Weird.
The world has gone crazy.
Just plain crazy.
Leonard has sewn me right up. I
open my eyes and pick up the letter once more. I know his scheme can’t be
fool-proof. No scheme ever is. But on the face of it he’s done a good job.
Passwords, copies of accounts, specific instructions - he has put some thought
into this. I need to do the same. My hangover is not conducive to coherent
thought. I decide to order a taxi. Go home and figure what to do.
I flip open my address book to
find the taxi number. The alarm bell goes off in my head with the force of a
World War II siren. My address book falls to the ground. My alcohol fuzzed
brain catches up with the reality of what is happening.
Happening right now.
At this very moment Dumb and
Dumber are under instructions to hunt down Leonard. They have strict
instructions to cause him maximum damage. Fatal damage.
The same Leonard who now has me
by the short and curlies.
‘I do not want to die and
if you take a sensible approach to this little issue we can both live long and
healthy lives.’
Fuck, I need to stop them. The
number. Where is the phone number? On the business card. I dig it out of my
pocket. I reach for the phone then stop myself. Wrong phone. I need a phone
that can’t be traced. The safe. I take out the key and open it. I pull out a
phone. I hit the power button but nothing happens. I hit it again. Dead
battery. I pull out another phone. Dead as well. I fumble in my pocket for the
battery from the first phone I used. It is the wrong make. I reach for the
office phone. I have no choice. Anyway the phone I’m calling is a Pay As You Go
- not traceable. I dial the number and wait. It rings and rings then cuts out.
I try again. Still nothing. I try a third time and it is answered.
‘I told you not to phone again.
Anyway it’s done. He’s outside the building. Don’t think he’ll make it. Need to
go.’
All of this was said in one
breath. The connection is severed. I ring back but the line is dead. What’s
done? Not Leonard. Outside the building? What building? This building? Of
course this building. Didn’t they tell me not ten minutes ago that they were in
the building?
‘Don’t think he’ll make it?’
That means he isn’t dead yet. I
kick back from my desk. The chair leaves a mark in the wall that will need
filler.
Outside the building. Leonard
Thwaite is outside the building. Dying outside my building!
I dive through the office and hit
all the lift buttons. Up and down. The lift arrives. I jump in and press for the
ground. I pause. The top floor button is lit. I realise there is a woman in the
lift and a second later I’m back on my floor waiting on the next lift. I look
up. None of the lifts are within ten floors of me. I decide to take the stairs.
I know this is irrational. Waiting on a lift will be far quicker but I need to
be doing something. I hammer through the fire escape door.
The stairs vanish under my feet -
three steps at a time. There are two flights of stairs per floor. At the bottom
of each flight I fling myself round by the hand rail, I pick up speed. Twice I
miss my footing and come within inches of a cropper.
The final flight appears and then
I’m out in the lobby. I can see a large crowd outside. I rush to join them. The
sound of an approaching ambulance can be heard. I squeeze my way into the crowd
and towards the front. I ignore the indignant mutterings as I force myself
through.
In the centre I find two guards,
a policeman and a man lying on the ground. The policeman is beginning to push
people back, telling them to move on. He is standing between me and the man on
the pavement. I edge round to get a better look. He confronts me and asks me to
move along. I try to ignore him. He gently grabs my arm and steers me away. I
contemplate saying I know the man but realise that would be folly. I pretend to
walk away. I then circle back to the other side. The policeman keeps moving
everyone on. He notices I’m not leaving and he starts over to me. I decide to
call it quits and walk off.
The frustration is immense. I
need to know if the man on the ground is Leonard. I need to know that if it is
Leonard then is he alive? I need to know that if he is alive then will he stay
alive?
I stop walking away and make my
way over to the building side of the pavement. I edge myself back to the scene.
If the policeman asks I’ll say I work there. Hardly a lie.
I pass by the circle of people
and gain the front entrance of the building before taking a further eight or
nine steps. I turn and walk back to the incident. This time the policeman is at
the far side of the crowd talking to someone else.
I move in.
The guard is still kneeling down
next to the man. I have to move round to get a better view. I see the blood,
running from body to gutter. The man looks like Leonard from this angle. I try
to get a better view. The man is curled in a ball on the ground and I can’t be
sure. I keep circling, my eyes fixed on the man’s head. I bump into someone and
look up. The policeman.
‘Have I some interest in what is going on?’ ‘No.’ ‘Wasn’t
I told to move on?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘So why am I back?’
I’m struggling on that one.
There is a retch from the man on the ground and the policeman turns towards
the noise. The man on the ground spasms. His head flips round.
Leonard.
I walk away.
This time I keep going until I
reach the corner of the building next to the lane. I feel numb. I’m usually
cool under pressure. Now I’m not. What is going on around me is too fast and
too out of control. I need space to think. To address the situation properly.
I try and take the positive from
the moment. Leonard isn’t dead. Not yet. I saw him move. This may not be as bad
as it could be. Except I know I am in straw clutching territory. The retch was
not a good sound. The spasm looked terminal. There was way too much blood on
the pavement. Leonard might not be dead but he is as good as. I close my eyes
and step into a quieter, more ordered world. Think.
‘As of last week I have
sent several electronic copies of accounts concerning certain of your business
transactions to some key strategic locations.’
Several. Not one or two but
several. Key strategic locations. Several strategic locations. How many is
several?
‘I have also taken the
liberty of confiding in a work colleague who has placed a hard copy set of the
same accounts in a place of his own choosing’
Who is the work colleague?
‘All the accounts are
strictly protected by a password. If the individuals are not given the correct
password when contacted the accounts will be sent directly to the
authorities. If I die or vanish - the strategic locations have
instructions to release the accounts to the authorities within forty eight
hours.’
That means I have two days. Two
days max. Maybe less. Once Leonard’s death is reported what’s to stop his
‘strategic locations’ releasing the accounts straight away?
The need for action is intense. I
have to get into Leonard’s office. He will have kept a record of his plan
somewhere. But I need to move now. I have no idea how long it will take the
police to ID Leonard. When they do they will go straight to Cheedle, Baker and
Nudge’s offices. I need to get there first.
I work my way back to the main
entrance, through the doors and to the lifts. Behind me the ambulance is just
arriving. The policeman and guard are still beside Leonard. There is a lift
waiting and I ride up to Cheedle, Baker and Nudge’s floor.
The reception is clean, tidy and
insipid. They are not a big money operation. The receptionist recognises me. No
issue there. I’m a client after all. She tells me that Leonard is out at the
moment. I tell her I know. I tell her that Leonard has asked me to wait in his
office. She nods. I walk through the doors to the main office. I walk quickly
down the hall. I slip into Leonard’s office. Leonard shares it with two other accountants.
Neither is in. I close the door and think about blocking the door with a filing
cabinet. I decide against it. If anyone came in, furniture-moving would make me
look suspicious.
The office is old school. No
Boston Legal type glass walls. Half panels of painted Gyproc at the bottom and
heavily frosted glass at the top. The type of frosting that lets you see shape
but no detail. The door is fake oak. The only way to see what is happening in
the office is to walk in.
Leonard’s desk is next to the window.
His laptop is lying open on top of it. I close it and place it on the edge of
his table. It’s coming with me.
I start with his top desk drawer.
I work my way down the drawers. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Six drawers
are opened and searched. I find nothing that looks like it might contain
the details that I need. I switch to the filing cabinet. I hear soft footsteps
approaching. I freeze. A shape slides by the frosted glass. The footsteps
recede. I try the top drawer on the filing cabinet. It is locked. I daren’t
force it. Anyway the chances are that his details are on his laptop. Leonard is
a bit of a tech geek. He is a Blackberry convert. I’ll put twenty to one that
his plans are on the Blackberry and that he backs the thing up on the laptop. I
take another look round the office. Nothing.
I grab the laptop.
It occurs to me that the
secretary will see me carrying the laptop out. I’m not wearing a jacket. I open
my shirt and slide the laptop into the top of my trousers. It is cool against
my skin. I button up. I try and fold my arm over it. I’m going for the ‘natural
but hide the bulge’ look. I end up with my left arm stretching up to the right
side of my neck. My other arm is draped across my midriff. Awkward
looking but it will have to do.
I exit the office. The
receptionist looks up. I ask her to tell Leonard to give me a call on the
mobile. I tell her I can’t wait any longer. She smiles and nods. I’m gone.
I ride the lift up to my office.
When I’m back in my seat I open up Leonard’s laptop. As expected it is password
protected. I know someone who can crack this but not here. I gather up my stuff
and put Leonard’s laptop in my brief case. I take the lift to the basement. I’m
still a million miles from being fit to drive a car but I have no choice. I
need to get the laptop to my computer wizard as soon as possible. A taxi will
take too long.
It won’t take the police long to
find out that I have been down to see Leonard. Once they talk to the
receptionist I will become a very interesting person to the police. If anyone
notices the missing laptop then my interest quotient will go through the roof.
I pull out into the lane. The
Merc purrs. I moan. I nudge the nose out onto the main road. To my right the
crowd has swollen again. Three police cars have arrived to join the ambulance.
There are two policemen at the front door. I signal to turn left. I can see the
police stopping people leaving the building. I put my foot down and pull out
into the outside lane. I’m swallowed by the traffic.
I can’t breathe. I really can’t
breathe. The tall thug stuffed an old handkerchief in my mouth. A used
handkerchief. A recently used handkerchief. The cable tying my hands is inch
thick in dust and as I struggle the dust kicks up and is hanging in the air
seeming to vaporise oxygen.
I’m wheezing and the world is
dropping a poor shade of pale. I hate breathing through my nose -
one of my nasal passages is larger than the other. My left
passage is almost closed and I am breathing through my right and I can’t grab
enough air. I can feel myself passing out. My panic is extreme. I need air and
I…
I come
round lying on my side. The handkerchief is lying next to me in a small pool of
vomit. I could have choked on it. How Keith Moon is that. I hear footsteps on
the stairs and try and shout out but my throat is bone dry and I can barely
whisper. My hands are still bound but now that I am free of the breathing panic
I begin to work on the bindings and it doesn’t take long to wriggle my hands
free. I sit up and the world spins so I lie down again and wait. I sit up again
- this time at a more sedate pace and the world spins a little less. I wait for
it to slow to a crawl and try and stand up.
The
world returns to carousel mode and I need to sit down. I wait for a few seconds
and try again. On my third attempt I make it. I’m wobbly but vertical and I
reach out and try the cupboard door handle - the light from under the door
providing just enough vision to work with. It is locked and the thug took my
keys.
The
cupboard is one of a hundred dotted throughout the building. They are identical
in size and identical in layout. Each has three shelves at the back, a power
point, a single ceiling light and little else. Usually they are full of the
sort of rubbish that such cupboards excel at accumulating - cleaning material,
mops, tools and the like, but this one is different. This one is rarely used and
is bare. I place my ear to the door but there is no sound from outside. I
consider banging the door but in the back of my head I realise this is folly
and get scared that the thugs will still be around. I was close to getting a
real kicking and I have no intention of opening myself up to such abuse. But I
still need out.