-Track Eighteen-
The morning after the press conference, Cosmo, Lucy, and Kipper sat in the Hilton eating breakfast. Concerned about Billy Numan's warning, Cosmo said. “We need legal advice.”
“I agree,” said Lucy. “And we need to do it fast. I imagine Numan and his cronies are plotting something.”
“Sorry to disturb you,” said a waiter, “But if you were planning on leaving the hotel Mr Nutley, I would use the back entrance. Press and fans are outside waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” said Kipper and smiled. The waiter looked around the restaurant, took his phone from his shirt pocket, and said. “I know that I shouldn’t ask, but could I take a selfie with you?”
They finished breakfast, and the waiter led them out of the staff entrance behind the hotel and into a waiting taxi.
The Asian driver kept grinning and nodding at Kipper in the mirror as the taxi drove through the London morning traffic. Lucy’s colleague based in London made them an appointment and they went to Lincoln’s Inn law firm.
Fredrick Farquharson-Jones features and demeanour reminded the three of Rumpole of the Bailey, with a small rotund body, friendly disposition, and half-moon-shaped bifocals. Nobody would imagine that he was one of London’s most feared barristers. Fredrick had been a lawyer for over 30 years and built his successful law firm by hard work and keeping to a strict code of ethics. His only rule was that he never undertook any case that he felt he could not win.
Farquharson-Jones was an old school barrister who always used law books and shunned information on the web or emails. He felt he got more done over the phone and never used solicitors, preferring to get his own clients to get a feel for them, their case, and his opponents.
Fredrick was an articulate, intelligent man, who never got angry, but in the courtroom, he was a demon. He came highly recommended by his clients because of the speed with which he dealt with cases, but his services did not come cheap.
Lucy, Cosmo, and Kipper sat opposite the old lawyer in his dusty office, which smelt like an old Victorian library and surrounded by precariously stacked law books and old journals. They envisioned the stacks collapsing onto their heads as they sat at his desk littered with files, an overspill from his full filing cabinets.
“You’re Mr Fossils, aren’t you?” Fredrick asked, looking at Kipper. “Your photograph was in my morning paper.” He smiled, looked over his spectacles, and asked, “So what can I do for you?”
Fredrick took notes on an A4 pad while Kipper related his story. Fredrick then tapped on his notepad and asked. “Oh, so you aren’t Fossils. Have you any copies of the contracts you signed?”
Kipper shook his head. “No, sorry.”
“Did you read the contracts before signing them and know what they said?”
Kipper again shook his head.
Fredrick soon realised that Kipper was as thick as pig shit, so he turned his attention to Lucy, who explained with more clarity.
“Oh,” said Fredrick and glared at his notes.
“Our immediate concern’s that according to Billy Numan, there’s a warrant out for Mr Nutley’s arrest,” said Lucy furrowing her brow.
Fredrick looked up from his notes and asked. “And this Numan character told you that?”
“Yes,” said Lucy, “that’s what he told us in his office after the press conference.”
“Ah yes, I read the report from the press conference in the newspaper. Did any of you notice any police at the conference?”
“Yes,” said Cosmo, “two stood at the back of the room.”
“And where they carrying anything?” asked Fredrick.
“One had an envelope,” said Cosmo, adding, “and Numan said they were charging Kipper with fraud.”
Fredrick smiled and asked. “Did you admit to fraud at the conference, Mr Nutley?”
Kipper shook his head.
Fredrick grinned and then blustered. “Ha! Then the piss-ant cocked it up.”
The three looked taken aback, as Fredrick smiled. “You didn’t admit what was undoubtedly on the arrest warrant, so don’t worry Mr Nutley. No judge in the land will issue another warrant after a botched arrest. Unless,” he said, looking over his glasses. “It was for murder. You haven’t killed anyone, have you, Mr Nutley?”
Kipper turned pale and stammered “N... No sir,”
“He’s messing with you,” said Cosmo, chuckling as Fredrick smiled and continued. “Don’t worry about any threats from Numan or his piss-ant lawyers.”
Fredrick smiled and said, “Tell me more about your first meeting with Mr Numan, Doctor Fossdyke.”
Lucy explained about their meeting with Billy Numan and told Fredrick how she’d told him about her father and the other Fossils.
Fredrick listened, but not wanting her wasting any more of his time or their money, sighed and said. “Numan will undoubtedly deny all the information you gave him about your father and his elderly friends being the band or anything else you told him about Fossils, so without proof, it will be your word against his.”
Lucy looked dismal, but Cosmo smirked. “Oh, but do we have proof,” he said.
Lucy looked confused and Cosmo winked at her. He smiled and took a Dictaphone/recorder from his pocket.
“Where did that come from?” asked Lucy, bemused.
“I never trusted Numan, so I brought along a little insurance,” said Cosmo and pressed play, which started with Cosmo saying “We have made copies,” and all the conversations thereafter, recorded in clear digital sound.
“Perjury, at the very least!” exclaimed Fredrick with a beaming grin, as he listened and added, “possibly even fraud!”
“What?” Kipper and Cosmo asked.
Lucy smiled and knew without Cosmo’s clever and sneaky intervention, they had nothing. Fredrick looked at the three to ensure they followed his train of thought, picked up the morning newspaper with details of the press conference, and said. “Mr Numan broadcast a statement publically about Mr Nutley inventing Fossils without his prior knowledge. Therefore, if this went to trial, he would have no choice but to repeat the accusation.” He pointed to Cosmo’s Dictaphone. “This evidence shows that he knew Fossils existed before the conference. Therefore, he would be lying under oath, thus perjuring himself.”
The old lawyer sat back in his chair looking pleased and bellowed. “Cry havoc and release the legal dogs of war,”
Fredrick agreed to take the case, wanting to get his teeth into something to break his usual mundane routine, besides, he did not like the sound of this Billy Numan character.
“Shall I proceed then?” Fredrick asked.
The old lawyer inspired confidence, leaving the three in no doubt they were in safe hands.
“Please do Mr Farquharson-Jones, and thank you,” said Lucy. “All we want is any charges against Mr Nutley quashed, and a safe return, without hindrance, for our family and friends.”
Fredrick spent a few minutes reading his notes.
He then looked over his glasses, smiled, and said, “You have nothing to worry about Mr Nutley. You have committed no crime. I suppose it could be argued that you may have inadvertently misdirected a few people under duress. However, that cannot be said for Mr Billy Numan and his piss-ants, who went public, knowing that they were deceiving the populous. ” He grinned and looked at Lucy. “Don’t worry Doctor Fossdyke, from what you told me and what I read in the newspaper that Mr Nutley is Fossils, leave it with me for a few days and I will ensure that your father and his friends can return home unabated.”
It had been a long, but satisfactory session with the old Barrister and the three left the Lincoln’s Inn office with their fears dispelled. They returned to the Hilton where fans and press photographers waited outside. After Kipper signed autographs and smiled for the cameras, they went inside and into the restaurant where they celebrated with an expensive bottle of Dom Perignon champagne, courtesy of the BBC, because Numan forgot to cancel their account at the Hilton.
“We are meeting Fred the day after tomorrow,” said Cosmo, sipping champagne. “We might as well stay here and enjoy the high life.”
Fredrick was like a dog with a juicy bone. After the three left his office, he got on the phone to various legal departments at the BBC and Virgin and made an appointment for the following afternoon. He then went to see one of his high court judge friends.
Fredrick Farquharson-Jones walked into the conference room, where six people sat around a large shiny wood veneer conference table. He unbuttoned his overcoat, put his old leather briefcase on the table, opened it, and took out a Dictaphone, which he put on the desk, grinned, and said. “I presume you will also tape this conversation.” He switched on his Dictaphone and said his name, location, and date.
A man then stood, introducing himself as Rupert Collins, Executive Director of the BBC. He introduced his Virgin records counterpart, John Bowler, and the two company lawyers, Gerald Highgrove, and Walter Sharples. Billy Numan sat with his elbows on the table and glared at Farquharson-Jones when Rupert introduced him and Susan.
“As you know, I represent Mr Kevin Gascoigne Nutley,” said the old barrister.
Billy sniggered when Fredrick said. “We seem, or rather you seem, to have a problem.”
“We don’t have a problem,” said Billy sounding cocksure. “It’s your client that has the problem because he deceived a nation. All our legal contracts are in order. We own all Fossils music and can do as we wish.”
“Indeed,” said Fredrick looking over his spectacles at Billy. He then grinned, which made the two lawyers nervous.
“I presume these are the contracts to which you’re referring?” Asked Fredrick, who took photocopied sheets of paper from his briefcase and showed them around the table. The lawyers looked nervous, wondering how the old barrister got hold of the copies of the contacts without their knowledge.
“Yes,” said Billy, taking the originals from his case and placing them on the table.
Fredrick smiled and read pieces from one document that he had highlighted.
“It states here that you spoke to Mr Steven Baker, representative of the band, Fossils. He’s the lead guitarist I believe.”
“Yes,” said Billy. “So what, it was all done legally.”
“So I see, and it’s signed and witnessed by you two,” he said, looking at the two lawyers who fidgeted as Fredrick put the document to one side.
Billy interrupted. “It clearly states that in the event of any illegal misconduct by Mr Nutley, all rights to the Hope album are controlled by the BBC,” he smirked.
“So it does,” said Fredrick, glancing at the contacts. “And I dare say you’ll be producing these documents along with other evidence in a court of law when my client goes to trial.”
Billy leant back in his chair and smirked. “Of course we will.”
The two lawyers looked at each other and frowned.
Fredrick smiled, looked at the two companies Executive Directors, and held up the contracts. “You two are the top brass, did you sanction this?” he asked.
The Executive Directors looked at one another, and then at the lawyers, who looked concerned.
“Please, speak up for the tape,” said Fredrick.
The Executive Directors said nothing.
“No matter, I will take that as a yes,” said Fredrick and looked at Billy.
“Mr Numan, Doctor Lucy Fossdyke informed me she showed you a video in your office of Fossils, is that correct?”
Billy smirked and shook his head. “No, she and Mr Sugden came to my office to extort money off us, but I threw them out.”
“I see,” said Fredrick, who went into his briefcase and brought out another Dictaphone and an opened A4 envelope.
Fredrick studied the device and pressed buttons as the others watched and looked confused.
“Ahh, here we are,” said Fredrick, who showed the Dictaphone around his nervous audience. “As you can see from the date on the screen, this recording was made before the press conference. I have the transcript of that press conference here.” He smiled and tapped on the open A4 envelope.
He looked again at the Dictaphone and said. “I won’t play it all gentlemen but I will make a copy for you to take with you when it goes to trial along with a copy of the video Mr Numan was shown by Dr Fossdyke, but for now, I just need you to hear this section.”
He pressed play at the part when Lucy said. “So, now you know my Father and the other Fossils are old men, what are you going to do about it?” Then Billy replied, “Whatever I do has nothing to do with you, and if you breathe a word of this ….”
Fredrick stopped the recording, leaned across the desk, and glared at them. He pointed at a carafe of water on the table and said. “You look pale Mr Numan, have a glass of water.”
He then continued, “So gentleman, herein lays your problem. Mr Numan, you stated in front of the press.” He tapped on the envelope containing the transcript, “with millions of people tuned in.” He swept his arm across the desk to emphasise the point of millions, “that my client made the Hope album and that Fossils do not exist, didn’t you?”
“Say nothing, Mr Numan, This is not in a court of law, and you aren’t on a witness stand,” Walter Sharples warned him as Billy poured a glass of water and gulped it down.
“No, not yet,” said Fredrick, glaring at the lawyer over his spectacles.
Fredrick picked up the first sheet of paper, waved it at Billy, and blustered. “Yet you and I have documents signed and witnessed by you four,” he waved the document at Billy, Susan, and the lawyers, and continued, “from a man who gave you a verbal agreement for a band who, according to you, do not exist. Yet you have heard the proof.” He picked up Cosmo’s Dictaphone. “That you not only knew Fossils existed, but they are old men, contrary with what you’d led the nation to believe.”
Billy Numan trembled, as Fredrick frowned at him and asked. “Still nothing to say, Mr Numan?”
“Say nothing Mr Numan,” said Walter Sharples as Billy grabbed the carafe and poured himself another glass of water.
“You don’t have to say anything further,” said the old Barrister. “Mr Numan, you committed perjury witnessed by millions of people.” Fredrick then switched off his Dictaphone and placing that along with his other evidence back into his briefcase, said. “Ask your lawyers the sentence for this crime and fraud.”
Fredrick locked his briefcase and then scowled at the two executives and said. “And you gentlemen, along with your companies’ legal representatives are accessories to the facts.” He glared at the two quivering lawyers. “You know you have cocked up. I will represent my client when he drags you through the courts. You have broken the law, and I will make sure you are all severely punished.”
With a look of shock on six faces behind him, Fredrick took his briefcase and stormed out of the room. He strode past the security guard, got into an elevator, and chuckled as the door closed.
The security guard looked confused, not knowing whether to go with the barrister or stay with the executives in the room.
Fredrick looked at his watch as he got out of the elevator and hung around the reception area. He looked at photographs of celebrities hung on the walls while humming Vulnerable. He wandered around the reception area for five minutes and saw a receptionist on the phone looking at him. Smiling, Fredrick looked at his watch again as the woman came around the reception desk and over to him.
“Mr Farquharson-Jones?” asked the woman.
“Yes,”
“Oh, thank heavens. We thought you had already left. Can you wait here a few moments, sir; Mr Collins is on his way down to see you. He will only be a few minutes.”
“Of course my dear.” said the old barrister and smiled.
News footage of the press conference broadcast throughout the next few days on the UK television networks. A background picture showing Billy Numan with his hand in front of his face as he left the conference was behind presenters as they read the story about Kipper being Fossils. Fans and journalists had been coming and going outside the Hilton throughout the day, but when rain fell late afternoon, they left.
Kipper, Cosmo, and Lucy stayed in the hotel taking in the amenities on the ground floor, pampering themselves with haircuts and massages. Evening, they stayed in the restaurant and bar.
The next day, after they avoided the press and fans again, the three went out sightseeing for the day and watched a cabaret in the west end of London in the evening.
The following morning the three left the Hilton by the back door and went to Fredrick’s office where he cheerfully greeted them and informed them of his progress, telling them the BBC and Virgin wanted to resolve the matter as soon as possible.
“So do we,” said Lucy.
Fredrick then smiled and said. “Mr Nutley, providing you agree, and the band don’t object, they want to keep you known as Fossils, with the contracts that they hold for the Hope album now void. They accepted my terms on your behalf that releases you from any contractual agreements and Virgin will pay you all royalties made from the Hope CD and downloads.
Lucy smiled and said. “They won’t object, I know my father and the others never wanted any of this, they just want to come home without any fuss.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Fredrick and smiled
Kipper looked relieved but did not expect any monetary gain. He just wanted Numan off his back and his friends’ home.
Fredrick smiled and continued. “Furthermore, to make this matter go away, they caved in with £2 million.”
Kipper gasped, looked horrified, and stammered. “But I haven’t got £2 million.”
Fredrick looked baffled and then smirked. “My dear boy; they are giving you £2 million,” he said and chuckled.
Kippers jaw dropped and he looked flabbergasted. Cosmo and Lucy gasped and looked at one another.
“Of course, my costs will be deducted, but you will still be left with a substantial amount,” said Fredrick grinning.
“Does that mean you will buy me a pint, you tight sod?” Cosmo joked.
“You’ll get more than that,” said Kipper, who then hugged him and Lucy.
Fredrick told them that the BBC and Virgin lawyers and a financial team were due at his office that afternoon. They would destroy the old contracts and give Kipper what they already owed him in royalties. Fredrick would have new contracts drawn up with Kipper being Fossils, therefore owning all rights.
Kipper looked at Fredrick and said. “I don’t want all the rights or royalties. I want to share them with Lucy, Cosmo, and the real Fossils, my friends.”
Fredrick coughed when Kipper mentioned the Fossils, but that was now irrelevant, so he said. “You are officially, and legally, Fossils, Mr Nutley, so you can do as you wish with your money.”
Fredrick arranged for them to return that afternoon after he had dealt with the BBC and Virgin piss ants and accountants and said. “I told them to bring a cheque for royalties already earned when they come today, and after I look over their offer, and should you accept, they will pay the rest into your bank account every month, Mr Nutley.”
The three looked at one another and smiled.
“Now, don’t be stupid Kipper, listen to Mr Farquharson-Jones,” said Lucy, puckering her brow.
Kipper nodded, wiped away his tears, and promised he would be responsible.
“Do you need anything further from us?” asked Lucy.
“I only need Mr Nutley to sign the new contracts this afternoon if he agrees to the terms. I will give him his royalty payment and then you can all return home.”
Kipper looked at Cosmo and Lucy. He sighed and said. “I want to stay in London. I will be better off here, if I agree to the Virgin and BBC deal, I can help with Hope.”
“I agree,” said Fredrick “that sounds a better alternative because I need him here when his £2 million settlement comes through.” Fredrick furrowed his brow and looked at Kipper. “But I suggest you get a good accountant, Mr Nutley.”
“Heed Mr Farquharson-Jones's advice, Kipper.”
“Yes Kipper, listen to Lucy and do as Fredrick tells you and don’t be stupid,” said Cosmo, “and stay in touch.
Kipper nodded, smiled, and hugged Cosmo. “Yes, I promise,” he said.
“Well stop hugging me you dopey twat. Fred will think we’re puftas,” said Cosmo, who smiled, so Kipper hugged Lucy.
Fredrick spent the afternoon in his office with the BBC and Virgin representatives, going over every detail with a fine-tooth comb. Once he felt that they had given him everything agreed upon, they left, and Fredrick called the three back to his office.
Lucy, Cosmo, and Kipper went to Fredrick's late afternoon. He handed Kipper a cheque, who gasped when he saw the amount.
He showed Lucy and Cosmo and said, “This, and everything else I make I will share with you two and Steve, Wayne, Elvin, and Charles.”
Fredrick started writing, pretending he didn’t hear the last remark as Cosmo and Lucy stared at the cheque and Cosmo wondered how much a new Porsche cost.
Fredrick went through the contracts with Kipper, who took his time reading it before signing and the excited three left the Lincoln’s Inn practice, chuckling by the last thing that Fredrick had told them.
“I wouldn’t like to be in Billy Numan's or Susan McHale’s shoes,” said Cosmo and smirked.
“I can’t wait to tell Dad,” said Lucy.
With media attention focused on Kipper, Cosmo and Lucy left the Hilton early the next morning and squeezed through the waiting media and fans outside. Still dark, they drove out of London, joined the M1 motorway, and headed north toward Cleethorpes.
“When’s the gang coming home?” Cosmo asked, turning up the car’s heater.
“Not yet,” said Lucy and chuckled.
Cosmo glanced at the smiling Doctor. “But Fred said it would be okay now.”
“Yes, I've told them. But it will be the last adventure any of them will ever have; so I'll let the dirty old goats enjoy the sunshine for a while longer,” said Lucy, looking out of the windscreen onto frozen lifeless scenery as they cruised along the motorway.
Lucy felt delighted to be home and took a hot bath to wash the city grime from her body. Bernard turned up the gas fire and they relaxed on the sofa while she told him of her ordeal.
A few hours later, Lucy received a telephone call from Steve’s number.
“Hi Dad, I was about to call you and let…”
She looked shocked as the caller interrupted her.
Bernard watched his wife turn ashen as she listened. When the caller finished, Lucy trembled and stared at Bernard who stood, and furrowing his brow, asked. “Is everything okay, darling? What happened?”
Lucy trembled and then ran into his arms.
Rapping on the door, followed by a Thai woman ranting, brought Steve out of his slumber.
‘Where did she come from?’ he wondered as a Thai woman got out of his bed and opened the door to her distraught friend.
Steve lay in bed trying to recollect events from last night as the two Thais chatted. The last thing he remembered was going to another go-go bar and dancing around chrome poles on the stage. ‘Oh yes,’ he thought, ‘and convincing Charles and Wayne to take a Thai dancer, telling them what happened in Thailand… stayed in Thailand.’ He smiled as he remembered later that a wankered Charles and Wayne succumbed.
He chuckled, before the Thai woman, looking terrified, came over, and with her voice quaking, said. “We have big problem,” she grabbed her overnight bag. “Your friend… he die.”
“What?” Steve sputtered.
“Your friend… he die,” repeated the woman.
“Which friend?” asked Steve, not remembering who had taken the distraught woman.
He put on his boxer shorts and the woman pointed to Wayne’s room before she knocked on Charles’s door.
Steve stood in the doorway, saw Wayne lying peacefully on the bed, and shouted. “Wayne!”
Wayne never moved, so Steve went over and touched his skin, which felt cold.
“Oh no,” said Steve, clasping his hand over his mouth trembling, as Charles came to the doorway.