Bentley Rising – Bentley 55

 

[For a quick guide go here: Quick guide.]

[There's some back story here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and read more recent Bentley episodes especially this one.]

[Other back story through in-links.]

“How long does it take for something to pass through the intestines of a cat?” asked Lawrence over breakfast that morning.

Bentley looked up from his bowl of cornflakes, wishing he hadn’t ever ever invited his son to stay with him. And it had been that way round. Lawrence might be convinced he was only staying at his old man’s flat because he was offering added protection from Aston, but in reality he’d been a bit over-enthusiastic about staying on the sofa and this had given the game away somewhat.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Bentley, still trying to work out how he’d even try and get Lucky to swallow anything big enough to conceal a small key in. It was bad enough trying to get her to eat worming pills. Swaddling the creature in a blanket, trying to truck all of those razor sharp claws out the way. And when he tried crushing the stuff up and mixing it with her food she somehow managed to lick all the way around the offending white granules.

“So, what’s on the menu for today?” Asked Lawrence.

Bentley knew he wasn’t actually referring to the food. He sighed and brought out a pen and paper. 

“We need to bring Aston down,” he said, “Teach him a lesson. I’m not having him threatening my family like that.”

“He’s a powerful man,” said Lawrence.

“He’s a chancer,” said Bentley. “And a dumb one at that. Thinks he’s got control over everyone, thinks he can scare everyone.”

“He sort of scares me,” said Lawrence.

Bentley sighed agasin. “That’s going to change,” he said.

Down one side of the page Bentley listed the interests he knew Aston had. Down the other side, he explained, he would list the ways and means by which they would bring him down. This was to be an ongoing project, maybe everything wouldn’t happen at once, but gradually the Aston empire would fold. While he was waiting for the cat to produce a key that wasn’t ever coming.

The jewellery shop was the ideal place to start. With Natalie in the vicinity they could start a war of attrition on the outlet. Nothing fancy or complicated, thought Bentley. Just something unnerving and irritating for the businessman. The idea they came up with was rubbish. Literally. On a day by day, week by week basis they would surreptitiously dump increasing amounts of rubbish outside and down the ally next to the jewellery shop. Aston would be responsible for clearing it and if he didn’t there would be some strongly worded complaints heading to the local environmental department.

Bentley identified several other shops and cafes where this pattern could be repeated and he sent Lawrence on a phone mission to find a suitable lorry and waste site where arrangements could be made.

Extending their reach to other establishments where Aston was involved they alighted on the penny arcade and, naturally, the crazy golf course owned by Jeremy Knowles. With Knowles having levelled a gun at his ex-wife’s head, Bentley had no hesitation in working out how to undermine these businesses. With a few online searches he figured out he could probably switch Knowles’ crazy golf ball supply for one of even crazier, unbalanced balls, the kind that even if you wanted to send them in a straight line, they definitely wouldn’t. The King of Holes would earn himself a reputation for a fixed game and his summer season would be ruined.

Working out how and who to bribe to cut off the electricity supply to his end of the pier show was straight forward but expensive. Bentley had no hesitation to put some money where his mouth was. With a few more calls he figured out a route by which he could send some of the cash sitting in his flat to someone who had the keys to a power box. For a certain price, one busy weekend, Jeremy’s fun palace would go dark.

When he was finished, Bentley was excited. He’d never been a full-on player in these local games, he’d only ever been the outsider, the transport as George would put it. The one who was told what to do and did it, not really knowing why. But now he’d been caught up in a way he did not like, and it was time for pay back.

Unreliable, irresponsible, uncaring. This was the future of Aston and Knowles and anyone else who aligned with them. With a box of money and bags of rubbish Bentley would bring the local maestro down, not for himself to rise in his place, just to teach him a lesson and maybe reinstate a quieter life.

And, of course, to get the damned cat back.