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Authors: Ethan Spier

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Kaleidoscope (8 page)

BOOK: Kaleidoscope
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Chapter 8

 

Lewis

 

The whiskey bottle slipped from between Lewis's fingers, into his lap and the dark liquid trickled gently over his leg. He woke with a start.

"Wha... oh shit," he said, dragging his alcohol soaked brain from its slumber. He picked up the half-empty bottle and placed it on the table by his chair with a clunk then leaned forward and clutched his head between his hands. It was throbbing and, after rubbing his eyes, he looked up at the wall clock. It was
; he had been asleep for over an hour. The whiskey soaked through his jogging bottoms and Lewis stared down at the wet patch on his leg. "Shit," he repeated.

He used the arm of the chair to steady himself as he got to his feet and staggered into the kitchen, bumping his hip into the work surface as he entered. He tore off several sheets of kitchen roll and dabbed his leg for several minutes. He cleared his throat as he dropped the sodden paper into the bin and returned to his chair.

His eyelids felt heavy, he allowed them to fall together for a few seconds. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the room spinning around him and a sudden nausea speared his stomach. Hitting his knee on the coffee table, Lewis lunged towards the bathroom, crashing into the door frame as he went, and threw up into the toilet. He retched for several minutes, feeling the familiar burning in the back of his throat. When he had finished, he slumped down on the floor by the toilet and began to sob.

A feeling of hopelessness had engulfed him over the past two days. He hadn't left his flat during that time and had barely eaten; the only thing passing his lips being alcohol. He was tormented by the thoughts that wouldn't leave him. The unanswered questions and the doubts about how Hannah died were eating him from the inside. But most of all, he missed her and couldn't stop thinking about every moment they had spent together.

Then there was the morning that was rapidly approaching and what that morning held. Lewis wasn't sure how he would be able to even attend Hannah's funeral, but he knew he would - he had to.

He picked himself up, wiped the tears from his cheek with the back of his hand, and shuffled over to the sink. He washed his face and drank some water then went out into the hall. He glanced at the bottle of whiskey and contemplated drinking some more before turning away and stumbling into his bedroom. The soft duvet cushioned his fall as he collapsed onto his bed and he fell asleep almost instantly.

***

 

Kelly shook her head as she looked over to the far corner of the hall and saw Lewis sitting on a table by himself. He had barely spoken to anyone before the funeral at the church and his appearance had dissuaded anyone from approaching him. He was sitting with a glass of water, staring into space with red eyes. Kelly was trying to determine if his eyes were red from the tears or from the obvious hangover. She had said hello to him outside the church after the service and smelt the pungent odour of alcohol that followed him. He had replied but his thoughts hadn't been in the moment, they were light-years away.

She picked up her glass of orange juice, walked over to his table and sat down next to him. He didn't look up and appeared to be unaware of her arrival.

"How are you?" she said softly.

Lewis's eyes flicked up and acknowledged Kelly, but he said nothing. He sipped his water and continued to gaze at the surface of the table. The black suit he was wearing covered an ill fitting white shirt, which had a button missing at the top and his tie hung loosely around his neck.

"You're not the only one who misses her you know," Kelly said in a sharp whisper. The words came out with a harshness that surprised her and she saw that Lewis was also surprised by them as he looked up. They locked eyes for a few moments but still Lewis said nothing. After a moment he turned away.

"I'm sorry," Kelly said. "I know how close you were to Hannah. I don't know why I said that. But Lewis, seriously, being this way isn't doing you any good. You can't go on like this; drinking yourself into oblivion."

Lewis closed his eyes for a long time before opening them again and turning back to Kelly. "I'm sorry too. I just..." He paused as he glanced around the hall at all the other people who were dressed in dark colours, talking quietly and consuming the buffet. "...I just can't stop thinking about her. Not just her, but everything. Something just doesn't
feel
right; this wasn't supposed to happen."

"Is this about what we discussed the other day? Lewis, you need to get over all this, they've got the man that killed her. There's nothing more we can do now. Obsessing over all this isn't going to bring Hannah back."

Lewis shook his head, "I know, I know."

They sat in silence for a while but it felt comfortable; the silence hanging between them like a net and allowing the captured thoughts to linger.

"Are you looking for a job now?" Kelly finally asked.

"I should be," Lewis replied, staring into space. "I can't seem to find the energy at the moment to be honest."

"I think you should start looking, it'll help to get your mind off all this."

Lewis nodded but wasn't sure Kelly was right; he didn't feel like anything would be able to take his mind away from this nightmare. He looked at all the faces in the room and his eye fell on a woman staring at him from the other side of the hall. It was Hannah's mother and he saw her work a thin smile in his direction and gestured for him to come over.

"I'm just going to speak to Hannah's mum, I'll see you later."

Kelly nodded and offered her own smile. "I hope you feel better soon."

Lewis thanked her then walked through the crowd of guests and over to the middle aged woman.

"Lewis," she said as he approached and threw her arms around him. After they separated, she took a step back and looked at him up and down. "You look terrible."

Lewis managed a smile as he looked down at his clothes. "I'll take that as a compliment." He paused, not really knowing what to say and shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. "How is everything?" he asked finally, cursing himself inside for asking such a question.

"Coping. It isn't like reality at the moment; almost as if it hasn't really sunk in... I'm dreading the moment when it does." She blinked away some tears and then appeared to consciously gather herself. "Listen, we've still got to go through some of Hannah's things and... well you knew her better than anyone. We were just wondering if you wanted to take a look... I mean if there was anything that you wanted then I'm sure Hannah would want you to have it."

Lewis shook his head, "I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

Hannah's mother touched his arm. "None of us are ready Lewis, but you were her best friend. If anyone should see to her things, it should be you, we'd really appreciate it."

He thought for a second. He had known her family for almost his entire life and the way Hannah's mother was speaking to him implied that he would be doing them a favour; almost as if they couldn't bring themselves to do the task alone.

"Okay, I'll take a look. I'll come over in a couple of days if that suits you?"

"Yes, that would be fine, thank you."

They spoke for a few more minutes about nothing in particular before Lewis walked back across the hall and returned to his table, sitting back down next to Kelly. Her boyfriend had joined her and she introduced him.

"Lewis, this is Jeremy."

Lewis smiled narrowly and shook the man's hand. He had a firm grip and nodded in return.

"Pleased to meet you Lewis," Jeremy said. He looked at his watch before leaning back in his chair and placing an arm around Kelly.

"How long have you been together?" Lewis asked half heartedly.

Jeremy looked at Kelly and smiled, "Just over four months now..."

Lewis nodded in all the correct places as Jeremy detailed the history of their relationship, but his mind wandered. He began to think about Hannah's boyfriend once again and a thought occurred to him. Why hadn't he tried to get in contact with her after she was murdered? Nobody who Hannah was close to knew who he was or how to reach him. Surely if he hadn't heard from her for a few days and she wasn't answering messages then he would have stopped by her flat; perhaps even asking her roommate where she was. But Kelly certainly hadn't been contacted by him.

Lewis began to make notes in his mind and decided there could be a number of reasons for this problem. The first could be that they had broken up before she was murdered and he no longer had any reason to contact her, which was a possibility. But the e-mail Hannah had written to Lewis two days before her death implied they were still together, albeit with some kind of problem coming between them. The second reason could be that he already knew she was dead and there was no reason for him to try to contact her. But Lewis thought it would be extremely strange if someone you were in a relationship with was murdered and you didn't at least try to contact the people they were close to in order to share sympathy of the mutual loss.

This led Lewis onto the final possible reason; what if her boyfriend knew she had been murdered and didn't attempt to get in contact afterwards because
he
was responsible for her death.

"...Lewis?"

Kelly's voice snapped him from his train of thought.

"Yes? Sorry, I was just thinking about something," Lewis said and noticed the annoyance on Jeremy's face. "Listen, I think I'm going to go now. It was a pleasure to meet you Jeremy."

Lewis got up and began to walk from the hall but noticed Kelly was following. When he reached the exit he turned towards her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked with concern on her face.

"I'm not okay," Lewis replied. "But I will be. You don't need to worry about me."

They hugged and Lewis went to leave before pausing and turning back to her. She was walking away, but he tapped her arm.

"Has Hannah's boyfriend tried to get in touch with her since her death? In person or by calling her phone? Even texting?" he asked.

Kelly thought for a moment but shook her head. "Not in person, no one has come by the flat asking me about her. The police have her mobile phone, but the detectives said they would contact me about any texts or voicemail messages for me to pass on to the relevant people. They haven't given me anything that her boyfriend might have sent."

Lewis nodded, "Okay, thanks Kelly. I'll see you soon."

As he left the hall, Lewis decided that he
had
to speak to Craig Blaine.

 
 
 
 

Chapter 9

 

Hellam

 

Kelser knocked on the door to Hellam's office and waited. After a moment, the door opened and Langton stood before him, staring for a moment before gesturing for Kelser to enter the room.

"Sit down," Hellam said from his chair behind the large, oak desk and both Kelser and Langton took their places in the chairs opposite.

Hellam scrutinised the two men. They couldn't be more different he noted internally; Langton

s placid, drooping face and Kelser's intense, hollow gaze.

"We have a problem," he said finally, all business. "Carl Richards."

Kelser

s expression changed by a fraction and he nodded, "I agree. I was about to raise the issue with you myself."

Hellam glanced at Langton then, interested, back to Kelser as he continued.

"I overheard something yesterday while we were sorting out the Deacon situation."

Hellam sat upright, "And what was that?"

"He's an undercover cop," Kelser replied, then paused as if to consider his last statement. "At least I think he is. He was whispering something to Deacon about testifying against you while I was out of the room."

Hellam nodded slowly. "We have the same information." He glanced at Langton, "George has a contact in the police force that helps us from time to time, and he has some information that points in that direction."

Kelser turned and stared at Langton but didn't say anything. Hellam noticed the older man shuffle uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes flicked sideways, obviously sensing the gaze from the man beside him. Kelser's eyes remained on Langton for a long time as he continued to shuffle and raise his chin, freeing his neck from the tight shirt collar.

Langton suddenly cleared his throat. "Where do we go from here?" he asked, clearly attempting to move the conversation on and Kelser slowly returned his attention to his boss.

"George, can you leave us alone for a moment, I'd like to talk to Kelser about this situation. You won't need to be involved in this problem anymore."

Langton nodded with apparent relief at being dismissed. He stood and left the room, without looking in Kelser's direction.

Hellam placed his hands on the table in front of him and locked his fingers together as the door closed.

"You've been working with us for five years now," he said, looking up to Kelser. "This will be an important job for you. I need Carl Richards to be taken care of in an efficient manner. Do you think you are capable of dealing with this or should I call in my usual... outside help?"

"I can deal with Richards," Kelser replied in a monotone. "I
want
to deal with him. He's betrayed us... he's betrayed me."

Hellam's mouth widened into a crooked grin and he nodded slowly. "I think it's good that you want to." He leaned back in his chair. "I have enemies everywhere Kelser. Some are known but some are, for the time being, unknown and these are by far the more dangerous of the two. I need someone like you around because you are my last line of defence if one of these enemies was to get too close.

He paused for effect and narrowed his eyes as he dropped his voice to a whisper.

Richards got much too close. I can

t

I
won

t
allow that to happen again. We need to be vigilant Kelser; we need to keep our eyes open for anyone who wishes to harm our operations.

Kelser nodded, his expression stoic.

If anyone comes close to you Mr Hellam, I

ll kill them.

Hellam paused for a second, taking this in.

That

s good to hear. That

s very good to hear. But would you really? Would you really kill them?

Kelser looked away, lowering his gaze to contemplate the question. Hellam studied him as the silence between them condensed and congealed. The answer was inevitable before it left Kelser

s lips.


Yes I would.

Hellam nodded with a single tip of his head.

I want you to take Richards somewhere tomorrow morning

somewhere private. Find out what he knows, who he has told and what information he has passed on to his superiors. I want to know
everything,
so use whatever means you deem necessary. We've kept him at a relative distance so I doubt he has anything concrete at this stage; if he did, we'd all probably be in prison by now." Hellam paused as he wrote something down on a piece of paper then slid it across the desk. "When you've finished with him, bring him to me at this address. I'd like to have a few words with him before... well before the situation is resolved."

Kelser nodded as he slipped the paper into his jacket pocket. "Anything else?"

"No, that will be all."

Kelser got up and stepped towards the door before Hellam spoke again.

"Kelser, if you perform this task well then I'll make sure that you're rewarded."

Kelser lowered his head in a nod but said nothing as he left the room.

***

 

The office which was home to the more sensitive documents in Hellam's organisations was located in a building two miles from the H.K. Communications headquarters. It was rented in the name of a fictitious company and had absolutely no ties with Joseph Hellam or George Langton, apart from the fact that they both held a set of keys. The office was tiny, just eight feet square and contained only a handful of shelves; each one half-filled with files and binders.

Langton pulled up outside the building and turned off the engine to his Lexus as rain fell onto the windscreen. He sat in the car for a few moments before pulling out the small bottle of Seroxat anti-depressants and swallowing one dry. The windows began to fog as he remained sitting in his car, waiting patiently for the tablet to take the edge off his anxiety.

He prayed that this would be the last time he would be asked to copy the documents. Whoever wanted them had never made it clear to Langton as to
why
he required them and the person in question had never acted on the incriminating evidence they provided as far as Langton could ascertain. It seemed nonsensical for someone to obtain all this information via a blackmailed employee and simply sit on it for a period of four years.

He lowered the window to clear the mist from the inside. Splashes of water found their way through the tiny gap and onto Langton's still face. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the moisture away. He felt an emptiness inside him that slowly became engulfed by unexplained terror. It rose from his stomach, placed two claws on his throat and began to squeeze - hard. Langton released the top button of his shirt, and gasped for breath as perspiration replaced the rain on his brow. He breathed deeply and, after a moment, the panic subsided - it always did. He slowly began to relax.

He felt something inside; knowledge of something he had no reason to possess. He knew that the reason for him being asked to copy the documents would become apparent soon; it had to. It was a feeling that couldn't be explained in any rational way. It was something that he gained very little comfort from since it was at that point that Joseph Hellam would become all too aware of his betrayal.

He closed the window, picked up the briefcase that was sitting on the passenger seat and stepped out of the car. He stared up at the sky and let the droplets of rain fall on his face, cooling his flushed skin as he thought of the only other way out of the situation he found himself in. He reached back into his pocket and once again pulled out the Seroxat. He stared at the bottle for a brief moment before shaking his head and pushing them back into his jacket.

He unlocked the main door to the office building and stepped inside to the sound of several beeps. The building was home to a dozen separate businesses, but all had finished for the day. Each business had a set of keys to the main door and the code to the alarm. Langton punched in the code and the shrill beeps stopped then he walked up two flights of stairs to the door marked 'Radian Technologies'. He unlocked the door and a second set of beeps began to sound in the small room. Langton hit the small plastic buttons on a keypad by the door and the second alarm was deactivated.

He glanced at the alarm panel on the wall. The alarm system in the office of the fictional company wasn't simply there to detect thieves but to also monitor entry. Every month a report which gave details of times and dates of each entry was automatically generated and sent to Hellam's inbox. He and Langton were the only two people who knew the office existed and it was only usually Langton who ever visited, in order to drop off new documents or shred old ones.

He looked up at the wall clock to see it was just after
. He knew Hellam had grown complacent of the reports detailing visits to the office and Langton wasn't particularly concerned even if Hellam was to raise a query with him. He could explain away the incident as a simple check that all the previous month's statements had been shredded correctly; a feeble excuse but Langton didn't realistically expect his out-of-hours visit to be a problem.

He switched on the light and saw the shelves which contained files over on one side of the room. There was also a large shredding machine but very little else - certainly no photocopier. Langton walked over to the files and began to open them up.

Part of the money, illegally obtained in Hellam's drug and prostitution organisations, was filtered through one of Hellam's legitimate organisations in the form of overvalued invoices, but this method was open to scrutiny should the company be investigated for any reason. Large quantities of money were therefore deposited in various bank accounts and trusts in countries with notoriously lax anti-money-laundering laws - primarily in the
Caribbean
. These were then broken down into smaller amounts in order to avoid suspicion and wired to other bank accounts around the world. The funds were then split into even smaller amounts, sent on to new banks and so on. The bank accounts that the money sat in were only active for a maximum of two months before the funds were sent on and the previous account closed.

Langton kept statements for the various accounts for only one month before they were shredded and the paper trail terminated. With this system, even if the authorities were able to find this office and somehow link it to Hellam then they would only ever have a maximum of one month's worth of statements. The previous accounts no longer existed and, in any case, there would be no easy way to prove that the money had been obtained illegally since the trusts from where it was sourced were not legally obliged to disclose such information.

This system had been working for many years, although they had been forced to alter their methods several times in order to avoid detection.

Langton opened several folders, removed the statements he required and pushed them into his briefcase. He would need to photocopy them elsewhere and return them the following day. He thought about the letters from Concerned Citizen and the amount of incriminating evidence that man must have obtained over the years via Langton's own hand. He knew that the information he provided to C.C. would easily show the flow of money from the initial deposit in the trusts and on through the various bank accounts. It could all be easily traced with the correct paperwork. The same paperwork that Langton had been shredding over the years but only after copies had been forwarded to his blackmailer

He wondered what the future would bring; aware that he was providing information to some person unknown that could bring down Hellam's entire operation.
But what else am I to do?
He asked himself as he walked from the office, down the stairs and out of the building, punching in the codes and setting the alarms behind him.
There is no way out.

He glanced up and down the street as the rain slowed and he walked back to his car. He threw his briefcase into the passenger seat as he sat down and gazed through the windscreen. He reached down and felt the bottle of pills in his pocket, massaging it slowly between his fingers as his eyes glazed over.

"You could run," he said quietly to himself, the words falling lazily from dry lips.

But where could you run?
A voice in his head asked.
You're stuck George. If you run, they'll become suspicious; Hellam will wonder why you left so suddenly. He would discover your betrayal in time, and where could you go where they wouldn't be able to find you? He would follow you George and he'd send someone to get you. You know he'll find you George. He'll get you - Kelser will get you George.

Langton felt himself tremble as the voice of his own creation sniggered and sneered in his head; taunting him for a response. But there was no response - Langton was trapped in this mess and there was nothing he could do. He glanced at the briefcase then started the engine. The rain continued to slow, eventually stopping, as he drove towards his house where he would scan and copy the documents for the waiting hands of Concerned Citizen.

BOOK: Kaleidoscope
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