The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 12

He tutted as he turned the pages. Scanning the words quickly, licking his thumb and index finger before flicking over each sheet.

Brian watched nervously from the other side of the desk, sitting in a roomy revolving leather chair. Through the second floor window, the sun was setting on the city. Brian could hear the evening rush hour heating up on the street below the offices; cars and buses, horns and hooters.

He leaned over the walnut desk and switched on the green marble lamp. Michael Archer looked up over his glasses. "Yes," he said, thoughtfully.

"Well?" Brian asked, wearily.

"It's getting late, isn't it?" Michael replied.

"The secretaries have left."

Michael put the papers down. "We won't be much longer," he promised and stood up, shunting his chair back forcibly so that it hit the radiator behind him. "What say we go out for dinner tonight?"

"We go out for dinner most nights."

"So we do," Michael smiled. He crossed from behind the desk and opened the middle drawer of a filing cabinet, taking out a half bottle of scotch and two of the shot glasses Brian kept for the blessing of deals, and the occasional appeasing of the odd Beatle.

"You must have read these three times over," Brian said, as Michael poured two generous scotches. Brian picked the top sheet of paper up. "They're from two years ago. All of this has changed since."

"Yes, I know. For the worse." Michael handed Brian one of the glasses and leant on the desk beside him.

"Is that what this is for?" Brain said, wryly. He took the glass and set it down without drinking.

"Brian, I'm not going to mince my words, things are worse than I had thought."

"What had you thought?" Brian replied defensively.

"Shall we say I might have just got here in time?"

"Look, I've made The Beatles the most successful group in history, and most of the others do exceptionally..."

"Oh, I'm not criticising you, my dear," Michael said, quickly. 'Brian, by all means! I said you were one of the greatest entrepreneurs of our time and I meant it." Michael rubbed Brian's arm gently. Brian ignored it, but he didn't move. Michael picked up the glass and put it back into Brian's hand. "It's the attacks you've unfortunately left yourself open to. The things you don't know about." He paused, then continued, "Some of the people you have working here are..."

"What?" Brian demanded, not looking at him.

"Well, they're near criminals, Brian."

"What are you talking about? I know everything that goes through these books..."

"Do you?"

"Yes! I..."

"Then you'll know about Moses Ltd? And The Calumet dealings?"

Brain looked up at him.

Michael leaned back over the desk and shuffled the papers, taking a couple from the bottom of the pile. He handed them to Brian.

Brain read, shaking his head as he did. At the bottom of the second page he turned it over and took a large mouthful of the alcohol still in his hand. "I had no idea..."

"I thought not," Michael said knowingly.

"But how... how did I not see this before?"

"Quite simply, because they were hiding it from you, Brian. I have made an extensive study these past couple of weeks and this barely scratches the surface."

Brian stood up, putting the papers down he walked to the window. "They?" he asked, looking down on the street. "Who is it?"

Michael drew himself up. "A lot of the staff. Most. Seems they've all had a finger in the pie."

"Who?" Brian half shouted.

"The board members for sure. Most of the others, that man... is he called Taylor?"

"The board?" Brain turned back into the room. "Clive included?"

Michael shrugged slightly. "I don't wish to speak ill of your brother, but Brain, I don't see how he wasn't aware of things... Without you, I'm sure they would have needed his..." He allowed his voice to trail away.

Brian's stomach was in knots. He finished the contents of the glass, still in his hand, and sat down in the chair behind the desk. Michael turned to face him and Brian helped himself to more of the scotch.

"I'm sorry," Michael said.

"My own brother..." Brian said in disbelief. "And Alistair? Did you say? He's been with me since the shop at Whitechapel. I just can't believe it."

"I couldn't tell you earlier. I had to be sure."

Brain nodded and leaned forward on the desk, resting his forehead on his hand. Michael came round the desk to him and rubbed his back sympathetically.

"I'll fire the lot of them," Brian told him, anger replacing his grief. "I'll do more than that, I'll see them in prison for this!"

"Brian, that might not be wise."

Brain sat back. "And why not?"

"The way it's panned out, it would be difficult to prove. And besides, you can't put your brother in prison."

Brain raised an eyebrow.

"What would your mother say?"

Brian nodded, acquiescing. "The others though..."

"You can't, not without indicting Clive."

"I should speak to him," Brain picked up the receiver to the black telephone on the desk.

Michael put his finger on the hook before he could dial. "No," he said. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

"But we may have made a mistake. There could be a simple explanation..."

"There's no mistake." Michael took the receiver from him and replaced it.

Brain looked up at him. "What am I going to do?" he asked weakly.

Michael smiled. "I have it all worked out," he said. "Simply, get rid of the lot of them. Appoint me to the board, give me free reign and I will sort everything."

"A partnership?" Brian said suspiciously.

"Not in the strictest sense," Michael said. "I would be working for you, but independently as well."

Brain shook his head. "This is all too much."

Michael crouched down so he was lower than Brain. "I know," he said softly.

"I can't take it all in..."

"Let's go and get something to eat and I'll tell you my ideas."

"I can't eat. Not now." Brian leaned back in the chair.

Michael put his hand on Brian's inner thigh. "You'd feel better if you ate."

Brain shook his head. Michael inched his hand up. Brain moved away from him. "Not here," he said to an aside.

"Everybody's gone home," Michael said.

"Not now then," Brain said and stood up again, taking his usual post by the window. Michael came up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Everything will be alright," he said.

"How?" Brian said angrily. "How will it? Nothing will ever be alright again."