the Disappearance of Jonathan Bloom

by Martin Sowery

  This was all early on, when he’d been having some problems adjusting to life at boarding school. His mother would send him tearful letters about how much she was missing him, as if it hadn’t been her and father who’d packed him off there. Usually Julian would be too angry to reply. The rugby field was a good place to use some of that anger without the risk of getting into trouble over it.

  When he broke Teddy Jameson´s leg with an overenthusiastic tackle, no-one blamed Julian, except of course Julian himself, who expressed his remorse very publicly. Teddy took it very well and said it was just one of those things. It was almost as if he felt he should apologize for his leg not being strong enough to save Julian the embarrassment of having injured him.

  Even after the break didn´t heal well and Teddy learned he would always have one leg slightly shorter than the other, it didn´t occur to him to blame Julian. The two boys were bound together by the incident. In the strange way that school society works, they both acquired status, Teddy famous as the boy whose leg had been shattered so badly that it was gruesome to think about and Julian as the ferocious tackler who snapped limbs. Teddy conceived for Julian a lasting and genuine affection that Julian indulged without ever confessing to his friend or anyone else that he had walked onto the pitch that morning having already decided that he was going to break Teddy Jameson´s leg and knowing how he would do it. Not that he ever had anything personal against Teddy. He had only wanted to know what it would feel like to smash a bone.

  And in fact Julian had found that it felt good: it gave him a sense of power. The fact that his victim was never aware of the crime and sometimes even acted as if he were in Julian´s debt for his injury made it all the more satisfying.

  When he finally went to see Teddy about a job, his friend told him not to worry too much about qualifications; that he would be a natural as an investment banker once he had mastered a few tricks of the trade. And that was how it worked out. There was nothing complicated about it: either you were persuading customers to run their investments through the bank, or else gently steering their funds in the direction of investments that were the banks favoured stock of the moment. Either way it was only a question of manipulating people and making sure that they always had a good time when you took them to the best restaurants and social events. And you were paid to do that too. For a while, Julian’s results were so good that it seemed he had done Teddy a good turn by joining the firm rather than the other way around.

  But before too long the familiar problems resurfaced and now they were worse than ever. The partying never stopped. Life was a booze soaked downhill race. Money came and went faster than ever. The bank was indulgent about recovery time provided that the results kept coming; and Julian had an iron constitution; but he lacked the sense that should have told him when it was time to ease up or quit and he had no sense of guilt to send him crawling into the office on the days when he didn’t feel like he could face work.

  Julian started to take too much time out from work; and like all the others he started to depend a little too much on the white powder to keep his senses dialed up to maximum all the time. You were always on; that was part of the life that made some of his colleagues burn out and crash so quickly. Julian saw it happen to others but told himself he was too smart to fall into that trap.

  He didn’t suffer from an addictive personality, as least not so far as cocaine or other stimulants were concerned, but the drug was one more expense and, like the best champagne, you could only charge so much of it to the client´s account. He was developing more expensive tastes in other ways too: even with the sort of money that flowed into his account every payday, it was cleared out earlier each month as time went on. Julian considered himself a realist; and soon the time came when it was clear to him that his present agreeable circumstances could not continue indefinitely. He resolved to make the most of this life for as long as it lasted.

  It was around this time that he first met Jonathan Bloom. A colleague he barely knew pointed the man out at a party, noting that they had the same initials and even looked alike. Julian couldn´t even remember who the colleague had been: it was that kind of party. Through the haze, he´d squinted at Bloom, who was shorter than Julian and didn´t really resemble him at all.

  He remembered asking what was so special about Jonathan Bloom. The colleague (Julian could recall that the man was an idiot and a loser, but that applied to most of the people Julian met) confessed that he had serious financial problems. He said that even with the fantastic bonuses he earned (he named a sum calculated to impress but which seemed quite paltry to Julian) he always found that he needed more and finally he didn´t see how he could stay afloat. He´d reached the end of his lines of credit but he couldn´t risk defaulting on his personal account with the bank. Julian snorted dismissively at this confession, though it was an accurate description of his own situation.

  Without Jonathan Bloom´s help, his colleague said, he wouldn’t have been able to go on. So how did Bloom help? He lent money privately to chaps like them; at extortionate rates but what did the rate matter? Bloom might be a useful person for Julian to know if he should ever end up in the same situation himself. Nice enough chap too, for a loan shark.

  Julian waved away the suggestion that he might one day be in need of borrowed cash, but Jonathan Bloom interested him. Looking at the man more closely you could see why idiots like his friend might see a resemblance between them. Bloom wore a good suit and seemed quite at home in the gathering even if he was one of the few who still could stand up without swaying.

  What sort of funding does he have? He asked the colleague.

  As much as you need. Up to half a million, they say. I´m not in for anything like that much of course.

  Now Jonathan was positively intrigued.

  -And he just hands over the cash?

  I suppose he has a book somewhere where he writes down who owes what, but basically that´s it.

  But what if, say, I took his money then told him I wasn´t going to pay it back? Julian asked.

  The colleague had explained that this would be a very bad idea: that Jonathan Bloom handled the money and kept the accounts, but the money was not exactly his. It wasn´t good form to ask where it did come from, but everyone knew that the people whose money it was didn´t take kindly to defaulters and they weren´t the kind of lenders who asked their solicitor to write you a nasty letter if you missed an instalment or two.

  Later, Julian got himself introduced to Jonathan Bloom, saying that his own name was Arthur Bliss. He had no clear idea why he used a false name. Bloom never asked him to prove who he was or showed any suspicion on that score. Maybe it didn´t matter to him what his clients called themselves provided they behaved themselves; if they didn’t he would know where to find them anyway. Only later did Julian reflect that although Bloom might know what Arthur Bliss looked like and where to find him, the name in Bloom’s books wouldn´t mean anything to his bosses unless Bloom was around to point Julian out to them.

  Julian decided to become Jonathan Bloom´s friend, but that was not so easy as it seemed, even though they were always at the same places (how come he´d never noticed the man before?) and despite Bloom always being perfectly friendly and chatty with him. Bloom never seemed ill at ease with anyone. He was as charming as Julian himself in his own rather reserved way, but there was always something about him that remained hidden.

  At first Julian was careful not to let on that he even knew what business Bloom was in, but when he asked for the first small advance, Bloom seemed to have been expecting it. Julian suppressed a tiny surge of the rage that he always felt when he was not master of a situation; but the deal was made smoothly enough.

  He´d not wanted to go to Bloom for cash. It was something else about the man himself that had interested him. Besides Julian knew that there was no way he would ever be able to repay his debts. The money situation was so bad by now that he´d even made some feeble attempts to cut down his spending, thou
gh of course that was impossible. Even so, once he had the cash from the first advance in his pocket, it was so easy to go back for more. For a time it was as if he’d discovered a bottomless pit of money and he started to enjoy life properly again. Some days he could forget entirely about the need to pay the money back, but there were other times when the realization of what he was getting into would strike him with such sudden force that his hands became a little shaky.

  There was talk about chaps who had missed payments due to the moneylender needing a stick to walk with after they defaulted and dark tales about others missing fingers or toes. Everything was said as if it was a joke and Julian had never met any supposed victims, but the days when his hands started to shake at the realization that he would never be able to repay what he had borrowed were the times when he started to daydream about killing Jonathan Bloom.

  Julian supposed that everybody must ponder murder from time to time. He’d experienced the feeling many times in his life before, but without seriously thinking that it would come to anything. Now here he was in Africa, with plenty of time to think about how his daydreams had led him here and what he should plan to do next.

  ***

  Stephen Green was a short, dark haired man with an impatient expression and manner that caused people who hadn’t met him before to assume that he must be an aggressive sort of character. They´d take him for the sort of man who overlooks important details as he hurries through life. But in fact, Green didn´t miss even tiny insignificant details; it was just that he registered them more quickly than most people and he didn´t often feel the need to comment on what he saw.

  When he was working, Green wore a dark suit that matched his businessman´s haircut and general demeanour; except when professional reasons demanded that he blend into a situation where a suit would be out of place. Today though, he was wearing slacks and a heavy knit cardigan over an open necked shirt: not exactly untidy, but he´d been called out on a Sunday and even though he´d had enough notice to change, it was worth making the point that he was giving up weekend time.

  Not that Saturday or Sunday or Christmas Day made any difference to the man he had come to see. Green didn´t exactly like the Fat Man, but in business you rarely got to select clients for charm, especially in the business Green was in. The Fat Man and he were uneasy in each other’s company, although circumstances brought them together more often than either of them would have wished. The Fat Man usually claimed to be Egyptian, or that he’d been born Egyptian at least. Sometimes he said he was Maltese. Green had never visited the either place, but he had the sense that something of the Fat Man´s origins had stayed with him, however many years he had lived in London.

  I need you to go to Africa, right away, the Fat Man told him.

  I don´t get mixed up in any of that Islamic shit. I told you before. Everyone is too unpredictable and my face is not exactly welcome in those parts if you take my meaning.

  I´m not talking about North Africa. I mean down below the equator. Lions and tigers; elephants. That kind of Africa.

  They don’t have tigers on that continent.

  You see, you know all about the place. This job will be easy for you.

  Who do you want me to find?

  The name is Jonathan Bloom. The information you need is in this envelope. Don´t leave it lying around.

  Green snorted. He took the envelope but didn´t open it for the moment.

  Owes you money I suppose?

  It´s not that he owes us money, it´s that he has some of our money with him. He was a man I trusted and now we can’t find him.

  Ugh. Not very smart then. You suppose he thinks that Africa is far enough to run?

  I don´t suppose anything. We made some enquiries; had a look in his flat. It seems this is a holiday he booked months ago. Maybe he intended to explain why he hasn´t made his payments when he got home, but I am kind of anxious that he isn´t planning to return home at all.

  You want me to bring him back to London?

  No, it´s gone beyond that. He hasn´t done what he was supposed to do and the money wasn´t there when it was needed. I don’t need to know anything about this Bloom’s business you understand? Only that it happens with my blessing and I have money invested. But not all of my money is my own, you see. When he has a payment due and he’s doesn’t make it, I have to make good with my own funds. So now his business is my business: and now there is a problem. When I have a problem like this, I get rid of it.

  I see. And how do I get paid for this?

  Bloom took quite a lot of our money. There was nothing at his flat. It´s safe to assume that he either has the cash or the means to get it with him. What you find, you keep: it´s already written off. Let me know if you´re not happy with that when you get back. But not too soon after you get back.

  Understood. But if it´s as much as you say, I´ll take my expenses and a success fee if it´s all the same to you. You can have the rest back; what he hasn’t spent at least. Your suggestion is generous and I appreciate it, but in my experience, people get emotional at times like these and I wouldn´t want anyone later on to start thinking that I was becoming greedy.

  As you wish.

  The Fat Man didn´t sound emotional but you could never tell. He was certainly capable of changing his mind about not wanting a large sum of money back.

  There was a large, glass topped desk at the far end of the Fat Man´s office, with an impressive view through the picture window behind it. But the Fat Man never sat at the desk; he was more comfortable sprawled on the black leather sofa that took up most of one wall; a tiny laptop open on the low coffee table that stood before it. Green was perched on the edge of an armchair that was just as deeply upholstered, with his back erect but relaxed; not sitting to attention but not taking anything for granted.

  Mr. Bloom has been a disappointment to us, Stephen. He had been doing so well. We know that you people are good with money and I never expected that he would do anything stupid.

  The “you people” was meant as a barb. Green didn´t mind the racial slur, but it annoyed him that the Fat Man assumed he could be so easily stung. He thought about asking the Fat Man which of the two of them was the shylock, but he held that comment back.

  When he got back to Marble Arch, Green found a café in which to open the envelope he´d been given. The contents turned out to be interesting. There was a number that he was supposed to ring and leave a message that would explain whether or not the job was done and if he had the money. There was an information pack that was thorough, if it was reliable. The Fat Man´s people had thought to check out that Bloom had actually taken the flight he was booked on. There was a good passport, credit card and driving licence; even a health visa to prove that Green had taken the vaccinations he might need to travel between the countries he´d be visiting. There was a business class ticket to Johannesburg and a connection on to Victoria Falls. It seemed that Green had already checked in for the flight, but they hadn´t left him much time to pack.

  As he made his way back from central London, Green´s sense of gloom deepened. His life was being thrown into turmoil once more by these people and their stupid disagreements.

  He wouldn´t be able to make the class on Wednesday; and probably not the Wednesday following either. Just when he was starting to make progress. He´d started to attend a cookery school and it turned out that this was something he was good at. He´d always been interested in food and wine; and now he realized that the kitchen demanded patience and an attention to detail that was second nature to him as a result of his day job.

  He was meeting new people as well. Good people, with ordinary lives, not like him. Green had even allowed himself to daydream about taking it further; maybe opening a small restaurant.

  The tube train was crowded enough that he had to stand. The swaying and lurching was uncomfortable, but Green had learned to ignore discomfort when it couldn´t be avoided. What did annoy him was the young man standing next to him making n
o effort to stop the movement of the train banging his body into Green´s side every time the train lurched in a certain way.

  The kid was tall and stupid looking, wearing a light t-shirt that exposed his thick pink arms, even though the weather wasn´t warm. The arms were decorated with cheap looking tattoos. Green noticed that the boy had a complicated hairstyle that seemed to involve shaving parts of his scalp.

  The most irritating thing about the lad was that he was wearing a set of headphones and either they were so designed or the music playing on them was so loud that everyone in the carriage had to hear the noise.

  Green enjoyed music: he liked classical and certain types of jazz that had a structure so that even when everything sounded completely wild there was order beneath. Mingus was his favourite just at the moment.

  The thing was, when Green needed music, he wanted to listen to it, not have half heard fragments disturbing his attention. And he didn´t care much for modern urban music at the best of times. It wasn´t that he didn´t get it. He understood that the music of a city will be insistent and that all the boasting in the lyrics was just a natural reaction when you knew you were a tiny part of a great mass, so small that it was easy to think you didn´t matter at all. The press of so many humans in one place made them all feel like rats. When you crowd rats together beyond a certain point they start to bite each other.

  It all made sense and Green understood. He just didn´t want any part of it. He tapped the boy on the shoulder and the dull face looked down at him.

  - Would you turn that off please? He asked as politely as he could.

  The boy looked first incredulous, then anger started to replace confusion on his face. Green didn´t wait for the inevitable expletive laden response.

  - I asked if you´d turn that noise off please; it´s disturbing everyone, he repeated helpfully, just in case his first comment had been lost in the racket.