LUCIFER'S ANGEL

by Mike S Martin

  Molly was the first one to be shot. Connor could not stop the tears rolling down his face as he read what the police had ascertained from the evidence, all be it limited due to the fire damage.

  “Victim 1 Molly Chevaal it seemed, tried to escape via the back door not knowing it was barricaded. During her attempt evidence shows us she was shot in the back with a weapon, the weapon being a shot gun. The pathologists report suggests she died instantly”

  “Victim 2 Carol Chevaal it seemed heard the gunshot and instinctively ran to where victim 1, her daughter Molly had been. On entering the kitchen she met her husband Edward Chevaal who shot her in the abdomen seriously wounding her. Victim 2 managed to crawl to the downstairs toilet where she was shot a second time buy Edward Chevaal resulting in her dying instantly”

  Connor was struggling to comprehend what the report was saying. Through teary eyes he was reading about the monster that his loving father had turned into. A monster that had almost took Connor’s life also. No wonder his grandfather had warned him about the contents of the report. For a fourteen year old this was a lot to take on board but he wasn’t going to be perturbed.

  Connor remembered seeing his mother lay there in the toilet after having trodden in the blood from her fatal wounds, a mother who only an hour before had kissed him on the forehead so lovingly. Very rarely did he think about the members of his family without crying. The fact that he had just read about his father taking on this new identity before going mad did not stop Connor from loving him. Deep down Connor knew there was something that had made his father like that and his aim was to find out what it had been. There was no need to read the report about his father shooting himself through the head because Connor had seen him do it but he read it anyway. As he did a strange feeling inside that had not surfaced before made him feel uncomfortable? The sight in his mind of his father falling into the smoke after pulling the trigger of the shotgun filled him with rage. It was not a rage towards his father but to something else, something he could not explain.

  Without realising it he had been reading for four hours and crying for that amount of time also meaning he was becoming exhausted. For the first time in years he fell asleep for eight hours.

  *

  Connor’s reminiscing of when he was fourteen was interrupted by his mobile phone telling him he had a text message. It was off Hugh who needed a favour from him. Connor text back his reply and turned the phone to silent mode. Placing another disk into the DVD player he sat back and sipped on a glass of water, a strange smile appearing on his face.

  This new disk had various other news reports of what people thought might have driven a man like Edward Chevaal to do what he did. Before the disk had even got two minutes in Connor’s mind was wondering back to when his grandfather had shown him the files and information on why his father had gone mad.

  *

  It was a few days after the eight hour sleep and Connor was finding more out although he did admit to himself he did not quite understand everything. He needed his grandfather’s help to get an idea of what the names on the papers meant and who these people were. Whilst most fourteen year olds would have been out playing with friends during the French summer holidays Connor decided that this was more important. He was determined to understand and although he did have friends they were few and far between. Over the years he had become a loner and enjoyed his own company and it was this attitude that would stand him in good stead for what lay ahead.

  They both found a place in the garden with a view of the sky and the hills in the distance. Sheltering form the warm sun under a parasol, Connor’s grandfather began telling him the whole story.

  “Connor son you did not know this at the time but your mother and father had built up a little empire for you and your sister. Although me and your grandma have always been financially comfortable we have never been well off. Your father wanted something a bit extra for his family so he, with your mother’s help started up his own company called SLEEVE-FIT. They spent years trying to sell his product to companies all over the world.......”

  “What was it?” asked Connor having no idea.

  “The product It was a flame proof insulation cover for the joints in the pipework on an oil drilling platform. When the oil companies drilled for oil out at sea they sometimes had to drill hundreds and thousands of feet below the sea bed to reach the oil. Very high amounts of pressure had to be used to pump the oil up from such a depth. Your father’s product protected each connection point in the pipework that brought the oil up from the sea bed and onto the oil rig and then through the process plant on board. If the connection points became too hot and split it could ignite meaning a disaster”

  “I didn’t know my father did this for a job” said Connor feeling sad at not knowing.

  “Oh you did know Connor but you were only young and you would not have understood”

  “Did he sell many?”

  “Oh yes of course he did and because they only had a short life span there was always a demand for them. It meant you could all move out of your small three bedroom house where you spent your first year and move to a bigger place in the country. This is something your mother and father always wanted for you and they worked hard to make it happen”

  “Did he make a lot of money?”

  “Yes he did but he wasn’t silly with it. The big house he bought was the one he burnt down but more importantly it wasn’t much of a house when you moved in. Half of it was derelict so your father and mother spent the next three years rebuilding it whilst bringing up a family. You must have been four when it was completed and you all moved in. They put every ounce of spare time into making it a home for you all. A lot of the money from the business went into it”

  “Where was this house?”

  “In a place called Much Marcle in Herefordshire, England”

  “Was dad a millionaire?”

  “Some people classed him as a millionaire but your father did not like the word. It worried him that people would judge him before they had met him. He did have a lot of money and spent a large amount on the family but also made sure the business always had a reserve tank of money in case it was needed”

  Connor’s grandfather paused and seemed worried. He sighed and shook his head as though annoyed.

  “It should have been enough”

  “What do you mean?” asked Connor concerned.

  “Oh don’t worry now son we will get to that bit later”

  Connor’s grandfather gathered himself and continued the story.

  “The trouble was Connor as always in business there was a middle man. In your dad’s case it was a company called Rig-Works. This company worked for what you might know as BP. You see BP owned the oil rigs and Rig-Works were the main contractor. Your father supplied the pipe insulation sleeves to Rig-Works and this is where things started to go downhill for him. The owner of that company became greedy and tried to spread their selves too thin across the North Sea, where most of the drilling takes place. Whilst your father had to keep redeveloping the sleeve product to keep up with various changes within the health and safety laws, he also had to keep up with demand. He needed a steady and regular flow of money but Rig-Works held back payments which meant your father started to run behind with demand and he was in danger of letting cheaper competitors in with inferior products. No matter how much hounding he did to get his money they used every trick in the book to keep the money from him as long as they could”

  “Why?”

  “It sounds simple and stupid but the longer Rig-Works kept the money paid to them from BP in their bank accounts the more interest they made on it. Remember Connor we are talking Hundreds of thousands of pounds, sometimes even millions and the interest on that a day adds up to a healthy profit......for Rig-Works. Unfortunately this type of thing happens in every walk of life but a bit of profit for one company can mean the demise for another”

  “But didn’t you say that father kept a large amount of money in res
erve. Couldn’t he have used that?”

  Connor’s grandfather nodded but his expression told a darker story.

  “Oh he did Connor.......but then the wolves came knocking and they could not have come at a worse time”

  “Who were the wolves?”

  “The wolves in this case were the government but your father still had to deal with getting his money that was owed him. Lawyers were involved but they work at slower speeds than the rest of us so time dragged and when a case was eventually prepared and it looked like your father would get what was due to him easing his financial woes, Rig-Works sold up to another competitor for ridiculous amounts of money, but the owner was clever. He kept a 51% share in the company meaning he still took most of the profits without the hassle. This meant the debt your father was owed was passed on and another case would have to be prepared which was looking like it would take months. Months your father did not have”

  Connor’s grandfather was right when he said this would be a lot to take on board and at fourteen Connor was doing his best to understand what was being explained to him.

  “So what happened to father’s money? Did he get it back?”

  “Alas Connor up until that fateful night nine years ago your father never received a penny form Rig-Works or from the company that took them over”

  “So this is why he went mad that night” asked Connor sounding quite shocked.

  “No.....no.....no Connor it takes a lot more than that for a man to lose his mind. Like I said this was only part of all the problems. Now it is dark and we must get some sleep”

  Connor had no intention of going to sleep but obeyed his grandfather by accompanying him into the house and locking up behind him. His grandma was already in bed asleep even though it was only 10 o’clock in the evening. Watching his grandfather climb the stairs to bed Connor pulled out some of the papers he had not yet been shown and flicked the lamp on that was sat on the large wooden kitchen table. The rest of the house was dark as Connor sat elbows on table with his head resting on one hand as he poured over the paperwork.

  Names that had not yet been mentioned to him but provoked anger jumped out from the pages. Phillip Newton the owner of Rig-Works, Malcolm Stewart who was apparently the accountant that dealt with Edward Chevaal’s accounts at the time. These names would have meant nothing to Connor if his father had still been alive but now they might be clues as to why his father was drove to the point of insanity.

  *

  Connor’s mind returned to the present day and realised the open window was now bringing in a draft. It was now dark in his apartment and the laptop had turned itself off. Not a fan of television he decided to put his ipod on and listen to some mellow music that would take him back to the house in France, sitting at the kitchen table. As the Italian opera album sprang into life so Connor returned once again to the kitchen in France nine years ago remembering it almost like it was yesterday.

  Chapter 5

  The first page he scrutinised was a letter from the Inland Revenue and customs to his father. It seemed to be regarding tax and VAT and what Connor could gather was that his father owed them a lot of money. It also seemed obvious that the tax people had investigated him and found that he had lied to them about how much he had earned. Connor’s heart sank at the thought that his father had done something wrong, the person that up until now had been put on a pedestal by Connor and idolised. As Connor’s eyes scanned down the page he was only looking for one thing and that was how much money his father owed. His heart skipped a beat as the figure jumped out at him from the page. The amount was so large that Connor had to read the print that preceded the figure to check it was what was owed. Looking around the room he whispered it to himself still not believing it.

  “£2.3 million pounds”

  How could his father had owed this much money?

  Why had he got himself and the family into this much trouble?

  Connor quickly realised that his grandfather had not told him how much his father was owed by Rig-Works so quickly grabbed the piece of paper he had seen earlier and browsed over it until he came to an amount that also seemed ridiculously high. It was from the solicitor that had been dealing with the case and there in black and white was the amount.

  “£3.2 million that’s crazy”

  It now dawned on Connor how much money was involved and how life changing all this was. Even though his grandfather had told Connor that this was not the only reason why the tragedy had happened it surely must have played a big part in it. This was more money than Connor could comprehend. Browsing through piles of paper Connor realised why this would cause someone a headache. Some letters from the solicitor were asking if their address was still correct, if they still had two children, questions that seemed ridiculous to Connor bearing in mind how serious the other issues were.

  Whilst staring at the sheets of paper on the kitchen table, tiredness catching up with him, Connor noticed a letter from the bank. It seemed to be a quite nasty letter considering it was from a bank, forcing him to pick it up and read it.

  “Dear Mr Chevaal,

  In light of your current circumstances we have no choice but to refuse yourself and your company a loan for the required amount. We as a bank do not trust you will meet the obligations laid out by ourselves set out in the contract underwritten by the financial group involved.................”

  The letter went on to explain how the bank did not trust Sleeve-Fit after giving consent to the Inland Revenue and Customs to investigate the company’s finances due to a lack of cooperation from his

  father. Again Connor held his head in his hands, distraught that his father would do such things. The paper work was beginning to paint a very different picture of Edward Chevaal and Connor was starting to feel uncomfortable once again.

  Seeing that the time was now 2am Connor tried to read more but could feel his eyes getting heavy and the want to sleep consumed him. In no time at all he was asleep with his head and hands pressed on the table, his body slumped forward in the chair.

  “Connor.....Connor what are you doing my boy?”

  The concerned voice was Connor’s grandma and she had come down to make the first morning cup of tea as the rays of sunlight shone through the window. It was now 7.30am and Connor had slept there all night. As the kettle boiled she started to tidy up the paper work on the kitchen table so she could put the teapot, the toast rack and the butter dish in the middle. Connor slowly stirred and sat up trying to make sense of his surroundings, just staring out of the window at the garden and the trees.

  “What time is it?” muttered Connor.

  “Probably time you went to bed young man” replied his grandma as she worked her way around the kitchen in her dressing gown preparing breakfast.

  Connor watched as the tiny thing shuffled around, struggling to reach the things she needed that were high in the cupboards.

  “Here let me help you” said Connor reaching up for some glasses.

  “Are you up already Connor” said his grandfather’s voice.

  “He has not been to bed yet” replied his grandma.

  Connor guiltily glanced at the paperwork still left on the table which immediately drew the old man’s gaze.

  “So I see you carried on reading after I had gone to bed” said a now sterner voice.

  “I could not help it. I wanted to know more about what had happened and could not sleep” His grandfather picked up the piece of paper Connor had been reading before he fell asleep and frowned like he was annoyed.

  “I told you not to read anymore until today when I could be with you to explain what it all meant”

  Connor could see his grandfather was angry but could not see the harm he had done to warrant being told off. Connor watched as the old man picked up all the paperwork off the table and placed them back in the folder still shaking his head in annoyance.

  “I know father owed a lot of money. Is that why he was in trouble?” asked Connor still wanting answers.
<
br />   The old man put his finger up to his lips to shush Connor and placed the folders back into a cupboard in the dresser that was against the back wall.

  “I think we should wait until you are older before you read any more of those. At this moment in time what you need to hear can come from me but now we eat breakfast and have a cup of tea, some juice then we will take a walk” said his grandfather patting him on the back and rubbing his dark brown messy hair.

  *

  As Connor’s mind drifted back to his apartment in Hereford he too realised it was time for bed as it dawned on him he was sat in the pitch dark. He was still a light sleeper even now and would only require a few hours, the rest would be spent tossing and turning.

  Standing in the mirror cleaning his teeth he stared at his reflection and the person looking back at him. It was a different person to the one that escaped from the carnage that night and a different one to the one that sat and listened to his grandfather all those years ago. The only things that remained the same were the eyes because they had seen everything and had dreamt everything up to this point. They would also witness Connor becoming who his mother and father would have wanted him to be.