Chapter 20: Piers' Story
Piers came from a very ordinary background. Or so he thought.
Spending most of his life at boarding schools, he was told his parents were abroad a great deal of the time. When he asked his father what they did, he was told they were on important work for the government.
Piers took this to mean the civil service or the military. So it came as a complete shock to find they did nothing of the sort. In fact, they were amongst the most powerful people in the world. Why this secret was never shared with him, was a mystery to Piers, but later he was to find out why.
His father worked for a merchant bank, moving money around the world for other people. So had his grandfather, but they all had one thing in common. They wanted that money for themselves, and in time they got it. Once they had learnt the tricks of the trade, they could find ways to move that money into accounts that only they controlled. With that, they found it easy to tell their employers that their profits were up or down. There were few restrictions in those days, and anyone with a clever turn of mind could fool the world.
The Morel family came from working-class stock, who had risen through the ranks by providing the landed gentry with clever Formen. The ones who actually cracked the whip for the bosses. As technology grew, the aristocracy found they had to rely on these people more and more. With a machine age dominating the 20th century, these quick whited, and cold-blooded predators were the ones who found they had inherited the earth.
The working class stayed down in the gutter, and the aristocracy found they were quickly joining them. But this new breed of people found they were in total control, and they knew it.
Piers's grandfather began life as a lowly clerk in a shipping agency. Tea boy and general dogs body at first, he studied with night classes and learnt the trade. With the second world war, things really took off. Called up, he quickly found himself a job in the stores and made sure he was in Aldershot when the bombs rained down on London. All through the Battle of Britain, he fought his own private war. Making sure all the materials of the army did not go to waste on the battlefield but went to turn some money over, in the civilian high streets. Blankets and boots at first, but in time, he found he could get access to food and petrol. And with that, his fortune was made.
Of course, others frowned on this black market activity, but they disappeared once they had their share. Also, he had to contend with rival gangs, but these could be defeated for a price, and Pier's grandfather found ways of defeating them. The price of a stray bomb was cheap, and many rival store depots were eliminated by freak raids, which were put down to the Luftwaffe.
But in the end, the man found he could only rise up so far. The people above him were even bigger crooks and no matter how much bribery and corruption he tried, he would never be allowed to make the really big money.
At the end of the war, Piers's grandfather found he was very rich, but wanted more. One thing he was certain of, was that his son would not grow up weak. He had seen many working-class families make money and spend it on their children's education. Only to see them turn out as lazy wasters, good for nothing but swindling drinks at the bar, or politicians.
No, his son would grow up hard, like him. He would learn the same lessons and be equipped to take on the world. Hungry for success, he would be launched into the world, and do even better than the old man.
Or that was the plan.
In fact, Piers's father grew up virtually insane. So hard on him, was the grandfather, that his offspring grew up hating the world.
Pier's father was sent to a tough boarding school. Not one at the posher end of the scale. Oh no! But one of the middle end, where he would be beaten into his senses. Here to learn the harsh lessons of the world. Once he left there, he would be armed with a thirst for power.
This was true enough, but by the time Piers got to really know him, he was virtually psychotic. No one would work for him, and although the family was very rich, they were trusted by no one, and in danger of losing it all.
One day the grandfather sat in his Rolls Royce and turned the Key. There was so little left of him after the bomb blast, that the coffin was filled mostly with bricks, as it was carried to the grave. As soon as the news was released everyone suspected foul play. The police knew it was a criminal act but had so many suspects, it was virtually impossible to question them all. In the end, the word came down from New Scotland Yard itself, and the case was to be dropped. For the benefit of the press, it was called a terrorist atrocity, but everyone in the trade knew the truth.
Piers found it out years later when he was lectured by the bank which employed him. They did not like his family and made no secret of it. The CEO of the bank admitted to his face, that they had played a hand in the murder, and helped cover it up, by appealing to the heads of the police force. The police wholeheartedly agreed as they had tried to get rid of the man for years.
Now, Piers wondered where this left him.
He confronted his father with it once he had left school. The schools had been harsh, but with a purpose. Piers came out of it very differently from the other two. He knew they were despised, and wanted to address the balance. He wanted to work inside that big money world, but as an equal, not as someone, feared for the gangster tactics he would bring down on his rivals. Piers got through school sane enough to realise this and grew up quickly. Not for him the petty revenge of his father, who made every old school reunion, a time of fear.
This had to stop. Certainly, he was grateful for the money his grandfather had made for them, but by now Piers realised there were other ways of making money. He saw a world which was not run by fear, but cleverly manipulated by money.
When he confronted his father over the whole issue at their house in Surrey, the truth came out.
Piers had been virtually starved of any emotion at school, to make him hard. Toughening up, was a process necessary for the world his father wanted him to inherit. His son was not going to be soft, and give away the family fortune. Piers was to carry on a tradition of being hungry for power and not caring who stood in his way.
This appalled Piers, who saw himself more in the role of a merchant prince.
His father met him in the study, with the French windows swung open to let in the summer air. But there was no cheerful spirit in the room that day. His mother had left years before, to live with her parents in Switzerland.
His father had asked the company accountants and lawyers to come over and explain a few things to the boy. Piers could see they were clearly afraid of the man, almost trembling when they told of how they had increased their fortune. They had to tell of drug smuggling; gun running; prostitution; bribery; buggary and general bankruptcy. There was no dirty trick the Morel family had not stooped to, to crush their rivals.
Piers grew pale.
Finally, the men could see how upset the boy was. But one man stood up to his father and told him straight. They would not stand for this anymore. The old grandfather had been murdered by his rivals and the present head of the family would go the same way if he was not careful.
After the man had exploded and threatened everyone in the room, he began to sack the lawyers, followed by the accountants. It reached such a point where one man pulled out a pistol and shot Pier's father dead in his chair.
When the smoke had drifted out across the lawn, Piers looked at the body of his father, then at the gunman. The man began shaking and sweating, and in panic, pointed the gun at his own mouth.
"There won't be any need for that Mr Durrant," said the boy calmly walking round the side of the desk. He took one look at the exit hole in the back of the chair. "I think you got him." With that, he turned to the other men. "We can sort this out amongst ourselves." He turned the body in its swivel chair, and caused it to fall, slumping onto the floor. The others were horrified, but not Piers. He calmly sat in the chair and seated himself behind the desk.
"What happens now?" asked the man, with the gun inches from his mouth, and seconds from his death.
"There are going to be some changes around here." Piers could still feel the warmth from the man's chair.
"Will you have me murdered too? Just like your father?"
"No. There won't be any need for that. We will do things differently. No more killings. Unless they are necessary, that is. But no one will live in fear of our family, as they did with my late father." Piers looked at the pale faces of the men before him. "Please put down the gun, and let's get down to business."
"What about him?" one of the lawyers pointed to the late Mr Morel laying on the study floor.
"What will the police make of it?" asked Piers.
"They will arrest Durrant here, for a start."
"We can't have that. I'll tell you what we'll do. Why not contact the same policemen who handled my grandfather's accident? Why can't we have a similar agreement?"
"Will you stand for that?" one of them asked.
"You will find that I do things very differently than those two monsters. However, I would ask for your respect?" Piers looked round the room.
"We have too much to lose by rocking the boat," said one of the accountants. "Our whole lives are tied up in this business. We don't intend to throw it away."
