Under Hidden Skies (Shadows Between Lies Book 3)

by Nicky Webber

  ‘Check it out,’ sniffed Fred, feeling proud at achieving a result so seamlessly. ‘The small amounts are being sliced off the customer’s transactions.’

  ‘Wow,’ Hawke responded, and turned back to his father’s smiling face. ‘You’re a damn genius!’

  ‘I know,’ chortled Fred. ‘Even I’m amazed.’

  After a few seconds of watching the screen, Hawke frowned and turned to his father. ‘Wait, a second. Where is this table positioned?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s inside the project, sitting on the server. Once a day, we pull the data and merge all the fractional amounts together before making a single automatic deposit into the Day Care business bank account. It’s already set up under our fake business name.’

  ‘Wow. You have thought of everything,’ Hawke said incredulously. Fred really was serious.

  ‘Yeah, I had to. Otherwise, we wouldn’t know if the entire process worked from end to end. In the morning I’ll check the bank account and send you a text.’ Fred said.

  ‘That reminds me,’ Hawke said, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a small cell phone. ‘Here. Use this. I’ve got one too and have already loaded our contacts on each one,’ Hawke explained. ‘ONLY use these for any communication between us. AND ONLY use cryptic words. We want nothing incriminating.'

  Fred smiled, impressed. He hadn’t thought of that aspect. He had considered another approach, which he was not about to disclose to Hawke or anyone else.

  When he opened the fake business bank account at their local branch, he used Logan’s identification documents, driver’s license, and birth certificate. If there were to be any criminal accusations or investigation, he had already worked out to remove himself from the coal face and let Logan be the fall-guy. It was just a precautionary smokescreen to protect Fred’s own identity.

  And why shouldn’t he? Fred reasoned to himself. Logan was his best friend, but had he acted like one? What best friend lies to the other for years on end. Won’t come clean until he has to?

  Fred’s resentment and anger pushed bile into his throat as he thought of all the lies, that lifelong web of deceit. Someone has to pay more than they all had over their shared lifetime. If it came to it, Logan would pay and pay hard.

  CHAPTER 31

  Burner Phones

  Hawke drove home, almost delirious with the thrill of the potential success of the project. Fred had committed to installing it on his employer’s SQL database over the coming weekend. Both he and Hawke would install it at Hawke’s workplace the following weekend after that.

  ‘By then you’ll be in the hospital getting refitted,’ joked Fred. ‘We’ll just leave the project in place on both company’s servers and activate them when you've recovered enough to enjoy the action.’

  ‘What about setting up the businesses?’ asked Hawke. ‘I can do that if you like. Complete the documents for company registration.’

  ‘No, don’t you worry about the small stuff,’ offered Fred. ‘I’ll set it all up. Straight forward stuff and register for company and VAT tax and so on.’

  Later, when Hawke arrived back at the apartment, he pulled into the parking lot, and he noticed Bruno’s car was missing.

  He sent a text Sacha: [U hm alone? X]

  Two seconds later his cell phone buzzed: [Yup x]

  There is a God, he thought to himself as he entered the elevator to their shared home. When he opened the front door, he could smell Sacha’s delicious home cooking.

  ‘Hey,’ he called out, and she responded from the kitchen. He flung his backpack across the hall floor and threw his keys into the bowl on the hallstand. As his eyes glanced at the keys landing on the ceramic platter, he noticed a brightly colored circular sticker. He stepped up to the plate, lifting his keys. There was a bright pink handwritten note crammed with Sacha’s familiar writing.

  It said; ‘I miss u.’

  Hawke grinned as he walked to their bedroom. He flicked his shoes off as he strode into the bathroom. Smiling at the reflection in the mirror, Hawke realized his appearance was far too happy and buoyant for someone returning from a hard day at the office. He tried to rearrange his features, so he didn’t look overly pleased with himself. Unless he could think of a reason, he was happy without divulging project information.

  He reached for the faucet to splash his face with cold water and saw another colored sticker on the tap. ‘I love you MORE,’ it said. Sacha was playing a game. She used to leave love notes in his lunch box and once put a naughty message inside the sandwich itself. The chicken mayonnaise had soaked into the lettering, making it almost impossible to read in the lunchroom at work. But far worse was removing it from the sandwich in front of a few co-workers. They harassed him relentlessly for the rest of the day, tormenting him about what the note actually said.

  After toweling his face, he strode into the toilet and lifted the seat. Sacha had placed another note on the underside of the toilet seat. It read; ‘feeling lucky tonight?’

  All right. It must be a full moon, he thought to himself. He sure was feeling lucky. Really lucky on all fronts.

  His burner cell phone rang. It was Fred. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Hawke, his cautious voice steeped with unease.

  Both men were too scared to speak on their project phones, blatantly aware that their conversations could be recorded.

  ‘Call me on the mainline.’ Hawke said in a harsh whisper. ‘We can discuss the roses,’ he continued, dreaming up code words on the fly and praying Fred got the drift of his meaning.

  ‘Okay,’ said Fred, and the line went dead.

  Hawke cussed under his breath. What the hell was Fred playing at?

  His other cell phone buzzed. Hawke looked at the screen.

  ‘Yup?’ he said.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Fred.

  ‘I know.’

  They both paused, holding their breath, and trying to think of non-criminating words to convey their message.

  ‘What cha want?’ Hawke finally asked.

  ‘Sorry, too many phones. Wanted to test it out,’ Fred said.

  ‘Sure,’ Hawke replied. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Hell no. I’ve got more good news,’ Fred said. ‘Your brother has agreed to donate his roses. He’s going in tomorrow to place the order.’

  ‘Yehaaar,’ Hawke responded. ‘I knew he would. Listen, Dad, you know we can discuss family issues and stuff normally on our normal phones, right? I’ll bring roses to the hospital for my brother. In fact, I’ll phone him right now and thank him.’

  ‘Right,’ said Fred, realizing he was taking the cloak and dagger thing a little too far. Anxiety over the whole project thing was overshadowing his ability to think straight. He needed to calm down and gave himself a good talking to all the way home.

  Three months later, Hawke was celebrating his medical textbook transplant of his brother, Blake’s left kidney now successfully functioning inside his body. Surgeons removed both his failing kidneys and while he suffered from severe pain during the initial recovery, he bounced back to his regular self after eight weeks.

  The brothers were in the renal ward together, where their shared experience brought them closer than they had ever been. The painful impact of the surgery on Blake surprised Hawke, and he was thankful for the remarkable gift his older brother had given him. A life untethered to medical equipment. Within four weeks of the operation, both men enjoyed a new lease on life. Hawke’s outgoing personality cajoled and joked with Blake, cementing their connection. It was as if they had both climbed the same mountain or had slain the same demon, generating for the first time a genuine sense of shared brotherhood, love and respect for one another.

  Maddy and Sacha were devoted to caring for the brothers during those first painful weeks while they were recovering at their parent’s home. No demand was too much for the women as they pandered to the two patients’ every whim. More fruit juice, extra pain killers, or a five-star foot massage was all part of the women�
��s recovery program. Maddy cannot miss the obvious love and devotion between Sacha and Hawke, who could now marry and have children, which they often chatted about as Hawke grew stronger.

  After three weeks at their parents’ home, it was time for Blake to return to work and for Hawke to return to his apartment. Sacha began clearing and sorting out clothes, magazines, and medication, packing up and tidying the bedroom they shared. Maddy helped Hawke put on his shoes as Sacha went outside to check the mailbox for the surgeon’s next follow-up appointment and medical report.

  She walked back into the bedroom, holding a folded piece of paper and looking perplexed. Sacha held it out to Maddy as she stood up and the women swapped places with Sacha, carefully helping Hawke to his feet.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ Maddy asked.

  ‘It was just lying in the mailbox,’ Sacha said. ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘You know Fred, he’s been in a running battle with the neighbors and it looks like this nasty bit of scribbling is from them.’

  ‘What’s it say?’ Hawke asked.

  Maddy read it out aloud:

  ‘You think your threats frighten us. Think again, morons. We’ve got security cameras and got you on video messing with our mailbox. Nice work. The police will be in touch.’

  CHAPTER 32

  Fred’s Revenge

  Later during the week, Fred was sitting in his study, working through business forms and documents registering the four fake children’s day care centers and the head office details. He had already foraged inside the safe, bolted to the floor of a cupboard in their house, removing ID documents and passports for all three adults. Now Fred was intent on filling in the business registrations for the Companies Office in Logan’s name, DOB, address, car registration, and other incriminating evidence. He completed the forms for the legal identity of the businesses for the California Secretary of State’s Office which would secure their expanding day care business as an employer of Logan and sent off the completed licenses and other permits needed to register their company. In this way, they could fulfill their IRS obligations and look as though they were paying staff, albeit just three directors.

  Fred hesitated. Logan was firmly in the mix, with no knowledge, but an ideal smokescreen. Should he put himself and Hawke as employees working for Logan? He leaned back in his office chair. His mind ran through all the permutations and options, playing out different scenarios. The worst-case would be if they got caught. He had set things up to show that Logan was the mastermind behind the salami slicing activity. For absolute certainty that Logan would be in the gun for the crime, Fred set up a personal business bank account in Logan’s name as a director of the business. His plan for future proofing the funds accrued from the project would mean the lion’s share of the proceeds being channeled through Logan’s new bank account. This would provide firm evidence to the IRS, which was bound to nail Logan for the crime. Both he and Hawke would plead absolute ignorance.

  Convincing Hawke could be a stumbling block, but he was reasonably confident it would never come to a criminal investigation. He was way too smart to get caught. He sighed out loud, gazing out of the window into the calm domestic looking suburban street. Who would’ve thought? He was pleased, in a weird, canny kind of way. Implicating Logan, even if it never came to anything, gave him the psychological advantage. His mission statement, ‘Don’t block your own escape,’ was a policy he intended to live by.

  Fred appreciated his underhanded salting of evidence pointing directly at Logan created a silent and deadly act of revenge. There was something pleasurable in knowing he had set up a pay-back for their lies. Reimbursement for them both, Logan in prison and Maddy without him. Cruel in some ways, but how brutal had Logan been? With his own wife and the deceit about his son. A son that was now his, but through no recompense from either of them. The word cruelty didn’t do him justice. He was better at numbers than words. Yeah, he had spent fifty-seven percent of his life believing Hawke was his son, while Logan knew. He knew but didn’t tell, and Maddy was equally to blame. Fred could feel anger rising in the pit of his stomach. He inhaled and breathed out slowly to keep calm. If the project blew up in his face, he would play dumb. Hold his ground and advise Hawke to do the same.

  This was about as good as he could construct a plausible escape-hatch, a getaway plan he may never use. So be it, Logan as the scapegoat was far better than himself and Hawke doing time. He continued forging Logan’s signature and linking the business accounts and IDs to the documents. It astounded him at the enormous amount of paperwork they had to complete securing their registration within LA and at the county level in California.

  He spent the next few weeks securing the properties and ordering sign-writing for the large display window at the ‘head office’ where there was a singular lack of childcare facilities and equipment. Instead, desks, papers, shelves, and filing cabinets crammed the space.

  Fred had already bought office furniture online and held them in storage, awaiting to kick-start their new business. Anyone walking past could tell it was an admin office. He paid for vertical blinds to be installed the previous week, which were positioned across the front window. They helped maintain privacy while he spent hours after his day job, processing and transferring the project’s money online. During the next few days, they installed two second-hand computers in the new offices. It would be the ideal place to meet unsuspecting officials or the IRS wanting to discuss any anomalies.

  There was one last step to secure Logan’s involvement. He had wised up to the power of DNA in recent years. Fred removed a short hair from Logan’s comb a week earlier and carefully placed it in an envelope, which he folded into his wallet.

  The most straightforward part of the entire set-up was gaining a small safe deposit box at the same bank where the day care business accounts were managed. He gathered up notes and computer printouts of code, pencil sketches of diagrams, perfect evidence for Logan’s conviction. Fred carefully handled every item, with thick surgical gloves pulled tightly over Fred’s treacherous hands. He included a small notebook that he bent back across its spine and roughed up some pages, making it appear well used. He even tore a corner from one page and penciled in dollar amounts and codes, dates, and passwords. When he finished aging the notebook, he pressed it closed and opened it several more times, ensuring a well-used crease appeared on its spine.

  The notebook was cautiously curled across a third of its pages, where his scribbles crowded the pages. These scruffy pages appeared well-used during its deviant lifetime. Fred, pleased with his attention to detail, finally rested the wet bottom of his coffee mug on the cover, allowing it to soak in and mark the cardboard, then took it to the bathroom and used Maddy’s blow-dryer to dry the damaged surface of the notebook’s cover.

  Fred grinned to himself as he flipped it open again and delicately laid Logan’s tiny gray hair between the pages. He closed it and had every confidence that damning DNA evidence would prove decisive and convict Logan of the fraud.

  He pulled out a new burner cell phone, a cheap throw away which would prove to be Logan’s project cell phone, and with his rubber covered fingers put two numbers in the contacts. One for Maddy and the other Logan’s office and cell phone. Fred straightened, clutching the phone, and walked around the small room a few times. He faltered, looking down at the screen, and quickly made two calls to the contact numbers. He knew no one was at home, so he phoned the landline too and let the answerphone come on and play the message but didn’t leave a response.

  Realizing he was almost panting, he slumped into an office chair, leaning back to catch his breath. As his thudding heart slowed, he felt overrun by guilt and invaded by remorse. Logan was his closest friend, almost a brother. They had shared everything over the years, even a wife! A wave of anger invaded his thoughts. But he still reasoned that Logan had stepped up to the plate many times to help him, clearly displaying his love and commitment to their brotherly relationship. How would Logan feel if this
subterfuge came to pass? How bitter and furious would he be? What revenge and havoc could Fred’s secretive assault force on the family?

  He pulled himself up. He couldn’t let mere sentiment cloud his judgement. The pain Logan had caused was plain for all to see. Logan provided a perfect alibi. If he needed it, which was as only fair and right.

  Fred reasoned Logan was close to the fire, so it made sense that he had to feel a bit of the heat. He chuckled to himself, using all kinds of heist-type words, making him sound just like an average fraudster. Maybe it would never come to that, but he felt satisfied somehow that Logan, unknowingly is taking the risk, justified and would give him back his control in the relationship.

  To complicate criminal forensics, he immediately dialed himself. He held ‘Logan’s’ burner phone to his face and watched his own cell phone screen as Logan’s name flashed up. He pressed the answer button and then cut the call from “Logan’s” phone. The fake call was enough, for now, he decided, it would be just enough to show Logan was contacting Fred, innocent, naïve Fred. Over the next few months, Fred knew he would have opportunities to work on establishing more incriminating phone calls, pulling Logan unwittingly into the deep end of the subterfuge.

  The next day, he arrived at the bank with a brown paper bag. In the Secure Room, he opened the project’s safe deposit box for the first time. The security guard stood outside the heavy metal door. Fred gently laid the company registration papers on the bottom of the lock-box. Then the notebook; he pulled it to his lips, about to kiss it and with a shock realized he could not touch it. He glanced around the room for cameras. There were two positioned on the ceiling, diagonally opposite one another.

  He noticed a small area which they could not film and walked out of the cameras’ angled sight to pull on a fresh pair of flesh-colored surgical gloves. Leaning forward, Fred wiped the notebook with his t-shirt, vigorously removing all traces of any fingerprints, before removing the gloves and carrying the notebook between two other documents and shoving them all into the metal deposit box. Last, the burner phone went through the same process.