The Island Angel Page 2

  “Yes, I’ll join now.”

  Chapter Two

  A LOT CAN happen in two weeks, especially when nights are spent awake. In a sterile meeting room, Jessica sat opposite Mrs Kapoor, a stern woman and the HR Director for EMEA. To Jessica’s right was her boss, Brian, senior VP of Product Quality.

  “I’m sorry we have to do this, but the severity of the impact on the business means we must take appropriate action,” Mrs Kapoor stated quickly.

  A drop in share price of 54 percent, potential class actions in the billions, and the loss of key accounts to their main competitors were all going to be seen as her fault.

  Jessica sighed. At least no one died. Although, she had heard there’d been severe delays in hospitals that used their software.

  “We’ll need you to hand in all company property,” Mrs Kapoor said. “Have you handed in your phone—”

  “I’ve already collected them,” her boss cut in.

  Mrs Kapoor closed her mouth like a chick that hadn’t been given a worm. She stared for a moment at Brian. Her posture and expression poised for an ice-cold reprimand. “And the company car?”

  Jessica chucked her keys onto the table. I was going to resign anyway. This doesn’t matter. But as much as she tried to rationalise what was happening, it felt wrong.

  “Thank you. I’m afraid there won’t be any notice period as you’re being dismissed from Hokthorn for gross negligence. But you may be called to answer questions as part of an enquiry. Are your address and home phone number up to date?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “Good. Now, I just need you to agree to this declaration.”

  A document was shoved under her nose. Jessica skimmed the words. It was asking her to agree to the termination of her employment and stated all the share options she held were now null and void.

  Once she had signed the paper, Jessica stood abruptly. She didn’t want to attend her own funeral any longer. “Are we done?” Her words were edged with an undertone of fear that she hoped no one else would notice. She wasn’t sure if it was because of what had happened over the last fortnight, but, for some reason, she was struggling with a deepening foreboding.

  “Please sit,” Mrs Kapoor said with twisted charm and another icicle smile. “We are done, but you’re not. Please stay seated.”

  Jessica sighed and sat back down. Everyone else left the room. After a minute, a man and a woman entered.

  “Jessica Cox, I’m Adrian Chapman from the Serious Fraud Office.” The man didn’t offer his hand, nor did he introduce the female colleague who was with him.

  She‘d thought she had just survived the worst couple of weeks of her life, but apparently something else was about to slam her in the chest. “What’s this about?” she asked, but it was obvious—it could only involve fraud of the serious kind.

  After the SFO officers sat, Mr Chapman continued while the robot beside him said nothing. “Miss Cox, it’s about insider trading and market manipulation.”

  “I’ve not been involved with any—” Shit. A thought occurred to her.

  Mr Chapman leaned forward and tilted his head. “Go ahead, please finish.”

  “Well, I sold most of my share options just before we had the problem with the update. You see, I was thinking about resigning and taking a career break. But I don’t see how—”

  “We are aware of those transactions. But that’s not the whole problem.”

  “What is then?” She twisted her hands in each other where she sat. She was petrified to the point she found it hard to breathe.

  “The difficulty is…” He paused as if on a talent show waiting to announce the winning act. “The shares you hold from your previous employer.”

  Mr Chapman was now watching her intensely. If his eyes were hands, every part of her body would have been violated.

  “My… What?”

  “Yes. You worked for Genism Systems, right?”

  “Five years ago. I don’t see—”

  “We’ve been informed you hold a considerable number of shares in Genism. Shares now worth three times their original value as the result of the disaster at this company that you may have deliberately caused.”

  Jessica blinked and gathered her thoughts. She needed to fight back. “Look, first, I’ve not done anything with those shares. Second, as VP, I take responsibility for the problems we’ve had with our update, but I’ve by no means purposefully caused it.”

  Mr Chapman sat back in his chair. “That’s yet to be determined.”

  The unreadable android-like woman beside him continued to stare.

  The room was silent for an uncomfortable period, forcing Jessica to fill the void. “So, if I haven’t done anything wrong, why are you here?”

  “That will depend on the investigation your company is doing. An investigation we are assisting with.” He half smiled, before continuing, “I should have said ex-employer as I understand you were dismissed today.”

  Jessica kept her mouth shut. She was desperate to leave, and it was hard not to make a run for the door.

  “But, to get to the point, I’m here to inform you that all your financial assets are frozen until the circumstances around what has happened is determined.”

  “What do you mean? My bank account is frozen—”

  “That is correct, a court order was granted. So please don’t leave the country. We’ll need to ask you more questions as our investigation proceeds.” He slid his chair back and stood. “I suggest you find yourself a lawyer, Miss Cox, if you haven’t already.” He turned and exited the room with his mute shadow following close behind.

  Jessica dropped her head into her hands, pushing her fingers into her hair, before letting out a sharp exhale. “I’ve done nothing wrong…”

  The door opened again, and Brian’s face appeared. “I’m to escort you out.”

  THE WALK BACK to her flat hadn’t helped to ease the tension in her chest and, once inside, Jessica paced back and forth, while talking on her hands-free phone. “So there’s no way I can take out any money?” Three of her cards had already been swallowed by a cash machine.

  “Sorry, no,” the woman on the line said.

  “Do you know when it will be unfrozen?” Jessica’s words were edged with frustration.

  “No, ma’am,” the woman told her for the third time. “We don’t have that information. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  Jessica closed her eyes tight and rubbed her temple. “No.”

  She hung up and threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and split into fragments.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do? Shit… Calm down,” she told herself.

  She went back to pacing. She could think better when letting her body burn off some of the energy blurring her thoughts. “Just get some money to tide you over. But from who?” She tapped her forehead with all four fingers. “Darren. Hell, there’s no one else.”

  She went to the broken handset and tried in vain to piece it back together. “That was stupid. God! And I don’t even have any contact numbers.”

  Back at her laptop, she mined her emails, social media, and the internet for numbers she thought she might need, writing them down on a small pad. At least she could still email or Skype, but who?

  She didn’t have many friends, at least not the sort she could discuss her current predicament with, since they were all work colleagues, except perhaps Chris. Any friends from her childhood and university, she’d simply left behind. All she had was a brother. Her father had passed away five years ago, and she’d last seen her mother in an open coffin at a crematorium a year ago. Her mother had worn a smile fixed in place by embalming fluid. It had been so hard to consider the staged construction as the woman who raised her, and she couldn’t bring herself to pay her final respects at the casket.

  Why am I thinking about my mum’s funeral? I don’t want to, not now. Just borrow some money from Darren, assuming he has any. Things will work themselves out once the investig
ation is done.

  IT WAS DUSK, and the sky was threatening to rain when the train screeched to a stop at Brimsdown station. Jessica had just enough cash in her purse to get a train ticket to North London, and now she hoped her brother was home. Otherwise, she’d have an impossible journey back. She walked slowly through the station, checking the shadows. Her heels clacked on the platform as she passed the closed ticket office. Some of her tension eased once she was outside.

  Jessica hurried along the pavement until she came to its junction with Green Street. It was a street she never wanted to see again. She hated the hypocrisy of the place, which started with its name. Nothing was green here, except for the household rubbish bins. Post-war semi-detached houses filled both sides of the road with the exception of a gap for a few run-down shops and a pub. All along the street, front gardens of the houses had been covered with concrete slabs to make parking spaces.

  The Jade Garden Chinese restaurant was on her right as she turned the corner. It also wasn’t anything like its name. A “To Let” sign was visible in its large window. Someone had graffitied an “i” between the two words.

  Her steps faltered as a shoeboxed memory tried to wriggle its way to the front. After what had happened in the restaurant, the smell of Chinese food still made her want to throw up.

  She lowered her head briefly, before raising it again and crossing the road.

  This had always been an area where people lived by abusing the benefits system and bending the law. Here, the sun didn’t lift off the morning’s paper, and, as a teenager, Jessica was forced by circumstance to rub shoulders with thugs, drug addicts, and alcoholics who thought they were God’s gift to women, boasting about their sexual prowess at every opportunity. She was always polite to them, not because she wanted to be, but because she was afraid. One evening, her fear had become reality in the cruellest way. She didn’t want to think about that day and pressed on.

  In front of her was the home where her parents had moved twenty years ago. Now, she was back. Back because her brother had never left, staying put even after their mother died of lung cancer. Jessica had wanted to sell the semi-detached house and forget about every particle of the place, but Darren wouldn’t budge, oblivious to her need to forget. He had all he wanted in life: Sky TV, a pub across the street, a betting shop a few doors down, and an Indian takeaway around the corner.

  When the doorbell didn’t make a sound, Jessica stabbed at the letterbox, causing the metal flap to snap back with a clapping noise. She repeated the action three times, before yelling through the gap. “Darren, it’s Jessica!”

  There was no answer.

  Light was visible from the front room window, and she squeezed around a dirty old Saab convertible with its roof covered in a blue tarpaulin. It looked like it hadn’t been driven in months and areas of the black bodywork were green with algae. She walked around it, banging her shin on the tow bar of the car.

  “Fuck!” She rubbed the bruised area, before heading to the window. After rapping on the glass, she could still see no movement through the nicotine-stained lace drapes.

  The neighbour’s door opened. “He’ll be in the pub,” an old woman said, waving her hand jerkily towards the Black Horse tavern across the road.

  After a nod, Jessica turned and crossed the street. All the cells in her body told her she should stay away but, with no other choice, she forced herself to enter the rundown public house.

  All eyes were on her as she walked inside, looking her up and down, before returning to their pints of beer. Her brother beckoned her over and patted the stool next to him at the bar. “Long time no see. So, what brings you here?”

  “I need to talk to you about something.” She was glad she had changed from her business suit into jeans and a thick navy sweater; this was not the place to look professional. She kept her handbag on her lap and was about to reach for her purse when she remembered she had no way to pay.

  “You could have just phoned. Oh, yes, I remember, you don’t do that,” Darren said.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I actually don’t have a phone right now.” She looked at his face; he had aged a lot over the past few years. “Can you get me a Diet Coke? I can’t pay.”

  “Okay, sure, coming up.” His tone was jovial, and Jessica suspected he had already put a few pints away. Darren waved the bartender over. “Mel, a Diet Coke for my sister.”

  The bartender looked like the type of person a prison warden wouldn’t confront, and she served the drink without any camaraderie.

  Jessica said nothing until after she had a sip of her Coke. “Darren, I’m a bit stuck. A problem at work caused my bank account and cards to be frozen. It will clear up in a week or so, but, until then—” She paused, having to swallow more than her pride, before asking, “I was wondering if you could lend me some money?”

  “So, my sister, with her job in the City, needs money from me? What’s wrong? Spent it all on prosecco?” He laughed and called to the bartender, “Mel, do you have any prosecco for my sister?” The woman didn’t hear him over the din, or perhaps she just ignored him.

  “Darren, I just need some money for the next couple of weeks. There was a big problem at work and—”

  “Listen,” he said, interrupting her. “You think you have problems.” He pointed across the bar. “You see that woman, there, sitting with that asshole?”

  Jessica sighed and glanced in the direction of his chubby finger. There was only one female customer other than her in the place, so she wasn’t hard to spot. “With the man with greying hair?”

  “Yes.” He leaned close. “She’s my girlfriend, and that’s Greg, her husband.”

  Jessica frowned.

  “He suspects something’s going on between us, and now she has given me the shoulder. What the fuck am I supposed to do? He’s a complete snake in the grass, but she won’t leave him because he’s minted.” Darren finished his pint and ordered another while bemoaning his situation.

  Jessica found it hard to empathise. She was here to get his help, not listen to his half-cut ramblings about what sounded like a sordid affair.

  Then she saw him, sitting at the other end of the bar. She should have known the bastard would still live here. She needed to leave and leave now.

  She put her hand on her brother’s arm. “Please, let’s go.”

  Darren hadn’t heard her. His mouth was twisted into an enraged grimace.

  “Please don’t have any more.” Her tone belayed her desperation. “I need to talk to you about our options. Maybe you can get a small loan against the house for me.”

  Still, he ignored her. Jessica tracked Darren’s gaze to see him watching his “girlfriend” kissing her husband.

  “I’m going home,” he announced. “And you should go to yours.” Darren slipped off his perch, before sauntering to the exit.

  Outside, Jessica hurried after him but had to wait for two cars to pass before crossing the street. By the time she caught up, he was already inside and had latched the door.

  “Darren!” She banged on the door. “Come on, please. God damn it! I can’t even get home!” After a few more attempts to be let in, she checked her watch. It was close to eleven. “I bet the slob is in a drunken sleep on the sofa. Hell,” Jessica mumbled to herself, leaning against the old car in the drive.

  She tugged the cuffs of her sleeves down over her hands to keep them warm. I can walk home. But it’s twelve miles.

  She left the short drive and took a single step onto the pavement when she saw him. From his staggering gait, it was clear he was drunk. She slowly backtracked and ducked behind the old Saab. Her fingers curled into fists, and her heart raced with fear. There was no way she wanted to face him. She tried the door of the car. It was unlocked and creaked open. She quickly slid in. Through the driver’s window, she could just make out the evil fuck who had nearly killed her and Myra.

  He fumbled with his keys at a parked car and got in. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly drove off. The h
eadlights of his car turned on when he was some distance beyond the level crossing.

  “God. I should’ve never have come here.” Afraid, she didn’t move, still waiting, and unsure of what to do.

  Perhaps half an hour went by before Jessica managed to calm down and suppress the spectre from her past.

  A thought occurred to her, and she reached up to fold down the car’s sun visor. A key fell to the floor, and she groped in the dark to find it.

  “Why does this car stink of damp?” she whispered. But the real question was will it start?

  The engine barely cranked over before the lights on the dashboard went black. She tapped the accelerator. “I must have used up all my shitty luck today. Come on, stinky car.” She knew the words wouldn’t help, but they couldn’t hurt. “Start!” She twisted the key. After the second crank, it sputtered to life.

  Without hesitating, she reversed into the street. But as she passed the brick posts, marking the drive’s entrance, the tarpaulin caught and was ripped off, leaving it behind.

  She sped along the empty, grey street. The only light came from the dim tungsten headlights of the Saab. She was pleased with her first success of the day and maxed the heating settings. She considered turning on the radio but suspected it was tempting fate. Her day had been one disaster after another, but at least now she could get home. I’ll have to find Megan and ask her to help. No choice now—I should’ve done that first. Why is my thinking so screwed up?

  “Shit. Fuel…” She checked the gauge, almost full. “Wow!” She turned the radio on and tuned into Radio One, happy for anything that seemed normal. Her mood dissipated when she remembered she was broke, had no insurance, and you can’t eat a tank of petrol. She was so hungry. I’ll just get back to the flat. I can live off pasta and stay put.

  Only five minutes had passed when the passenger side front tyre blew out.

  “Piece of shit car!” Jessica screamed. “Kill me now, already! This is too much! I’ve not walked under a ladder, run over a black cat, or broken a mirror, so what is it with this day?”