by James Hudson
I got out of her coupe and shut the door. My legs became rubbery. I walked to my Jaguar. What a bitch!
The next day, Saturday, I sold my car at a bargain price. Then I withdrew money from my bank account. Nobody asked me about anything. Probably my face was so grim that everybody thought a relative of mine had died or something.
So, I’m doing this recording three hours later after I raised money. I’ve just called Lana, and she informed me that she’d gone to Paris for a weekend with him. She’s taking my money on Monday.
I managed to persuade her to start acting right now. She promised that she would try to steal the phone book in the hotel. But if she succeeds, I’ll have to pay the whole sum. I assured her that I would come to her apartment at 6 a.m. on Monday with 300 grand if she gets the data. What else could I say?
I immediately called Walter Schmidt and told him that I’d probably provide him with contacts. He was so excited that he promised to give me a million bucks if he has the contacts of some very influential people from the Middle East. Then he added that he would like to talk to me soon.
I think he wants me to leave my job and start working for him. That would be great. I would be absolutely happy to eliminate my boss, this creepy animal, this scumbag. I really want to betray him… And I would sell this slut, Lana, as a slave somewhere to Central Africa. Both of them will suffer very soon.
8. Three Letters
Here Jason’s recordings stopped.
George Hartley was sitting in the canteen. He was in shock. His mind worked fast, trying to digest all the information he received.
I was a mighty financial player. Nonetheless, I rejected the proposal of Walter Schmidt. Why? Was it too risky? But what about my connections in the Middle East? This guy Jason couldn’t find the details of my trips.
I worked here in this skyscraper. I preferred an authoritative style of leadership. My employees earned a lot of money. But obviously, they had to keep their mouths shut while I was making millions.
Jason spied on me. He was probably a single employee who had no fear. He managed to sell the data once. But what happened on that Monday? Did Lana steal my phone contacts? How did Jason pay her? Did Walter Schmidt receive the information he wanted? Did he try to kill me? Killed that woman in the wheelchair? Not enough… just not enough information.
George sighed.
Well… Jason mentioned a computer in the server room where he must’ve hidden some top-secret information. Maybe something besides the air tickets?
George ascended to the Floor 37 and entered the server room. Silence, loneliness, dust everywhere. He ransacked the iron cabinet and found a screwdriver. He weighed up about ten computers trying to define what was the lightest. He found it.
Having removed the side panel of the case, George extracted a dusty paper folder. He sat on the chair and opened it. His face pulled. Most documents turned out to be printed web-pages with financial news. That was not interesting. Ten minutes later, George found several printed emails that instantly drew his attention.
The first letter had been sent to Saudi Arabia and addressed to the CEO of the Saudi Arabian Oil Company. Here it was:
“Dear Mr. Hassan! I hate all the diplomatic niceties. Let’s talk business. I called you yesterday and made you an irresistible offer. But you dodged to give me a straight answer. Now you’re ignoring me. I’m not gonna play your rules, Mr. Hassan. I’m coming to your country the day after tomorrow to meet with an interested party – a significant market player. They are ready to deal with me. You still have time to invite me to your place. Otherwise, you can expect a dramatic change in oil price.”
George grinned. I’m not surprised that a lot of people hated me and wanted to kill me. I must’ve been an unbearably tough dealmaker. Or was it the only possible way to survive in the financial world? I had to be insensitive and rude. Very interesting… I must’ve played a not insignificant role in oil price regulation. Otherwise, how dared I to carry on negotiations in that manner? George chuckled. I must’ve been… reckless person. I raped the girl of that young man just because I suspected him of spying. I almost blackmailed one of the most influential businessmen in the world. That’s what I know about myself by now.
George took the second letter. North Korea? No shit!
“Dear Mr. Kwak! I deeply appreciate you spared a few minutes and replied to my letter. That would be wonderful if we could cooperate with each other. We could significantly contribute to the maintenance and promotion of international peace and security. I can’t wait to meet you and your family to discuss all the details of our mutual agreement.”
Wow! This is an entirely different attitude, George grinned. Unexpectedly. That means I could be a diplomatic person. Or… was I flattering the North Korean leader? I could screw one person and prefer cooperating with another. There were lots of other CEOs of oil plants, but in the case with North Korea, I had no alternative. Very intriguing, though.
He took the third letter and twitched. George had received just before Christmas.
“I wish you die. I hate you so much. You ruined everything. I still remember your filthy hands sliding over my body while you were whispering in my ear to buy Brent Crude Oil Futures, to get a loan, to sell my apartment… And just buy that fucking oil! You were telling me to trust you.
I hate you, bastard! You know how my life has changed since then. You know everything! That I live by the side of the road in a box in fucking India! All I want is to cut off your fingers, your ears, and your tongue! And then leave you alone in a cell where rats would be eating your naked body!”
George put the letter aside. That was cruel. But he understood that he’d obviously done a terrible thing to the woman. I didn’t shun any means to make money. I should write her a letter of excuse or help her when I get out of here.
George walked back and forth, pondering over the situation.
A secret wing… All workers left the skyscraper through a secret door. Where could it be? Here? I don’t think so. Jason often stayed here in the evenings. No one would go through the server room every morning and evening. The upper floor, my office? I would hardly let everybody go through it. Canteen or the chill-out zone? Perhaps, but this would be ridiculous too for me… Oh, yeah! I bet there were two entrances – one was for my deputies and me, on the upper floors. And the public entrance was somewhere on the lower floors. But where?
9. Escape
George Hartley left the server room and headed for the stairs. He was thinking about his future. I’m an officially dead person. That means even if I find my passport and show it to someone, nobody would believe me. Would people recognize me on the streets? Then George frowned. To be officially dead means I can do anything I want, and nobody would charge me with a crime. I don’t have to pay taxes, fines, no duties at all.
But along with it – no rights. I can be killed like a mosquito, and nobody would investigate my death. I’m officially dead…
Meanwhile, George reached the upper floor. I wonder why they didn’t write about this woman in the newspapers. She’s dead, but nobody cares. Where are the police, the detectives, noisy reporters? He sighed and pushed the metal door to his office.
The next moment, he was petrified. A tall, dark figure was standing on the knees in front of the dead woman. The face of the figure was hidden by the hood. George noticed a glistening blade of the knife covered with blood.
For some reason, George wasn’t afraid of the stranger. On the contrary, the stranger was shocked to see George. The knife dropped out of his hand. George instantly dashed to him. But in the very last moment, the stranger jumped and hit George in the chest. George was knocked off his feet. He glanced at the stranger and noticed that it was a young man about twenty. His eyes under the hood were full of horror. The young man made a dart for the door, pushed it, and ran out of the office.
George slowly raised on his feet. No need to chase him, he thought. They are probably outside waiting for the young man. And I won’t kil
l anyone anyway. If I’d been that George Hartley… I’ll probably never find out whether or not I killed anyone in my life.
All I know, I need to get out of here as quickly as possible. This young fellow must have had no idea how to respond to my resurrection. But how long will it take for his boss to decide to eliminate me?
George came up to the woman in the wheelchair. The scene looked horrendous. The woman’s stomach was torn apart. The young man tried to find something inside her…
Overcoming the disgust, George squatted down and saw a USB flash drive on the floor. That’s it! The young man didn’t finish his job. He didn’t flinch from performing an autopsy on the body, but he was just flabbergasted to see me. What a fool!
George put the flash drive in his inside pocket.
“I bet he was a forensic pathologist who’d been sent here to find the documents,” he muttered thoughtfully. “Somehow, they knew that the woman in the wheelchair… had swallowed the USB flash-drive before she was poisoned. Oh, shit… It’s all so complicated.”
George quickly left the office. He descended to the Floor 47. There he saw what he wanted.
Right in the place where he had found the blood spot earlier, the corner of the carpet was turned back. There was a safe right in the floor. Also, a part of the wall near the sofa was slid aside, and a narrow path led downstairs.
George sat on the floor and examined the safe. Obviously, the young man had tried to open it. But he’d had no key.
“A flash-drive!” George exclaimed when he saw a USB port. He inserted the flash drive, and a small metal lid clicked and opened. With trembling hands, George extracted a black leather wallet and a folder with documents. The wallet was fat. George glanced inside. Money! To time to count. Probably, these are my savings for a rainy day. The folder was thin, but George couldn’t avert his eyes from the word ‘Classified’ on it. He grinned. I wasn’t wrong about my past. I really was a hard-working man.
Then he stepped through the open doorway. The first step toward freedom. The stairs led to the narrow corridor. Another corner. And then he saw a turnstile ahead. And there was a security booth on the right side of the turnstile. Everything seemed quiet. But George felt the danger. He squeezed the secret folder pressing it to the chest. He slowly approached the booth and took a peek inside.
There was broken glass everywhere. Two big men were lying on the floor right behind the booth. Blood drenched their uniforms. George jumped over the turnstile and touched the men with his leg. They were both dead.
“Is it possible that that young man had shot them?” George muttered. Something made him search the guys. He found two pistols and slowly put them in the pockets of his coat. No way I will ever pull the trigger, he thought.
He reached a big metal door and pressed the button to open it. Light! There was an electricity in the main wing of the skyscraper. George saw public elevators. They were working. He tucked the folder under his arm and pressed the call button.
A minute later, going down in the elevator, George started panicking. What if people recognize me? I can’t recognize anyone! Where actually should I go? What is my home address?
The doors slowly opened. Eighth floor. Shit! A tall blonde in an elegant white suit walked in and stared at George.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asked anxiously. “You’re shaking! Fever?”
George nodded silently and closed his eyes. What could be worse to attract anyone right now?
“You got lucky! I’m a doctor!” the woman exclaimed. “One of your colleagues had a fever too. I’ve just visited him. So… let me touch your forehead. I think you—”
“No, thank you!” George cried out. “I don’t need anything!”
“Sir, I understand you don’t have time to take care of your health. My husband used to work here. He was very busy all the time. Two days ago, he changed his job after what had happened—”
Fortunately, the elevator stopped again. George squeezed the pistols in his pockets. Fifth floor!
As the doors opened, he ran out stone-faced, heavy-hearted.
“Two days ago, he changed the job,” he repeated silently. “I bet he was one of my employees. Thank God this woman didn’t know me.”
Running down the stairs, he suddenly felt confident. I can’t die right here. I survived, and that means… Nature or God or whatever or whoever else wanted me to live. He grinned. This thought comforted him, although his heart was still hammering.
He reached the lobby soon and saw no less than thirty men and women in expensive suits, coats, and dresses. Some of them were talking to each other, another – were waiting for someone, throwing cursory glances around the lobby.
George started walking toward the exit smiling frigidly. He felt he looked weird. Nice and easy, just leave the building, he thought. Nobody cares about me. I’m not a shy girl who is running to school.
“Sir, do you work here?” someone asked him. Low, deep voice.
Shit! Don’t turn your head! George ordered himself. They didn’t recognize me!
“Sorry, I’m terribly late!” he muttered in a thick voice.
“Sir, may I see your passport?”
That must be security guards. They definitely recognized me! They'd seen me before! George gritted his teeth. Sweat was running down his back.
10. Chase
George Hartley managed to slip out of the skyscraper. The security guy didn’t follow him. George expected to see a wide road, a noisy street, a lot of people, but instead, in front of him, there was a huge, almost empty square.
Oh, my enemies can be everywhere, George frowned. He scanned the people ahead of him. Most of them were waiting for someone being glued to their cell phones. If only I could have a smartphone…
He started quickly walking across the paving slabs toward the road far ahead. No sign of people who could be potential killers.
“Sir, excuse me…” a lovely female voice asked George.
Did they send a woman? George thought.
“Could you take a picture of us?!”
George heard a distinct Asian accent. He glanced to his left, not slowing down.
A young Chinese couple. Just tourists who obviously came to look at one of the tallest buildings in London. The girl handed him the cell phone.
Suddenly, an idea came to George in a flash. He stopped and took the device.
“Look, I can’t understand a word!” he exclaimed, staring at the hieroglyphs on the screen.
“Oh, just press the button on the right side!” the Chinese girl exclaimed.
“All right,” George nodded and pointed the camera at the smiling couple.
Right at the moment, he noticed him. A tall bald man in a black mackintosh about 100 feet from him – he was quickly approaching.
George took the pictures and handed the phone to the girl.
“Please help me now!” he whispered loudly.
“Of course, sir!”
“Please walk with me to the road. And call me a taxi!”
“OK. You got lost, sir?”
“Well, I have poor eyesight. I’m almost blind.” And George narrowed his eyes, trying to look like Chinese. “One more thing! Please speak Chinese as fast as you can. If a man comes up to us, don’t pay attention to him.”
The girl smiled at him. The young man frowned.
“Please call me a cab, guys! I really need to go away!”
“All right. Let’s go, sir!” the girl took him by the hand. The young man hesitated, but then took George by the other hand. They started moving toward the road.
George could feel the bald man was chasing them, rapidly shortening distance.
“Excuse me, sir! I need to talk to you!” George heard a rude male voice behind his back.
The Chinese friends played the roles excellently. They started chattering so loud and fast that one could think that a hundred people were speaking all at once. The girl took her phone in hand and started tapping the screen. George tried to repeat some
words after the Chinese.
“Shit, I must be wrong or…” the bald man muttered uncertainly. George noticed that he extracted his cell phone and started calling.
He wouldn’t kill right here, would he? George thought. Or they don’t give a damn at all. They’d already buried me once. What would bother them to repeat the ceremony?
Then he noticed an entrance to the London Underground – the Tube. Of course, I could break into a run … But no, too many people. The underground is not an option for me.
“Did you call the cab?” he asked the Chinese girl in a low voice.
“I’ve just called them, sir. But they didn’t understand me. I spoke Chinese, sir!”
“Goddamn it! Why?” George hissed.
“You told me to speak Chinese, sir!” she explained.
“Holy Molly!” George sighed.
Meanwhile, they approached a wide busy street. George quickly glanced back and noticed the bald man standing only thirty feet away from him. He was glued to his phone.
He won’t hesitate to kill me right here, jump in a car and drive away, George thought. I must go now!
He looked at a hundred cars passing him by. He was about to draw one of his pistols and aim at any driver. But then he noticed a taxi – the famous black-colored London taxicab TX-4. He dashed to the car, swinging his arms.
The driver slowed down and stopped at the curb.
George hopped in and shouted, “Let’s roll! I’m in a great hurry! Straight ahead! I’ll pay you triple!”
“OK, OK, sir!” The driver hit the gas. The engine roared, and they set off. “Actually, I got used to people working here in the skyscraper. They are always in a hurry, sir, I swear!” the driver giggled.
“Just leave this place! Let’s go to the highway!”
George didn’t avert his eyes from the bald man who was running after the cab.
“Very odd man, actually,” the driver grunted. “Can’t he see that the cab is occupied?”