Lieutenant Devron had headed over to Chicago soon after receiving a message from Dinari and his brother.  When he’d arrived at the scene of the explosion, Jason found the section of  East Jackson Drive below the Gatehouse Building still cordoned off.  A number of police officers kept careful watch preventing any onlookers or members of the media attempting to venture to close; even their aerial cameras where being kept back, probably much to the news networks annoyance. The debris that had fallen had all been cleared away by now; but as he scanned upward to the top of the building, the devastation was clear.  Every single window in the 14^th, 15^th and 16^th floors were gone. A section of the roof had collapsed at one corner pancaking into the floor below.  Anything on those top three floors would have most certainly have been destroyed.  It just looked like a blackened tangled mess.

The fire service had sent in drones with scanning equipment once any small fires had been extinguished.  There was no sign of any bodies within the building but indication of one or more explosive devices having been used; though of what type and size they and the police had not revealed.  Those sorts of things just made the news media speculate with all manner of strange and bizarre ideas.  There was also the dead man, who according to the only eye witness, had fallen from the building prior to the blast.  The body had been formally identified, but those details had yet to be given out.  There was also the fact that Erastus Lyambo; Dinari’s father and a key member of the company’s board who’s this building belonged to, had gone missing. The police had put out an appeal for him to come forward or for any information regarding his whereabouts; but had made it clear they were not treating him as a suspect at this time.

It was as Jason studied the scene going on before him that his attention briefly caught a glimpse of a small surveillance drone. It was no bigger than the size of his fist, and could quite easily have been missed had its reflection not been in the mirrored glass of the building next to him.  Jason looked across to it, just hovering there, a small camera pointing right at him.  He could make out any marking on it in the momentary glance he got; for no sooner as he looked at it the drone raced away.

A polite cough not long after, made the Lieutenant turn round; and there standing not three metres away from him was Captain Robert Fitzpatrick of Starfleet Intelligence. “I thought I said something about leaving the investigating to people like me?” He spoke with a slightly gruff tone.

“So is this linked to what the Rear-Admiral was looking into?” Devron enquired.

“What did I just say?” Fitzpatrick took a couple of steps closer. “Look I know you want to help.  But you’ve not been cleared to work on this case, and as it’s linked with the family of one of your crew it would be far from ethical to have you involved any way.”

So there was a link between Gatehouse Laboratories, Bio-Link and whatever Rear-Admiral Devron felt he was on the verge of uncovering.  Fitzpatrick had at least let that much slip in his reply.  But what was the link between a major pharmaceutical business and a possible Starfleet conspiracy which may have accidently or deliberately aided the attack on ‘Frontier Day’.

“Oh and in case you’re thinking about it, you won’t get within a hundred metres of the Lyambo residence.” Announced the Captain. “So don’t even consider it.  Just go home and leave it to the experts, please.”  The last part was spoken more friendly and softer.

Jason merely nodded and started to walk way.  If both the police and Starfleet Intelligence where looking for Erastus Lyambo, what kind of a mess had he got himself mixed up in, and what was he going to tell Dinari?

He hadn’t gone all that far when Jason heard a chirp-chirp sound coming from his pocket.  He pulled out the small civilian communication device and activated the screen once he’d read the message showing who was contacting him.  The image of slim almost bald headed man in his late fifties; wearing a black business suit appear.  “Jason Devron here.” He informed the other man.

“Ah, Mister Devron.  This is Greg Belington, of Hepworth and Johnson Solicitors, regarding the reading of you late grandfather George Jason Devrons’ last will and testament.” Came the other man’s response. “If you could possible make it to our office at 2pm tomorrow you’ll be able to hear all the details and anything directly concerning yourself in person.”

A small icon appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen, giving Jason a link to the address and details of the solicitors.  He thanked Mr Belington for contacting him and said he’d be there, before ending the call and placing the communicator back in his pocket.

He never noticed the surveillance drone was back watching him.

**********

The offices of Hepworth and Johnson Solicitors were tucked away amongst a number of other businesses in an office block just to the west of London’s financial district. There seemed nothing fancy or remotely remarkable about the place.  The door was much like any of the others evenly spaced along the ‘T’ shaped corridor on the third floor.  Jason had arrived a few minutes early and been shown into a small waiting room by Mr Belington’s Personal Assistant, who offered to make him a fresh cup of tea.  He accepted and the young woman returned shortly with a cup on a tray with a couple of digestive biscuits to one side. Jason thanked her and she went back to dealing with whatever she’d been doing before his arrival.

As the minutes ticked by, Jason was starting to wonder why no other member of his grandfather’s family had turned up, as he would have expected for such an important document.  It was Mr Belington himself who poked his head around the door at almost precisely 2pm.  “Ah Mr Devron glad you were able to make it.” He said cheerfully as he entered the room and shuck Jason’s hand. “If you’d care to follow me to my office sir?”

Jason followed the older man into another room, which had a large wooden desk with a small computer terminal sat on one corner facing the largest of three chairs; two smaller ones positioned on the other side of the desk. The solicitor motioned for him to sit in one of them. Before easing himself into the large leather chair opposite. “I see Casandra already made you a drink.”  Jason had brought with him the now three quarters full cup and the one remaining digestive.

“Where is everyone else?” Enquired Jason.

“The letter we were entrusted with until the death of Mister George Jason Devron clearly indicated you were to be the only one present at this reading.”

When Mr Belington said letter, he really meant it to.  He picked up a sealed cream coloured envelop that had sat on the desk unnoticed by Jason and preceded to slice in open using a small knife he’d taken from the top draw of his desk. The solicitor then placed the knife back in the draw, before pulling a single piece of folded paper in the same cream colour as the envelop it was in.

The hand typed letter bequeathed a small property in Devon and all its contents held within to Jason.  There was also mention of a trust fund linked to North Lodge on the island of Jersey. Jason assumed that was to help with the support and care of his brother, who was living there.

“Well that covers everything regarding the will.” Declared the solicitor solemnly. “And once again may we offer our condolences.” They both stood up and Belington came round the deck to shake Devron’s hand. “oh, one last thing.” He tapped a small button on his desk. “Cassandra could you bring through that package we had delivered the other day?”

His Personal Assistant entered the room with a shoebox sized package, which she handed to Jason, along with a coded pass card which would allow him access to the property he’d just inherited. “There you go sir.” She said with a smile.

Jason was back outside a few minutes later, a taxi he’d arranged for after leaving the office pulling up by the roadside in front of him.  He jumped inside, the on-board navigation system already knowing his required destination.  So the vehicle simply pulled away once it was sure the door was closed and its passenger seated comfortably.

A small surveillance drone watched, monitored and pursued.

**********

A young man wearing a charcoal grey jumpsuit and a communications headset partly covering his cropped blonde hair sat in a dimly lit room in the middle of a horseshoe shaped control desk; three monitors each showing a different real time image in front of him.  “Sir, ‘Tango One’ is heading for the house.  He appears to have a package with him.” The young man called over his shoulder. “What are your orders?”

A voice from the back of the room replied. “Any idea what the package is?”

“No sir, he appears to have made no attempt to open it.” The operator replied

“Very well, stick with him and have the team on standby.”

The blonde tapped a couple of controls. “This is Falcon to Osprey, come to standby.  We may have a job for you.”