Authors: Thomas Fincham
He exhaled loudly.
Why didn’t he see it before? Why didn’t he make the connection? It was right there all the time. All he had to do was put it together.
He knew the answer and it was simple. There was no need to make a link.
He never once doubted the official report he had been given. It made sense and he believed it. Had he been suspicious even once he would have followed through.
It was why now he was driving like a lunatic.
He had to douse his suspicion or else it would fester and spread like a virus throughout his body.
He parked the car in front of his house and ran in.
“Where is it?” he mumbled to himself. “Where did I put it?”
He searched the living room, the kitchen, the basement; finally, he went to the bedroom.
Next to the bed was a pile of reading materials.
He quickly went through them until he found the folder he had been looking for. It had coffee stains on it and the edges were bent or ripped. Right after the accident, he had spent a month filling the folder with information. He didn’t know why but it somehow gave him a focus. It had helped keep his mind off the pain, until the pain became intolerable and he had to relieve it with alcohol.
He flipped the pages until he stopped on a single sheet. It was a brief obituary cut out from the newspaper.
When Nolan read it, he nearly lost his breath. He was suddenly angry at himself again. He wanted to punch something or someone.
He saw the side table and rushed to it. He pulled open the drawer, found several smaller bottles scattered inside. He had kept them there in the event the nightmares reappeared again. They were his emergency supply in case he couldn’t tolerate the pain anymore.
He snapped a bottle open and swallowed it down. He opened another and another, until his head began to spin.
He sat at the foot of the bed and put his face in his hands.
Raw emotions were running through his head and he knew if he didn’t control them they would take over. He could end up sitting in his room drunk for days. He couldn’t allow that. Not right now, at least.
He went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror.
His eyes were bloodshot. He splashed cold water over his face.
He dried his face and went out.
He had to make sure the reason behind how he felt was true. The only way to do that was to go out and confirm it.
He drove straight to the office of Pilster Insurance Company. It was located on the seventh floor of a commercial building.
It took Nolan a couple of minutes to find it, but then he saw the company plaque outside the door and went in.
He flashed his badge and was immediately introduced to Irwin Campbell.
Campbell was in his forties, with receding hair and a big mustache.
When they were seated in his office, Campbell said, “How can I help you, Detective?”
Nolan rubbed his beard. “I need to see an insurance report, but it’s a year old.”
“That’s not a problem,” Campbell said. “We store all our paperwork in this location. Do you have a file number or even a name?”
Nolan pursed his lips. “Yes, it’s for… Amanda Hansborough.”
“Hansborough,” Campbell nodded. “I’ll be right back with the file.” Campbell left.
Nolan leaned back in the chair and stared out the windows. The sun was at full strength and Nolan had to squint to see outside.
A couple of minutes later, Campbell returned, looking pale. “I’m sorry to say, but we don’t have the file.”
“What do you mean?” Nolan nearly stood up.
Campbell rubbed his hands. “We can’t find it. It’s logged in our system, but the actual file is not where it’s supposed to be. However, when we log a file into our system we make a brief note regarding the file. This helps us know what the file was about without actually pulling out the hard copy. ”
He handed Nolan a printout.
Nolan scanned it and looked up at Campbell, “Is this correct?”
“Yes, the agent who reviewed the case made that conclusion based on the information he received from various sources.”
Nolan’s head was reeling.
He got up and without uttering a word left the office.
He went back to his car and pulled out the folder he had brought from home. The folder was filled with information on the Hansborough family. He lifted the newspaper obituary of Amanda Hansborough. On it, it clearly stated where Hansborough had worked at the time of her death. It further stated what she did for them.
When Hyder had revealed the identity of XLX Ltd, Nolan’s mind had flashed to Amanda Hansborough. What triggered this flash was not only the name of the company, but also Hansborough profession, which Freeland had mentioned in his cryptic notes.
Amanda Hansborough was an internal auditor for TriGate Management Group.
Nolan lifted the print out from Campbell. At the bottom, in the comments section, were the following words: CAUSE OF DEATH, FAULTY BRAKES.
Amanda Hansborough didn’t have an accident, she was murdered.
FIFTY-SEVEN
The estate was nestled on fifteen acres. It had over twelve thousand square feet of living space. It included six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a ballroom, and even an indoor swimming pool.
The value of the property was close to six point eight million dollars.
Grant had already done his homework as he made his way through the gate and up the winding road.
Grant parked his car near the entrance. A man in a tuxedo greeted him by the front door.
He was led down the hall and into a room.
The room was spacious but relatively dark. The only lights were coming from small lamps next to the chairs and the large windows on the one side of the room.
There were three people sitting in the room. Their backs were to the windows, casting shadows over their faces.
But Grant knew who they were. It was his job to always keep himself informed.
“Sit down, please,” a voice echoed in the room.
Grant knew the voice belong to Charles Marshall CEO of TriGate Management Group. Occupying such a high position in TriGate had allowed him to own this estate.
Grant sat in a chair across from them.
He recognized the other two members. Terry Scott was the President of TriGate, and the person next to him Grant had met many times before, Ian Marshall, Vice-President of TriGate. Ian was also the son of Charles Marshall.
Charles said, “Ian had assured me that you were the right man for the job before we hired you. In fact,
you
promised us that you would make this problem go away. It hasn’t; why not?”
“The variables have changed,” Grant said. “More people are involved now. Even Detective Tom Nolan is pursuing Freeland’s case.”
“Didn’t you tell us not to worry about Nolan?” Charles said. “That he was nothing but a drunk?”
“He still is, but unfortunately, this case has rekindled his interest in his job.”
“This is not good,” Terry Scott piped. “This detective could be on to us. We should have never…”
Charles put his hand up to silence him. “You can deal with this, right?” He was talking to Grant.
“I can,” Grant replied. “But you still haven’t provided me with the name of the person who was feeding information to Freeland.”
Ian spoke up, “We have over twenty thousand employees working for us on various continents. It’s not that easy pinpointing the informant.”
Grant leaned forward and looked at them directly. “If I already had the name, I would have leaned on this individual and found out what information he or she had provided to Freeland. This would have made my job far easier by allowing me to cut off the loose ends. Instead, I had to work with whatever information that was provided to me. This has made my task far more complicated. I don’t like complications, so until you meet your end of the bargain and find who the informant is, I don’t want to be summoned here again.” Grant stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. “Can you assure me that you’ll be able to find this person?”
There was silence.
Finally, Ian said, “We’ll find the mole. I guarantee it.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
Nolan drained the tall glass in one gulp and waved to the bartender for more.
Damian came over. “Are you sure, Tom? At this time of day?”
“Please, I need more,” Nolan said.
He was hiding in one of the booths in the back of the bar. Damian looked over at Boris, who was by the front door. Boris nodded and Damian placed another glass before him.
A man entered the bar, said a few words to Boris, and then made his way toward Nolan.
He slid into the seat across from him.
“What’re you doing here?” Nolan asked.
“I wanted to see how you were doing.” Hyder said.
“I’m fine, just peachy. How did you know I’d be here anyway?”
“I’m a reporter, aren’t I? I have my sources.”
Nolan nodded. He stared at the full glass before him. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I don’t drink.”
“Is it because you’re Moslem?”
“Yes, and it’s pronounced
Mus
-lim.”
“My bad, I apologize,” Nolan said, putting his hands together. “You’d be surprised, though, at the amount of liquor some of you Arabs can put down.”
“I’m not Arab,” Hyder shot back. “There is a misconception that all Muslims are Arabs. Only about twenty percent are, and the majority of Muslims don’t even speak Arabic.”
“Again, my bad. But some of those Arabs, and not you, of course, make Irish guys like me look like amateurs. I should know, I’ve seen them do it first- hand.”
Damian came over. “You want anything?”
“He doesn’t drink,” Nolan said, pointing at Hyder. “He’s the non-drinking type of
Mus
lim.”
“I’ll have soda water, please.”
Damian left.
“So, are you here to make me feel better?” Nolan asked. “Or are you here to tell me more about your religion?”
“I’m here to do neither,” Hyder replied. “I just thought you’d want to talk.”
“Well, I don’t,” Nolan put his hand up. “And do you want to know why? It’s because I just found out that my wife died not because of something random, but because of something deliberate.” He looked Hyder straight in the eye. “That information changes everything. You realize you never had to lose the person you love. You realize you never had to suffer the way you did. You realize… you could have been happy.”
Hyder understood why Nolan wanted to vent, even if he stated otherwise.
Damian came over with the water.
“Thank you,” Hyder said.
Nolan continued. “I am certain that someone from TriGate Management Group had Amanda Hansborough killed. She ended up killing my wife in the process. They also had Freeland murdered.”
“Do you have proof?” Hyder said.
Nolan stumbled. “I… I have…”
“You have Freeland’s notes and a novel that indicates all this leads to TriGate, that’s it.”
Nolan slammed his palm on the table, spilling liquid from the glass. “Shit, shit, shit,” he grunted. He put his head in his hands.
“We can still nail them,” Hyder said. “We need to find JVL. He or she will lead us to TriGate.”
“Does this JVL even exist?” Nolan said.
“XLX Ltd existed, didn’t it?” Hyder leaned forward. “Listen, Jessica and I have narrowed down the list. With your help we can find JVL. So let’s go.”
“I don’t know,” Nolan shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to understand this, but I’m in a lot of pain right now.”
“I understand it.”
Nolan looked at him.
Hyder said, “I lost someone too.”
Nolan waited.
“My father, from a heart attack. He was not even thirty-eight years old. Like your wife, it was unexpected. One moment he was healthy and full of life and the next he was gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Nolan said. “I really am.”
Hyder nodded.
“You want to know something?” Hyder’s eyes were moist. “I don’t remember much about him. I only remember he loved watching James Bond movies.” Hyder suddenly laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of joy, but a laugh of realization. “Now that I think about it, it was odd seeing a man who never drank, never swore, never gambled, never even thought of straying from his marriage, watching and enjoying a character who was his exact opposite .” Hyder looked away. “I miss him, but I can’t bring him back, and knowing this helps me to move on.”
Nolan was silent. He stared at the glass of liquor before him. He nodded, more to himself than to Hyder. “Let’s go and get these bastards,” he finally said.
FIFTY-NINE
There were three names left on their lists. One name was on Jessica’s list and two on Hyder’s. They had decided to split up. Jessica would work with Nolan and Hyder would be on his own. Jessica wasn’t in favor of the idea. She wanted to take a name by herself, but it was Hyder who insisted she stay close to Nolan.
Someone was after Jessica and this person had already made an attempt on her life during one of her visits. She had managed to escape, but the next time she might not be so lucky.
So, Jessica and Nolan would check out two names: Janice Voila Landon and Jacob Volker Lett, while Hyder would interview James Vander Lee. They had struck out Jasmine Vicky Johnson from the list—the person Hyder had visited, but was not home—because they had found out through Nolan’s search that she had moved away.
They had no choice but to deal with her later, in the event the other names didn’t pan out.
Hyder left his house and rode his bike to the address on his list.
What he didn’t realize was, half a block away, a black sedan was following his every move.
***
Grant was behind the wheel. He had decided to keep an eye on Hyder instead of Jessica. With Nolan beside her, it would be too risky for Grant to watch her.
Whatever the three were working on, it was now in Grant’s favor to be part of it. He had a feeling they would lead him to the mole.
Grant grunted. The idiots at TriGate were running around chasing their tails. They were too afraid of what they’d find that they weren’t looking hard enough.
It would be up to him to do their job.
His reputation depended on it. The Freeland job had turned into a fiasco. And if word got out, no one would ever hire him again.
Grant wouldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let a student, a drunk, and a reporter destroy his work.
He was willing to go the extra mile to finish this, even if it meant putting a bullet in each of their heads.
Once the job was finished he would disappear, at least for a little while. When the heat was over he would resurface and continue his job as a fixer again.
He watched Hyder slow down and then come to a complete stop.
He parked in the distance but kept his eyes on him.
***
Hyder looked at the number and then back at his list. This was the right house.
James Vander Lee lived in the basement apartment of a row house. There were at least ten houses that were similar to the one he was standing in front of.
Hyder went down the stairs and knocked on the black painted door.
He waited. No answer.
He knocked again. Still no answer.
He saw a buzzer and pressed it. He heard ringing from inside the apartment.
It looked to him like James Vander Lee wasn’t home. If Vander Lee was preoccupied, either in the washroom or even with sleep, he would have answered the door by now.
Hyder went up the stairs and out to the pavement.
He was deciding whether to wait or come back later when he spotted someone coming his way.
The man was wearing a blue hoodie, light-brown khakis, and white runners.
Hyder watched him come closer and closer until he was not even twenty feet away from him.
Their eyes met and for a brief second it looked like the man knew why Hyder was there.
Hyder moved toward him.
The man bolted.
Hyder ran after him.
The man raced down the street and turned the corner. Hyder did the same. When he was around the corner, he saw the man duck into an alley.
Hyder followed. In the alley, Hyder saw the man climb up and over a metal fence.
Hyder did the same.
He wasn’t about to lose him. This man could hold the answer to all their questions. He could be the missing link in this intricate web of money, corruption, and murder.
When Hyder reached the other side of the fence, he found himself out of breath. He sucked in air, kept going.
He spotted the man down the block. The man was running on the pavement.
Hyder went after him. His legs ached, his lungs were on fire, but he didn’t stop.
The man turned and saw him. He hurried across the street.
A car slammed into him.
The man flew five feet up in the air and fell to the ground hard.
Hyder didn’t slow down. He reached the man in a matter of seconds. The man was slumped sideways on the concrete road. Blood was oozing out of the back of his head.
Hyder quickly turned to the car. The driver behind the wheel was holding his nose. Blood was pouring out of his nostrils. The impact had dented the front bumper.
But then something happened.
The driver’s eyes and Hyder’s locked.
For a second it looked like the driver recognized him.
He then pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at him through the window.
Hyder stood frozen.
He realized it was the man in the suit that Jessica had mentioned.
Hyder put his arms in front of his face to shield himself when there was a loud scream.
A woman across the street was wailing at the sight of the bloodied body on the road.
The man looked at the woman and then back at Hyder. He put the car in gear and drove away.
Hyder checked on the man on the ground.
The man’s eyes were vacant and hollow, like he was staring at nothing in particular. Hyder had seen those eyes on Dunny.
The man was dead.
Hyder quickly searched the man’s pockets. After everything that had just happened, he wasn’t about to leave empty handed. He had to make sure that this was the person he had been looking for and not someone else.
He found a cell phone in the pocket of the hoodie, but before he could grab the man’s wallet, he heard sirens.
Hyder left the man and ran away.
SIXTY
Hyder was pacing back and forth in his basement when Nolan and Jessica showed up.
He had called and told them what had happened.
“Are you okay?” Jessica said, coming over and giving him a hug.
Hyder nodded, but she could tell he was still shaken up.
“You think James Vander Lee is our guy?” Nolan asked.
“I can’t be sure,” Hyder answered. “But the way he reacted when he saw me makes me think so. Also, this man in the suit was also searching for Vander Lee.”
“So this means he didn’t know Vander Lee was helping Freeland?” Nolan asked.
“If he did, Vander Lee would have been dead long time ago.” Hyder suddenly sat down. “Oh my God, I led this man straight to Vander Lee. He is dead because of me.”
Jessica came over. “No, you didn’t know Vander Lee was involved. You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You didn’t kill him, the man in the car did.”
Hyder thought about it, nodded.
Nolan rubbed his chin. “It’s just too bad that we won’t be able to gather any information from Vander Lee now.”
Hyder pulled out a cell phone. “I took it from Vander Lee right before I left.”
“How’s that going to help us?” Jessica inquired.
“People use cell phones for all sorts of purposes. To take photos, to text, to call someone, or even to store information only they want to see. If we can see what’s on here I am certain we’ll find something—
anything
. It’ll at least give us a start.”
Nolan thought about it. “I bet it’s locked.”
“Don’t worry, I know someone who can unlock it.”
“You sure he’s reliable?” Nolan asked. “We’re not doing something that is exactly legal, you know.”
“He’s a genius with electronics, if there is one person I would give it to, it would be him.”
“Okay, then do it,” Nolan said.
“There is something else,” Hyder said. “I was able to get the license plate of the sedan that killed Vander Lee.”
Hyder provided it to Nolan.
“I’ll look into it,” Nolan said. “In the meantime, we need access to that phone ASAP.”
SIXTY-ONE
Nolan conducted a search of the license plate number through the department’s database and it led him to where he was standing now.
Before him was a car rental company.
Nolan had a feeling the man in the suit wouldn’t be driving a car registered to him. That feeling had now turned out to be true.
Nolan went inside and introduced himself. He provided the license plate number to the agent behind the desk.
The agent gave Nolan a name: Albert Bush.
Nolan had a feeling it wasn’t real. He asked if they had a copy of the man’s driver’s license.
Luckily, they did.
Nolan left the rental company with the photocopy.
He showed it to Hyder, who confirmed that it was the man in the suit.
Nolan now had a fake name, but he also had a real face.
The next time he saw this man, Nolan wouldn’t hesitate using lethal force, if it came down to it.
SIXTY-TWO
They all waited anxiously, as Lester worked furiously behind his laptop.
They were back in Hyder’s basement. It had sort of become their headquarters.