The Promotion: A psychological thriller with a killer twist

by Daniel Hurst

  But several rings go unanswered, so I have no choice but to hang up, still no nearer to knowing how my friend is getting on after the terrible shock she has suffered today.

  I type out a quick text message telling her that I hope she is okay and for her to give me a call as soon as she wants to talk before pressing Send and letting out a deep sigh. Of all the things I had predicted to happen after my little stunt in Michael’s office, this was not one of them. I thought either my plan would work and he would be gone, or it would fail and I would be gone. Never did it occur to me that an innocent third party would get caught in the crosshairs of our war and end up suffering unfairly.

  I put down my phone and look around the office, wondering how many other people here know what has happened and that our wonderful colleague will not be coming back here ever again. I assume that no one else does know because, otherwise, this floor would be a hive of gossip and speculation, as all offices are when a member of staff is relieved of their duties unexpectedly. But it’s only a matter of time until the news is filtered out to the masses, and then I will be subjected to all sorts of questions about what really happened and why such a loyal person would be let go from a company that she loved to work for.

  As I slump down into my seat and stare blankly out across the office, I see Katherine leaving the kitchen and making her way back to her office. I know Michael is still in there because I haven’t seen him come out yet, and I wonder what the rest of his day looks like now that he has just ruined an innocent person’s livelihood. He will no doubt be instructing Katherine to begin the process of finding Helen’s replacement – that will mean an advertisement going up online for a new finance manager and a flood of CVs coming in from hopeful applicants who fancy a crack at earning the wage Helen used to earn.

  Poor Helen. Her career is in tatters, and it’s all because of me.

  But that’s not right. This was between Michael and me, and nobody else should have been brought into this. But they have, and now the stakes have increased. The boss has made it clear that anything I do to bring him down can have devastating consequences for other people besides myself, and he will know that such a thing will only serve to make me want to fall in line and continue being his slave forever.

  But he is wrong. What has happened here today does not make me want to be more obedient. Instead, it only makes me more determined to do whatever it takes to get rid of him, and if I can’t do it in the workplace, I will have to do it outside the office.

  He must have a weakness. Some kind of vulnerability I can exploit. A secret he doesn’t want sharing with the world, just like I have my own. All I need to do is find it, and then I can start getting some revenge for myself, as well as Helen and anyone else this despicable man might have wronged in the past.

  I am going to follow him outside the office.

  I am going to find his pressure point.

  And I am going to ruin him.

  24

  MICHAEL

  Another day, another dollar, as they say. But it’s not just money that keeps me getting out of bed every morning and putting on a suit to go and tackle whatever life has to throw at me.

  It’s the opportunity to find new and inventive ways of screwing with Imogen.

  My latest way has been to fire her best friend in the office, Helen, for a crime that Imogen herself committed. I feel no guilt or regret for doing what I have done, simply seeing my actions as retaliation for Imogen’s actions and nothing else. Make no mistake, I had to do something – if I didn’t, then Imogen could very well have created a big problem for me, and that just would not do.

  I admire her tenacity and appetite for risk in doing what she did. Sneaking into my office, hiding a camera, and obtaining my password was a very bold and brave thing to do.

  Too bad it didn’t pay off for her.

  Leaning back in my chair, I glance over at my bookcase and the second shelf in particular, the one that contains my own hidden camera on which I viewed Imogen sneaking around my office and hiding her personal surveillance equipment. I make a quick check on the footage every night before retiring to bed just to see if there has been any unauthorised accessing of my office when I wasn’t in attendance, and that was how I saw my plucky colleague hiding her camera as well as returning later to sit at my desk and start ‘working’ on my financial reports.

  I’ll give Imogen this, her plan was a clever one. Not only did she try to make it look like I had made several costly mistakes, but she was also trying a plan that wouldn’t have made it obvious that she had done it. If I hadn’t known she had planted a camera to get my password, then I would never have ever known that she had been the one to log into my system, and I could genuinely have thought the mistakes were down to lapses in my work. I would have been mystified as to how it could have happened, and I would have been completely caught off guard too when her tampering came to light. Fortunately, because I knew what she had been up to, I was able to get ahead of it and make sure I was in a position to not just defend myself but go on the offensive too.

  I could have cancelled out the ‘edits’ Imogen made on my reports and covered up everything she had done, to protect myself, but where would be the fun in that? Much better to bring her actions to light and let it blow up in her face.

  Poor Helen. She has done nothing wrong, yet she is now the one out of work and worrying about how she is going to pay her bills and all because her friend stupidly thought she could get one over on me. I don’t know how many times I have had to tell Imogen that she cannot win. I am simply too clever for her to be victorious in the long term.

  I’m sure that isn’t going to stop her from trying, though. She will keep going, of that I have little doubt. What else can she do? When you’re backed into a corner, the only way out of it is to fight. I look forward to her next attempt at bringing me down. And the next. And the next one after that as well. So come on, Imogen, have another go. See if you can topple the king off his throne.

  I have a feeling I already know how that will work out for you.

  25

  I feel like an undercover cop in one of those dodgy TV dramas where a criminal is watched from a distance by a couple of police officers eating doughnuts and peering through binoculars. But this isn’t a TV drama, and there aren’t any binoculars or doughnuts.

  I wasn’t that prepared to bring snacks.

  Instead, all I have to keep watch on my target are my eyes, which are currently straining as I peer through the windscreen at the driving rain bouncing off it while trying to keep tabs on the vehicle ahead. It is the vehicle that contains Michael, and I’m curious as to where it is going.

  The taxi picked him up from the office, which was my first clue that something was afoot because it meant he had left his car in the office car park, which seemed rather unusual. I had been sitting in my own car around the corner from the office, waiting for him to leave so I could follow him home and find out where he lived, information that I could hopefully use to my advantage at a later date once I had formulated another plan. But then I saw the taxi arrive and Michael get into it, suggesting my boss had somewhere other than home to visit tonight.

  We’ve been driving for about fifteen minutes now, and I have been keeping a healthy distance behind the taxi in front so as not to arouse any suspicion. I’m not sure how aware a taxi driver in this town is about being followed, but I’m being cautious because that’s what the characters in the TV shows do, and they are all I have to guide me as I continue on this risky mission of mine.

  Any doubts I have about what I am doing are quickly dispelled when I think about Helen and how she sounded when I finally got to speak to her over the phone earlier. She was understandably distraught about the loss of her job and even more understandably confused because, as far as she knew, she had done nothing wrong. I obviously couldn’t tell her the truth, which was that Michael had used her as a scapegoat in our ongoing war, instead just offered useless platitudes and promised her I would see w
hat I could do about clearing her name and getting her back at the company. But the only way I can get her job back for her is if I become the boss, and that won’t happen unless I can get something on Michael that makes his position untenable.

  I have no idea what I could possibly achieve by following him after work, but I have to try something – it’s obvious he has me beat from all angles when it comes to the workplace. If I can’t get him there, then I will have to get him in his personal life, where I am hoping he lowers his guard a lot more.

  The taxi takes a left turn at the lights, and I do the same, following it onto a quiet side street full of rows of nondescript buildings that don’t seem to be of much interest. This is a very strange part of town for Michael to be going into, and I have no idea what business he could have here, but I’m keen to find out. It seems like I might not have long to wait because the taxi suddenly comes to a stop, and Michael gets out, straightening his tie and running a hand over his slick hair before making his way towards a side street that isn’t big enough for vehicles.

  I park up as the taxi drives away, and quickly get out, not wanting to lose my target now that he has just slipped out of sight. Heading for the alleyway, I peer cautiously around the corner as if I am afraid that Michael is going to be standing right there, waiting for me to come around. But he isn’t because he has no idea that I am following him. I’ve never done this before, so there is no reason for him to suspect I would do it now.

  But where is he?

  I look down the grotty alleyway and see bins, discarded waste, and plenty of dingy doorways leading to places I have no interest in exploring, but no Michael.

  Damn it. I think I’ve lost him.

  That is until I catch a glimpse of the top of his head disappearing down a staircase halfway up the alley.

  Entering the alleyway, I head for the staircase, growing more curious by the second as to what Michael could be up to here. Leaving work in a taxi instead of taking his own car suggests he is planning on drinking tonight, but it could also mean that he didn’t feel comfortable parking his car in a place like this, which I can totally understand. Heading into this secretive alleyway suggests whatever is down here might not be the most conventional. And going down a staircase beneath the alleyway suggests wherever he is going has been purposely made to be hard to find. All of which leads me to think that Michael might be up to something that he shouldn’t be.

  Whatever he is doing here, I am going to do my best to find out.

  Walking slowly towards the dip in the ground where I saw Michael descend, I feel as if the only noise in this alleyway is my heartbeat pounding. I am treading lightly so my footsteps won’t be heard, but I can’t be too hesitant because my boss is out of sight again, and I’ll only feel better when I know where he is.

  I reach the top of the staircase and look down, and I’m instantly startled because I see a man standing at the bottom, looking right up at me. But it’s not Michael. This man is bald, extremely muscular, and wearing a zip-up jacket from which a wire protrudes all the way to his ear, presumably so he can stay in contact with his employer on the other side of the door he is standing in front of. I’m guessing that is where Michael has gone. He must have got past this security guard on the door.

  But how am I going to get past him?

  ‘Are you okay, love?’ the shaven-headed guard asks when he sees me peering down at him from the top of the stairs.

  I don’t know what to say, but I know that it would look suspicious if I suddenly turned and ran away. I also know that it would make it impossible for me to find out what Michael is up to if I left now.

  ‘Can I help you, darling?’ the man asks me again with his hands stuffed into his jacket pocket and an expression on his face that tells me he dreamed of something more for his life than standing at the bottom of a staircase in a dirty alleyway.

  ‘Sorry, I’m not sure if I’m in the right place,’ I say, simply because it’s the first thing that comes to mind, and I’m hoping the guy is going to help fill in the blanks for me there.

  ‘What place are you looking for?’ he replies, and that is not much help to me.

  I look past him at the door and try to imagine what could possibly be behind it. ‘A club?’ is my best guess.

  ‘You here for an interview?’

  That sounds like something that could help get me through the door.

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply with absolutely no conviction whatsoever.

  ‘Dancer or bar staff?’

  ‘Erm, bar staff.’

  I figure that is a more credible thing for a woman like me to be applying for.

  ‘Aren’t you a little old?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Never mind. I guess some men like that kind of thing. Come on down, love.’

  I’m not sure whether to be grateful for the invitation or offended by the insult, but I have to keep my mind on the bigger picture, which is figuring out what Michael is doing in a place like this.

  I tread cautiously down the stairs, trying my best not to slip in my heels and land in a heap at the feet of this gnarly gatekeeper. Thankfully, I manage to make it down the slippery steps in one piece, and the man looks me up and down very slowly before turning around and opening the door.

  I accept his invitation to step through the open doorway, and now I am inside.

  The sound of the door being shut behind me lets me know there is no going back now.

  26

  The first thing I see inside this mysterious place is my own reflection in the wall of mirrors directly opposite me. But I don’t see anybody else down here in this dark corridor, so I get moving along it, keeping my wits about me in case I should encounter somebody else I need to get past.

  I can hear a deep baseline pulsing through this venue, and the music only gets louder the further I go down the corridor. This is obviously some kind of club, but what kind remains to be seen. Surely Michael is too old to be hanging out with people half his age drinking and dancing, and it isn’t even that late in the evening for a nightclub to be busy. That makes me think this isn’t a typical club, and the secretive location of it only adds to that suspicion as I reach the end of the corridor and look around the corner.

  To my surprise, this place is very busy, and I see several waitresses walking around with drinks trays, serving several tables full of businessmen, who are all watching the scantily clad women performing on poles up on the stage.

  It’s a strip club. How original. I shouldn’t be shocked that Michael would frequent a place like this, and I’m not. This has him written all over it. But where is he?

  I scan the busy and low-lit room for any sign of my boss, but I can’t spot him anywhere. But I know he is in here somewhere, so I will keep looking. Or at least I intend to until somebody taps me on the shoulder.

  I spin around, terrified that I have been rumbled and that Michael is once again going to laugh at me and tell me that he has won, but it’s not him.

  It’s a young woman in a sequin dress.

  She says something to me, but while I can see her lipstick red lips moving, I can’t hear a word of it. The music is too loud for conversation, and my hearing is not as sharp as it once was back when I used to frequent noisy venues in my teens and twenties. The woman realises I can’t hear her, so she leans in closer towards me and tries again.

  ‘Are you okay? You look lost!’

  Just like the man on the door, this employee is trying to be helpful, and I’m glad of that because I would have thought it was obvious that I didn’t belong in a place like this, and they could just tell me to get lost.

  I do my best to come up with a plausible reason as to why I am standing here and remember what the security guard said about the interview.

  ‘I’ve just been for an interview, and I’m having a look around before I leave,’ I tell the waitress, having to strain my voice to make myself heard over the sounds coming from the speakers in every dark corner of this underground club.


  ‘Cool! Well, remember the golden rule. Look but don’t touch!’ the waitress replies before giving me a wink and heading on her way into the busy room.

  I watch her shimmying her way around the tables and see one overzealous businessman reach out and try to give her pert behind a slap, but she expertly avoids it and isn’t shy in telling the man what she thought about that. She jabs her finger towards him before pointing at one of the burly security men standing against the back wall, and the businessman immediately holds up his hands in apology and goes back to behaving himself.

  I decide to take up a more inconspicuous spot in one of the dark corners of the club, so I’m less likely to be spoken to again by any of the staff here, and find myself a small leather seat to sink into and observe the proceedings from a safe distance.

  The scene before me is a mosaic of bare flesh, flashy suits, and champagne flutes, and I cast my eyes over it all as I keep looking for any sign of Michael in this tawdry venue.

  And then I see him.

  He is sitting at a table to the left of the main stage, upon which a leggy blonde is twirling around upside down on a greasy pole. He is accompanied by three other men, all of whom look to be having a grand old time as they watch the action on stage while sipping their drinks and pointing things out to each other. And Michael is definitely no stranger to this kind of entertainment, judging by the grin on his face and the ease with which he positions himself with his arms over the back of the leather booth. This is very much a man who is comfortable in his surroundings, and it’s a far cry from the man he used to be back when I first met him.

  I remember the day Michael very shyly asked me out on a date, back when we were in our twenties and occupying very junior positions at the bank. It had been an invitation that had surprised me because he had never made it clear that he was interested in me in that way. Back then, he was polite, inexperienced, and seemingly incorruptible, but things change or rather people do. There is nothing polite, inexperienced, or incorruptible about him now, that’s for sure. Here, he seems to be just as rude, obnoxious, and self-satisfied as he became in the workplace over the years.