Cold Hearts

by Malcolm Richards

  “I’ll be five minutes.”

  “Jerome, don’t –”

  Jerome wiped more blood from the screen, then hung up. He opened up the phone’s map application, and with what appeared to be his only wound-free finger, tapped in: Steven’s Close. He waited, feeling dizzy and faint. The map zoomed in. Steven’s Close was three streets away, but there was a series of alleys beginning a hundred metres up the road that served as a short cut.

  Jerome looked up at the house in front of him. The lights were warm, inviting. Somewhere inside, a family was enjoying an ordinary evening of television and squabbles. He looked back at the road. Emily had been adamant for him not to follow her, to prioritise the contents of the envelope over her wellbeing. Had she learned nothing about him?

  Backing away from the house, he returned to the street, and limped along the pavement. His hands continued to bleed, but the pain was beginning to numb. He suspected this wasn’t a good sign.

  By the time he reached the first alley, he was finding it difficult to walk in a straight line. By the second, he was dragging his body along, leaving a thick trail of blood in his wake. Then, cleaning the screen once more, he managed to dial 999.

  “Emergency services—police, ambulance, or fire?” the operator said.

  “Ambulance, please,” Jerome replied. “I do believe I’m bleeding to death.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The SUV turned sideways and came to a stop, blocking the way out of Steven’s Close. One man stepped out and moved towards the blue Mazda that was parked haphazardly on the kerb. He peered through the windows, saw its driver had vacated, then walked in a slow, deliberate circle around the cul-de-sac. His eyes moved from garden to garden, until he’d completed a circuit and returned to his colleagues. Leaning into the driver’s window, he spoke in a low murmur.

  His phone began to ring inside his jacket pocket. He answered it in a deep, gravelly voice. “Where are you?”

  Leaning into the window again, he muttered something to the driver, then spoke into the phone. “Stay where you are. We’ll be five minutes.”

  Hanging up, he strolled back towards the Mazda. He spent another a minute scanning each house, looking for exits, ways for a person to escape on foot. Then, cursing under his breath, he pulled out a switchblade and sank it into each of the Mazda’s tyres. He stood for a moment, listening to the hiss of escaping air. Satisfied, he returned to the SUV and slipped into the front passenger seat. The engine growled. Headlights flashed. The SUV rolled away.

  From her position lying flat up against the garden fence, Emily listened to the engine fade. Relief crashed over her in trembling waves. She stood up on quaking legs and saw the SUV reach the end of the road.

  Still not convinced she was safe, she kept low and crouched her way towards Daniel’s car. Air was still escaping from the shredded tyres. She cursed under her breath, then returned her gaze to the road. What if the men leaving was a ruse to lure her out into the open? What if they suddenly returned?

  She had nowhere to run. Jerome was on his way. As soon as he arrived, they would find the nearest police station and hand over the envelope. She didn’t need to look inside to know that it was the same envelope Max had given to the night porter.

  Movement stirred up ahead. Emily ducked behind the car, then peeked over the bonnet. A tall figure emerged from an alley fifty feet along the street.

  Jerome!

  Something was wrong. He was staggering like a drunk, wavering in and out of the road. Emily stood up and waved. Jerome stopped still, and swayed from side to side.

  Emily circled the car and ran towards him.

  “Jerome?”

  She came closer. Jerome teetered, then righted himself. He laughed.

  Emily reached him, saw his blood-drenched clothes.

  “Jerome!”

  There was so much blood that she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Jerome staggered towards her. Emily tried to catch him.

  “Got it,” he said, holding out the envelope in a bloody, torn hand.

  Then Jerome’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he collapsed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Like all hospitals, Darent Valley was brightly-lit and smelled of disinfectant. As Emily drifted towards the cafeteria, she was temporarily overcome by memories of her incarceration at St. Dymphna’s Private Hospital. It was terrifying how a simple smell could instantly take her back.

  At the vending machine, she pushed coins into the slot and waited for hot, watery coffee to fill a plastic cup. Her body was stiff and lead-like, her mind muddled and distant.

  Jerome had lost a lot of blood. He would need a transfusion. Other than that, Emily knew nothing. She had tried to listen to what the doctor was saying, but there had been another voice whispering in her ear; the same voice that taunted her now. You did this to him. If he dies, it will be your fault.

  The doctor had wanted to know what had caused Jerome such excruciating wounds. Emily had shaken her head, then had sloped away to call Daniel. He had been deathly quiet on the phone, asking only for the hospital’s address, and saying he would be there as soon as possible. Emily didn’t want to face him when he arrived.

  And what about Helen?

  Emily sipped some coffee and winced as it burned her lips. There was a handful of people in the cafeteria, all tired and worried-looking. Emily sat down at a table in the corner, pushed her coffee to one side, and set the blood-spattered envelope in front of her.

  She stared at it for a long time, breathing in and out, fighting the urge to burst into tears. It was Jerome’s blood that soaked the envelope. He had almost died protecting it. Tim Marsden had surrendered himself to Jonathan Hunt’s goons so that Emily could see what was inside. Now, both of their lives hung in the balance. Their blood is on your hands. This is what you’ve become.

  Emily turned the envelope over. Tim Marsden’s name and address were handwritten on the front. The postmark was dated Friday, 29th May—the day after the Clean Water gala, the day before Max Edwards was found dead.

  The seal was unbroken. Emily stared in shock. Tim Marsden had been so afraid of what lay inside that he’d left the envelope unopened all this time, hiding it away so its existence would go undiscovered. But if he’d been so afraid, why hadn’t he destroyed it?

  Emily glanced around the cafeteria. Satisfied that no one was paying her any attention, she carefully opened the envelope.

  There were two items inside.

  Emily removed the first—a handwritten letter. Lips moving silently up and down, she began to read.

  Tim,

  Something is going to happen to me. Something bad. Tonight I asked if I could trust you. You said that I could. I hope so because you may be our last chance. They know about me, about all of us. They’re coming to take everything we have on them, and they are likely to succeed—which is why I’m giving you this. You already know what’s on there. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. We’re going to try and get a copy to the press. If something happens to me tonight, you need to make a decision—be part of what Valence are doing, or bring it to an end. There’s a reporter named Evan Holt. If something happens to me, take the drive to him. He’ll know what to do

  It’s up to you now, Tim. I trust you to make things right.

  M.

  Beads of perspiration broke out on Emily’s forehead. She picked up the envelope and emptied the remaining item into her hand. It was a flash drive. Max had entrusted Tim with the evidence he’d been collecting against Valence Industries. He had believed that Tim would finish what he could not. Instead, Tim Marsden had betrayed him yet again by burying the evidence to save himself.

  Emily pictured Marsden’s haunted face as he was led towards the SUV. He had been afraid; terrified of what the contents of that envelope could mean for his family. That was why it had sat at the back of a drawer, collecting dust. That was why Tim had continued working for Valence, had accepted his promotion without question. He’d been protecting h
is family. So why had he suddenly given it all up and handed over the envelope? Had the guilt finally broken him? Had the blood on his hands finally soaked through to his heart?

  Emily closed her fingers over the flash drive, forming a tight fist. Her thoughts returned to Jerome. To Evan Holt. To Helen. Angry tears fought their way to her eyes.

  Tim Marsden had been too afraid to finish Max’s work. Now, people were dead or hurt. Well, Emily was not afraid. After all, what did she have to lose?

  A row of three old desktop computers sat on one side of the cafeteria, beneath a sign that read: FREE INTERNET.

  Emily crossed the room and sat down on the first computer then inserted the flash drive into the USB socket. As she waited for it to install, she eyed the cafeteria users again. The drive icon popped up on the screen. Emily clicked on it.

  The flash drive contained a single folder, named: MERRY CHRISTMAS. Opening it up revealed further subfolders. Emily clicked on each one. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as her eyes pored over their contents. There were screen grabs of emails, statements of financial transactions, falsified invoices, and a document containing a long list of names and addresses from around the world. Several of the names belonged to high level managers, directors, and CEOs of Valence Industries. Jonathan Hunt’s name was right there at the top. There were also names connected to foreign companies and governments. And there were names Emily thought she recognised—political figures, right here in the UK, whose careers and reputations would be destroyed if their involvement in Valence’s wrongdoings was made public.

  Emily waded through the list, trying to make sense of everything she was seeing. Now, she understood why Max had risked his life to uncover the truth—and why Valence Industries had gone to the extreme lengths of silencing him and the others. Now, she understood why Tim Marsden had been so afraid. When Anya had spoken of bribery and corruption, it had sounded like fiction.

  But here was proof, right in front of Emily’s eyes; the proof that Max Edwards had fought so hard to bring to light. Now, Emily would do it for him.

  Removing the flash drive from the computer, she slipped it inside her jeans pocket. Then, leaving the cafeteria, she returned to A&E.

  Daniel had arrived. He looked pale and frightened as he approached the reception desk. Emily watched a nurse point him towards a set of double doors. She was about to go after him, when something else caught her attention.

  Two police officers had entered A&E and were making their way towards reception. Emily moved closer. She didn’t know if they were here because of Jerome, or for some other incident. She didn’t care.

  The flash drive felt like a tumour against her leg. She needed to get rid of it, to cut it out of her life.

  She didn’t have proof of Valence Industries’ involvement in Max’s death, but what she had was enough to bury their key players. Anya and Josh would be taken into police protection. Perhaps Max’s case would be reopened. Perhaps Diane Edwards would be appeased. But there would be no satisfaction in Emily’s success. People were dead. Lives were ruined. But it was going to end now. Emily was going to finish what Max had begun.

  She marched towards the police officers.

  “Emily.”

  The voice stopped her in her tracks.

  Emily turned around. Her mouth fell open.

  Helen Carlson stood in front of her. Cuts and bruised covered one side of her face and she had a burgeoning black eye. But she was alive.

  “Helen! You’re here! I thought that–”

  Helen flinched at Emily’s embrace.

  “You’re hurt. Do you need help? What happened to you?”

  Helen’s eyes moved from Emily to the police officers at the reception desk. “What were you doing?”

  Emily followed her gaze. Then, taking her arm and gently moving her to one side, she said, “I have Max’s evidence. Proof that Valence were bribing government officials to fail their competitors.”

  “Where is this proof?”

  Emily tapped her pocket. “Right here, on a flash drive. It’s over, Helen. I’m giving it to the police. Jonathan Hunt and Valence Industries are finished. Anyway, where have you been? How did you know we were here?”

  Helen didn’t answer. Her eyes moved from Emily’s pocket to the police officers at the desk. A nurse was pointing them in the same direction Daniel had headed.

  Emily pulled on Helen’s arm. “Come on, we have to catch them up.”

  Helen refused to move.

  “You can’t give it to them,” she said.

  Emily shook her head. “This can’t be about your story anymore, Helen. It’s about protecting millions of people’s live.”

  Helen stared at Emily’s pocket.

  “You can’t give it to them,” she repeated.

  “I’m sorry, Helen. I have to.”

  Emily turned away. Helen seized her arm in an iron grip.

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “They have someone at my sister’s house. They’re going to hurt her.”

  Emily stared at her through shocked eyes.

  “Give me the flash drive.”

  “Helen, I can’t.” She turned her head towards reception. The police were on the move, heading towards the doors.

  “They’ll kill her. Please, Emily! Give it to me.”

  Helen held out a trembling hand.

  Emily opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “I’m begging you. Please!”

  She stared at Helen’s outstretched hand. “But the police can send someone over there. Valence won’t even know.”

  Helen shook her head. Her eyes were dark and desperate. “They won’t get there in time. Emily, this is my sister’s life.”

  Angry tears slipped down Emily’s face. She knew it was all over, then. She could not be responsible for another death. Valence Industries had won.

  Distraught, Emily dug into her pocket and produced the flash drive.

  “We had them, Helen,” she said. “We had them.”

  She dropped it into Helen’s palm, and watched her hand curl into a fist.

  Helen began to walk away.

  Emily hurried after her. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No. You won’t.”

  Emily watched her go, drifting past the sick and the injured, towards the exit. Then, she was gone, taking the flash drive with her. A hole opened up inside Emily’s chest. She wanted nothing more than to fall into it.

  Instead, she remained where she was for a minute more, swaying to and fro. Then, she crossed the room and made her way through the double doors in search of Daniel. She found him in a small waiting area, along with a handful of other people who were waiting for news on their loved ones. There was no sign of the police officers. Perhaps they weren’t here for Jerome after all.

  Daniel stood. He stared at Emily with haunted eyes. She could feel the tears coming. Could feel them breaking down her resistance.

  “What happened?”

  She stared at the floor, avoiding his accusatory gaze. Where did she begin?

  “Your car is–”

  “I don’t care about the car, Emily. What happened to Jerome?”

  “They were chasing him. He got hurt.”

  Daniel’s expression grew darker by the second.

  “He was protecting evidence. I was going to take it to the police.”

  Daniel said something angry-sounding in Italian, then threw his hands in the air. “Jesus Christ, Emily!”

  Something was happening to her. She felt numb, detached. As if she were in the room but outside of it at the same time.

  “It’s too late, now,” she said. “I had to give it to Helen. It’s all over.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Helen?”

  “They have her sister.”

  He thrust his hands on his hips and stared at Emily as if she had lost her mind. “Helen doesn’t have a sister. She has brothers. Was she here?”

  Emily stared at him. She was very much back in the r
oom. “Pardon me?”

  “Helen called me just after you did. She said she’d tried calling both of you, but you weren’t answering. I told her what happened to Jerome, that I was coming here.”

  Emily checked her phone. It was true—she’d missed a call from Helen an hour ago, about the time she’d been in the back of the ambulance with Jerome.

  “But that doesn’t explain...” Realisation hit her like a punch in the gut. At first, she couldn’t believe it. Surely not even Helen was capable of stooping so low. Emily’s phone began to ring. She stared in disbelief at Daniel, then at her phone screen. The call ID read: UNKNOWN CALLER.

  “She wouldn’t have...” Emily began. But then, when she answered her phone, any doubts she had about Helen’s deceit were quickly obliterated.

  “Well, good evening Miss Swanson. You are a tricky character to pin down, aren’t you?”

  At first, she thought it was Jonathan Hunt. But the voice lacked his arrogance.

  “Who is this?”

  “I believe you’re in possession of something of interest to my client,” the man said. “Something they would very much like to have returned.”

  Emily stared at Daniel, then holding up a finger, she slowly turned and walked down the corridor.

  “Come now, don’t be shy,” the man said. “We know Mr Marsden gave you something. What I’m proposing is a quick, painless exchange. Then we can be out of each other’s hair and put this whole embarrassing event behind us.”

  “Exchange?” Emily said. “You have nothing of mine.”

  “Nothing of yours, no. But we have something of value to you. Or perhaps I should say someone.”

  At that exact instant, from the shock and fog of Emily’s mind came the realisation that Anya Copeland had not checked in with her. She and Josh would have reached Bristol over an hour ago. Then, a terrible chill pierced her heart as a child’s voice squealed in her ear.

  Emily trembled with fear. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

  “Oh, I’m not hurting him,” the man said. “Young Josh is having the time of his life running around this big old place, aren’t you?”