that she would be shipped out through there at some point. It was full dark, but lit up everywhere, man-made lights, as it always was. A single man grabbed her by the arm. If she needed to free herself and run away she knew she could, she had been brushing up on her martial arts training, but that would have been pointless, escaping. The guy didn’t know it, but he had never handled a woman who was less likely to escape.

It was late at night, she didn’t know the exact time, tried to see if the guy was wearing a watch, but if he was, she couldn’t see it. Her body clock told her it was about 2am, and she was only seven minutes wrong in that. She should have been dog-tired but the adrenaline was rushing through her fit body. They approached a huge ship. The State of Heavenly Peace, a mainland Chinese vessel, Jun knew that from her studies of local shipping. The crew gangplank was down, flush against the side of the vessel, and there was a man waiting there, a sentry, guard, lookout, in-on-the-deal guy, she couldn’t decide. Lily Sang scowled and swore at the guard. He said, ‘Shut it, bitch!’ and she was frogmarched up the gangplank.

Two men were waiting at the top. They glanced around as if checking they were not being observed, gave the courier an envelope, and nodded him away. Took hold of the scruffy girl, though she was no worse than all the rest. Took her below deck, one leading,