Insecure

by Michael Shevlin

  ‘If it wasn’t for me… Rich, wouldn’t have been involved…’ he put his head in his hands.

  Pat was being shafted by Barney, we all were. Now he had to carry this around with him, like I did.

  ‘So, they connected Barney with the money?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, that was easy, it’s hard to hide fifteen million…is it right that Rich was tortured?’ I nodded. Pat shook his head, ‘I’m so sorry, Dan, I never realized that what I did would lead to Rich…’ he sniffed some tears away, ‘I’m so, so sorry…’

  In the end Rich and I were a gift to Barney, we did the job so he didn’t have to. He always intended to kill us, make us go away, clean up the loose ends as he put it. Did I kill him, or did Barney? As Raymond puts it: is it the person who pulls the trigger or the person who creates the situation? It might take me a while to work it out, but I think I should stay around for a while to at least find out

  ‘It’s not your fault, Pat,’ I said shaking my head, ‘Barney killed him, not you…’

  ‘Why don’t you blame me?’ I shrugged. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Where else could it have come from?’ he nodded, leaving it at that. It was vague enough. He wiped away the tears and drank from his glass.

  ‘How are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Not great….’

  ‘If there’s anything I can do, anything…’ I nodded.

  Pat pointed to my hand, ‘what happened?’ he looked a bit closer, ‘jesus, Dan, have you lost your little finger?’ he looked shocked. I held my hand up, appraising it.

  ‘A little accident with a power saw,’ he grimaced, ‘I hardly notice that it’s gone anymore.’ I actually felt it’s presence more than I would have imagined. It seemed to be still there and it still felt weird holding coffee cups and glasses. Thank god it wasn’t my right, so not many people noticed it.

  ‘I heard you lost your job as well…’ I shrugged again, it seemed a lifetime ago, ‘if you’re short for cash or anything…’ I shook my head, it would be weird to take money off of Pat, it would almost be Barney’s money and that would feel dirty.

  ‘Something will come along,’ I said, ‘I can feel it.’

  Carrie looked good in a suit. I’d tanked the last of my MasterCard at Gucci and got Carrie a trouser suit to die for. She looked fantastic, but so she should considering the price.

  We’d hired a Maybach for the day and it was officially the most expensive thing I’d ever done. I had to use the house for security. Seriously. A car shouldn’t be worth more than someone’s house. But it did come with a driver, that was something…or they just didn’t want to risk some idiot twanging it on a bollard – which was a possibility, you could have a game of squash in the back.

  We glided to a stop, the engine a gentle purr, the loudest sound was the air-con keeping us cool in the late spring sunshine.

  ‘You ready?’ asked Carrie. I nodded, took a deep breath and tapped on the dividing glass. The driver opened the door and we got out, momentarily blinded by the sun. I put on a pair of shades (Gucci as well – they were on sale) and strode to the door. Carrie opened it for me. The receptionist gave us the once over, we passed muster. She asked us to look into a security camera for a snap shot. Security was tight.

  ‘David Venko,’ said Carrie, ’he’s here for…’

  ‘We know, I’ll show you through,’ the receptionist led us down a hallway and into an office. Two leather chairs were arranged for us. Two men got up when we entered and they extended their hands which I shook.

  ‘Mr Venko, a great pleasure to meet you,’ said the older one. I nodded and sat down, nodding to Carrie who sat down as well. Coffee cups were already arranged on a silver tray, the younger one poured coffee for all of us.

  ‘Have you lived outside of Russia long?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve never lived there,’ I said. Carrie lifted a briefcase and flipped the latches. The younger one seemed to flinch as each opened.

  ‘Let’s get the formalities out of the way, shall we?’ she handed over my passport and account details. The older one placed them on the blotter, he pressed a button on the phone. A tall woman entered and picked up the passport and the account details.

  ‘We do have to be careful,’ he said.

  ‘I understand. Normally my accountant deals with this, but…’ I said, ‘…it’s hard to find good accountants.’ The older man chuckled, and following his lead, the other laughed as well. There was a buzz from the phone, the older one picked it up and listened and then replaced the handset. His hawkish smile indicated we were in business.

  ‘So, Mr Venko, what can Leberman’s do for you today?’ said Charles, spreading his hands on the blotter, ‘I can see that you hold a significant amount in cash and securities with us, and…’ he looked down at a bound document in front of him, ‘…it’s been inactive for a few years.’ I looked at Carrie and she gave me the slightest smile.

  ‘I would like to make a withdrawal.’ I said.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michael is a stay at home dad working 50% and when not organising fights between various Ben 10 aliens, naked Barbies and Bakugans he designs and animates spots for television and writes for a couple of blogs about...stuff. He also designs websites...illustrates things and is even on the radio. An all round, jobbing creative.

  He's the wrong side of 40, his eyesight sucks, he lives in Switzerland, has two children, is married, skis well, is a good cook and still plays video games.