For Evil to Flourish. Dubya Ph.D Lorimer

      This is a work of fiction, and any

      resemblance to real events or persons,

      other than those in the public domain

      is entirely coincidental.

      Quote

      'All that is required for evil to flourish,

      in the world,

      is for good men to do nothing.'

      Most commonly attributed to

      British statesman and philosopher,

      Edmund Burke

      1729 - 1797

      Chapter 1

      Navid Sharif was well aware that his little empire was unlikely to ever earn him a knighthood for services to the retail industry. Nor would it cause the manager of the local supermarket to lose much sleep worrying about the competition, but it was enough to provide Sharif and his family with a healthy income. The little corner shop was thriving, despite being on the edge of one of the more run-down estates in the area. It enjoyed a flurry of activity in the morning, with commuters heading for work pausing to buy their newspapers and sandwiches and drinks. Then at lunch time, hordes of schoolchildren would descend on the shop, requiring eagle eyes to prevent the mid-day profits disappearing into the pockets of errant youngsters! In the early evening, tired and harassed workers with neither the inclination nor the time to spend on preparing an evening meal would stock up on TV dinners, booze, and other staples on their way home.

      During the mid-morning lull, with trade being a little more sporadic, the shop owner was finding time to chat with the elderly women he was serving.

      'The grandchildren are just shooting up! I swear it's the heat out there in Spain. Of course, Gerry always complains that it's too hot,' nodding towards her husband, who was perusing the magazines on the rack next to the door, 'But even he admits that it's helped his rheumatics living there with our Victoria.'

      'Is there anything you miss when you're out there?' asked the woman next in the queue, 'Because after a week on holiday, I usually have a craving for a proper bar of chocolate, or a nice bit of cheddar. I know you can get that kind of stuff in some shops, but it's never the same somehow.'

      The first woman laughed, and pointed at the bag Sharif was packing,

      'Two huge bars of Cadburys! They'll be the first things to go in the case this afternoon when we pack. That and some Marmite and HP sauce for himself,' with another nod to her husband, who was beginning to look restless. 'Where we stay, it's a little bit away from the main tourist trail, and not so easy to get things from home. The first thing we do when we come back here for a visit, is treat ourselves to fish and chips, with plenty of vinegar! Mmmmm. The family think we're mad!'

      'Oh yes, I know exactly what you mean!' squealed the other woman, 'Every fancy variety of food you can think of, and you would kill for a real chippy. And my Jimmy, he goes mad for a pork pie with sauce! What about you, Navid, anything you miss when you visit your family?'

      'Branston Pickle,' he laughed, 'And Galaxy chocolate...... although not together, of course!'

      Their laughter was interrupted by an angry male voice behind them.

      'Any chance of getting a bit of service around here?'

      The speaker was a youth in his late teens. His scowl did nothing to enhance a thin, acne-ridden face, his chin sporting a sparse, straggly accumulation of hair purporting to be some form of beard. If it was grown in an attempt to make him appear more mature, it had to be classed as a dismal failure.

      He wore a tee-shirt adorned with the legend, “Sex Bomb- Handle With Care”. Which implied he was either wildly optimistic, or delusional. His baseball cap identified him as an employee of a local fast food establishment, with a name tag identifying him as “Jason”.

      The woman at the till hurriedly pulled out her purse, and started to select notes, before realising her mistake,

      'Oh dear, I'm sorry, these are Euros. I've got some pounds here....'

      Now flustered, she flipped open another section of her purse, and succeeded in scattering a number of photographs across the counter.

      'Great! Let's all spend half an hour looking at grandma's holiday snaps, it's not like any of us have a life to get on with.' moaned the disgruntled Jason.

      The elderly man by the door glowered at him from beneath bushy eyebrows,

      'Manners cost nothing, you know.'

      Jason turned to look at him.

      He didn't register the alertness in the eyes, the boxer's nose, the still-powerful build, or the suppleness of his movement.

      He just saw an old man. End off.

      'Yeah, whatever, grandpa.' was his sneering response.

      The first woman had finally handed over the correct money, and bustled quickly out the shop. Her husband continued to linger as the second woman handed over her cash and departed.

      Now it was the impatient Jason's turn,and after handing over two pounds, was about to leave when Sharif stopped him.

      'Another seven pence, please.'

      'What? It's only two pounds in Tesco.'

      'This isn't Tesco.' Sharif pointed out.

      Angrily, Jason pulled a ten pence from his pocket, and tossed it towards Sharif. The coin bounced off the counter and landed on the floor. The shopkeeper had no intention of giving the youth the satisfaction of seeing him grovel on the floor for it, so without even bothering to look down, he took three pence from the till and held it out.

      'Your change, sir.' he

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