Signal Point

by Marcus Alden

  ‘Within 48 hours––, his empire will have fallen––, and soon you’ll be sampling the delights of prison.’ Adrian coughed.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Harrier shouted. Adrian gestured towards the laptop.

  ‘You know––, one email can do more damage than a missile.’ Adrian winced a bitter smile. He coughed up blood. Harrier looked worried for the first time.

  ‘What have you done?’ Enraged, Harrier pulled the table lamp from its socket and tightened the flex around his fists. Adrian squirmed back further on the bloodied bed and attempted to stand, but he had no strength left. He stumbled to the floor. Harrier leapt over the bed and pounced on him wrapping the thin cable around Adrian’s neck. He pulled back with force squeezing the breath out of him. Adrian struggled with what energy he had left but couldn’t escape the tight cord. Powerless he started to lose consciousness. Adrian tried to gasp, but there was nothing there. The grip intensified, cutting into his skin. Nothing but thumping pain, flashing in his eyes, and then blackout. With blood oozing from his side, Adrian’s head slumped forward lifeless.

  Harrier removed the lamp cable from around Adrian’s neck; the body fell forwards and smacked onto the fireplace hearth. Harrier got out a pair of disposable gloves from his jacket and wiped the lamp clean from fingerprints. He dashed over to the laptop on the other side of the room and removed the power cable. Harrier shoved them both into Adrian’s bag. Gripping the bag, he checked himself in the mirror analysing if any signs of blood could be seen on his clothes. His reflection stared back, defiant and desensitised by the normality of death. Harrier wiped the door handle clean, hung the do not disturb sign on the outside of it, and left the room.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Glasgow, Manchester, London; where should we go?’ Dan said raising his voice above the chaotic noise of the station terminal. They paused underneath the departure boards. ‘Does it matter, as long as we lose him?’ A decision had to be made, another second and Hawk could be visible. Sarah read the destinations and saw something which gave her an idea. ‘Platform 19, hurry.’ She pulled Dan’s arm without hesitation and ran in the direction of the platform. They rushed through the concourse. Without turning to check if Hawk was following, they pushed through the crowds. The waiting train hummed with its doors open and passengers filtered into the carriages. They scrambled onto the train. Dan pressed the glowing button for the toilet.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding, another toilet?’ Sarah said.

  ‘Have you got a better idea of where he can’t see us?’ The curved door slid along its track and Sarah locked it hoping Hawk hadn’t seen where they had gone. ‘So, what’s your plan? I assume you have a plan?’ Dan said looking at Sarah for answers.

  ‘My Nana’s cottage, it’s on the East Coast near Whitby.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t involve her, she might get hurt,’ Dan said.

  ‘Trust me, she won’t mind,’ Sarah said rolling her eyes.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘She’s dead. Nobody has lived there for years. The cottage is too dilapidated to rent out so it’s just sat there getting beaten by the North Sea. I used to spend my summer holidays there so I’m very sentimental about it, but Mum and Dad want to sell it. I could see myself living there one day so I keep begging them not to hand it over to some developer that will rip its soul out.’

  ‘Oh, I see, I hope you manage to keep it in the future. We need to lie low for a bit and get some space to start unravelling this all, so it sounds perfect for now.’

  ‘So, are we going to sit out the whole journey in here taking turns to sit on the loo?’ Sarah said.

  ‘Of course not, when the train gets moving we can get seats.’ Someone banged on the toilet door. Dan and Sarah looked at each other panicked. Seconds later they heard a mother telling her child off and then it was quiet again.

  ‘Since I met you I’ve become paranoid, flinching at the slightest thing,’ Sarah said.

  ‘That makes two of us.’ Dan paused. ‘Do you know what most people get up to in train toilets?’

  ‘Yeah and we’re not doing that here,’ Sarah said. Dan laughed.

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. You know most normal people just go to the toilet, which is exactly what I need to do. So, either face that way with no peeking, or give me some privacy, please.’

  ‘I’ll take option b. I’ve had enough of smelly toilets.’ Sarah left the cubicle as the train pulled out of the station and checked that she saw no sign of the thug before she sat down. She stared out of the window and drifted away into her own thoughts.

  ‘The ticket guy is coming,’ Dan said bringing her back into the present.

  ‘Oh wait, I have a student card.’ Sarah produced a weathered brown wallet from her jacket but dropped it on the floor. It landed open with a photo of her and a man tucked into the clear pocket. Dan, who stood in the aisle, picked it up and couldn’t help but see the photo.

  ‘Who’s this, your boyfriend?’ The question punctured his hopes as the words formed and his thoughts raced to whether she had said anything before about it. Had she not been single after all? Had all their banter just been platonic conversation? Her pause only made it worse.

  ‘Yes––, I mean no, not anymore.’ Sarah looked flustered.

  ‘So why do you carry a photo of you together in your wallet?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it, ok?’ Sarah rebuffed his question in a sharp tone.

  ‘I was only asking––.’

  ‘And I’m only telling. Look, he’s dead and that’s something I have to live with every day. Now can you give me my wallet back, please?’ Sarah took the wallet from his outstretched hand and got out her rail card. Sarah stood up.

  ‘Sarah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean––.’

  ‘I know, I’m just tired of being chased by gun-wielding lunatics and having all this chaos around. Please, can you just give me some space?’ Sarah walked away into the corridor. Noise from a hen party in the carriage ahead and rows of pink haired women in fancy dress deterred her from finding a seat, so she leant against the wall for stability from the shifting carriages. Sarah opened her wallet and looked again at the picture, her eyes became bleary and a tear fell down her face. She kicked the wall in frustration.

  ‘Why can’t I let you go?’ Sarah said looking at the photo. There hadn’t been anyone since him; nobody had been able to reach her. She stood thinking and turned her head to the window of the carriage. She could just see the back of Dan’s head. Something deep inside scared her more than thugs and bullets: the feeling that she needed to let go of the past and move forward. Sarah took the photo out of her wallet and kissed it.

  Dan noticed her reddened eyes when she came back to sit with him.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been clinging to the past for too long,’ Sarah said.

  ‘It’s fine, you don’t have to explain anything. I’m sorry I said anything. I guess, why I was really asking was––, I wanted to know––, if I had a chance––, with you I mean. When I saw that photo I––. You’re quirky and gorgeous and not at all self-obsessed and I love that,’ Dan said.

  ‘Dan, I don’t know what to say.’ Sarah reddened.

  ‘You could say yes to a date when this is all over?’ He had said it and without stuttering.

  ‘Will there be thugs, and guns, and random train journeys?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Hmm, probably not,’ Dan said.

  ‘Then I accept!’ Sarah said. A smile crept across Dan’s face. Maybe he wasn’t such an unlovable idiot after all, he thought.

  ‘Good, but until then the best I can do is a cup of tea that tastes like it’s been strained through a pair of tights. Can I interest you?’

  ‘That is a tempting offer I know, but I’m fine thanks,’ Sarah said.

  ‘How about a hot chocolate but minus the chocolate powder?’

  ‘So, it’s just hot water?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Well, pretty much.’

  ‘You’re makin
g everything sound so delicious; I suppose I can’t be fussy. A watery hot chocolate it is then.’

  * * * *

  The automated voice announced their next stop. Dan looked at Sarah, who slept against his shoulder. He watched her soft breathing in and out and the stillness of her eyes. Her brown hair smelled of coconut, he thought. Dan didn’t want this moment to end, though he knew it had to. With reluctance, Dan tapped Sarah’s shoulder and she woke up hazy and sat up straight.

  ‘Did I fall asleep?’ Sarah asked. Dan nodded.

  ‘We’re at Whitby.’

  Heavy rain beat down onto the arched stone porch that shielded the entrance to the station. Dan and Sarah huddled underneath and watched the rain bounce off the ground. Thunder rattled in the sky.

  ‘There’s no way we can walk it’s too far; we’ll have to get a taxi.’ In the few seconds it took to get in the car, they were soaked. ‘Robin Hoods Bay please,’ Sarah said to the driver and then turned to Dan. ‘I know, it’s a weird name. Nana always used to make up stories about it.’

  The taxi stopped at the back of a house by a low stone wall with a small gate set into it. On the gate post was a wonky sign with the weathered words ‘Poacher’s Pocket’ engraved on it. The taxi’s wipers struggled to clear the windscreen of the persistent rain; it swashed down the edges of the glass in rivers. Sarah paid the driver and, with no choice but to get wet, they got out into the downpour. She unlatched the gate and they ran to the front door as the blue taxi reversed up the narrow lane swerving between pot holes and wheelie bins.

  ‘You do have a key, don’t you?’ Dan shouted above the noise of the thunder and a wind chime that thrashed about and played all the notes at the same time.

  ‘Don’t worry, we can get in.’ Sarah felt the bricks under the windowsill until she found the one loose one. She pulled the brick out and fetched the key hidden behind it. Water soaked through their clothes with every second that passed. Sarah unlocked the pale blue door and they both rushed in to escape the storm.

  They stood in a small kitchen with a low ceiling and a tiled floor that the rain water collected on in puddles. The stormy sky cast a dull blanket over the day which made the room dark. Dan looked about in the half-light while Sarah disappeared into another room. On the left, old cupboards were wedged between the two walls. To the right, a round drop-leaf table was pushed against the wall with two wooden stools tucked under it, and behind it was the door Sarah had left by.

  ‘Aha, that’s better,’ she said flicking on the light switch. The single bulb that dangled from the ceiling without a shade shone and made shadows on the ceiling. Dan could see that the kitchen looked tired and had a distinctive feel of an older generation. There was a ceramic chicken on the worktop, and a faded tea towel with a map of Cornwall on it pinned to the pantry door. ‘Go and have a bath and get warm. You can put your clothes in the dryer,’ Sarah said.

  Dan walked through the low door which led into a pokey square lounge. The room was not big enough for the furniture it had in it. The window, which the fierce rain hit, looked out onto a tiny patch of garden at the front of the house with the view beyond obscured by thick grey mist. Dan unlatched the door by the side of the sofa and climbed the steep treads. A musty smell hung around in the carpet and cold air met him as he got to the top.

  Dan poked his head around all the doorways. Ahead of the stairs was a small bedroom that looked down onto the back garden. In the middle was the bathroom, and, on the other side, a small double room. All of the rooms had not been decorated for at least forty years, he thought. Dan shuffled into the bathroom. Rain pounded on the skylight. Taking off all his damp clothes, Dan waited for the pink bath to fill up. Dan piled his clothes up outside the door. He called down to Sarah and shut the latched door behind him.

  Around the sides of the bath were tubs and bottles of bubble bath, body lotion, and talcum powder covered in thick dust. Dan squeezed some bubble bath into the steamy water. The scent, which was supposed to be rose petals, smelled more like stale cabbage, he thought. Dan sunk into the water which soothed his cold skin and revived its colour from dull white to a soft pink. The warmth was so comforting that Dan lay back and closed his eyes listening only to the sound of the rain as it hit the glass and ran down the roof into the guttering.

  ‘Dan, are you ready yet?’ He must have fallen asleep, as Sarah’s words were distant. Aware of being spoken to but not being conscious Dan heard the voice again. This time he woke up. ‘I want to get dry, how long are you going to be?’ Dan looked around the room for something familiar and saw the dusty bottles of bubble bath. Recognising his surroundings, he leapt up out of the bath splashing the water as he moved.

  ‘I think I fell asleep, sorry, I’ll be quick.’

  ‘Ok, your clothes are by the door,’ Sarah said. Dan grabbed a towel. The plughole glugged down the cold water as the rain persisted to fall on the window. When he was ready Sarah switched places and he went downstairs to sit on the sofa, which like most of the furnishings in the lounge, was dark brown and covered in a gaudy pattern.

  As he sat back Dan felt something poking into his leg from his pocket; then he remembered. Adrian had thrust a USB key in his hand before leaving and in the rush at the station he had forgotten about it. Dan pulled out the USB key by the lanyard and paused to look at it. It was white with a thin red line around the edge.

  ‘The tumble dryer––.’ How could I be so stupid?’ Dan hoped the vital information hadn’t been destroyed by the heat. He looked for Sarah’s laptop bag, but it wasn’t there. Dan ran upstairs and searched for it.

  ‘Is everything ok?’ Sarah called out from the bathroom.

  ‘It’s the key. I forgot about the key!’ Dan said.

  ‘What are you on about?’ Dan didn’t hear her as he ran back down. He reached the bottom tread of the stairs and remembered the laptop had been in Sarah’s car when it exploded. They hadn’t even gone back to check on the bag, but he thought it impossible that it could have survived the blaze. He sat down on the sofa to wait for Sarah, twiddling the USB key in his hands and thinking of a solution.

  Dan was aware of Sarah moving about in the room above. The floorboards creaked and a dull thumping sound moved from one side of the room to the other and back again until it was replaced with her footsteps down the stairs.

  ‘I couldn’t hear what were you saying, have you found something?’ Sarah said.

  ‘The USB key. We haven’t looked at what’s on it.’ Sarah’s face changed as Dan’s had done, and the same urgency triggered her to look for the laptop. ‘It burned remember, along with the car,’ Dan said.

  ‘Oh yeah, I’d forgotten that.’

  ‘I don’t suppose your Nan had a computer we could use?’

  ‘My Nan? Have a computer? No of course not, she got confused with the remote controls. My parents might have put one––.’ Sarah trailed off and started looking through the cupboards. ‘My mum is technology mad; now she will be a liability when she’s old. Already she spends so much time updating her status and bidding on things she doesn’t need. I can see it now, reminding her to take her tablet will result in her picking up her touchscreen, not her medication. That thing is more part of our family than the dog.’ Sarah went to look in other cupboards. ‘If there is a laptop here, it won’t be in a sensible place.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Dan asked.

  ‘Because Dad is so security conscious he’s probably put it somewhere weird.’ Sarah returned holding an old slab of a laptop. ‘Told you; it was in the airing cupboard. At least it’s better than nothing.’ Sarah plonked the laptop down on the table.

  The seconds felt like minutes as they waited for the slow processor to boot up. Dan watched the screen icon as it whirled round. The home screen loaded and he plugged the USB key in. A box popped up with a single folder. He clicked it open not knowing what to expect.

  Rows of folders, files, and thumbnails loaded line by line on the screen. He examined the file names from left to right paying cl
ose attention for anything that might signal a clue, but the files were extensive and incoherent in order. Articles and research were jumbled with photos, saved URL links, and recorded memos. Some of the filenames made no sense to Dan or were just named by the date in which they were created. The only part that made sense to him was that all the files were in alphabetical order. Though this in itself didn’t mean anything as Adrian hadn’t saved them in alphabetical order so the jumbling continued.

  ‘It’s going to take time to sift through,’ Dan said and then sighed. It had not been the instant insight he had wanted, the definitive shaft of light into a murky swamp, but, rather, it had solidified the idea that everything was a challenge. In order to achieve the result Dan would have to keep ploughing through the dead ends.

  ‘There must be something he wanted us to see. Why else would you trust a stranger with your personal files unless it mattered?’ Dan said.

  Dan started with the first file which turned out to be a report Adrian had written on financial crisis and the banking industry. Next was a dictated audio file of notes about the takeover of a social network. Adrian had introduced himself as a journalist and these were his works in progress; his digital scraps of paper; his thoughts. The key to finding information about Atmore required more understanding of Adrian’s way of thinking, Dan thought.

  Dan clicked another audio file; Adrian’s voice was mechanical as he listed the various things to remember. Dan had listened to enough of his voice to be familiar with it, so when he read through other articles he could hear his tone of voice as if he was speaking them.

  ‘It has a ton of personal files on it, but they’re so disorganised I can’t find anything. I need to go through every single one,’ Dan said.

  ‘What can I do to help?’ Sarah asked. Dan smiled still looking at the screen. He turned away from reading it and looked toward her.

  ‘I don’t want to offend you, but there is one thing you could do,’ Dan said.

  ‘Hmm, you’re not likely to offend me, go on.’ Sarah gestured.