by Mark Eklid
‘Andreas didn’t kill him. He sacked him. He worked out that something was going on with Yates and he sacked him to protect the reputation of the company.’
Graham tried all he could to put the force of commitment into the words, but even as he spoke them they sounded inadequate. All his former doubts over Andreas reopened like an unhealed wound. Had he been too willing to listen to Andreas’s version of events because he wanted to believe his son was beyond suspicion? Had his new-found loyalty clouded his judgement and diverted his instincts? It still seemed impossible he had been duped so thoroughly, but there remained room for uncertainty to creep in. There were still unanswered questions over Yates’s murder.
Sarah appeared to revel in the unease her words had created.
‘Of course he did.’
A knowing smile spread across her face, deepening Graham’s agitation.
‘We did wonder if the death of the mule might spell the end of this little operation but our sources have told us otherwise. They’ve suggested to us that the next shipment will be considerably bigger and that it’s due into the country sometime tomorrow. That’s all we know for now and this creates a much graver situation for us. If Andreas is planning to release more of his merchandise on our market, then he’s no longer a minor irritation. He becomes a major complication and we cannot tolerate that. This is where you come in.’
She stood and walked towards him. She circled the chair and came up close from behind him to speak softly into his right ear.
‘If this shipment finds its way onto our streets, we will consider that an act of war and this time we will not be discreet. We will hold Andreas and we will hold you directly responsible and we will act. If Yates had not been taken out of the equation and we felt sure we knew the where and when we would’ve taken care of this ourselves, once and for all, without the need for further discussion but with a new mule and the potential of a new route we can no longer be sure.
‘This is lucky for you. It creates an opportunity. If you tell us where and when, I give you my personal guarantee of your safety. For old times’ sake.’
She leaned forward a few more inches and kissed his ear. The touch startled him. Her words chilled him.
She walked back to her position at the desk.
‘I don’t know what’s happening. All this talk of drugs and smuggling and gang wars – these are things I’ve only ever seen on TV. I’m a librarian, for God’s sake – or rather, I was a librarian and now I’m a transport administrator. I’m happily married and I’ve never broken the law in my life. I feel bad if I tell a lie to a cold caller on the telephone. There’s no way I could become part of a drug trafficking ring. I swear to you, Sarah, I don’t know anything about this.’
Tears filled his eyes. His desperation burned in his belly.
She stared impassively back.
‘Why should I believe you, Graham? After what you did to me? Why shouldn’t I turn you over to Jason and the boys so that they can find out what you really know?’
He broke down. The weight of a situation so alien and so out of his control was too much. The impending threat of escalation to levels too horrific to contemplate was too real. He had no bargaining chip to use in the effort to try to escape his ordeal unscathed and was powerless against a rising stack of accusations. He was pinned to the floor and incapable of doing anything to prevent the jagged rock which hung over his head from falling and obliterating him.
He slumped in the chair and sobbed.
‘I swear.’ The words choked in his throat. ‘You have to believe me.’
He could not look at her but she did not take her eyes off him. She was dispassionate. Unmoved.
The only sound was Graham’s despair. The only movements were the convulsions of his shoulders. Then she spoke.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Maybe you don’t have anything to do with this.’
He raised his head and saw, through watery eyes, the faint light of hope.
‘I haven’t.’
‘But even if you don’t, the issue remains the same. If the drugs are released on our streets, it’s war, and you’re still in the firing line. I may be willing to give you one last chance to save us all a lot of unpleasantness.’
Graham felt a surge through his body at the thought of a way out.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You’ve grown close to Andreas. He trusts you – yes?’
He nodded with enthusiasm.
‘Then I’m going to give you the chance to talk to him. Persuade him to stop the shipment going into circulation and stay out of our business for good. If he listens this time and we never see sign of his merchandise again, we’ll consider this the end of the matter. If he doesn’t, then Jason will come looking for you both. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Completely.’
‘I understand that you cannot cancel a transaction without upsetting a great many people further up the supply chain who you really don’t want to upset, not at this stage of the process, so I want you to put a further proposal to Andreas. After you talk to him and persuade him to stay out of our business, I need you to do something for me.’
Sarah went to the other side of the desk and opened a drawer. She took out a mobile phone and held it up for him to see.
‘You must take this. It has one number programmed into it and that puts you in touch with us. When Andreas has agreed to our demands, I want you to call us and tell us where the drop is. We will then meet the driver and he will hand over the merchandise to us. Call it a gesture of goodwill.’
She walked to him and slipped the phone into the breast pocket of his shirt.
‘This is your one way out, Graham. Your lives depend on it. Don’t even think about trying to pull a fast one.’
That was the last thing on his mind. He was clinging to the fraying thread of his only means of escape.
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Good boy.’ Sarah smiled.
She turned again, heading towards the door to their left, but then stopped and spun around.
‘So Lena really was another one of your university conquests, was she?’
He nodded.
‘Small world,’ she added and continued her short journey.
‘Jason, could you take Mr Hasselhoff back to his car please?’ she asked after opening the door.
Graham’s head dropped again.
This ordeal was over but he knew his troubles were not about to disappear. Far from it.
22
The car swung into the car park and came to a halt next to the red hatchback, as it had earlier. There were more cars there than there had been before but no people around. The cars belonged to customers for the pubs and restaurants, maybe. It was still a pleasant summer evening, though the sun had now set and the temperature had dropped a little.
The driver, in his brown leather coat, left the engine running and got out to open the rear door. Out jumped a man with a thick dark beard, who turned back towards the rear seat and reached in.
‘Come on,’ he ordered and dragged out a man with a dark hood over his head and his arms fastened behind his back, which made the act of getting out of the car more difficult than it should have been.
With brusque assistance from both sides, he was on his feet. The bearded man took out a knife from inside his jacket and sliced through the tape which held their victim’s hands, while the driver whipped off the hood and tore off the strip of tape over his mouth. Without saying another word, they jumped back in the car. It was jammed into reverse and, in seconds, was heading away again, off towards the motorway.
Graham stood, alone, his eyes finding it easier to cope with the removal of the hood in the fading light than they had earlier. He flexed the muscles around his mouth to ease the tingling pain of the tape being ripped off and shook his arms from the elbow to encourage the blood to circulate back into his hands. He could hear the noise and see the lights from the pub opposite but all around appeared strangely oblivious to
him. Of course they had no idea what he had just been through but he felt almost as if they should, like the world should have noticed him being beamed back to earth from a giant spaceship and have rushed to his aid. All this was too normal. He didn’t feel normal anymore.
He looked at his watch. It was 8.55. The full ordeal had taken not much more than an hour and a half but it felt like a lifetime since he had strolled out of the pub to set off home.
To Janet. Oh, Christ – Janet! He had told her he expected to be home for 7.30, though he had mentioned he might be later. She might be worried that he hadn’t been in touch, all the same.
He reached towards his inside jacket pocket for his phone but his hand brushed against the object in his shirt breast pocket.
He picked out the phone Sarah had given him and stared deeply at it. Such an unexceptional, everyday thing and yet this one appeared to him as deadly as a loaded gun, as ominous as the black spot.
What a mess. What a predicament. What am I going to do?
The harrowing trauma of the previous hour and a half overwhelmed him again.
The strength drained from his legs. Graham slumped against the red hatchback and slid down its side until he sat, his useless legs stretched out in front of him, on the black asphalt and blubbered like a small child. He had been unable to hold back the tears when he feared Sarah was weighing up whether he should live or die and even if he had possessed the power to stop them this time he had no desire to. They had to flow. He had to release the tightly wound coil of anguish in his chest before he could maybe – just maybe – reignite the spark of reasoned thought in his brain which maybe – just maybe – would help him find a way out of the gaping chasm into which he had been dropped and abandoned.
When the tears stopped, he rested his head back against the car door, closed his eyes and drew deep breaths, feeling spent but cleansed. The rising of his chest was his only movement but, inside, the recalibration of his system was taking effect. Each deep lungful of air drove on the process until he stirred and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket.
The phone – that phone – was still in his hand. He shoved it into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out his own. He would have to work out what to do with the other business later.
Sorry it’s later than I said. Just about to set off x
Graham pressed ‘send’ and watched as the message box turned green.
God, what am I going to tell her?
Janet would be mortified if she knew what had just happened. Absolutely mortified. She was essential to his inner stability and he always felt there was nothing he couldn’t tell her but this? This was like nothing they had dealt with before. Like nothing ordinary people ever encounter. Would it be the right thing to do – to burden her with this unthinkable, potentially deadly, load he found himself shackled to?
There was no way of telling what he might have to do next to escape this dire situation or how it might end. She would not allow him to take the risks he might have to face. Telling her could be to expose her to the dangers too.
He should say nothing. When it was all over, that’s when he should try to figure out how to explain it all; including the relatively minor bombshell that it appears he fathered two children during his three years at university. All that would have to wait until another day. Not now.
Andreas. He was the key to all this. He’s the one who could make it possible to get out of it unscathed. It’s his mess and he has to clear it up. He has to. Both of their lives are at stake.
He scrolled down his contacts list to call Andreas but hesitated with his thumb over the ‘call’ button.
What should I say?
Graham stalled, his thumb poised, and thought.
Sarah had accused Andreas of smuggling in the drugs but she had offered no proof. It was all based on the assumption that Andreas, as the very hands-on owner of the business, simply must know what was going on – but was that necessarily true? Never assume or presume. Where is the evidence? How often had he preached that to customers setting out on their research projects? The principles held firm, even here.
The worst could not be dismissed but if he was to get to the truth, it had to be done face to face, not over the phone.
He would look into Andreas’s eyes and he would know. He had to lay the full scale of this grave plight before Andreas and look into his eyes. Surely he could not attempt to lie. He must either confess and face up to his responsibilities or he would profess his innocence and they could work together to find a solution.
There had to be a solution. The consequences of not finding one were too awful.
Graham cancelled thoughts of the call and decided to send a message to the number instead.
I need to see you tomorrow morning as a matter of urgency. What’s the earliest time we can meet?
The message was sent. Nothing to do now except wait. And think. Think it all through. Think how they might get out of this.
He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead with his hand and rubbed his eyes hard. This was an appalling, unreal position to be in but it had to be faced.
He roused himself to rise to his feet and fished in his pocket for the car keys.
It was time to go home.
As he pulled into the driveway, Graham’s phone pinged. He hurriedly keyed in the security code to read the message.
On my way back to Sheffield now. I’ll be in the office at 7am. Will that be ok?
That’s fine. Early is good. The more time they could give themselves, the better, but he had to think first.
See you then
He gripped the steering wheel of the car and sat a minute longer, steeling himself for the act he had to put on. The one he had convinced himself was for Janet’s benefit. It required him not to lie, as such, just not to tell the truth. There was a big difference, but that did not make him feel any better. He was dreading facing her and yet desperate to see her.
‘Come on, you can’t sit here all night,’ he said to rally himself and opened the car door.
She was watching TV and already changed into her pyjamas and dressing gown – settled in, as she always called it, in an endearingly old-fashioned way – with her legs up on the sofa. She smiled as he entered the room.
‘You’re late, duckie. How did it go?’
Graham was knocked a little off guard by the question. Bentley. She means the meeting with Bentley.
‘Oh, fine, fine. He’s quite a nice bloke.’
‘Did you come up with a master plan between you?’
‘No, we just chatted, really. You know, getting to know each other. Just chatted.’
He became aware of how stilted his manner must be. He hoped he wasn’t giving himself away. It was not easy to defy the habits of almost 30 years and be less than completely open with Janet. He imagined she must be able to see straight through him.
‘Anyway, are you OK?’
She shrugged in a ‘why wouldn’t I be’ kind of way.
‘Sure. Just catching up on Call the Midwife. I put your tea in the microwave. Give it a couple of minutes and a stir and then see if it needs another minute.’
‘Yeah, thanks. I will.’
He moved to go to the kitchen but she called him back.
‘Gray.’
He stopped. ‘Yeah?’
‘You OK?’ She looked concerned.
‘Sure. I’m good.’ He did his best to look and sound convincing.
‘You just seem a bit off it.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m fine. A bit tired, maybe. It’s been an odd week. Bit hungry as well.’
Even he didn’t find that very persuasive. Janet maintained her probing scan of her husband’s face for giveaway signs for a few moments more before releasing him to go to warm up his meal.
‘OK.’
In the tone of that one short word, Graham perceived that he had been given the benefit of the doubt rather than a full all-clear but that might have been his imaginati
on. He was glad to retreat to the temporary sanctuary of the kitchen all the same.
He wasn’t hungry at all but ate every scrap and said how much he enjoyed it, mostly so that he might not arouse more of Janet’s instinctive suspicion. Having tidied away his plate and cutlery, he went to join her on the sofa.
She put her feet down and opened her arms, inviting him to lie on her bosom. He nestled into the soft cotton of her dressing gown with the soft flesh beneath and felt as soothed as a small ill child with its mother. She stroked his hair.
‘It’ll all work out, you know,’ she whispered, reassuringly. ‘We’ll soon get to the bottom of all this and it’ll be fine.’
Her words carried greater resonance than she intended, but they were all he needed to hear. He focused on the steady pace of her heartbeat and the clean smell of her nightclothes and basked in the warmth of her comforting and said nothing. The stresses of the night were draining from his body and he allowed himself to drift away to a simpler, safer place.
Graham did not go up to bed with Janet. He kissed her and told her he fancied watching a little TV to complete the unwinding process she had begun but that was another small untruth. He had thinking to do. His head felt clear again. He wanted to get his strategy straight before he saw Andreas in the morning.
The documentary on Victorian engineering would normally have held his attention but it played to itself this time.
Gradually, he came to what he believed to be two key conclusions.
Sarah had claimed that a larger drugs shipment was being brought in on a Johnson’s truck, even though the man she had identified as the driver for previous shipments, Yates, was now dead. That must mean, Graham reasoned, that not only was there a new driver, there must be someone else within the Johnson organisation who had arranged the whole transaction. He or she would be the common link between Yates’s involvement and the new driver. If there was substance to Sarah’s claim that the smuggling operation was ongoing, that had to be the case.
The second key point, in Graham’s mind, concerned Andreas. What it boiled down to was did he believe Andreas was the man behind the operation, as Sarah had said, or was he not? Sarah had assumed he was. He had no clue who it might be if it was not Andreas. It could be anyone. But first, Graham decided, he had to establish if he believed it could be Andreas.
