Fossils by Robert A Webster - HTML preview

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-Track Twenty-Three-

Susan got off the phone, having spent over an hour speaking with Ollie Smith.

“It sounded like James Wilson turned Ollie into a media leper,” said Susan.

Billy nodded. “Yes, it appears so, and we both know how that feels. James is a powerful voice within the media industry, so Ollie can kiss his journalistic aspirations goodbye,” said Billy frowning. “However, it could still work to our advantage because all the newspapers and other media he sent emails to also sent them straight to spam, so one else knows about the Fossils story.”

“But you heard what Ollie said. No one will touch him or his story, so how can we let everyone know the truth?” asked Susan.

Billy sighed, took a bottle of wine out of the fridge, and poured himself and Susan another glass of chilled Asti Spumante while he pondered.

He handed Susan a glass and said. “We need someone else to investigate further and then release the story, but it must be someone with an excellent reputation.”

Susan put the glass on the coffee table and shrugged. “But who? We are in the same position as Ollie Smith. No one in our industry has any respect for us now and most people we dealt with in the past would relish the opportunity to have us sent to prison.”

Billy nodded, looked at Susan. “Perhaps not everyone,” he said, and smirking, picked up his phone, searched his contact list, and dialled a number.

“Hi John, it’s Billy Numan.”

“Hi Billy, long time no see,” said John Sopel. “We all heard about your fall from grace with the BBC and the cock-up you made with Kipper, Mr Fossils. What’s it like being at the bottom?” he chuckled.

Billy ignored his remarks and said. “Listen John, we go back a long way. Do you fancy a drink; I want to discuss something with you. I am having a flat warming party tomorrow evening and I would love you to come. I have amaretto and baileys and I know it’s your favourite drink.”

After a pause, John said. “That sounds intriguing. Yeah, why not… who else will be there?”

Billy chuckled and said. “Oh, just a few friends.”

“Yeah, I’ll come… will Sue be there?” asked John.

“She sure will,” said Billy and gave John the address. “Okay… later,” said Billy and hung up.

Susan cringed. “John Sopel’s a horrible letch. I got angry every time I met him because it felt like he was undressing me with his eyes,” she said and shuddered.

Billy kissed Susan on the cheek, smirked, and said. “Nevertheless, he has a good reputation for his hard-hitting reporting, and his program on Channel 4 was very popular. He may be a pervert, but he is a well-respected journalist.” Billy took a drink of wine and smiled. “He’s our ticket to redemption, Susan. We would get our revenge on that bastard Nutley and expose the BBC and Virgin for deceiving the public without anyone knowing it involved us.”

 Susan sighed. “I will call Ollie and let him know,” she said reaching for her phone on the coffee table.

Billy gently took her arm. “Not just yet,” he said. He smiled, kissed Susan, and slid his hands between her legs. Susan groaned with pleasure, and as Billy stood up and removed his trousers, she took off her panties and lay with her legs open on the sofa.

“Nice flat Billy,” said John sounding sarcastic as Billy took him into the living room.

John furrowed his brow, saw Susan sitting next to a man on a tatty sofa, and asked.. “Am I early? What time are the others arriving?”

There’s just the four of us John,” said Billy and took him over to the sofa where a pale insipid man stood up and extended his hand.

“John, I want you to meet Ollie Smith, a freelance journalist,” said Billy. “Ollie, this is John Sopel, a senior investigative reporter with Channel 4’s Dispatches program.”

“Hello Ollie,” said John and then looked at Billy. “I don’t understand Billy; I thought this was your flat warming party.”

Billy handed him an amaretto and baileys. “Sit down, John.”

John sat, furrowed his brow, and looked again at Ollie. “Did you say your name’s Ollie Smith?”

Ollie smiled and nodded.

John frowned, and, sounding contemptuous, said. “I’ve heard about you, Mr Smith. We all have at Channel 4. The Head of Production warned everyone about you.”

Ollie fidgeted and looked uncomfortable.

“Yes, that’s because of James Wilson at the Daily Nation, who hung up on me before I’d played him evidence of how the British public was being duped and unwilling to listen to the facts,” said Ollie.

John sounded unconvinced, “Hmm, I know James. He is an ambitious but arrogant man who was a great investigative journalist before he became an editor and then promoted to Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Nation, so you’ve upset a powerful man.”

“So you can see our problem John,” Billy interrupted. “Now no one will touch Ollie’s stories or get involved with anything Susan and I do unless it involved getting us in trouble.”

John smiled at Susan and then glared at Billy. “Okay Numan, so what do you want?”

 Billy leaned forward and said. “What would you say if I told you that Kipper wasn’t Fossils? We have proof that Fossils band members are four geriatrics.”

John frowned and said. “I’d think you were crazy. But go on.”

“We not only have proof about Fossils being elderly, but we have footage of them in Cambodia, which Ollie risked his life to get,” Billy smirked, glanced at Ollie, and then told John about the footage he’d seen on Lucy’s camcorder, which the BBC and Virgins top executives knew about.

John listened. He had known Billy for many years but didn’t like him and thought he was an egotistical gobshite. However, he liked Susan and kept trying to peek up her skirt as she sat on a chair opposite smiling. The more Billy told him, the more interested John became. “So where is this camcorder Billy?” he asked.

“Strat’s daughter, Doctor Lucy Fossdyke has it. She took it with her after showing us. However, Ollie has other proof.” Billy nodded at Ollie and added. “The BBC and Virgin must never find out about Susan and I being involved, so that’s where you come in John.”

John smirked and said. “If what you told me is true and Ollie has the proof to back up your claims, I can go after the BBC and Virgin executives and their lawyers with the evidence given to me by an undisclosed freelance journalist. Your names need never be mentioned.” 

Susan, Billy, and Ollie looked at one another and smiled.

“So,” said John Sopel, sounding eager. “Let’s see what you’ve got Ollie.” He took a drink and smiled at Billy and Susan as Ollie pulled a file from his briefcase.

With a big grin, Ollie handed John the file, explained the photographs, and told him about meeting them in Cambodia.

John looked at each photograph and frowned.

Ollie sat back after he had shown John the last photograph and said. “I have Sharkys address.”

John glared at Billy and Susan, and then said. “Great work Ollie. A film crew and I will go to Cambodia at once and get footage of these old men on holiday. Channel 4 won’t mind footing the bill.”

Ollie smiled, looked at Billy and Susan grimacing, and he smiled. “Fantastic, thanks John, you won’t regret it. Once we expose this evidence, we can destroy the BBC, Virgin, and bloody James Wilson. When will you leave?” asked Ollie sounding excited.

John stared at Ollie. “I’ll call Mr Spock on the Starship Enterprise and get him to beam us there,” he said sounding droll.

Ollie frowned and looked confused.

Billy sighed and said. “He’s being sarcastic, Ollie.”

John knocked back his drink and hollered, “All you have given me is lip service and showed me photographs of old men on holiday in Cambodia,” he glared at Billy. “I would expect something like this from you, Numan,” he looked at Susan. “But not you Sue. I would get far away from this loser before he drags you further into the gutter.”

John slammed his glass on the table and got up to leave.

“What if I got hold of Doctor Fossdyke’s camcorder and showed you the evidence?” asked Ollie.

“What?” snapped John.

“Yes, that’s undeniable proof,” said Billy looking anxious.

“Please John,” said Susan. “What have you got to lose?”

John Sopel sat down, picked up his empty glass, and handed it to Billy, who went to the kitchen.

John leant over to Susan and whispered. “If I agree to investigate this, what’s in it for me?”

Ollie felt the sexual tension between the pair as he put his folder in his briefcase, even though Sopel looked to be at least twenty years older than Susan and overweight.

“Whatever you want,” Susan whispered, leant over, and nibbled John’s ear.

Ollie fidgeted and looked uneasy as John sat back and smiled.

Billy came and handed him his drink.

“Okay,” said John “You get me that recording and if it’s as detrimental as you claimed, I will investigate further.”

Ollie went back to his cold flat. Billy had given him Lucy’s details and he already knew the way to Cleethorpes. Taking an envelope from the coffee table, he opened it, took out the cash from an envelope marked RENT, and put it in his pocket. ‘It looks like I am now homeless unless I can get the camcorder, and soon. I’d better leave before the landlord comes for his rent tomorrow.’

Ollie joined the M180 motorway for the last leg of the journey to Cleethorpes. He stopped at a service station and made a phone call. When a woman answered announcing Dr Lucy Fossdyke’s Medical Centre, Ollie said, “Hello, I am Doctor Mason from Guy’s hospital in London. I need to speak with Doctor Fossdyke.”

“I am sorry Doctor Mason, but Doctor Fossdyke isn’t here. If it’s urgent, I can put you through to Doctor Thomas,” said the receptionist.

Ollie sighed and asked. “When’s Doctor Fossdyke there?”

“I’m not too sure,” said the receptionist sounding vague. “Her father… Oh.” ‘Rude man,’ thought the receptionist after Ollie hung up.