April 28th, 2013

Elf

Things You Don't Know About Your Parents...

I wrote this to aldersprig's seventh prompt, "Well, looking at this, my father and your father..."

"Well, looking at this, my father and your father were rather more than business partners during their association." Richart Mannix glanced down at the other person in the room where he had her gagged and tied to a chair with her hands behind her. “I don’t think our mothers need to find out about this from us, if they don’t already know about it, but the photos are quite charming in their way.”

Phanessa Strang spluttered something at him while she struggled against the cords that held her to the chair.

“I’m sure your mother knew what she was doing when she told you to go through your father’s office and destroy particular documents.” He flicked through the rest of the documents in his hand, sorting them into piles on the desk in front of him as he did so. “As it happens, however, I’ve recently become aware that something they obtained in the course of their joint business would now be worth rather a lot of money to us. You, my dear, aren’t tied up so I can take it for myself but so you can’t destroy it before I identify it. The gag is just to stop you attracting unwanted company before you’ve considered our position.”

Phanessa stopped struggling.

“Personally,” Richart went on conversationally, “I’ll be very disappointed in our sires if what I think is a business opportunity just turns out to be blackmail material.” In a response to a questioning noise from behind the gag he added, “There are a number of intimate photos of attractive men who aren’t either of our fathers in here. I recognise some of the faces.” He put down the last of the documents in his hand in the appropriate piles on the desk. “This will go faster if both of us are looking. If I let you go do you promise not to destroy anything?”

She nodded vigorously.

He went behind her and bent down to free her hands. “Good. Much as I enjoy the sight of your heaving bosom, pretty butterfly, I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get free.”

Once her hands were free she untied the tie he’d used to gag her while he undid the cord fastening her legs to the chair. “You know what my name means – most people think it’s an odd spelling of Vanessa.” She was about a decade younger than him, which tied into when their parents had married.

“My father kept track of yours, even if your father didn’t keep track of him.” He was rubbing her calves with his hands, “Now you’ve got circulation down here, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“So, what did your mother send you down here to destroy?”

“Intimate photos of her.” Phanessa blushed. “ Her brother, my Uncle Brian, is coming down here to sort through the office for Mum tomorrow. She’s sure Dad had them here and she doesn’t want Uncle Brian to see them.”

“This would be Brian Kidd?” He sat back on his heels.

“Yes.”

“The Brian Kidd who had a mortgage with your father for fifty thousand dollars?” Looking at her expression he added, “Middle pile, financial documents.” He stood and fetched it for her. While she read he added, “I would suggest that Brian Kidd is the last person you should allow to search this office.”

After she finished reading, Phanessa said, “He’s already got keys. I’ll need to get a locksmith over here now won’t I? After I call Mum.”

“It might be wise,” Richart agreed solemnly. “You might also want to have a solicitor here when your uncle is due to arrive, particularly if your mother has given him any form of written authority.”

“Yes, of course.” Phanessa went to the office phone and made a call. Richart, listening while he continued to sort documents, was amused and intrigued to hear that she didn’t mention his presence at all. He could also tell that she was hearing things she hadn’t expected. When the call was done she put the phone down carefully. “The police are at our house and they’re coming here.”

“They haven’t been to see you before now?” That did interest him.

“No. Why?” Her turn to look surprised and even confused.

“I assumed that your father, like mine, was murdered.”

Elf

Background Pieces Request, Suggestions and Votes

Gentle readers,

For the March Prompt call I have now written 22 stories.  That means I owe you two background pieces.  What would you like to hear about?  Tell me in the comments, please!

Also, if you are anyone other than aldersprig, to whom I know I still owe a story, and I haven't written you the stories I owe you please contact me.

So, tell me what I'm going to write about?
Elf

Post The Non-Apoc

I wrote this to aldersprig's eighth prompt, "Planning for something that didn't come."

“Twenty years of supplies,” Grantham said moodily, “gathered at untold cost. To say nothing of the seed stocks, hydroponic equipment and breeding animals.”

“We could hold a fire sale when we open up the bunkers,” suggested his assistant, Hymie.

“And that’s another thing,” went on Grantham, “all those people who paid for places in the bunkers are going to want their money back and the ones the government forced into the them are going to sue.”

“Well, we did believe that comet was going to be a direct hit, and so did they. Give everyone who paid for a place their share of the supplies and let them deal with transport and disposal,” offered Hymie.

“That could work,” acknowledged Grantham, “and it was sold on the basis that it was a non-profit venture…”

They were interrupted by a smart rap on the door.

“Come in!” Grantham was pleased to see it was one of his female staff, probably overqualified for her job but frankly picked for her breeding potential and capability. “Yes Janet?”

“Sir, you asked Door Control to crack the seal but they’re reporting an apparent malfunction. That or the doors are being blocked on the outside.” Janet waited for his response.

“Just what we don’t need. Tell them they have authority to dismantle or cut their way through the doors if they have to.” Grantham sighed as Harper, an eager beaver from Communications and IT, bobbed into sight behind Janet. “Yes Harper?”

“Sir, you need to come and hear this.” Harper was both worried and bouncing.

“Hear what?”

“The debate in the United Nations by the reconstituted Assembly and Security Council.”

“They can’t do that,” said Grantham tiredly. “The UN was closed down so everyone could go home before impact.”

“None of the ambassadors are in our bunkers, sir,” came Hymie’s helpful reminder.

“Well apparently they reopened it when there wasn’t an impact,” said Harper impatiently. “Now, do you want to come and hear this, because I want to get back and hear what they decide.”

“What are they debating that’s so interesting?” Grantham had so many issues already on his desk…

“Whether or not they should let us out.”