Page 67 of Billionaire Corruption

Having people I loved put in harm’s way.

Finding out that people I care about, had lost their lives.

It made me think that I had somehow become involved in something bigger and more complex than I had even realized. Like a spider web from a children’s fantasy story, that was bigger and more deadly than I ever could have thought.

My thoughts shifted to a weekend I hadn't thought of in years. Perhaps it was the landscape that made me think of a deer hunting trip I took with my father years ago as a teenager, tramping around the woods in search of prey. I remembered feeling so small and insignificant in the vastness of the woods, and the determination in my father's voice as he insisted that this weekend was a rite of passage.

The rain had beat down on us all weekend, cold and relentless, and there had been no success at finding any deer. I felt deeply relieved, I had not wanted to shoot anything. But my father became sullen and angry. I felt like he wanted to shoot something, anything. We had to kill something for this weekend to be a success and I couldn’t imagine why. After that weekend, I had never looked at the woods the same way again. Especially thick, green woods with trees that looked like they had been there hundreds of years.

It made me think that they knew things I didn’t, had seen all kinds of horrors and tragedies that they could warn me about. But the trees here, were in full fall regalia, shades of amber and gold, carpets of russet-colored leaves scattered everywhere. I drove through old towns and over rustic bridges, felt the pull of history and another time.

I had bought another phone to talk to Grace.

Even though I couldn’t quite believe that anyone was listening to my calls, I also couldn’t discount the idea entirely. When I had spoken to Don about the security footage at the office, he insisted on meeting away from the office, even leaving our phones in the car.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

He told me he had seen someone enter the building before Alana, at twelve o’clock that night. He couldn’t see who it was. They had been buzzed in by security and so there was no card to swipe. This suggested someone they knew. And trusted. Someone senior. Then the camera, for some reason, malfunctioned or was switched off. There was no footage for the rest of the evening and there was no explanation for why there had been no officer at the desk. Don had been trying to get hold of the guy who was working earlier in the evening, but his phone was switched off. He was trying to get a clearer image of the man who’d come earlier in the night.

“Still, Ms. Tenielle’s death has been ruled an accident. There will be no inquiry,” said Don.

I thought of my conversation with Alana’s mother earlier that morning, calling her to give her my condolences. The woman, who lived in California now, was Alana’s closest relative. There had been no partner, no boyfriend, as far as I knew. Alana’s mother clearly had not been informed about the latest developments at work. She didn’t know about Alana being fired, about the investigation.

“She loved that job,” her mother said sadly. “The last time we spoke, I think it was her birthday? She said she’d just come back from London. She was talking about going back there for her next holiday.”

I felt guilty about not telling Alana’s mother of how things had ended at work.

“She made a huge difference,” I said. “I relied on her.” This might have been true in the beginning, at least.

My thoughts were interrupted by a call from the office. I screened it first, it was Sarah, my PA.

“What is it, Sarah?”

“It’s Mr. Brenneman, he wants to know where you are? He’s called twice, what should I tell him?”

I could hear she was sounding anxious.

“Tell him I’m at a meeting.”

“He’ll want to know with whom.”

I wanted to say she could tell him whatever she wanted, I didn’t care anymore, but I couldn’t do that. That would be cruel to Sarah, who would immediately start worrying about her job at the company, and what this meant for the others.

“He asked if I didn’t have your diary in front of me, what sort of PA I was.”

Bloody Brock, putting pressure on poor Sarah.

“Tell him I’m seeing my Uncle Richard.”

That would shut him up, I thought.

Sooner or later, I would have to come up with an answer for Brock, I knew. I thought about what Grace had said on the phone about figuring out an exit strategy and I knew she was right. They wouldn’t just let me walk.

On that hunting weekend, all those years ago, my father hadn’t been able to let it go either. This idea, that I had to kill something, thatI had to go on this stupid hunt in the woods.

On the way back to our camp, my father suddenly sat me down in a clump of bushes, told me to be quiet. There was some rustling in the undergrowth. He told me to take aim at something I couldn’t even see.

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