He started to pace the runner carpet, making fists with his toes in a vain attempt to relieve the tension flooding into his body, the movement not easing his worry. His cell phone rang in his trouser pocket, the screen showed caller withheld, he answered it anyway knowing the line would be secure, the voice familiar.
‘Hello Arthur, I thought you realised we were not doing business anymore?’
‘You made that clear, but I have concerns with my bank.’
‘Really? And how would that be my business?’
‘Because it is your business which filled them up, and now the funds are absent!’
His pacing had increased with his volume, he was now virtually stamping on the carpet.
‘Arthur it was not a payment we gave you, we saw it as an investment in the future, and you failed to deliver it.’
‘So you take the money back?’
‘Exactly, got it in one. We have left the amount you started with before our relationship, which is now over.’
‘You are just leaving me penniless?’
‘Yes, but believe me, we have suffered substantial financial losses also, which must be explained, justified and repaid.’
‘Do you expect me to pay for any of it?’
‘You already have Arthur, the assassin is the key.’
‘What of the assassin?’
‘He’s dead, but he has been for eight years, so no connection exists to us. However he was working for you?’
‘Now what made you suppose that?’
‘He was in a meeting with Uncotto at the Four Seasons, we have him passing security. I am sure the DSS have a record of him, and their investigation of the incident will show this.’
‘Even so, it is not traceable to me, so what is your point?’
‘It will come out that he was employed by you, to protect us.’
‘I will not, confirm any such allegation.’
‘Yes you will Mr Jarrett, or your wife will not return from her bridge night tomorrow.’
‘How dare you threaten my family!’
‘Calm yourself Arthur. You just have to cover our back, if it should come out. Of course it may not, or someone may leak the information to the press, which happens surprisingly frequently. Alfred took the liberty of recording all your conversations, and forwarding them to us. It is amazing what you can do with sound software today.’
‘What do you need from me?’
‘Now you understand. We just wondered how the Manhattan Heliport received a phone call about an attack before it happened? How the DSS field office received a call two minutes before that?’
‘I don’t know, I am sure they get calls all the time with threats.’
‘Yes quite. We just want to be sure there is no leak in our organisation, nothing that would compromise future plans. You understand our position Arthur?’
‘Yes I understand, just covering your bases?’
‘Now I have things to attend to, so don’t call this number again, and enjoy your office, Goodbye Arthur.’
The line went dead, and Jarrett threw his cell phone against the red wall, smashing the screen, and scattering the Chinese made components behind an antique bookcase. The demise of the device did not subdue his anger. He continued to pace the runner, feeling a slight tightness in his chest. He went to get some water from the small refrigerator in the corner, but his throat was also tightening, he loosened his tie gasping for breath, moving towards the panic button under his desk.
He crawled along the runner carpet dragging his body along, stretching to reach his salvation, the silent alarm. He could smell something on the carpet, was that seaweed strange scent to perfume a shampoo with? His mind was racing now, focussing on the red button, pushing it with his index finger and then rolling over to catch his breath, waiting for help.
The help never came, Arthur Jarrett was found dead on his office carpet before twelve noon, the press conference announcing his ill health went through as planned, and the following day his death was officially announced, the victim of a heart attack. That is because the saxitoxin he had absorbed, which never showed up on his autopsy. His wife was shocked and oblivious to the offer to replace the office carpet free of charge, to remove the remains of her husband’s body fluids she readily accepted, pleasantly surprised at the generosity.
The Consortium continued unabated, the faceless business that reached across the world at all levels, from building oil refineries and dams, to carpet cleaning companies.
EPILOGUE
Jacob landed at airport in Kangerlussuaq, Southern Greenland, it was midday, although the weather did not reflect it, and was vastly different to Washington Baltimore International several hours before. There was a small storm coming in from the east and he had to rush to beat it. Once he had been grounded there for two weeks, and that was not a major storm. He had landed but still had a long way to travel. He was going to Qaanaaq the most northern settlement on the planet, nine hundred and forty seven miles from the North Pole.
Jacob had delighted in talking to the tourists on the flight in, informing them of the origins of the word Arctic, ‘It is from the Greek word arktos, meaning bear, which in turn refers to the constellation Ursa Major which appears prominently in the northern sky.’
The middle-aged lady next to him was taking a gap year, aged fifty-nine, she had decided to leave the house with her adult children who refused to move out, and wander the world.
Her name was Constance Fletcher, she was slender, elegant with silver hair cut in a neat bob, low maintenance she called it. He noticed her sitting next to him, dressed in classic black. Jacob had discussed her adventures so far, trekking through Europe, discovering the history she had read about, now having photos uploaded to her website for her children to keep checks on her. Constance had researched Greenland, and politely informed Jacob that Inuit for Greenland was Kalaallit Nunaat, he was impressed.
‘So how long are you staying?’
‘Two weeks, Disko Bay doing the full tour, icebergs, midnight sun going to walk on the Ilulissat Ice Fjord.’
‘You have really got things planned out.’
‘I know what I want, and want what I know.’
‘Very true, like my wife.’
‘She here with you, or staying warm at home?’
‘Well, she is dead.’
‘Oh I am sorry Jacob, I can tell it is recent, your manner.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘To me, lost my husband thirteen months ago, that’s what prompted me to travel.’
‘To forget, to deal with your grief?’
‘No not at all, quite the opposite, I did it to remember him. You see he was always Mr Safe, never took risks, always did the right thing, but never the best thing.’
‘And the travelling?’
‘He would never travel, never wanted to holiday outside the United States, Florida was as far south as I got. So I decided I would travel for both of us, for the places he never dared to go.’
‘Did you ever ask him why?’
‘Yes before he died, he said that he wanted to be here for the children, in case they needed him.’
‘That is a waste, if your children are grown up, there was no real need for him to stay home.’
‘We got stuck in a rut, he felt safe at home, avoided change, liked his routine. Which drove me nuts, but that did not stop me loving him, or missing him.’
‘So you are travelling to prove that you can do it?’
‘Yes something like that, realised that life moves pretty fast, if you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.’
‘Quite right Constance, I have been looking round for years, and my wife had the same idea, but we didn’t always do it together, she ran the ranch, while I saved the world.’