Penny #34
Title: “A Gurge, or Gorge, Rampant”
Author/Artist: Scriptator
Fandom: Concarnadine (original)
Rating: Probably PG
Prompt: #055 - ”Invisible”
Warnings:
Disclaimer: Everyone in here is an Original Character. Please ask before borrowing.
“Inspector - “ Concarnadine the conjurer opened the door to his guest and held his hand out.
Archibald Barratt (who was careful never to use his first name, since he hated it) shook the hand and introduced Liam Borthwaite, his sergeant.
“Come in.” Concarnadine invited the two men into his Chelsea house. “What can I do to help the Met ?”
“I’m hoping,” Barratt said, tossing his coat aside, and paying no attention when a negligent gesture caused it to rise and perch on a peg by the door. “that you can do something about a case we’ve got - a city trader who decided to steal money. I wouldn’t be bothering you, except that he says that he was hypnotised - so I thought that that sort of thing might be your area - and what with what happened to Ms Mortenson … ”
Barratt smiled, slightly, in an attempt to soften the implication.
Concarnadine cocked his head: “I think we’d better get the full team in on this,” he said, leading the way into the lounge. It took a couple of minutes but Elizabeth Stellamer, his assistant and companion (dressed in smart exercise clothes), and Penny Mortenson (similarly attired) came through from the back of the house, and Borin (the dwarf engineer and stage-stooge) strolled in a second or two later, rubbing his hands on a towel which vanished into thin air as soon as he’d done.
Barratt watched as Borthwaite swallowed even harder than at the business with the coat, but was gratified to see that the young man didn’t comment.
“So, what’s the full story ?” Concarnadine signalled that everything could start.
Barratt nodded at Borthwaite, who drew breath and launched into the summary version.
“Henry Phillipson, 46, currency trader, at IQT. Found last night in a communications room off the trading floor, going through the firm’s accounts, transferring one thousand dollars from each one to an off-shore account. He says he has no recollection past ten last night, when he was in a bar off Genoa Alley, getting ready to go home. Lives in Lewisham, by the way, in a converted terrace. The off-shore account was opened, in his name, two months ago. It was dormant until last night, and by the time Phillipson was pulled off his terminal, and what he’d been doing had been analysed, the account had already been emptied, into a mess of interlocking transactions that all happen to go through … certain countries with somewhat liberal banking regimes.”
“You mean the sort of place that doesn’t ask questions ?”
Barratt nodded. “And tend to keep - shall we say, limited - records.”
Penny Mortenson’s mind turned over: maybe, if she had the details, and access to her research tools …
“Hypnotism ?” Elizabeth queried.
Barratt turned to the woman who now co-starred alongside Concarnadine: “Phillipson says he’s been taking hypno-therapy - anti-stress, to help with a dodgy heart - for about 2 months and he can’t think of anything else that could have altered his behaviour.”
“Any other behaviour anomalies ?” Concarnadine asked.
Barratt shook his head: “Nothing that Phillipson admits to, no. But the IQT want all of this sorted quickly, and Phillipson doesn’t have any other explanation. Which is why we’ve arrested him, so time is running.”
“The hypnotist ?”
“Reputable, so far as we know - we’re looking into other patients, just in case.”
Barratt looked round the faces.
“Is there anything you can do ?”
There were a few seconds’ silence - then Concarnadine said: “Probably.”
He took stock for another second or two, then went on: “Elizabeth and I would probably be the best people to interview your Mr. Phillipson, if we can borrow your sergeant. Borin could go talk to the hypnotist - I don’t see there being any danger of his being adversely affected. And I think that you may be able to use Miss Mortenson’s help in tracking through the financials.”
Barratt breathed out: “Thank you - at least we’ll have your advice, to throw into the pot.”
He turned to Penny: “Please remind me to introduce you properly to DS Flavour - she’s with the City of London Police and she’s leading the investigation on their behalf.”
Robin Flavour was a pleasant-seeming woman, smart in her City uniform, and set Penny at ease. Penny was feeling a little nervous, without Concarnadine or Elizabeth there (well, or Borin, but, given what had almost happened with Borthwaite, she could understand why DS Flavour wasn’t being asked to interact with an honest-to-goodness dwarf (as opposed to a height-challenged individual, or one with a genetic reason)).
“Come in - I hear you are quite the expert on this stuff.” She showed Penny into a well-lit room with computers along one wall, and a big table in the middle covered in paperwork.
“I - I’m not sure what you mean,” Penny replied.
“High finance,” Robin Flavour replied: “With an international flavour.”
“Oh. Well … “
“It starts here,” the DS said, pointing to a print-out. “Phillipson managed to raid three thousand accounts before he was found. An automatic system detected the high volume of trades during off-peak hours. With each at one thousand dollars, that amounts to $3 million. Could have been worse - IQT have over four times that many clients here, let alone across the globe.”
Penny nodded: “Plus there’s the reputational damage when one of your top traders goes off the rails.”
“How did you know Phillipson was one of IQT’s top group ?”
Penny shrugged: “He had access to the trading floor after hours, without the systems blocking him out as soon as he signed on. And he had time to get through three thousand before he was stopped - that’s fast work.”
She looked at what was before her. “Look, can you leave me alone with this for a half-hour or so, so that I can concentrate.”
Robin Flavour nodded and went away.
Two hours later, after she’d reassured the IQT lawyers, more times than she cared to think of, that everything was being done to minimise the time the investigation was taking, Robin Flavour went back again.
“Follow the money,” Penny Mortenson said: “Always a good rule of thumb.”
Flavour nodded and Penny went on.
“It goes to St.Kitts,” Penny said; “And then, off again, in a set of transfers - Macau, West Abhazia, the Maldives.”
“None of them exactly first-grade banking centres,” Flavour commented.
“And each transfer,” Penny went on, “is to a local firm, which tends to minimise any sign of international conspiracy. But I don’t think that was its last destination. Give me a minute.” She manipulated the keyboard and after a moment straightened up: “But all of those firms have links to this combine - roughly translated the name means Miscellaneous Metal Manufacturing. You probably want to look at their ledgers for the in-payments and possibly an accumulated out-payment or a series of them.”
DS Flavour nodded: “I’ll see what we can get.”
She looked like she was done, but Penny wasn’t.
“There’s something else.”
“Oh ?”
“Well, I assume you’re checking all of Mr. Phillipson’s personal accounts ? So, if someone does want to frame him, they will need to show something ending up in his pockets. I mean, why would he be doing all this if he isn’t going to benefit ?”
“That’s a good point,” Flavour allowed.
“But that’s really all that I can tell you,” Penny finished.
“Then I ought to see about getting you home,” Robin Flavour said, leading Penny out of the room, into the corridor, and down into Swan Street.
Whether Concarnadine had briefed Inspector Barratt about the goth-girl aspect of her life, Penny didn’t know, but DS Flavour arranged for a car to take Penny from Swan Street to her Shadwell flat (the feeding of Tiger being a time-critical issue, were her furnishings to remain unshredded).
Getting in, and Tiger having been fed, Penny’s next priority was to wash and freshen up and then perhaps to find a meal for herself (depending on what was left in the fridge). She was part of the way through changing into fresh clothes when the telephone rang.
“Hello,” she said, keeping it neutral, as Elizabeth had advised.
“Penny - ” It was Elizabeth, in this instance. “Hang on - “
And the wall of her lounge opened up. Penny squeaked and grabbed a towel from the back of the sofa.
“Oops - sorry. Just call out when you’re ready and we will bring you through - we probably all need to compare notes.”
“So - there’s every indication that Phillipson actually was acting under hypnosis,” Concarnadine said, Elizabeth nodding; “Unless … “ and the magician looked towards Borin.
The dwarf gazed back dourly and shook his head. “Strictly non-confederate. Uses cold reading to ‘diagnose’ her subjects, and low-level self-hypnosis to teach them to change whatever it is that they want to.
“And,” he went on: “Shows no sign of having benefitted from any sort of money tricks - her office is thread-bare and her postal address is actually the back door to the office building and she’s sleeping on a camp-bed there.”
“W - where does that leave us ?” Penny asked: “Or Mr. Phillipson ?”
“In an interesting position,” Elizabeth replied: “DS Flavour has failed to find any indication that he will benefit, in any way, from his actions. Penny identified a possible final recipient, and she has been able to trace a sum of approximately the correct size going into their financial systems. Unfortunately it doesn’t appear possible to track it out again.”
“Well, it will be going somewhere !” Penny snapped, then shrank back. After all, it wasn’t for her to -
“A valid point.” Concarnadine broke in on her introspection. “Perhaps we need to focus on that, and on why Mr. Phillipson is so sure it was hypnosis.”
Then something occurred to Penny: “If only … “
“If only what, Penny ?” Elizabeth asked.
“If I was back with Sergeant Flavour - if I had access to the stuff I had there - “
“What are you thinking ?” Penny had been afraid that they would think she was obsessing over something irrelevant, but Concarnadine’s expression was that of a professional watching another and waiting for an expert’s opinion.
“I need - I think I forgot - well, I know I forgot … or didn’t do it … but at that time I didn’t see the possible connection - and now it’s too late -- !!”
“Never too late,” Concarnadine said, confidently. “To the Batcave !! Or, in this case, the attic !”
“Oh, no !” Elizabeth groaned.
“Oh, come on: anyway, with you as well, it will only take half of the time.”
Concarnadine led the way: Penny had expected that they would go up the main staircase, which she knew led into the attic space, but instead Concarnadine led them to a narrower stairway, toward the back of the house, which also ran upwards.
It led to a narrow room, painted white, with a large book upon an easel. And, in one corner, a wooden box on a stand: a box which Penny recognised, from the stage act; a box which, as they entered the room, opened itself (the side falling away) to reveal Urtu-Ab the Mystic Sphinx.
“You have come,” the Sphinx said, “to seek the dark knowledge, forbidden to Man.” It sounded so portentous that Penny had to grit her teeth to prevent her giggles from escaping.
“No,” Concarnadine replied: “We’ve come to seek some dark-ish knowledge which some men have hidden from the sight of other men.”
Penny edged round, keeping away from the Sphinx, which she hoped couldn’t read her mind, and away from the book, which was, if that were possible, “glowing with darkness”.
“Penny,” Concarnadine said: “I appreciate that is difficult, but can you ease back on being frightened of Urtu-Ab, and explain what it is that you want to know.”
Elizabeth opened the book, and at once Penny got a feeling of definite unease. Suddenly Urtu-Ab appeared by far the lesser of the two evils.
“If you frame, in the forefront of your mind, the questions to which you wanted an answer … “
Penny tried to relax, and to think of the City Police office and of how she would have used the computers there …
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, in a slightly distracted tone, apparently reading from the large book; “She has an account with Miscellaneous Metals, and they will transfer the funds later tomorrow, when they believe the hue and cry will have died down.”
Concarnadine closed the book, and Elizabeth sagged slightly and gave a deep sigh.
“I can’t do that too often,” she said, as Concarnadine reached out, to support her.
“I know - but these are things Barratt needs to know - “ Concarnadine’s tone was sympathetic, but at the same time quite firm.
Elizabeth drew breath, before Penny could ascertain whether what she had said had or had not confirmed her own tenuous hypotheses concerning Henry Phillipson’s behaviour, Urtu-Ab the Sphinx intervened.
“You’ll want to know that there’s someone hanging around outside Miss Mortenson’s flat.”
Author/Artist: Scriptator
Fandom: Concarnadine (original)
Rating: Probably PG
Prompt: #055 - ”Invisible”
Warnings:
Disclaimer: Everyone in here is an Original Character. Please ask before borrowing.
“Inspector - “ Concarnadine the conjurer opened the door to his guest and held his hand out.
Archibald Barratt (who was careful never to use his first name, since he hated it) shook the hand and introduced Liam Borthwaite, his sergeant.
“Come in.” Concarnadine invited the two men into his Chelsea house. “What can I do to help the Met ?”
“I’m hoping,” Barratt said, tossing his coat aside, and paying no attention when a negligent gesture caused it to rise and perch on a peg by the door. “that you can do something about a case we’ve got - a city trader who decided to steal money. I wouldn’t be bothering you, except that he says that he was hypnotised - so I thought that that sort of thing might be your area - and what with what happened to Ms Mortenson … ”
Barratt smiled, slightly, in an attempt to soften the implication.
Concarnadine cocked his head: “I think we’d better get the full team in on this,” he said, leading the way into the lounge. It took a couple of minutes but Elizabeth Stellamer, his assistant and companion (dressed in smart exercise clothes), and Penny Mortenson (similarly attired) came through from the back of the house, and Borin (the dwarf engineer and stage-stooge) strolled in a second or two later, rubbing his hands on a towel which vanished into thin air as soon as he’d done.
Barratt watched as Borthwaite swallowed even harder than at the business with the coat, but was gratified to see that the young man didn’t comment.
“So, what’s the full story ?” Concarnadine signalled that everything could start.
Barratt nodded at Borthwaite, who drew breath and launched into the summary version.
“Henry Phillipson, 46, currency trader, at IQT. Found last night in a communications room off the trading floor, going through the firm’s accounts, transferring one thousand dollars from each one to an off-shore account. He says he has no recollection past ten last night, when he was in a bar off Genoa Alley, getting ready to go home. Lives in Lewisham, by the way, in a converted terrace. The off-shore account was opened, in his name, two months ago. It was dormant until last night, and by the time Phillipson was pulled off his terminal, and what he’d been doing had been analysed, the account had already been emptied, into a mess of interlocking transactions that all happen to go through … certain countries with somewhat liberal banking regimes.”
“You mean the sort of place that doesn’t ask questions ?”
Barratt nodded. “And tend to keep - shall we say, limited - records.”
Penny Mortenson’s mind turned over: maybe, if she had the details, and access to her research tools …
“Hypnotism ?” Elizabeth queried.
Barratt turned to the woman who now co-starred alongside Concarnadine: “Phillipson says he’s been taking hypno-therapy - anti-stress, to help with a dodgy heart - for about 2 months and he can’t think of anything else that could have altered his behaviour.”
“Any other behaviour anomalies ?” Concarnadine asked.
Barratt shook his head: “Nothing that Phillipson admits to, no. But the IQT want all of this sorted quickly, and Phillipson doesn’t have any other explanation. Which is why we’ve arrested him, so time is running.”
“The hypnotist ?”
“Reputable, so far as we know - we’re looking into other patients, just in case.”
Barratt looked round the faces.
“Is there anything you can do ?”
There were a few seconds’ silence - then Concarnadine said: “Probably.”
He took stock for another second or two, then went on: “Elizabeth and I would probably be the best people to interview your Mr. Phillipson, if we can borrow your sergeant. Borin could go talk to the hypnotist - I don’t see there being any danger of his being adversely affected. And I think that you may be able to use Miss Mortenson’s help in tracking through the financials.”
Barratt breathed out: “Thank you - at least we’ll have your advice, to throw into the pot.”
He turned to Penny: “Please remind me to introduce you properly to DS Flavour - she’s with the City of London Police and she’s leading the investigation on their behalf.”
Robin Flavour was a pleasant-seeming woman, smart in her City uniform, and set Penny at ease. Penny was feeling a little nervous, without Concarnadine or Elizabeth there (well, or Borin, but, given what had almost happened with Borthwaite, she could understand why DS Flavour wasn’t being asked to interact with an honest-to-goodness dwarf (as opposed to a height-challenged individual, or one with a genetic reason)).
“Come in - I hear you are quite the expert on this stuff.” She showed Penny into a well-lit room with computers along one wall, and a big table in the middle covered in paperwork.
“I - I’m not sure what you mean,” Penny replied.
“High finance,” Robin Flavour replied: “With an international flavour.”
“Oh. Well … “
“It starts here,” the DS said, pointing to a print-out. “Phillipson managed to raid three thousand accounts before he was found. An automatic system detected the high volume of trades during off-peak hours. With each at one thousand dollars, that amounts to $3 million. Could have been worse - IQT have over four times that many clients here, let alone across the globe.”
Penny nodded: “Plus there’s the reputational damage when one of your top traders goes off the rails.”
“How did you know Phillipson was one of IQT’s top group ?”
Penny shrugged: “He had access to the trading floor after hours, without the systems blocking him out as soon as he signed on. And he had time to get through three thousand before he was stopped - that’s fast work.”
She looked at what was before her. “Look, can you leave me alone with this for a half-hour or so, so that I can concentrate.”
Robin Flavour nodded and went away.
Two hours later, after she’d reassured the IQT lawyers, more times than she cared to think of, that everything was being done to minimise the time the investigation was taking, Robin Flavour went back again.
“Follow the money,” Penny Mortenson said: “Always a good rule of thumb.”
Flavour nodded and Penny went on.
“It goes to St.Kitts,” Penny said; “And then, off again, in a set of transfers - Macau, West Abhazia, the Maldives.”
“None of them exactly first-grade banking centres,” Flavour commented.
“And each transfer,” Penny went on, “is to a local firm, which tends to minimise any sign of international conspiracy. But I don’t think that was its last destination. Give me a minute.” She manipulated the keyboard and after a moment straightened up: “But all of those firms have links to this combine - roughly translated the name means Miscellaneous Metal Manufacturing. You probably want to look at their ledgers for the in-payments and possibly an accumulated out-payment or a series of them.”
DS Flavour nodded: “I’ll see what we can get.”
She looked like she was done, but Penny wasn’t.
“There’s something else.”
“Oh ?”
“Well, I assume you’re checking all of Mr. Phillipson’s personal accounts ? So, if someone does want to frame him, they will need to show something ending up in his pockets. I mean, why would he be doing all this if he isn’t going to benefit ?”
“That’s a good point,” Flavour allowed.
“But that’s really all that I can tell you,” Penny finished.
“Then I ought to see about getting you home,” Robin Flavour said, leading Penny out of the room, into the corridor, and down into Swan Street.
Whether Concarnadine had briefed Inspector Barratt about the goth-girl aspect of her life, Penny didn’t know, but DS Flavour arranged for a car to take Penny from Swan Street to her Shadwell flat (the feeding of Tiger being a time-critical issue, were her furnishings to remain unshredded).
Getting in, and Tiger having been fed, Penny’s next priority was to wash and freshen up and then perhaps to find a meal for herself (depending on what was left in the fridge). She was part of the way through changing into fresh clothes when the telephone rang.
“Hello,” she said, keeping it neutral, as Elizabeth had advised.
“Penny - ” It was Elizabeth, in this instance. “Hang on - “
And the wall of her lounge opened up. Penny squeaked and grabbed a towel from the back of the sofa.
“Oops - sorry. Just call out when you’re ready and we will bring you through - we probably all need to compare notes.”
“So - there’s every indication that Phillipson actually was acting under hypnosis,” Concarnadine said, Elizabeth nodding; “Unless … “ and the magician looked towards Borin.
The dwarf gazed back dourly and shook his head. “Strictly non-confederate. Uses cold reading to ‘diagnose’ her subjects, and low-level self-hypnosis to teach them to change whatever it is that they want to.
“And,” he went on: “Shows no sign of having benefitted from any sort of money tricks - her office is thread-bare and her postal address is actually the back door to the office building and she’s sleeping on a camp-bed there.”
“W - where does that leave us ?” Penny asked: “Or Mr. Phillipson ?”
“In an interesting position,” Elizabeth replied: “DS Flavour has failed to find any indication that he will benefit, in any way, from his actions. Penny identified a possible final recipient, and she has been able to trace a sum of approximately the correct size going into their financial systems. Unfortunately it doesn’t appear possible to track it out again.”
“Well, it will be going somewhere !” Penny snapped, then shrank back. After all, it wasn’t for her to -
“A valid point.” Concarnadine broke in on her introspection. “Perhaps we need to focus on that, and on why Mr. Phillipson is so sure it was hypnosis.”
Then something occurred to Penny: “If only … “
“If only what, Penny ?” Elizabeth asked.
“If I was back with Sergeant Flavour - if I had access to the stuff I had there - “
“What are you thinking ?” Penny had been afraid that they would think she was obsessing over something irrelevant, but Concarnadine’s expression was that of a professional watching another and waiting for an expert’s opinion.
“I need - I think I forgot - well, I know I forgot … or didn’t do it … but at that time I didn’t see the possible connection - and now it’s too late -- !!”
“Never too late,” Concarnadine said, confidently. “To the Batcave !! Or, in this case, the attic !”
“Oh, no !” Elizabeth groaned.
“Oh, come on: anyway, with you as well, it will only take half of the time.”
Concarnadine led the way: Penny had expected that they would go up the main staircase, which she knew led into the attic space, but instead Concarnadine led them to a narrower stairway, toward the back of the house, which also ran upwards.
It led to a narrow room, painted white, with a large book upon an easel. And, in one corner, a wooden box on a stand: a box which Penny recognised, from the stage act; a box which, as they entered the room, opened itself (the side falling away) to reveal Urtu-Ab the Mystic Sphinx.
“You have come,” the Sphinx said, “to seek the dark knowledge, forbidden to Man.” It sounded so portentous that Penny had to grit her teeth to prevent her giggles from escaping.
“No,” Concarnadine replied: “We’ve come to seek some dark-ish knowledge which some men have hidden from the sight of other men.”
Penny edged round, keeping away from the Sphinx, which she hoped couldn’t read her mind, and away from the book, which was, if that were possible, “glowing with darkness”.
“Penny,” Concarnadine said: “I appreciate that is difficult, but can you ease back on being frightened of Urtu-Ab, and explain what it is that you want to know.”
Elizabeth opened the book, and at once Penny got a feeling of definite unease. Suddenly Urtu-Ab appeared by far the lesser of the two evils.
“If you frame, in the forefront of your mind, the questions to which you wanted an answer … “
Penny tried to relax, and to think of the City Police office and of how she would have used the computers there …
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, in a slightly distracted tone, apparently reading from the large book; “She has an account with Miscellaneous Metals, and they will transfer the funds later tomorrow, when they believe the hue and cry will have died down.”
Concarnadine closed the book, and Elizabeth sagged slightly and gave a deep sigh.
“I can’t do that too often,” she said, as Concarnadine reached out, to support her.
“I know - but these are things Barratt needs to know - “ Concarnadine’s tone was sympathetic, but at the same time quite firm.
Elizabeth drew breath, before Penny could ascertain whether what she had said had or had not confirmed her own tenuous hypotheses concerning Henry Phillipson’s behaviour, Urtu-Ab the Sphinx intervened.
“You’ll want to know that there’s someone hanging around outside Miss Mortenson’s flat.”