him back; I had taken the G6, I had taken it with coffee, and I had survived. Besides which, there were enough variables to play with at the moment, and the critical thing was to get over to Lou’s house and stop her from calling the police; seriously, that was the last thing I needed. I would remain focused and let nothing, I repeat nothing distract me. As I was about to put my phone away, I remembered the mail from Anna that I had started to read, and I brought it up, to scan it quickly.
Dear Sylvain, yes of course I remember you, we had some sweet, lovely times together didn’t we. It would be lovely to see you again, I guess you still live in Starlight Park? (how easy it is to find out where people live, these days) As it happens, I am travelling there tonight for a lecture. I meant to call you, but you know with work and everything I didn’t get around to it. How are you anyway? No, don’t tell me, maybe we could meet up this evening and have a drink and who knows, maybe something to eat? I can tell you about your strange request about your friend too, I do know quite a lot about it, it was the subject of my doctorate… anyway, I will tell you all! My lecture starts in a few minutes but I finish at 5:30. Maybe we could meet up at about 6:30? It would give me time to freshen up. What say we meet in town then, do you know any good bars we could meet at? Anna xxx. (She also included her address and phone number, which I won’t tell you, for the sake of her family’s privacy).
I was lost; was this the same Anna Dunnsbury, the goddess of my college life, who had not even noticed me and yet I had still worshiped from afar in that relentless pursuit of the tragedy of human love? Had there been a whole part of my earlier life that had been erased from my memory, or had she mistaken me for someone else? I had no idea, but I knew absolutely that I was going to find out, I wouldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. I looked at my phone – 17:32 so I just had an hour to get myself ready and meet her. I glanced at my reflection in the car window – if she thought I was someone else, I had one shot at this and I needed to get it right. I quickly started tapping out a message…
Dear Anna, what a nice surprise! As it happens I am free tonight, and it would be lovely to meet up. Why don’t we meet at Bar 45 on Stevens Street? Looking forward to it! S x.
I thought it struck a good note between casual interest and pleasure, and hit send. Right, an hour to clean myself up. My apartment was in a reasonable state, I thought, so a shave, a shower, a decent choice of clothes and a fifteen-minute walk to the centre of town. I let myself back in and poured myself a quick shot of whisky to calm my surprisingly edgy nerves, and I was about to strip off to have a long, cleansing shower when my apartment buzzer rang. I’m not sure why, but I touched the ‘Allow Entry’ option on my phone without checking who it was, and regretted my impulsive decision as soon as I saw who was silhouetted against the door.
Oh, for Christ’s sake, I muttered under my breath.
Sylvain, why haven’t you returned my calls? X asked. He was panting, breathing heavily, unsurprising seeing as he had to walk up ten steps to get to my front door and as he never did any exercise, ate like a pig and drank litres of beer every day. Mr Creosote, his nickname was in our office, not that I used that, but they had a point. If you don’t get the reference, and if you ever get any time, and assuming you leave this place, watch The Meaning of Life, you’ll understand.
We were all quite shocked when he ordered the parachute party, thinking that he would need at least three parachutes strapped to various parts of his bulk to stand any chance of not crashing at speed into the ground and perhaps precipitating an earthquake or tidal wave. Cruel? Maybe, but then he had to take responsibility. I saw him shovelling great spoonfuls of cake covered in cream into his mouth every lunchtime at our exceptionally good canteen, and then he wondered why he felt drowsy in the afternoon? I mean, come on. X was someone who drove for the highest standards, he had massive expectations and a short fuse when they weren’t met, and yet he didn’t have the courage or the discipline to look after his own body. I couldn’t help feel a shiver go through me every time I saw him, and now, especially, with so much to do, his presence was an unwelcome interruption – both emotionally and physically. I gave him my best smile.
Security Alert
Hi, how are you?
(Waving his hand) Don’t give me that. Why haven’t you returned my calls?
The problem of the parachute, incidentally, was solved through some ingenious engineering work. It had been X’s intention not to participate at all, but, to give him credit, he had listened to his senior team telling him how important it was for him to lead from the front, cement respect and trust amongst the workforce, especially after the Jared scandal, and a couple of other minor indiscretions. He instructed JK, his head of engineering, to solve the problem of guaranteeing him a safe flight and a safe landing. JK had pretty swiftly concluded that he would need his own separate plane (which was turned into an advantage by our marketing team, sending it off first, painted in snazzy colours and with the message “Lead from the Front” emblazoned on its sides and wings) and a parachute-like apparatus that was roughly three times larger than a standard parachute and included, hidden in the folds of fabric, twenty miniature jet propulsion engines that constantly pushed upwards and therefore controlled his fall. Yes, X needed a jet plane all to himself to avoid a sticky, untimely death, but it was built and it worked and, (although rumour has it he needed significant encouragement) he stepped out of his plane and landed on the ground and kicked the party off with an explosion that was more to do with trapped wind than hidden fireworks, but it was so loud and so unexpected that everyone started to laugh and clap, and X, unsure whether the laughter was at him or with him, managed to control his temper and smile broadly and then the festivities started. His mood then couldn’t have been more different to now, as he stood there in my apartment, the glint of anger in his eyes which I knew I had to control. I swiftly went into the kitchen and pulled a chair through to him, into which he sank gratefully, mopping his brow and controlling his breathing.
So (coughing and spluttering), why haven’t you returned my calls? And what’s happened to your hands?
I looked at my hands, realising they were still covered in blood. Oh, I… I fell and cut my head. Bled like a bastard. Still need to clean myself up, haven’t been feeling right today. That’s why I didn’t get back to you, I, well, I have just managed to get out of bed
You look ok to me
Apart from the blood?
Yeah, apart from the blood. Don’t get smart, Jones. I don’t like malingerers. And you know, when I call, I expect you to answer. The only excuse I’ll accept is if you are physically completely unable to speak. IE Dead. You understand me?
Yeah. Sorry. (It’s always been really hard to understand if he is joking or not). Truth is, I felt absolutely dreadful this morning, but I was going to try and come in this afternoon. Then, you know, about lunchtime, I dragged myself out of bed, I was going to try and get ready, but I was, well, I don’t know, I felt all light headed and that’s when I fell and I think I must have passed out, because I woke up a few hours later, and, well, you know, then you turned up…
He looked at me for a long moment. Hmphh…. Don’t do it again, all right?
No, sure, of course not. I felt a sigh of relief go through me. Anyway, sorry to drag you all the way out here. You needed me?
He started coughing again. Yeah, yeah. Sit down, sit down
We both looked around the hallway and I shrugged and sat on top of the ornamental vase that stood in one corner, pushing the artificial flowers down into the bowels of the vase with my backside. I was maybe a foot away from X, the odour of his sweat and the warmth of his body made my head start to swim again, especially when he lent forward. Listen, Sylvain, we have a problem.
What kind of problem?
Security. He coughed.
What about it?
He closed his eyes. There’s been another theft.
(I caught my breath) What? How do you know?
It’s my busin
ess to know, he spat angrily
But…Sally Evans…
He spat again. Fucking waste of space. Says all the right things, does fuck all. I didn’t even find out from her. Called her in to my office, there she was, prim and proper, swaggering in like she owned the fucking place, think she thought I was going to give her a rise. Fuck’s sake. You could see her go white when I asked her about G6. Said she’d make some calls, find out what was going on, get the team on it. I told her not to fucking bother, to leave her car keys on her desk and get the hell out.
G6?
What?
You said G6?
Yeah… you ok?
No, I wasn’t OK, my head was really spinning now again. G6? Seriously? Justin had stolen these from our office? How was that possible? We didn’t do anything like that, any chemicals? But if… Jesus, I was in trouble now. I made a mental note to kill Justin, which, I figured at the time, wasn’t unreasonable, I mean, what was the guy thinking? Just for the record, though, I didn’t kill him, and though I know he’s one more on the long list of people who have disappeared, but you can’t pin that one on me. Sigh. Maybe you can. But not directly at least. I can’t take responsibility for everyone. And besides, I’m not a killer. I know there’s all the
An Innocent Man Page 17
