Chain of Vengeance: Chapter Three - Part Seven

7

Sam stood across the street, looking impassively at the front entrance to the office building he had been working from for the past eight years. He was calculating his chances of running into trouble.

For a couple of minutes he considered the other possibility: walking away as he had planned to do before Lucy died. Every second he spent here was a risk. He’d covered his tracks well enough but the audit review had already set a deadline on his closing ties and leaving the country. It was possible that pre-audit checks might bring to light what he had done. Every day that passed made it riskier that they would piece things together and realise; especially with him not there to cover up any issues that arose.

On the other hand he needed help if he was going to find Lucy’s killer quickly. It was a double edged sword: try and find Jack on his own and give them longer to wise up to his crimes or work with them to find Jack, risk their knowing his movements, but find Jack a lot quicker as a result.

It was foolish to even be here. He had the money now. Why not just go?

But he pictured Lucy’s corpse again and knew that wasn’t an option.

He started to cross the street, blocking the memory of the crime scene. Now wasn’t the time to be sentimental. He kept his eyes slightly unfocused so that his peripheral vision could keep watch for oncoming cars as he looked ahead. He mounted the pavement on the other side of the road and pushed through the revolving doors.

He stepped out of the lift on the fourth floor and walked between the cubicles to the central corridor then stopped. Anna Thorpe was near the end of the corridor, her back to him, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder bag: grey calf length skirt, pale tan overcoat, boots, blond hair tied back in a French braid. His direct superior Henry Masters’ office was beyond her, the door just closing. She was the last person he wanted to talk to.

Anna started to pivot. Sam crossed into the sub-passage between the cubicles in the open-plan area and started to cut round, keeping an eye on the top of her head, visible above the partition, as she made her way back to her office. Some of his colleagues greeted him warmly, asking why he was back in from leave. He flashed The Lie impatiently, grinning and cracking little jokes, careful to keep his voice low. Anna vanished inside her office and closed the door. Sam hurried across the rest of the floor, ignoring any further pleasantries. He cut into Masters’ office and shut the door behind him.

Sam walked right up to the desk. It was cheap; fake oak. He didn’t glance to the sides but ran subconsciously through his mental inventory of the room: book cases lining the two side walls; cupboard behind and to the right that he knew contained liquor; a filing cabinet.

“Sam,” said Masters, clearly off balance, “I’ve... been wanting to see you.”

“I’m sorry Henry,” replied Sam, pressing Masters to relinquish control of the conversation, “I have something I would like to talk to you about that’s very important.”

Slightly befuddled, Masters said, “What is it?”

“I’ve worked here for some time. Some of the men and women I’ve worked with have proved themselves more than competent. I would like to borrow two of them to help me in a personal investigation. Mike and one other. Anyone except Anna. I would also like you to make available certain resources I require.

“Wait a minute,” said Masters.

Sam raised his finger and pressed on, leaking enough information out to keep his boss off-balance. “I have given eight years of my life for this firm. Now I want something in return. My sister’s been murdered Henry and I’m asking for your help as a friend.”

Total control; the Lie was perfect. Masters was reeling with conflicting motives. “I don’t know,” he said, “Something’s come up Sam. I’m worried about—”

“My sister,” broke in Sam, “I need the company’s resources to help me find out who did it!”

“But look—”

“Just help me out you fat idiot!” snapped Sam and then froze, his confidence faltering. The Lie was failing him. It was failing him again. He took a step backward. Both were silent. Masters stared, the pain of a slap in the face evident in his expression. Sam cleared his throat, his own feeling of self-control again unsure.

“There have been some irregularities,” said Masters, coughing. “Irregularities in your paperwork. Something Anna highlighted to me.”

Sam glanced at the door. He was calculating his chances if this turned bad.

“I know how long you have been here Sam,” continued Masters, “I would like to give you the benefit of the doubt. But insurance can be a tempting game; especially for old hands like us.”

Sam walked swiftly round the desk. He grabbed Masters’ lapel and screwed it in his fist. “I need the resources of the company to track my sister’s killer,” he said; slow, deliberate words. “You are going to help me.”

There was fear and confusion in Masters’ eyes. “You’ve never acted like this before Sam. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He released him.

“I was just going to discuss these allegations with you Sam but I don’t know. I’m going to have to suspend your service to the company until a full investigation can be levelled. The police may need to be informed.”

Sam stared at him. He stared. His head was throbbing. Then suddenly and completely he broke off. His pulse lowered. He looked out the window at the clouds; at the London skyline. He forced his pulse to slow until it was absolutely normal.

Then he said, “I resign,” and left the room immediately.