The Seduction of Marshall Clarke – Chapter 1

Given the choice of being born smart or being born lucky, he always maintained he would never be dumb enough to pick being smart. And who would argue with him? Marshall Clarke was the luckiest person I ever knew. But it wasn’t only luck that stood Marshall head and shoulders above everyone else. With an unconquerable self-confidence, he was able to remain the master of his own destiny against even the most adverse circumstances, and he had faced many. Marshall Clarke was my hero.

 October twenty-third was the anniversary of the day he was born. God was obviously happy with this favored son because He picked this day to send him a gift that not even Marshall Clarke would have thought to ask of the Great Man. Her name was Veronica West and she made heads turn on Macquarie Street. As she took a seat across the desk from him, he knew that he had seen her before. You don’t forget someone like Veronica West, but he couldn’t remember where they may have met. In the course of the next hour, she slowly revealed her story, with the help of an indecent supply of double strength tissues, for the tears flowed freely.

 It transpired that Veronica West was an acquaintance of a certain politician who had offered his lobbying services to a very persuasive businessman. This man’s impressive string of companies was highly unlikely to ever make the Forbes 500 list of successful businesses. Not that Mr. Dale Jackson’s companies were unsuccessful, far from it, but one did not speak of them in polite company. If one were wise, one would not speak of them in any company, for Dale Jackson’s net could be cast very wide.

“Why don’t you tell me how you became involved in this Dale Jackson affair?” Marshall Clarke was drinking in the vision of the stunning girl with the jet-black hair sitting on the other side of his desk.

“My friend did some work for him.”

 “And who is your friend?”

 “Do you have to know that?”

“The more I know the better chance I have of helping you.”

The tears began to flow again.

“Take your time, Miss West. I understand this is difficult for you.”

Miss West took her time. She took her own sweet time. Marshall was tempted to slip his watch off and place it on the desk, but he had already persuaded himself that the view from where he sat was worth any amount of waiting. So, he waited. Besides, his fee was by the hour, and he had learned that patience was a virtue that was generously rewarded in his line of business.

Miss West dabbed the tears from her eyes and blew her nose, very femininely, Marshall observed.

“You know Blake Connor, don’t you?” It was more a statement than a question. Marshall was taken aback.

“The politician?”

“Yes. He was a very wonderful man.” The tears welled up once more.

“I know of him. Why do you ask?”

“Blake Connor was my friend.” Veronica West started to cry again. Marshall pushed the box of tissues a little closer to her.

“And what makes you think I know him, Miss West?”

“He told me he was a client of yours.”

“Well, I’m afraid I am not at liberty to discuss another patient with you.”

“I’m not asking you to discuss Blake, Mr. Clarke. You asked me who my friend was. I’m telling you, it was Blake Connor.”

“And you’re telling me that Blake Connor worked for Dale Jackson?”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Clarke, you know very well that he did. Blake told you everything.”

“Well, Miss West, I think Blake Connor told you a lot more than he told me.”

“All right, we’ll play this your way. I understand there’s this doctor-patient confidentiality thing. So, for the record, and this is confidential between you and me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. So, Blake Connor was well compensated by Dale Jackson for favors rendered, shall we say?”

“What sort of favors, Miss West?”

“Licences.”

“He lobbied for him?”

“I believe that’s what it’s called. It’s not the best kept secret in town.”

“More a suspicion than a well-known fact, I would say, Miss West.”

“Well, suspicion or fact, it makes no difference now, does it, Mr. Clarke?”

The tears intensified, and he pushed the tissue box an inch closer.

Blake Connor enjoyed the good life. He came from a long line of wealthy patriarchs who had sat on the Liberal side of the House of Representatives for generations. Unfortunately for Blake Connor, wealth eluded the youngest member of that distinguished pedigree. At least, the retention of wealth eluded him. He had no trouble, it seemed, getting his hands on substantial quantities of lucre, filthy or otherwise, but keeping his hands on it was another matter. His capacity for draining the Liberal coffers was almost legendary, and he would have long ago been shown the exit from the front bench were it not for his aforementioned distinguished lineage. The fact that the young man was also very popular with the female element of his constituency and hence was able to swing the vote in an otherwise Labor stronghold did nothing to hinder his longevity with the Liberal Party, either.

But his expensive tastes and his profound affection for the sport of kings, or, more precisely, for those who made book for the sport of kings, ensured that Blake Connor was constantly too long of arm and shallow of pocket. It’s true; Blake Connor could not back a horse to show in a two-horse race. And so it was that he became acquainted with Dale Jackson.

Dale Jackson hated his name with an intense passion and, it was rumored, made his parents pay for their insensitivity at insisting on calling him Dale by way of a little accident one night on their way home from a family gathering. Of course, he denied any involvement. He was, at the precise moment of the explosion, let the court be informed, still at the party. But from that day on he was always referred to merely as Jackson.

Jackson did very well at school. He never won any scholarships, but he managed to acquire almost everything else. He had a gift for influencing people, even if he missed Mr. Carnegie’s point about winning friends, but what’s more important, anyway? He ran a book on anything and everything under the sun and by the time he was fifteen he had a dozen girls doing him little favors, and his male classmates were eager to pay Jackson for their services. But school kids had only a limited amount of cash that they were willing to spend on the mysteries of the female anatomy, so Jackson expanded his clientele to include the working classes. However, he soon found that they could get a bit rough with a boy still in his teens when it came to concluding the paperwork, so he sought out the more professional element of society and before long he was providing entertainment for doctors, lawyers and politicians. It was the doctors, more than anyone else, who introduced Jackson’s girls to the efficacies of strong medication and the girls, being very fond of Jackson, or, perhaps, a little wary of displeasing him, for the memory of his parents’ accident was kept fresh in their minds, passed on the blessing to Jackson, who found, to his delight, that even the pimply faced snots at school were not averse to shelling out ample sums of Daddy’s money for a cut or two of the good stuff. Yes sir, Dale Jackson did very well at school, and those formative years were to serve him even better in the days ahead.

It was through Dale Jackson that Veronica and Blake Connor met. By this time Jackson had expanded his business to the lucrative operation of off-course bookmaking. Blake Connor was blacklisted by the licensed operators as a result of some considerable pressure brought to bear by his political peers who were tired of the constant embarrassment of his gambling exploits being front page news. Jackson was not one to miss an opportunity and he quickly realized that the sitting member for the western suburb could help him obtain licences for some of his business ventures. Veronica West was one of Jackson’s old school friends who had graduated to a business relationship with him after graduating from school. She became his favorite partner and proved to be quite astute at the business end of things, a bonus to Dale Jackson and, let it be noted, to the young Miss West.

Dale Jackson became a sudden and substantial benefactor of Blake Connor’s political riding. This was new territory for Jackson, as his usual form of influence was more in your face than through the treasury department. But he saw in Blake Connor an opportunity to give an appearance of respectability to his operations. He also saw in Blake Connor a great appreciation for the beauties of the feminine form, and no one displayed these to better effect than Veronica West.

For some time, everything went according to plan. Jackson arranged a special evening between the politician and the former schoolgirl choir member, and, from all reports, they made wonderful music together. Jackson got his licences for gaming houses, adult entertainment establishments, and a number of other industrious endeavours. Blake Connor got handsomely rewarded for his community-minded assistance, and Jackson took back all of his remunerations, plus considerable sums above and beyond the call, that Blake Connor feverishly threw at one long shot after another.

So, what could possibly go wrong? Well, bless her heart, Veronica West fell in love. Who could blame her? Blake Connor could be very charming, and to Veronica West, he was. Several times a week. They were seen everywhere together, and it was obviously at some function or another that Marshall Clarke had run into Veronica West. Connor had come to be one of Marshall Clarke’s patients – client, he called it – at the insistence of the Liberal Party and Connor’s family in an attempt to cure him of his gambling addiction.

Blake Connor was out of money, but not out of the habit of spending lavishly and, it would seem, neither was he out of ideas on how to obtain funding for his exploits. Dale Jackson had money, trainloads of it, and Blake Connor and Veronica West had a plan. Veronica would help Connor help himself to a little of Dale Jackson’s vast fortune. It was all too simple. There was just one little problem. Actually, a big problem. Instead of helping himself to a little of Jackson’s assets, he helped himself to a lot. A whole lot. A little and Jackson may not have missed it, especially with Veronica West balancing the books, but over five million in quality cocaine was a bit thick. Once Jackson figured out where the powder had gone, he lost it completely and ordered a quick hit. Blake Connor was mowed down leaving his upscale apartment for an early morning jog. So eager was Jackson to show that he was not one to be trifled with that he forgot to break half of Connor’s body to encourage him to share with his friend what he had done with the take. Fortunately for Veronica West, Jackson did not appear to suspect her of complicity.

“Jackson thinks Blake would have told you what he had done with his drugs,” Veronica West said.

“Why on earth would he think that?”

“Because he knows that Blake told you everything.”

“How would he know that?”

“Blake told him. Blake told everyone that he thought the world of you, and that you were the only one in the whole world who knew everything about him.”

“Well, that’s a great comfort to know. So, now I suppose I’m next on Dale Jackson’s hit list?”

“Only if you don’t tell Jackson where his powder is.”

“I have no idea where his cocaine is. No politician tells anyone everything, not even Blake Connor. That’s a violation of their Hippocratic oath.”

“I might believe you, but I don’t think Jackson will.”

“Don’t you know where the stuff is?”

“I wouldn’t tell that bastard even if I did know. He killed the man I loved, the most wonderful man in the world.”

“And now he’s going to kill the second most wonderful man in the world if you don’t tell him where his cocaine is.”

“I honestly don’t know where it is.”

“Well then, do you think you could convince Mr. Jackson that Blake Connor had just one little secret he kept to himself, before Jackson’s hit men cut off my early morning jog at the knees?”

“He’s not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. He learned that lesson with Blake. He wants information. He’ll lean on you until he gets it.”

“Leaning is not something I have a very warm feeling about, Miss West. Besides, I don’t have his cocaine.”

“He thinks you know where it is.”

“Well, Miss West, I would appreciate it if you could use your undoubted powers of persuasion to convince your boss that I know nothing about his precious cocaine.”

“He’s not going to like that.”

“We don’t always get what we like, Miss West.”

“Jackson usually does.” That information was less than encouraging to Marshall.

“You’re not being very helpful, here, Miss West. Maybe you have something more useful to contribute to the situation?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. We’ll have to string him along until we think of something.”

“And how do you propose doing that?”

“How do I propose thinking of something?”

“That, too. But, more immediately, the part about stringing him along.”

“Oh, by doing what he told me to do.”

“What did he tell you to do?”

“Seduce you.” She looked coolly at him.

“Seduce me!”

“Uh-huh. Suck the information out of you, was the expression he used.”

“And you think that will persuade me to violate my professional ethics?”

“A man will do anything for me when I turn on the charm. Jackson has every confidence in my abilities in that direction.”

“Yes, I’m sure he does,” Marshall agreed, quite ready to accept that turning on the charm would be one of her stronger professional qualifications. “But how long do you think he’s going to let this sucking go on?”

She looked at him knowingly. She felt she had him where she wanted him. At the very least, she had him headed in the right direction.

“He’ll let it go on as long as I can convince him that he’ll get what he’s after.”

“You think you can convince him?”

“I can be very persuasive.” He was inclined to believe she could.

“Eventually, though, he’s going to know that I have nothing to tell him.”

“By that time, I’ll have what I want.”

“And what is that?”

“I want to pay him back for what he did to Blake.” A hint of hardness had come over her. He wondered if there was enough flint in her to pull it off before Jackson decided to do some sucking of his own.

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something.” Not quite the reassuring response Marshall was ideally looking for, if he was going to be perfectly honest. But he had to admit that she had a certain determination about her. He looked at the box of Kleenex on the table and wondered how much of her earlier performance had been a softening up job. Probably all of it, he conceded. He looked her over carefully, still searching for something he may have overlooked.

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll figure out you helped Blake take the cocaine?”

“He doesn’t expect anything right now.”

“That’s because he’s got all his guns aimed at me.”

“Then I’ve got time on my side, haven’t I?” She said it a little too coolly for his liking.

“Why doesn’t he suspect you? He knows you were a lot closer to Blake Connor than I was.”

“He’s convinced I was working Blake for him. He doesn’t know we fell in love.”

“If he finds that out, we’re going to get cement shoes to match.”

“Then we’d better make sure he doesn’t find out.”

Marshall watched her. She was a strong girl, but very sensitive too, he suspected. No, damn it, he was a fine analyst; he knew she was very sensitive, if she wanted to be. What he was not willing to admit, or maybe he was not even aware of it, was that her flawless beauty was clouding his thinking. He looked at the long black hair, the even longer brown legs, and the figure that could have launched a thousand ships and he thought that it would be very easy to forget, for an hour or two, that it was not a good idea for a doctor to get too personally involved with a patient.

“What’s your next step?” he asked. “Jackson’s going to want a progress report.”

“He’s expecting me to seduce you.” It crossed Marshall’s mind that it may not be prudent to take a chance on her acting abilities, and that safety would be better served if they provided her with something practical to work with, just to be more convincing when she reported back to Jackson. “I’ll tell him that you’re very professional and that it’ll take time to convince you to transgress your code of ethics.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be better.”

“Did you have something else in mind, Mr. Clarke?” She did not show the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“No, nothing else,” Marshall said, with just the slightest hint of embarrassment. “What if Blake already disposed of the stuff? Hasn’t Jackson considered that?”

“That’s how he knew Blake took it. Jackson knows most of the dealers in hard drugs. Blake was trying to offload it and picked the wrong middleman. His contact shopped him. Jackson went crazy and had him whacked. He knows Blake didn’t get rid of it.”

“And he thinks I know where Blake stored it?”

“He’s sure of it.”

“How about you?”

“Do I think you know?” Marshall nodded. “No, Mr. Clarke, I don’t think you know where it is.”

“Well, that’s some comfort, I suppose. What makes you so sure I don’t know?”

“You and Our Miss Brooks out there would have been on the first plane out of the country when Blake got hit if you’d known about the drugs.”

“I think you have my secretary miss-cast, Miss West.”

“Well, if you think that, Mr. Clarke, I think you’re missing the signals.”

“Maybe you should be on this side of the desk?”

“Oh, I don’t mean to criticize your deductive skills, Mr. Clarke, but women can sense these things. I think you’ll find she’s pining.”

“You think she’s pining?”

“I would say she’s definitely pining.”

“Well, I would say you’re crazy.”

 “Isn’t that a word a psychiatrist should avoid when conversing with a client?”

“In your case, I’ll make an exception. And who said you were a client? I don’t know that I want any part of you.”

“Oh, really?” she asked, crossing her long brown legs.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know something else, too.”

‘No, you don’t know anything else,’ he thought. ‘You come in here, use up a whole box of my tissues trying to break down my resistance so I’ll help you in some hair-brained scheme to get even with some mobster who just bumped off your boyfriend, and you think I’ll fall flat on my face because you flash me two meters of the best pair of legs I’ve seen since eleven o’clock this morning, or any other morning, for that matter. Well, let me tell you, Miss West, it doesn’t work that way.’

That’s what he wanted to tell her.

“What do you know?” he replied.

“What I know,” she said, ice cool, “is that if I don’t convince Dale Jackson that I can sweet talk his cocaine whereabouts out of you, he’s going to make you an offer you won’t have a chance to refuse.”

“Why are you telling me all this? I’m a complete stranger to you. I could just turn your information over to this Jackson bloke and let him ring your neck instead of mine. You’re taking an awful risk.”

“No, I’m not. Blake spoke of you often and fondly enough for me to believe that I can trust you. Now that I’ve met you, I can see he was right.”

Marshall left his desk and walked to the window. He wondered how a good day could turn sour so fast. And how could something as exquisite as Veronica West be so screwed up with the likes of Dale Jackson? A great birthday this was turning out to be.

She could tell how his mind was working. She knew men well. She gave him all the time he needed. Eventually he turned around. She was sure of herself now.

“Okay,” he said. “We’re going to need to work something out here. Give me time to think about this. I’ll have my secretary schedule another appointment for you in a week. That will give me time to think of a plan.”

“You have something in mind, haven’t you?” He looked at her without speaking. “It’s alright, I don’t have to know right now. As I said, I trust you.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe going back to him?” It was a stupid question. She was the quintessential Ice Queen. The earlier tears were all for his benefit, he knew that now.

“Is that professional concern you have for me?”

“Yes. You’re officially a client now.”

She smiled to herself, but he didn’t miss it.

“I’ll be alright.”

Marshall showed her to the door.

“Claire,” he said to his secretary, “please schedule another appointment for Miss West, same time next week.” He turned to Veronica and took her hand.

“Be careful,” and, despite himself, he squeezed her hand warmly. She smiled again. He thought she would probably be fine.