“That’s right. He’s usually as friendly as a puppy, but suddenly his schedule was fully booked.” I also told Sandra that Benedict said I shouldn’t poke my nose in the things Oliver had been working on.
She cleared her throat. “It almost seems as if something is going on at that firm, which people desperately want to keep behind closed doors. Maybe we should try to obtain more information in a different way.”
I was surprised to hear her speak of “we” and had my doubts about her motives. “Why are you so obliging all of sudden?” I blurted out in a tone snappier than intended.
“I don’t know,” was her reply. She remained quiet for a moment. “Let’s put it down to feeling a tad guilty. Besides, I’m starting to wonder what exactly is going on.”
The answer wasn’t fully gratifying, but I was curious to hear her ideas. It was obvious that Benedict wasn’t going to be of much assistance and Sandra’s husband didn’t seem willing to share much about it either. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“We could pay the office a visit and try to lay our hands on the file Oliver was working on,” she suggested. I was somewhat shocked by her air of levity, as if we were dealing with a pick-up of an everyday package.
I didn’t feel like spending any more time with Sandra than absolutely necessary. After all, she had been Oliver’s mistress. I’d much rather have had Lindsey by my side, whom I could trust blindly, but I felt ashamed to confess to Lindsey that I knew so little about what had been taking place in Oliver’s life. I was well aware that I probably needed Sandra’s helping hand if I were to find out more. She’d been one of the last people to play an important role in his life and she knew the drill when it concerned the world of law. Like it or not, she was basically my ally in all of this.
“We can’t just walk into the office, can we?” I countered her suggestion, warming up to it, but feeling far from convinced. “A file like that is surely highly confidential and wouldn’t be left out in the open for people to find.” I remembered what Oliver had told me about how security had been heightened ever since the office had been hacked last year. A number of employees had responded to a fishing email and, as a result, quite a few heads had rolled within Mason & McGant.
“We have to choose a time when nobody will be present so that we can browse around quietly. Lawyers are apt to start working quite late and sometimes won’t head home until around midnight.” Sandra spoke in a tone that suggested she was planning an exciting treasure hunt through a forest, rather than trespassing in the office of a hugely powerful law firm. “What if we go very early in the morning?”
I felt terror-stricken at the thought of sneaking in and sniffing around in the dead of night, but I saw no other option. The circumstances surrounding Oliver’s death seemed to be getting hazier and more mystifying by the minute and I wanted Tim to know the truth about what exactly had happened to his father.
“Alright,” I said, hoping I was making the right decision. “How about five in the morning?”
“Okay.”
A male voice suddenly sounded in the background. “Nothing,” Sandra yelled. “I’m on the phone with my mother.” She muted her voice again and turned back to me. “I have to go.”
“Wait. How will we get in at that time?” I said, thinking of the security guards, which Oliver had once told me were present in the building twenty-four seven.
“Leave it up to me. I’ll take my husband’s key card. So long as I make sure to get back home before seven thirty in the morning, when he gets up. Otherwise he’d certainly get suspicious. I never start the day that early.”
13
Intrusive, annoying shrieks sounded from far away and jolted me awake. It took a while before I realised it was my alarm clock. My bedroom was enveloped in darkness. I rolled over and pounded the aggravating device a few times until the noise silenced, swearing as I’d been needlessly awakened in the middle of the night. I fell back onto my pillow and closed my eyes.
Suddenly, I remembered. The alarm clock display confirmed that it was half past four. Instantly I was wide-awake. I threw off the duvet and jumped out of bed on a wave of adrenaline. As I hurried down the corridor towards the bathroom, I glanced at Tim’s empty cot – he’d stayed with my parents last night. It was time for me to convert his bedroom into one suitable for a toddler and purchase a proper bed for him. It would be the first step in Tim’s life that I’d take without Oliver, I thought with a feeling of sadness.
I took a quick shower, prepared a sandwich and threw on my coat. Outside it was cold and eerily quiet on the streets. A dense cloud shrouded the moon and the streetlights cast a ghostly glow on the pavement. I buried myself a little deeper into my woollen jacket and scurried towards my Volvo. Despite the fact that the firm was much more accessible by bike, I didn’t want to expose myself to any unnecessary risks.
After five frantic attempts, the old beast finally started. The car was in dire need of a check-up at the garage. In the past, Oliver would have sorted that out for me, despite his busy schedule. I glanced at my watch, it was five to five. I stepped on the accelerator and sped off towards the financial heart of the city.
I decided to park a few blocks away from Mason & McGant and continue my way on foot in the direction of Amsterdam South train station. By doing so, I was hoping to draw the least attention to myself.
As it was a regular weekday, the place would soon be packed with commuters, but aside from an early bird on his way to the train station, the road was currently deserted, making me feel uneasy.
I jumped when my phone suddenly rang. I answered.
“Where are you?” Sandra hissed.
“I’m nearly there.” I looked around with a feeling of apprehension, the icy air stinging my lungs. “Where are you?” I asked in exasperation.
“I’m standing at the bottom of the steps, near the bus station.”
I didn’t come here that often and needed a moment to orient myself. “Right, I’ll see you soon,” I replied and disconnected.
Not too long after, I spotted a figure in the distance, wearing a hoody and waving at me.
I ran towards her, feeling relieved not to be alone in the darkness anymore. When I arrived, I was unsure how to greet her and decided to simply raise my hand.
“I’m so on edge,” she said with a jittery laugh. “This was a crazy idea.”
It had been her suggestion for crying out loud. “You can’t bottle out now,” I exclaimed. I was determined to find out more about the case that Oliver had been assigned to.
She looked at me, clearly in two minds whether to push on.
“Let’s just go. There’s not much time,” I insisted and nodded towards the Mason & McGant’s building, standing tall and stately in front of us.
Sandra squared her shoulders. “Let’s pray for the best.”
We crossed the square and headed towards the entrance, walking alongside each other.
Out of nowhere an invisible hand pulled me aside by my sleeve. A nauseating stench enveloped me, making me feel dizzy and disoriented. Amidst the confusion I heard Sandra hollering behind me, “Let her go!” A row of yellow teeth snarled at me, just centimetres from my face.
“Ten euros,” the homeless guy roared, surprising me with his unyielding grip around my wrists, his remarkably strong arms contrasting with his skinny build. The dreadlocks in his hair suggested that he hadn’t washed for months and his clothes were way too thin for the wintery night. The fear I’d just experienced was replaced by a feeling of pity.
I took my purse from my handbag and to my relief found a twenty note. “Here. Take it.”
The poor bloke probably hadn’t expected to get that much. His face lit up as he snatched the money out of my hand and for a moment I realised that in another life he could have been just an ordinary guy with a job, married with children.
“If someone asks, you never saw us. Got that?” I barked, feeling like an actor in a second-rate Swedish crime series.
He nodded without expression, swivelled and staggered over to a cardboard box sheltered by a bench.
We scurried on towards the entrance of the building in which Mason & McGant had their offices. Sandra pulled a key card out of her bag, held it against the card reader and we watched the little light turn green.
We pushed the door open and entered the reception area, welcomed by the sudden warmth that hit us. The last time I’d been here, the lobby had been brightly lit and festively decorated for the Christmas party I’d attended as Oliver’s ‘plus one’. This time, the place was empty and dim.
“Damn it! There are security guards behind the reception desk,” Sandra hissed and quickly took off her hoody. “Try to act as casual as possible.”
I went out of my way to look like it was perfectly normal for us to come in here at five in the morning dressed in sportswear, of all things, but I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Sandra said with a charming smile to the two men in blue, seated only a few metres away from us, and for a moment I could see why Oliver had fallen for her.
One of them raised a hand at us without saying a word, while his gaze remained focused on his mobile phone. The other one was closely monitoring a series of security footage, his back towards us.
My palms were sweaty and my feet felt as heavy as lead as I restrained myself from breaking into a run.
Once having passed security, we bounded towards the corridor, where we jabbed the lift button. “Do you reckon they know everyone that works in this building by sight?” I asked, referring to the guards.
Sandra patted my arm. “I’m sure they don’t. There must be at least ten different companies located in this building and probably hundreds of people working here. We’ll be fine,” she assured me, ostensibly the most cool-headed of the two of us now.
The lift shot up silently to the fifth floor, where we got out and turned right, passing the colossal painting depicting the two American founders after whom the office was named. Two spot-lights illuminated the canvas. As if you’d otherwise overlook it, I thought facetiously. One founder was seated in a brown leather arm chair behind an oak desk and the other one stood beside him with a fat cigar in hand.
We trod as lightly as we could towards the entrance to the office, where Sandra again used her key card to unlock the door, and we entered the grounds of Mason & McGant. Closing the door behind us, we looked at each other. “Well, now what?” I asked, wondering if I was really up for this.
“We start searching for the Van Santen file, of course,” Sandra replied briskly.
I’d visited this part of the building on only a few occasions and had no idea where the firm kept all of their files. “Do you have any suggestions of where to look? Do they store the documents in a central location or would each lawyer keep them at his or her own desk?”
She scratched her head and shrugged. “Let’s first check his former office. Where is it?” she asked, and I was glad she didn’t know – I’d already been forced to share so much of Oliver with her.
I led Sandra to the end of the dimly lit corridor, where Oliver used to work. A strange feeling came over me as I strode the path that my beloved husband used to walk every day.
Very cautiously I pushed the door to his office open a crack, and I instantly recognised the two traditional wooden desks. Without wasting any further time, I turned right.
I immediately noticed that the spot on the desk where a picture of Tim and I used to be had been filled with a family snapshot of strangers. I took it in with a mixture of wistfulness and sadness.
“Oliver’s desk is already occupied by someone else,” I mumbled, even though I knew it was self-evident given that he hadn’t been here for several months now.
Sandra looked at me, a frown puckering her forehead, and ignored my comment. She cast a nervous glance towards the door. “Let’s start searching the drawers. Your husband’s successor may have taken over his clients.” It was somewhat gracious of her to describe Oliver as my husband instead of calling him familiarly by his name. Even though of course I knew they’d been intimate, I appreciated the gesture.
I opened the two drawers – with a sense of uneasiness since we had nothing to do with the current occupier – but to my disappointment, they were virtually empty with the exception of a few ballpoints, a calculator, business cards, and an unused writing pad.
“Right,” Sandra mumbled. “You can’t say those guys at Mason & McGant aren’t tidy,” she remarked dryly, evoking a nervous laugh on my part. The second desk in the office also contained no significant papers. The orderly drawers were in line with the very strict regime of confidentiality Oliver had repeatedly told me about.
We let our gaze wander around the rest of the office, but apart from two seemingly languished plants, which contrasted with the appearance of order in the rest of the room, it was immaculate and sparse.
“We won’t find any files here,” Sandra rightly concluded.
Suddenly my eye fell on a rack of DVDs in the corner of the room. I could hardly imagine lawyers having the time to watch a DVD during working hours, besides, it seemed rather old-fashioned and certainly not in line with the professional and cutting-edge image the firm was eager to uphold. So what where they doing here?
I walked over to the shelf. The DVDs were each labelled with a year on their spine. I randomly took one of them out and read the title out loud. “Paralegals of 2009” and then a list of names. I went back in time in my head. “Oliver was hired by Mason & McGant in 2006,” I calculated and when I pulled out the right DVD from the shelf, I immediately saw his name on the front of it. I mulled it over for a while. What on earth could this DVD contain?
Suddenly we jumped up in panic from the rattling sound of a set of keys coming down the hallway.
I swore and hissed, “Someone’s coming our way!” I scanned the virtually empty room, offering no cover whatsoever. “What should we do?” I squeaked.
I looked at Sandra, who seemed to be thinking feverishly, her cheeks flushed.
The sound was getting closer and closer and we could clearly make out two male voices. “They’re almost here,” I gibbered.
“C’mon,” Sandra ordered and dragged me by the arm. “Get under the desk.”
We got down on our hands and knees and crawled over the thick red carpet seeking cover from the robust desk. Right behind the drawers of the desk on the right was a little nook, which I prayed wouldn’t be visible to someone standing in the doorway.
We had no other choice but to crawl up against each other, our arms wrapped around our knees. For a split second we gazed into each other’s eyes, our faces a mere centimetres apart, and strangely enough, in that fleeting moment a bond was formed – it was us against them.
Sandra gave me a reassuring nod, but I could see in the tiny ray of light that fell on her face that her eyes were wide open with fear. I clasped my arms tighter around my knees, which were trembling uncontrollably.
I couldn’t hear the voices anymore and for a moment I thought they’d already gone past our room, until all of a sudden, I heard a man nearby. “Hey, somebody’s left the lights on in here.”
The jolt of fear almost made me bump my head on the desk. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible, but it felt like I was choking. Two counts in, three counts out, I tried to calm myself down. I slowly turned my head and peered at Sandra, but she was looking straight ahead.
Two pairs of dark grey shoes and blue trousers were standing less than a metre away from us. “Lawyers. They think they’re so smart, but they can’t even find the light switch,” one of the men sneered and laughed at his own joke.
Just as suddenly as they’d shown up, the feet turned around. The lights were switched off and the guards continued their way through the building.
I gasped for air. Sandra stayed silent and motionless under the desk and now that the room was covered in darkness, I could no longer examine her face in the moonless night. I tried
to pull myself together, however quite some time passed before I finally managed to collect myself.
When I was absolutely sure I couldn’t hear the guards’ chatter in the distance anymore, I took my phone out of my pocket, turned on the torch and pointed it at Sandra.
She appeared to have regained her senses and shrieked, “Stop that. You’re blinding me.”
“Sorry,” I said, directing the light away from her.
I crawled from under the desk, clapped the dust from my hands and straightened up. “That was a close call. So what now? We won’t be able to find anything in here. This place is as empty as space,” I said, struck by a sense of despondency. Perhaps we should just give up and go home before we get caught.
Sandra frowned. “On our way in, I kept a keen eye on the signs above our heads and noticed one of them indicating ‘archive’. How about we go in there and have a snoop around?” she suggested, and I could hear the treasure hunt tone returning again.
I was dithering – we’d escaped detection by the skin of our teeth and the thought of bumping into a guard again filled me with terror, yet on the other hand I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. I didn’t want our visit, or rather break-in, to have been in vain and was committed to gleaning more information about Oliver’s final case.
We were in doubt whether to walk out of the room openly, portraying an image of us belonging here, or to make a beeline for the archive room. We opted for the latter and darted across the corridor like the wind. Sandra held her pass against the key reader, which, to our relief, unlocked. We entered the room and closed the door behind us. It took a moment before my eyes adjusted to the darkness that enveloped us.
I used my phone as a torch again and we soon noticed rows of storage racks, each arranged by year. Each shelf could only be reached with a rotary wheel. I walked up to it and used all my strength to get to the row marked ‘2020’ as quickly as possible, beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
After about a dozen of spins the row of interest appeared. I let go of the wheel and shone the torch over the files.
Double Deceit Page 10
