Perfect Day

by Kris Lillyman

  Yet by then it would be too late and Ekon would bitterly regret it for the rest of his life.

  ***

  Ekon peered warily out of the window as his plane taxied to a halt upon its arrival at the Diori Hamani International Airport in Niamey, Niger, half-expecting to see a flood of news reporters waiting for him.

  However, there was no one on the tarmac to greet him apart from a chauffeur and the black limousine which had been sent to pick him up.

  Nevertheless, the flight had given him some time to think and when he arrived home, he would put his differences with Claudette aside and telephone to apologise for his lack of understanding.

  Furthermore, he had given more thought to Faraday’s threats to his family and believed it only prudent to take measures to protect them, at least for the short term.

  With that in mind he would also call the British police and ask them to protect Claudette until he could make more permanent arrangements - he might hopefully even persuade his eldest daughter to come home. As for the baby and its father, they could be discussed another time. What was important for now was Claudette’s safety.

  For Ekon’s wife and his three younger daughters, he would assign them protective custody; secrete them away in a safe house where they could not be harmed.

  Indeed, if Faraday should see fit to release the damning evidence gathered in Martinique, then Ekon’s family should be somewhere where they could ride out his disgrace without the shame he had brought upon them.

  With this in mind, he asked his chauffeur to drive as quickly as possible so that he could make the necessary arrangements.

  He arrived back at his government mansion in record time and rushed in through the double front doors, desperate to see his wife and daughters. However, as he burst into the lobby, his housemaid was holding the telephone in her outstretched hand.

  “It is for you, Sir,” she said. “It is urgent.”

  For a moment Ekon thought about ignoring it but there was a possibility of it being government business, so reluctantly he nodded and took the receiver from her.”

  “Hello. This is Minister Sekibo?”

  The man’s voice on the other end of the line was foreign, English perhaps, but his French was impeccable.

  “One down, three to go,” the man said.

  “Pardon?” Said Ekon. “I don’t understand.”

  “Daughters, Minister,” replied the man. “You had four. Now you have three. If you would like to keep it that way then you know what you must do and Mr. Faraday does not like to be kept waiting.”

  “What?” Suddenly Ekon started to panic, the bottom quickly falling out of his world. This could not be happening.

  “Sign the contract, Minister,” the man said. “Do it soon or say goodbye to another of your daughters.”

  “My God—” Ekon spluttered before being interrupted.

  “And not a word to the authorities or they all die. Your wife too. Is that clear?”

  Then the line went dead.

  ***

  By the time Roper Coyle telephoned to confirm what Ekon already knew, he was only barely holding it together; his wife and three remaining daughters all inconsolable with grief.

  Nevertheless, he was courteous but necessarily brief with Coyle, well aware of the warning not to speak to the authorities.

  Ekon’s priority now was to protect his family. His pride, his religion and his highly cherished principles were no longer of any importance.

  So, shortly after Coyle’s call, and with forced composure so as not to arouse suspicions, Ekon drove into the government offices and signed the documents to allow Q-Core Global the rights to mine for uranium in Niger.

  It was his last official act.

  He then tendered his resignation and returned home to his devastated family.

  Quentin Faraday had won.

  Chapter Six

  Cambridge, England

  Coyle and Grainy worked the case hard but it was tough going. No witnesses came forward and no real leads could be found. Focussing on the racial motive, a couple of people remembered seeing some skinheads on the river on the day of Claudette’s murder but details of their descriptions were sketchy at best - aside from the fact that they had shaven heads.

  Following this line of enquiry, Coyle and Grainy set about investigating various local pubs and clubs that were known skinhead hangouts. They also looked into several white supremacist groups and Nazi organisations within the area but nothing really jumped out at them.

  They did, however, find a few very likely candidates who would be more than capable of taking part in such an abhorrent act, all of whom they had repeatedly questioned. What is more, the two detectives had a short list of who they fancied for the crime but they could do no more until they had positive identification from Sam - hoping that he may have seen one or more of his attackers.

  Until Sam woke up, however, if, indeed, he did, their hands were tied and there was little more they could do but wait.

  ***

  Vasily and Miriam had been outstanding in their support of Sam and had spent as many hours by his bedside as their studies would allow. They had even worked out a rota between themselves so that one of them was with him for at least four hours of every day and significantly more at the weekends.

  Initially it had been extremely tough for both of them. Firstly with the attack itself and the murder of one of their closest friends and then with the terrible accident that had killed Sam’s parents on the exact same day.

  Vasily had even taken it upon himself to act as Sam’s representative at their funeral, flying to New Hampshire specifically to pay his respects before returning less than twenty-four hours later to rejoin Miriam by Sam’s bedside.

  Due to the circumstances of her death, Claudette was not laid to rest until sometime later; her body flown home to her native Niger for burial. This time both Vasily and Miriam were in attendance. However, although cordial, Claudette’s family did not spend long with them, indeed they seemed almost reluctant to speak at all, the unsolved murder of their eldest daughter clearly weighing heavily on all of them.

  Miriam thought Claudette’s father in particular appeared to be taking it extremely badly. To her he seemed something of a broken man and her heart went out to him. The death of her best friend had hit her especially hard too so she could empathise with how he was surely feeling.

  Nonetheless, Miriam and Vasily only spent two days in Niger, quickly returning home to be with Sam once more.

  For three whole months they took it in turns to watch over him; listening to the unerring beep of the monitor that Sam was hooked up to as he lay there sleeping in his hospital bed.

  Then very early one brisk autumn morning, when neither of his friends were there, he suddenly woke up.

  ***

  Sam awoke in a flash of anger, his eyes flying wide and an intense rage burning within him.

  He remembered it all vividly; the dreadful ordeal Claudette had endured, the way in which she was finally killed and the sight of her hanging lifelessly, butchered and bleeding, from the tree.

  And he remembered the men who had murdered her. Each and every one of them; their images burned into his brain as if seared there with a branding iron, never to be forgotten.

  He tried to move, his first instinct to find them and punish them for the terrible thing they had done. But once again, just like before, his body would not respond.

  But now he was in a hospital bed, not lying in a pretty glade on a beautiful summer’s day. Instead of knife wounds his limbs bore evidence of the scars where they had once been and the sight of his previously blood-soaked body had been replaced by that of a thin cotton gown.

  For a moment he was confused. Was he not dead?

  He certainly remembered his life being over. Yet there he was, laying in a hospital bed and apparen
tly alive.

  He looked about him; seeing the monitor and wires that led from him to it. A drip was in his arm and the smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils.

  Sam was in a private room which was sparsely decorated, cards from well-wishers dotted around the room along with those of condolence to make the horror of Claudette’s murder all the more real. He was unaware that the messages of sympathy did not only refer to the death of his girlfriend but extended to those of his parents, too.

  A single vase of fresh flowers was all that remained of the many that had previously been sent - and only those because Miriam insisted upon replenishing them regularly.

  Again Sam tried to move. This time his body did react but he was terribly weak, his muscles having wasted away to almost nothing in the three months he had been in his coma.

  He spied a button beside his right hand and pressed it with his thumb. Ten seconds later a nurse appeared.

  After that, a steady procession of nurses and doctors came to see him, none of them revealing the news of his parents for fear of causing a relapse; his condition still frail.

  However, Sam did learn that his wounds had almost fully healed in the time he had been out - although he found it incredibly difficult to comprehend that it had been three months. To him it seemed like just yesterday and the pain of it was still extremely raw.

  What is more, Sam suspected that it would forever remain so.

  According to the doctors his injuries had been extensive; severe head trauma including a cracked skull and a shattered eye socket for which he had undergone several bouts of reconstructive surgery. Miraculously, though, his eye had been saved; the dressing having been removed just two days before.

  He had also suffered a broken collar bone, knee cap and hand as well as four cracked ribs, three broken fingers and severe gashes in both forearms and thighs which had needed numerous stitches, as had a deep stab wound in his side.

  In addition, he had suffered extreme blood loss and had nearly died several times as a result, his condition remaining critical for many days afterwards.

  Yet amazingly he had survived.

  Vasily and Miriam arrived less than thirty minutes after hearing of Sam’s recovery. However, they were kept waiting for three tortuously long hours whilst the medical team carried out a full examination before his friends were permitted in to see him.

  Furthermore, upon completing the tests, the doctor in charge gave Vas permission to break the news to Sam about the death of his parents.

  It was not a task he relished but one he knew had to be done - and better his friend hear it from him than from a complete stranger.

  When finally allowed in, Miriam found it impossible to keep her emotions in check. She was so happy that Sam had come through yet the moment also reminded her of just how much she missed her best friend. Indeed, after rushing in and kissing Sam full on the lips, the tears began flowing down her cheeks in rivers.

  Vasily was less emotional but was still extremely pleased to see Sam awake and alert for the first time in twelve weeks. In fact, it had not been known until that morning if he would ever emerge from the coma at all, so to see him so responsive was an enormous relief.

  Yet, as with Miriam, his happiness was bittersweet.

  The three of them spoke for a while although Sam was obviously very weak. However, Miriam immediately noticed a change in him which she did not put down to tiredness or sadness alone - both of which were entirely understandable under the circumstances.

  But it was more subtle than that, as if the light had somehow gone out in him; that zest for life that he had been so imbued with before.

  It was only natural, of course, after what he had been through, but nevertheless she hoped to see it again one day, but feared she might not.

  Eventually Sam asked after his parents, wondering if they were in the U.K., thinking that they were maybe somewhere nearby and on their way to see him.

  But as he looked into Vasily’s angst-ridden face, he could tell that they were not.

  “What is it, Vas?” he croaked, his voice just as weak as his body. “Please, tell me.”

  Vasily bowed his head and shifted uneasily. Then, with much sadness, he at last told Sam of the tragic accident that had killed his parents. At first he tried to be vague about the specifics in order to spare his friend the horror of it but Sam wanted to know it all and insisted Vas tell him straight, without leaving out any of the details.

  Reluctantly Vas did as instructed, knowing that every word would cause more pain, yet he related everything he knew, concluding with his attendance at the funeral in New Hampshire.

  By the time he had finished his face was wet with tears. Miriam’s too.

  Sam merely stared blankly at the wall, numb with shock.

  When he awoke that morning he thought it impossible to feel any more pain than that which he felt from the loss of Claudette. But he was wrong.

  Indeed, it was almost too much to comprehend - like some terrible nightmare. But it was no dream, his parents were really dead and so was Claudette.

  After Vas had finished speaking they were all quiet for some time, just the muted sobs of Miriam for accompaniment as Sam slowly digested the enormity of what he had been told.

  The anger that had possessed him since emerging from coma had been steadily burning like a well-fed furnace in his belly.

  By now it was glowing hot, fuelling his resolve and focussed squarely on six loathsome individuals.

  Yet he choked it down and kept it hidden from view. The anger was his alone and he wanted to possess it fully.

  “I’m so sorry,” Vas said at last.

  “It’s alright,” Sam said, his voice calm. “I understand. Thank you for telling me, I know it must have been hard - and thanks for going to their funeral, it means a lot.”

  “Of course,” replied Vasily, “It was the very least I could do.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I know this is not the time,” Vas continued, “but when you’re up to it there’s some papers for you to sign. You were their sole heir - their estate, everything they had, they left it all to you. I’ve spoken with their lawyers—”

  “Sure, Vas,” Sam interrupted. “All in good time - I’ll leave the details up to you.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll need to appoint a lawyer of your own—” Vasily persisted.

  “You be my lawyer, Vas. I trust you.”

  “But I’m not qualified yet - you know that.”

  “Then hire someone who is - but you’re in charge. They work for you.”

  “What? Oh, okay. Sure - but—” Vas was going to say more but Miriam gave him a sharp look, silently conveying that Sam had taken on so much already and it was time to give him a break. “Fine,” he said at last, receiving the message loud and clear.

  “You’re a good friend, Vas, thanks,” Sam said wearily, obviously feeling very tired all of a sudden. “You, too, Miri. I don’t know what I would do without either of you.”

  He looked so sad lying there, fighting against the fatigue that was clearly still affecting him and understandably overwhelmed by the devastating news of his parents.

  Miriam’s heart went out to him and she bent over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “It is nothing more than you would do for us. Now get some sleep and we’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” Sam replied, his voice now little more than a whisper. “I just need to rest for a while, that’s—.” The words trailed off completely as he fell asleep but this time Miri and Vas both knew that he would wake again soon.

  So they left him alone to rest.

  ***

  Sam slept through the remainder of that day and awoke again in the early hours of the following morning when it was still dark.

  For a long time he lay there alone with his thoughts, in his private room, pondering al
l that had happened.

  Indeed, as shock gave in to grief, a great dam of emotion burst free and the tears finally came; his shoulders heaving as he sobbed inconsolably with the scale of his loss.

  The realisation that he would never see Claudette’s beautiful smiling face again or meet the child that she had been carrying in her belly was almost too much to bear.

  The horrific accident that had killed his parents as they rushed to be by his side also weighed heavily and the terrible pain of it pierced his aching heart.

  Slowly, as his sobs abated and his tears dried, he began to wonder why it was that he had survived and Claudette had not.

  Her murderers had thought him dead too, so it was not as if they had purposely spared him. Yet by some miracle, by some perverse twist of fate, he had still survived.

  As he lay there in the dark, mulling this over, his thoughts kept harking back to the monstrous acts that had taken place in that glade three months earlier.

  What is more, he could not help but repeatedly play them over and over again in his mind. After a while he found himself focussing particularly on the attackers and mentally noting every detail he could remember about them, hoping it might help the police bring them to justice.

  But what would that justice be? He wondered. Under U.K. law the most they could expect would be life imprisonment - they might also expect to be paroled after a certain number of years. Ten, maybe twenty years then out and free again.

  For what they had done, would that be justice?

  If the murder had been committed in America then they might expect a death sentence, depending on whichever state the crime had been perpetrated in - possibly via the electric chair or lethal injection, almost certainly after a few years of lounging comfortably on Death Row.

  Would that be justice enough for raping and butchering Claudette?

  In Sam’s opinion, it definitely would not.

  As he considered all these things, the first rays of autumn sunshine began to creep in through the slanted window blinds to signal the break of day.

  The golden sunlight inched across the room until, at last, it was shining on his bed, bathing him in its warm glow.