Nothing Is Ever Simple (Corin Hayes Book 2)

by G R Matthews

  “Mr West?” the attractive young lady called the name and it took me a second to realise she meant me. “Mrs Ribbons will see you now.”

  “Thank you,” I answered, putting the plastic coffee cup into the nearby bin. Never serve coffee in plastic; it ends up tasting of hot plastic. A waste.

  Banks need to meet you, to see you and make sure you really exist if you want to transfer your account to their branch or, as in my case, transfer money from a military shadow account into my fake identity’s account. Not a lot, but we each had an allowance, based on rank of course, to draw on.

  “Have a seat Mr West,” the slightly less than middle-aged bank worker, Mrs Ribbons by her name tag and the fact that I’d been directed to her desk, said.

  “Thank you.” Nothing should go wrong. Slow though they were, the military were thorough. I wiped my sweaty palms down my trouser legs as I sat.

  “I understand you want to move some funds from trust account to this branch?”

  I nodded. No need to volunteer any information not asked for.

  “May I ask why?”

  “You may,” and I added a smile to take the sting out my answer.

  “I understand that some customers prefer to keep their financial dealings private, Mr West, however I am required by law to ask the question and to receive a satisfactory answer.” There was no warmth to her tone. My own fault. Peter West was a solid cover of a solid, if dull, man. He’d have answered without a care. “It is to prevent money laundering and other illegal activities.”

  “Of course, Mrs Ribbons, my apologies.” I took a breath, giving my mind a moment to recall the answers and cover stories I’d had drilled into me many years ago. “I am looking to relocate my business to the city. I thought that setting up a secure account and beginning the process on a sound financial foundation was appropriate.”

  “Your business?”

  “Mechanical engineer, freelance consultant.”

  “Interesting work,” she said and didn’t mean it. I did see her tap a few icons on her screen, no doubt registering my answer. “That does seem to be a prudent course of action and, of course, we are pleased you chose our bank to assist you in this matter.”

  “I’ve heard nothing but good things, Mrs Ribbons.”

  “Kind of you to say so.” She looked up from her screen to favour me with a small smile. “The trust account is set-up so that you can draw down the requested amount of funds. Would you like to do that now?”

  “Please, Mrs Ribbons.”

  “Your thumb print and retinal scan are required to complete the process, Mr West. Please place your thumb here,” she pointed to the sensor on the Pad screen which she handed across, “and then look into the camera until the screen flashes green.”

  I did as she requested and had to stare for an eye-dryingly uncomfortable period of time before the Pad confirmed my identity.

  “All done,” she said after a few moments. “Your thumb print and retinal scan are now linked to the account, Mr West. We hope you have found our services to be of the excellent standards we aspire to.”

  I nodded.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  “I don’t think so, Mrs Ribbons. My thanks for the speedy service. When I decide upon an apartment I will be sure to come back and discuss the mortgage.” I had no intention of buying anywhere here, but she seemed pleased.

  “I look forward to assisting you with that, Mr West. Please, if you have a chance, would you be agreeable to filling out a quick customer survey for us?”

  Corin Hayes would have walked out. Peter West stayed for the three minute survey, giving pleasant answers and confirming that yes indeed the service had been good and he would recommend the bank to his friends. He was entered into a prize draw as a reward. Lucky me... him.

  Chapter 35

  With Peter West’s bank balance burning a hole in my electronic pocket, I treated myself to a midday meal at a restaurant that looked as though it wasn’t too expensive. After staring at the menu for a few minutes, I went adventurous. Burger and fries. Yeah, I know, the burger wasn’t really meat but pressed and flavoured algae though the fries were, in fact, made of potato. There were cities out there that made a lot of money from farming. They had to be in the photic zone to make the most of the sunlight and keep energy costs low.

  I’d heard of one or two that went the full surface experience. Living in small cabins amongst the farmland, avoiding as much technology as they could. Pretending they were still on the surface, living free under the sun. They may have been a few bushels short of a barn, but I could see the appeal. For a little while. Not forever, I liked my creature comforts. Easy access to alcohol being main amongst them.

  My food arrived, looking like a burger and a close approximation of the picture I’d seen on the menu. The fries were thick cut and steamed when I broke them open. The bottle of lager was cold, little rivulets of condensation meandered down the glass, and the table was clean. High class dining at its cheapest. I didn’t get to eat like this very often so I savoured every bite and every sip, taking my time. There was little else to do. I had a plan, not a complicated or sophisticated one. It suited me.

  As the afternoon wore on, my patience dwindled to a tiny flicker on the last strand of a burnt out wick. I wandered the city and found myself, completely by chance and accident, in a bar. On the way, I’d seen a few security officers on patrol, being seen to be out and about. The sergeant I’d spoken to a few days ago meandered past the bar in the mid-afternoon. I’d taken a spot where I could see the door and the sports on the screen, but in the shadow of a large plastic plant. This city seemed to be obsessed with the things.

  It felt good to drink a beer or three. No need to get drunk, not now, not tonight, but enough to take the edge off my nerves and fears. I kept eating the bar snacks at a steady pace and ordered a sandwich for my early evening meal. Before clocking off time I had somewhere to be and if things went badly, or even better than hoped, it wasn’t likely I’d have the chance to eat again soon.

  The game I had only passing interest in ended with a victory to one of the teams. Well done them, whoever they were. The skill to put a tiny ball into a tiny net on a tiny court must be much in demand and vital to our survival as a species. Without them where would we be? I’d, for instance, be sat in a bar staring at a blank screen.

  One last bite of the sandwich and I drained my beer, sliding both the plate and bottle to the middle of the table as the post-match critique began. Three ex-players chatting like they were sat in a bar, buying a round of drinks and digging their little fingers into the bowl of snacks. Friendly, jovial and ultimately meaningless conversation about a game that changes nothing.

  Time to move. Drag my aching body out of the comfy chair, away from the beer, the screen and the temptation to drink the night away. It was tough, but I managed it. Maybe half an hour till the workers started to leave their offices. Figure Rehja would stay on later, another thirty minutes or so. That gave me enough time to walk there and find a place to watch the door.

  Above the great dome it was dark. It’s always dark down here, get used to it. There’s only one place darker and you’ll see that when you’re dead. Suck it up. Get on with life. Easier said than done. After Tyler’s death, I’d spent days staring at the dark dome above and into the abyss in the centre of my soul. I’d carried on living. Stubborn and stupid. Never claimed to be anything else.

  In a few hours they’d be turning down the lights to simulate evening. Never total darkness. As a species we couldn’t cope with that. We’re beasts at heart. Scared of the dark. Fear breeds anger. Terror gives birth to violence. We need the light. An illusion of space and freedom.

  A small café, just in sight of Rehja’s place of work served as my observation point. The added bonus of Peter West buying me a strong black coffee couldn’t be ignored. I was on my second when my target finally emerged through the doors. Dressed in an expensive suit, carrying a briefcase, he l
ooked both ways along the road before turning and setting off.

  I gulped the last of the coffee, feeling it burn my throat on the way down. It would have been rude not to finish it. Peter might have felt insulted and he’d been kind to me so far. With a clatter of cup on saucer, I stood, sliding my chair under, waved politely to the waitress and made my way out. Peter was a far nicer man than I. He was beginning to irritate me.

  I tailed Rehja all the way back to his home. An apartment building in the posh part of town. Sadly, I couldn’t follow him in. The doorman looked like he could handle himself and I didn’t need the undue attention. Not yet.

  During the war, in training and on the few missions I’d taken part in, there had been a good deal of waiting around. Doing nothing was a skill I developed early in life. By now, I was an expert. I could do nothing for days without pulling a muscle, running out of patience or energy.

  The residential district I was in had few places to hide or remain inconspicuous. A small shop on the corner of the street and a bar, maybe a restaurant, a little further down. Either one provided a view of the front door though I wasn’t particularly sure what I was going to wait for. Trust to luck, providence and the fact that I needed something. Desire and positive thinking can take you a long way and sometimes right over the edge into delusion.

  Two bars of chocolate and a packet of fried spicy shrimp, courtesy of my alter-ego’s new found wealth, and I leaned against the wall chewing thoughtfully. The carefully flavoured blend of algae, you can’t escape the stuff, oils and other stuff I had no interest in knowing about went down well. Whether it actually tasted like the chocolate of old, I’ve no idea. It was packed with sugar and I needed that. The wrapper was fluttering into the bin when I saw him.

  Kade. Sauntering down the street. There was nowhere to hide or people to lose myself in, apart from the shop and that was no hiding place. If you can’t hide, be bold. With very little idea of what to do but to do something, I ducked my head and started walking towards Kade as he approached the door to Rehja’s apartment block.

  I kept my head down, let my left side sag a little and shortened my gait. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but he thought I was dead. He wouldn’t be looking out for me. It was the best I could do.

  In my favour, he wasn’t paying attention to much. A pair of glasses, the kind that let you surf the city-web with voice commands and movements of your eyes, was wrapped around his head. I held my breath over the final ten steps, my heart pounding, and sweat sticking the new clothes to my back. Three steps to go and he looked up.

  His eyes widened but the rest of his face froze. Between one step and the next he came to a halt and, as I covered the short distance to him, his mouth began to open. I jammed the second chocolate bar into his ribs, hard, hoping he hadn’t seen what it was and that it didn’t break under the impact.

  “You shout, scream or do anything I don’t like, I pull the trigger and your guts get splattered all over the street behind you,” I growled into his ear even as I put my other arm round him in a friendly hug. “Lift the glass off and put them in your pocket.”

  I was close to him, the scent of his aftershave was almost overpowering, and I watched him raise a hand, slowly, to this glasses.

  “Don’t,” I said. “It would be a shame to redecorate this street with red blood and pink intestines. I’d imagine you’d die in a lot of pain.”

  His hand stopped moving and I felt the tension, the strain in his muscles, loosen a little. I had him. Time to twist the screw a little more.

  “You shouldn’t have tried to kill me. That wasn’t,” I dug the chocolate bar, the gun, into Kade’s ribs even harder, “nice.”

  Chapter 36

  “Hi, Mr Kade,” the doorman said, waving and opening the door for us.

  “Jackson,” Kade responded after I jabbed the fake gun into his ribs.

  I nodded to the doorman, gave him a friendly smile and made sure the tip of the chocolate bar never left Kade’s ribs.

  The entrance was large enough for a desk, the doorman’s no doubt, used in the evenings and night to keep an eye on the building, a comfortable looking sofa, for guests, and a wall full of post-boxes. They’d be old, antiques or rescued from somewhere or other, and installed just to give the place the right look. I’d be shocked if anyone used them. Paperwork exists, but most of it is done via the computers, screens and various webspheres that corporations and cities used.

  Past the entrance, a hallway with apartment doors and a set of lifts. We headed for the lift doors.

  “You should have stayed dead,” Kade said as we waited for the lift.

  “You wish,” I answered.

  The doors opened and we stepped in. I was careful to keep close to him as we did the little turn to face the doors that everyone who enters a lift does.

  “It would have made things easier.” Kade shrugged his shoulders and I tensed for a moment, expecting him to try something, but he stayed staring forward.

  The ride up was silent. People don’t talk in lifts, one of the unwritten rules of society. I started to hum a tune from one of the many adverts that ran endlessly between the clip shows. A little twitch of Kade’s jaws told me I was getting under his skin. Good.

  The light on the lift panel kept rising and rising. We were running out of floors and I was worried the chocolate bar was going to melt in my hand. Worse than that, I was running out of advert tunes and jingles. I’d have to start repeating them soon.

  There were only three floors to go when I realised we were heading for the penthouse floor. Rehja was richer than I’d thought, and expected. Suddenly the chocolate bar didn’t seem enough for the situation at hand. What was I going to do? Kill them both by sugar poisoning. I don’t even know if that’s possible.

  The lift came to halt and the doors opened. Kade didn’t move and neither did I. Loud music didn’t just drift in, it smashed its way through the first sliver of an opening and began to assault my ear drums with a sledgehammer of pure bass. How anyone could think, relax, do anything but shriek in agony as their brain was pummelled to mush and squeezed out of their nose, ears and mouth by the pressure waves was beyond me. Already, I could feel my heart quiver as it tried to adapt to the beat.

  “Move,” I whispered and when Kade didn’t do anything, I jabbed the chocolate bar into his ribs.

  He turned a little and shouted, “What?”

  I barely heard him and settled for a nod of my head in the direction I wanted him to go. His shoulders lifted and fell before he stepped forward, out of the lift. There was a wall ahead and the corridor ran to the right. With no idea which way to take, I jabbed Kade once more and, as I hoped, he turned and started to walk. He’d chosen to go right and, as far as I knew, we were going to find the person who held the information I needed.

  What I didn’t expect was Kade to lurch forward, duck, spin round, with his right arm pushing the chocolate bar wide and his left fist ramming into my ribs. Breath exploded from my lungs and the chocolate bar flew from my hand to bounce off of the wall and land on the carpeted floor. I staggered back, gasping and tried to keep my eyes, already tearing up, on Kade. The big man had continued his turn and was crouched down, his hand frozen half-way to the chocolate bar. The look of surprise on his face was almost worth the bruised ribs. Almost, but not quite.

  He looked up at me. I looked down at him, smiled, turned and ran. Well, staggered. The music, the tortured sounds of hell, was still played and with one hand on the wall, I tried to escape.

  Not the lift, it would take too long to get down and being trapped in a small room with the muscle-bound Kade was only going to end painfully. There had to be stairs, or a fire escape, some way out. This was not what I’d planned. Not that I actually had much of a plan. Next time, I promised myself without conviction, have a plan.

  Kade crashed into my back, dragging me to the floor. It was luck he caught me low, leaving my arms free and I used them to break my fall, preventing my face from smashing into the carpet.
My already punished ribs, recovering shoulder and painful fingers told me it hurt with ribbons of pain that coiled around my brain and set fire to themselves.

  His grip loosened and I took the chance to roll over, kicking out with my feet. I got lucky and caught him on the shoulder. Not a solid hit, but enough to make him pause and give me a chance to scrabble backwards, trying to gain room to rise.

  He didn’t let me have it. Flexing his legs, leaping forward, off his toes and knees to land on my chest and crush the air from them once again. A great meat hook of a hand wrapped itself around my neck and started to squeeze, his other hand rose high and swept down. I gave up my own grasp on the strangling hand to deflect the hammer blow away, but in doing so allowed him to bear down with all his weight on my neck.

  The edge of my vision dimmed and I could feel a lack of energy, of life in my limbs. Above me, he grinned. Perfect white teeth in a perfectly tanned face. There was a look of enjoyment in his eyes. It was there for a second. Then I jabbed my thumb into his left eye. If he screamed, I couldn’t tell. I would have. Like a girl breathing helium and singing falsetto opera.

  The weight fell off me and I took a moment to grab a breath. Even the very act of forcing air down my throat felt like I was swallowing a bowling ball. Three breaths, three painful gasps of air, later and I felt able to move. Kade was on his back, kicking his heels into the floor and both hands were pressed to his face.

  Even as I dragged my body upright, his legs stopped twitching, not dead, just exercising control over his body. The music still drilled into my skull and I backed away, using the wall for support. The best time to kick a man is when he’s down, but my shoes weren’t going to do much damage to Kade. There was just too much muscle covering his body and it looked like he’d regained enough sense to start to rise.