The Simpatico Series Box Set (3 books in 1)

by Dermot Davis

  “Well, the good news is you can’t lose your job, right? Bad news, you get sent back to the archives,” Lily said, polishing off her drink. “Here,” she said, holding out her empty glass. “Hit me again, sailor.”

  “You got it,” Andrew said, quickly grabbing her glass and moving to the drinks cabinet.

  “Hey, not that I’d be disappointed, don’t get me wrong,” she said, her words beginning to slur. “I like you,” she admitted. “I liked working with you.”

  “I liked working with you,” he said, quickly replenishing the drinks.

  “Did I ever tell you that I missed you?” she asked. “That I missed seeing that goofy face of yours?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Andrew said, giving her the refill. “You never mentioned that.”

  “I thought we shared something,” she said, sounding drunk and flirtatious. “Like we had a connection. Didn’t you?”

  “Totally,” Andrew agreed, taking a decent sip of his drink to encourage her to do likewise.

  “I can see through you,” she then said with a girlie voice, her index finger extended, her arm swaying to and fro. “You act all innocent, like you’re this goody-two-shoes but I know that you’re not. You have everyone else fooled, though, don’t you? Your little girlie-girl that looks up to you like you’re some sort of demi-god?” she asked with a high-pitched voice. “Shit, you probably have the boss fooled as well, don’t you, you scheming so-and-so?”

  “I wish,” Andrew said lamely as he took another drink.

  “I need to sleep,” she then said, looking like she was struggling to keep her eyes open. “You okay to drive home, trooper?” she asked as she rose to her feet and swayed wildly. “You know what?” she then said, holding onto the arm of the sofa to steady herself. “You shouldn’t drive home in your state,” she said, moving the pillows about on the sofa. “You should crash here, on this piece of shit sofa. I keep meaning to replace this crap but have you priced sofas, lately?”

  “No,” Andrew answered.

  “I need to lie down before the apartment takes me to Oz,” she said cryptically as she wobbled into her bedroom and crashed face down on her bed.

  “You okay, Lily?” Andrew asked when he walked into her room having waited a few minutes for her sleep to deepen. Seeing that she was lost to the world, he quickly emptied into the sink what was left of both of their drinks. He then riffled through her purse and pulled out two sets of keys which he stuffed into his pockets. Taking the bottle of ‘rum’ with him, he took one last look at her in her motionless state and then left her bedroom and the apartment.

  Driving quickly to the archives building, Andrew parked on the street. Before leaving the rental car, he put on a black hoodie and a pair of black gloves. Now, dressed all in black, his face obscured, he grabbed a black folder and walked to the front door of the old building. He had to try several keys before he found the one that opened the door.

  Pushing the door open, very slowly, he winced at the expectation that an alarm might sound. So entirely relieved not to hear a sound, when the door was open enough for him to slip through, he quickly entered and shut the door. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was in.

  Armed with a mini flashlight, he knew that he had very little time to plant the papers that he had brought with him. Starting at the top of the bogus rec sheet that he had conceived just for this purpose, he placed a series of incriminating documents into the various files and folders of the surrounding file cabinets. Once finished, he took a quick look around to make sure that he was not leaving anything amiss that would suggest an irregularity to normal business operations or, even worse indeed, a break-in.

  Done, he carefully retraced his steps and left, being certain to avoid being seen.

  He drove quickly back to Lily’s apartment, checking his rear view mirror, just to be safe. Once he had found the correct key to unlock her front door, he prayed that she was still unconscious and in the exact same place that he had left her. Overly concerned with concocting a viable excuse for his absence and return, in case she had awoken and found him missing, he forgot to remove his black hoodie.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, that Lily appeared not to have moved an inch since his departure, he replaced her keys in the same place that he had found them previously. He then settled down on her sofa and primed himself for a few hours’ sleep before heading off to do a normal day’s work.

  Trying to switch his mind off, he reminded himself that the only remaining part of his plan was to make an anonymous phone call to the Securities and Exchange Commission. Claiming to be a well-placed whistle-blower, he would alert them to some financial irregularities concerning Simon and the about-to-be-made public, Quanta Systems.

  Unable to adequately relax, however, Andrew tossed and turned on the small, uncomfortable sofa for hours. The silver hawk given to him by Fiona, that he had taken from the jewelry box, fell from his pocket and slid down the back of one of the couch cushions.

  “Andrew, rise and shine,” he heard a voice that woke him up. Standing before him, Lily stood in a bathrobe and was holding out a cup of fresh coffee.

  “What time is it?” he asked, worried that he had slept late.

  “Relax. It’s early,” she said calmly as she sat on the armchair opposite, the mug of coffee held to her lips like it contained the nectar of the gods. “You sleep okay?”

  “No,” he answered honestly. “You?”

  “Best sleep I’ve had in yonks,” she answered with a grin. “What happened?” she then asked.

  “What happened?” he repeated, sipping the coffee.

  “Yeah. I don’t remember much. We didn’t…”

  “Oh, no, not even close,” he said reassuringly. “We just talked for hours and I guess we both conked out. You said I could crash here, on the sofa,” he said a little too defensively.

  “Yeah, yeah, relax,” she said, waving her hand at him. “That part I do remember. Where’d you get the hoodie? You weren’t wearing that last night, were you?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, looking at the piece of clothing like he never saw it before. “Oh, you know what? I was so friggin’ cold I couldn’t sleep; had to go down to the car to find something. This is all I had.”

  “We only talked?” she asked, sensing that he was hiding something.

  “Yup,” he said, like there was no hint of a suggestion of anything different. “All we did was talk. And you know what? I appreciate you listening,” he said like she had helped him work through some troubles.

  “Not a problem,” she said, like she liked him. “I had fun.”

  “Me too,” he said, lifting the coffee cup to his mouth and looking around like he needed to get going.

  Chapter 16

  Andrew had to wait a full two days of near-constant anxiety before he saw the beginnings of his secret plot coming to fruition. Sent on an errand, he was in the waiting room of the offices of a small firm of accountants when he received a phone call from Fiona. “Hey, sweetie, what’s up?” he asked when he answered her call.

  Sobbing uncontrollably on the other end of the line, Fiona was watching the news on TV. Images of her father being arrested were being blasted out to the world at large. “Have you any idea what’s happening to my father?” she asked, her tearful eyes glued to the TV. “What are they doing arresting my father?” she practically shrieked.

  “What’s going on?” Andrew said, his mind now switching into action mode. “Start from the beginning. I’m not with your dad; I’m not at the office right now. What’s going on?”

  “They’re arresting my father!” she almost screamed. “It’s on the TV!”

  “Which channel?” Andrew asked, making his way towards the reception area. “CNN?”

  Too upset to respond, Fiona merely stared at the images on the TV in disbelief.

  “Is there a TV I can use?” Andrew asked the receptionist like some lives were at stake if he couldn’t get to one, right away.

  “There’s one in the board room
. Go ahead in, there’s no one using it,” she answered quickly.

  Rushing to the board room, Andrew picked up the remote and switching it on, flicked through the channels until he came to one of interest. Showing scenes of Simon being handcuffed and taken to a regular police cruiser, a caption beneath spoke of a businessman being arrested for insider trading and other serious, white-collar criminal charges.

  Seeing it on the TV made it all seem very real to Andrew. Although he was slightly shocked to have garnered such quick and amazing success from his scheming, he smiled with a smug satisfaction. Telling himself that he was a friggin’ genius, he looked at the expression of shock and humiliation on the face of Simon. With a warm glow of exacted revenge emanating from his gut, Andrew mentally told the disgraced Simon on screen that he had it coming and that’s what you get when you mess with Andrew Cox.

  The only drawback to watching it unfold on live TV was being denied the satisfaction of telling Simon to his face what a messed up piece of shit that he really was; that he had it coming and hope you’re feeling sorry, A-hole. That’s for Bobby and Tony, he almost said out loud.

  What made it all even sweeter was knowing that no one would even suspect him. The whole plan was so clean and surgically carried out, no one else got hurt or wrongfully accused. Still holding his cell phone in his hand, he realized that Fiona might still be on the line. “Are you still there?” he asked. He heard nothing but silence.

  With her phone pressed to her ear in one hand and the TV remote held with the other, Fiona looked like she was frozen in shock.

  “Fiona?” Andrew asked again, having checked his phone to confirm that the call was still engaged. “Sweetie?”

  “I can’t believe this,” she said as the TV images switched to a panel of commentators in the studio. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said like it was a question.

  “I know. It’s horrible,” he said, putting the TV sound on mute. “I just saw some of it on TV. Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay,” she yelled. “How on earth do you think that I would be okay? They just put my dad in a police car with his hands handcuffed behind his back!” she said, sounding hysterical.

  “Fiona, I know this is absolutely… shocking,” Andrew said like he was talking her down off a ledge. “You need to hold it together, okay? I’m coming straight over. To hell with the office today, I’m coming over to you, okay?”

  “Come soon,” she said like she was emotionally exhausted.

  “I’m on my way now,” he said just as she hung up.

  Although Andrew felt bad for Fiona, he had no regrets for what he had done. You reap what you sow and Simon was merely getting payback for all of the many criminal acts that he had performed in service to himself alone. Would Yakomoto’s family feel any pity for the man, knowing that Simon was the one responsible for his death?

  Very likely, there had been many other order-influenced deaths over the years and, it was more than probable, there were many more to come. Andrew was doing them all a favor; for both families and victims in the past. As for the many lives that would have been negatively affected in the future, had Simon not been stopped, they too would have been shattered. Andrew was avenging them all and his good deeds would never even be known.

  What of all the people Simon had put out of work; all of the livelihoods that he had most likely destroyed with his capitalistic, illegal take-over tactics? Simon was clearly a villain and, having stopped him, Andrew was a hero.

  With a burgeoning sense of self-righteousness and justice served, Andrew arrived at Fiona’s place knowing that he could not tell her of his involvement. To protect her from the law; safe from being accused as being an accomplice or an accessary, she must have no knowledge of his blameless deed. Like a superhero who had a day job but fights crime at night, he must tell no one about his bad-guy-busting alter ego.

  Driving through the open gate, Andrew parked and made his way into the house and to her bedroom.

  “Did you have anything to do with this?” she asked wildly when he entered. She didn’t look like she wanted to move from her bed, her eyes red and swollen from too much crying.

  “Fiona, of course you’re upset and I’ll help you get through this but it’s best if you don’t ask any questions,” he said softly as he sat down on the bed beside her.

  “What?” she bellowed. “Did you have anything to do with this? Just answer the question.”

  “Fiona, when I took this job I was sworn to absolute secrecy. I got into trouble once already when you said some things you shouldn’t have to your own father. Absolute secrecy is how they operate. You know that. Your father lived by the sword, you know?”

  Taking a deep sigh and twisting tighter the wash cloth that she was using to wipe her tears, Fiona then collapsed her back to the bed. “And now my father dies by the sword, is that it?” she asked.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked kindly. “Anything.”

  “You can leave, for starters,” she said, looking up at the ceiling.

  “I know you don’t mean that,” he said, his gut wrenching but he refused to show his distress. “You’re angry and upset and you don’t know who to blame so you’re blaming me. I get it,” he said, deciding it best not to reach out and touch her. “I guess you didn’t see this coming.”

  “What?” she asked angrily, sitting up faster than a gymnast. “I didn’t see this coming?”

  “Fiona, get over yourself,” Andrew said, standing up and surprising himself by the sudden emergence of his pent-up, repressed anger. “Of course you could see this coming! I could see this coming! The whole world could see this coming!”

  Her face turning to one of shock, Fiona watched her boyfriend like she didn’t really know him at all.

  “What do you think he did every day?” he asked. “Working in an ultra-secret, financial… gangster business organization by day and performing black magic rituals to influence his money and power at night? You think he was some kind of boy scout? I don’t think so,” he yelled. “Yes, he’s your father and I totally get that but don’t lose sight of who or what he really is,” he said less angrily.

  “They said if he’s guilty he might go to jail,” Fiona said quietly, looking at the floor.

  “They sent me to jail!” Andrew said loudly. “No, let me correct that. Your father sent me to jail,” he said, hunkering down so that he could be at her level. “Let me get this straight,” he said, feeling hurt. “You cry all these tears when your father goes to prison but when I was faced with prison, you told me to face up to my responsibility, if I remember correctly. Turn myself in, you begged me, at the time.”

  “That was different and you know it,” Fiona said harshly.

  “Why? Why was it different, Fiona? Was it different because I deserved to go to prison but your father doesn’t deserve to go to prison? Is that what you believe? Your father, your beloved father, performed the black magic rituals that led to the car accident and deaths of my friends. Your father continues to perform such rituals.”

  Fiona looked down on the floor and twisted the wash cloth even tighter.

  “Look at me,” he then said, a look of steel resolve in his eyes. “Look at me, Fiona,” he asked again and waited for her to meet his determined gaze. “You can sit there and tell me that if found guilty, your father doesn’t deserve to go to prison. Whereas you insisted that I own up and pay for the consequences of my actions which was in fact a situation created by your father. What am I to take from that? Huh? That your father is in some way exempt? There’s one rule for me and a different rule for your father? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “No, of course not,” she said weakly with a slight pout.

  “Then explain to me,” he said, ignoring the growing pain in his left knee as he held his squat. “Explain why your father shouldn’t take responsibility for his actions?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, wishing not to be having the conversation. “He should, I guess.”<
br />
  “You guess?” Andrew asked. Looking to the side like he was losing his patience.

  “Yes, he should. Everybody should,” she then said.

  “Fiona,” Andrew said gently, wanting her to look back in his eyes. “Is your father a good man?” he asked when she met his look. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that your father is a good man.”

  Looking like she was jumping out of her skin and wanted to be any place else, Fiona pursed her lips.

  “You can’t, can you?” he asked, holding his position just a bit longer to give her every opportunity to form the words, “and I believe that, in the past, you’ve actually been horrified that I might become like him.”

  Remaining silent, Fiona looked away, like enough was enough and he had made his point. Standing erect and wincing with the pain in his knee, Andrew flexed his leg a few times.

  “Now, what?” she asked but unsure of her question Andrew remained quiet. “If he does go to prison?” she asked. Looking broken, lost and vulnerable, Fiona pushed herself back with her legs on the bed so that her back was resting against the headboard. She hugged a pillow to her chest.

  Andrew sat down gently on the side of the bed and gave her the option of making first contact. Reaching her hand out to his, she took his hand and pulled him closer. Sensing that her body needed a hug, Andrew enfolded his arms around her. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered gently. “Everything’s going to work out, just fine.”

  They sat in silence and aside from an initial rocking motion of their conjoined bodies, they remained in the same bodily position for a long time. A text that buzzed on his phone interrupted their togetherness. “Shit,” he said, checking out what it had said: an urgent message from the receptionist, Janet that he should get himself back to the office ASAP.

  “What is it?” Fiona asked, fearing the worst.

  “They need me back at the office,” he said, replacing his phone. “I need to go.”

  As they kissed and separated, the doorbell rang. “What was that?” Andrew asked.