von Blimff walked Wortel from his office, stopping briefly at the desk of his PA. “Angela, will you give the concierge a call and let them know that DI Wortel will be leaving shortly and to make sure his car is ready.”
“Of course sir. Anything else?”
“Yes. Let the lab know we’re coming down. I’m going to show DI Wortel where Benedict Blacktail worked. Tell me, do you know how the funeral arrangements are coming along?”
“Yes sir. Human Resources have been instructed to liaise with the estate as per your wishes.”
“Excellent. Thank you Angela.” Charles von Blimff turned to Wortel. “I like to take care of my staff, even in the most tragic of circumstances.”
von Blimff and Wortel stepped into the lift and headed for the lower ground floor with the owner of AstraArms trying hard to ignore the carrot detective inspector who was pinching his nose and swallowing hard to try to prevent his ears from popping once again.
Arriving within seconds, they stepped out into a large white tiled reception past a tall, jaundiced looking fellow who wore a long flowing coat. Wortel went to thank him for waiting but was unable to make eye contact as the chap with the yellowing skin kept his head down almost reverential in style. Wortel looked at von Blimff who smiled sheepishly.
“It’s a bit embarrassing really Wortel. Being the owner of this place tends to mean that I’m treated with a god-like status by some staff. They can be a little overwhelmed by my mere presence.”
The reception was just the right side of sterile, mainly thanks to the occasional splashes of colour from the abstract pieces of art which adorned the walls. A grey slate security desk sat in front of the entrance to the laboratory which was occupied by a number of incredibly young looking technicians, or to give them their correct title, geeks.
“Did Benedict Blacktail work in there?” asked Wortel.
“Not directly. He was connected to our lab system but he was in a more managerial, oversight position rather than being a white coat himself.”
“And what is it that they do Mr von Blimff?”
“They are the leading food specialists in the UK, arguably in western Europe. As an example, we’ve recently developed a new supermodel food range. For just £250 per bar, the top catwalk supermodels can purchase a chocolate bar and not put any weight on when they open the wrapping.”
“Really? How does that work?”
“Well, there’s nothing inside the wrapping you see. But they can smell the chocolate and that’s sufficient to sustain a supermodel for at least a month.”
“Amazing,” said Wortel. “You’re like a real life Willy Wonka.”
Charles von Blimff’s face hardened. “I am nothing of the sort, thank you DI Wortel. He was a fictional character written for children. He had Oompa Loompas and a chocolate river. You’ll never find anything so surreal in our lifetime Wortel. We are just normal homo and food sapiens going about our business.”
Realising he had agitated his host Wortel changed the direction of the conversation by pointing towards the geeks, who continued busily with their work.
“They look incredibly young, don’t they?”
“They used to say that about policeman.”
Both man and carrot laughed politely as they approached the security desk guarded by a short, stout muscle sprout. He was perched on a high branch, his green skin taut, eyes narrow as he watched Wortel and von Blimff head in his direction. He shifted uncomfortably on his branch and nervously adjusted his uniform, which consisted of a dark navy jacket, the AstraArms double-A emblem stitched into the lapel, and a grey pair of trousers which were just a fraction too short at the bottom giving the appearance they had just been involved in an argument with his ankles and were keeping a watchful distance from the safety of his shins.
Charles von Blimff smiled at the muscle sprout as they reached the security desk. “Good morning. I’d like to show DI Wortel the labs. Can you open up please?”
“I’m sorry but I need to see your pass.”
“I beg your pardon. You do know who I am, don’t you?”
“It’s Charles von Blimff isn’t it?”
“Exactly. Now open up.”
The muscle sprout stood up, reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol. Raising the gun, he pointed it directly at von Blimff who took a step backwards in surprise.
“What, what on earth are you doing?” stammered von Blimff
“Put the gun down please sir.” Wortel, shocked at the turn of events, took a small step forward to try to gain control of the situation.
The muscle sprout glanced at Wortel.
“Stand still DI Wortel. Your presence here is unfortunate. It’s von Blimff I have been ordered to eliminate. You just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
‘Story of my life,’ thought Wortel.
The muscle sprout turned his attention back to von Blimff, whose colour had drained from his face leaving him looking older than his years, the weariness Wortel had noticed earlier now more apparent than ever. Shifting his weight from side to side the muscle sprout finally settled and cocked his head to the right.
“Goodbye von Blimff.”
The muscle sprout pulled the trigger and heard the click of the chamber. And yet it was silence which filled the room. No bullet; no noise; nothing. The muscle sprout pulled the trigger once more. Again no bullet was fired. Again he tried. And again. And again. And still no bullet emerged from the empty chamber.
The ramifications of what was happening raced through the muscle sprout’s body, causing his limbs to feel as though they had been anchored to the spot. He looked at von Blimff, looked down at the gun and realised he had been double crossed. He turned and looked at Wortel who was no longer looking in his direction but instead at von Blimff.
“Sir, please don’t…”
As the muscle sprout turned his attention back towards his intended victim, Charles von Blimff drew a long bladed, ivory handled hunting knife from a well hidden holder that was attached to the belt of his trousers. With a flick of his wrist the sharp, curved blade flew through the air and slashed at the skin of the muscle sprout who recoiled in pain as the cold metal ripped into his throat tearing at his main artery.
As the muscle sprout fell to the floor, bleeding out, von Blimff walked past the dying security guard, picked up his hunting knife, took out his handkerchief and began wiping the blade clean. Wortel rushed forward towards the muscle sprout aware that suddenly von Blimff had become incredibly calm, his hunting instincts taking over.
“I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to find another way of trying to kill me DI Wortel. I value my life, and yours for that matter, too highly.”
Wortel squatted alongside the security guard, felt for a pulse, which was an odd thing to do given the muscle sprout clearly wasn’t a member of the bean family, and pronounced him dead.
“I pronounce this muscle sprout dead.”
“Clearly.”
“I know. It’s procedure though.”
“Fair enough.”
“Do you recognise him?”
“Yes. He’s relatively new here. Been here for around two to three months. We went through a recruitment drive to boost our security numbers and he was one of the successful candidates. He passed all of our tests.”
“I suggest you re-check the other candidates as well sir. If you have one bad apple there is every chance you may have another.”
“He was a muscle sprout.”
“Sorry?”
“That’s okay no need to apologise. I think the shock of what just happened has confused you slightly.”
“I’m sorry; I don’t follow why you said he was a muscle sprout when I suggested you re-check your other new recruits.”
“You must stop apologising Wortel. You said he was a bad apple. He wasn’t. He was a bad sprout.”
“Ah, I didn’t mean a bad apple in that sense.”
“Well then you need to be clearer. I would have thought being a food sapiens you would have avoided those sort of food cliches.”
“I’ll make a note to myself for the future.”
“Good show.”
A slightly irritated Wortel stood up and noticed that the lab technicians had not stopped their work and were busy carrying on as though nothing had happened. von Blimff stood next to Wortel and gestured towards the laboratory.
“It’s one way glass. We can see them, but they can’t see us.”
“At least one thing has been explained today then,” muttered Wortel.
“Glad to be of assistance,” said von Blimff who was now looking at the corpse of the muscle sprout admiring his handiwork.
“You said that you’ve recently needed to increase security. Why is that sir?”
von Blimff fell quiet, reflecting on past events and trying to work out how best to break some news to the food sapiens detective standing opposite him.
“Sir?” Wortel prompted.
“Well, you see the thing is, this isn’t the first threat against my life.”
“Are these written death threats sir?”
“Not quite.”
“Verbal threats then?”
“Not quite.”
“Can you explain in some more detail then please sir?”
“Well, the threats against my life have been, how best to say…well, interesting, if unsuccessful.”
Wortel paused and allowed his silence to encourage von Blimff to continue.
“There have been two incidents. The first was an anvil dropping from the roof of the building and narrowly missing me as I was getting into my car. The second attempt came when I was leaving the office after working late, the lift was out of order and I went to the use the stairs. Someone had scattered marbles at the top, and well, how I never went head first down those stairs I’ll never know.”
Wortel looked at von Blimff incredulously. “Forgive me for saying so sir, but these attempts against your life seem a little cartoonish if I may say so.”
“You may think that if you wish but then some people may think that it is unusual that the police force have their own food related crime division headed up by a carrot.”
“Well, yes that is true now you mention it. Anyway, did you report this to the police?”
“No. I had no proof that someone was trying to kill me. I’ve received no written or verbal death threats as you asked. But then with recent events I now think the death of Benedict Blacktail may have been a warning aimed at me. And then this muscle sprout pulls out a gun.”
“Why would the death of Benedict Blacktail have been a warning for you sir?”
“I’m sure you know the history of this firm. My father was previously an arms dealer before I diversified the business into food science. It’s fair to say he left behind a fair few enemies. And of course, with AstraArms becoming the market leader in the food production sector I have also upset a fair few people, so I’m guessing someone is trying to settle an old score.”
“Could you give me a list of names?”
“I could give you two lists. But I have no evidence.”
“That’s for us find out sir. Please get your PA to send us a list of names as soon as possible.”
There was a loud click and Wortel spun round to find a gaggle of geeks were leaving the laboratory. The chatter amongst the geeks ground to a stunned silence as they took in the scene of a dead muscle sprout, von Blimff still polishing his ivory handled knife as he talked with a food sapiens detective. A bespectacled, pimply young thing stepped forward.
“Excuse me Mr von Blimff, but the vegetable testing was last month. This sprout is past its expiry date.”