Delete-Man: A Psychological Thriller (35 page)

It came out as a thin rasp.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Joseph. You
can’t delude yourself anymore. It’s right there in black and
white.”

My muscles shivered and turned
to jelly. My throat burned, and I struggled to breath. Everything
went hazy, my blood ran cold, and I collapsed onto the table.

Chapter 25

The knot I had carried in the
pit of my stomach for weeks unravelled into a swirling tornado.
Some part of me washed away with the violent colours and depths
into a void. I lost all sense of time or space, a frightened speck
of consciousness floating in nothingness. Faintly, I heard words
spoken, broadcast from some other dimension.

“Joe? Are you ok? Get some
water, would you David.”

For a brief second, I grasped
and caught nothing, was invisible and powerless. Then, once again,
resolution. Whatever I had become surged forward, awareness
slamming back into my body, my muscles filling with tension once
more, and the hard knot in the pit of my gut twisting me once
again.

“No,” I said, lifting my head
up, “coffee.”

King gave me a relieved
smile.

“How would you like it?”

“Black. Hot.”

McLeish nodded and left the
room. There was almost a minute of silence in which Buzzcut and
King watched me compose myself. The tension in the room was
seceding.

“Are you ok, Joseph?”

“Yeah.”

“It must be hard to deal
with.”

“Yeah.”

“But you understand now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Another long silence.

“I’m sorry that it had to be
like this, Joe.”

“No, it’s ok. Thanks for the…
you know.”

“It’s fine. The truth will out
eventually.”

“Yeah.”

“Now that it has, perhaps we can
call a truce. Stop chasing each other and causing problems for one
another. I can promise you, Joe, that none of our information on
you will get out. So long as you leave my business and I alone.
That’s fair, I think.”

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

I fingered a passport photo of
Josie, gazing at her hazel eyes. I heard a buzz and King checked
her phone.

“I’ll leave you alone a while.
Clark, would you stay here with Joe? I’m just going downstairs for
a cigarette and to make a phone call. I won’t be longer than ten
minutes. Keep your eye on these documents. Don’t let anyone in
and,” she leaned towards him and said quietly, “don’t let him
out.”

“Of course.”

“Back in a moment.”

She stood up, raised her bag to
her shoulder, and left the room. Buzzcut looked at me then relaxed,
leaning back into his chair and stretching out his legs. I shifted
the papers around in front of me. There was a brief, light, knock
on the door, then it opened and McLeish stepped inside.

“Got your coffee here, Joe.”

I stood up to take it from
him.

“Thanks.”

I took off the lid, breathed in
the hot, bitter aroma, then threw the liquid into Buzzcut’s
face.

“Argh!”

He grasped his face and shook
violently as the coffee burned into his skin. I dropped the cup,
lifted my foot, and planted it deep into McLeish’s gut. He fell
backwards, doubled over. I stumbled forward and kicked him in the
face.

Buzzcut screamed. He leant
forward and I whipped my hand around to smack him hard on the back
of his head, sending his face to crunch against the table. He
screamed even louder, waving his arms around trying to grab me, but
unable to open his eyes or compose himself.

I leapt towards the end of the
table and snatched up the folder King had flicked through in front
of me: Josie’s book. I took one last look at Buzzcut, still hunched
over the table, trying to dry himself with his shirt, and McLeish,
clutching his gut and whimpering slightly on the floor, then I
left.

I had only walked a few paces
down the corridor when someone wearing a uniform stopped me.

“What’s going on in there?”

“Two guys are going mad in
there. One guy threw hot coffee over another, and then the other
guy kicked him in the stomach. You need to do something, they’re
losing it.”

The security guard grabbed his
microphone and spoke into it hurriedly as he took long strides
towards the conference room. I ran in the opposite direction,
looking for the elevator.

As the elevator descended
smoothly, I elbowed some space and managed to check the file I had
taken. It was Josie’s book alright, except nearly three times as
large as the section I had read. Images, photos, list of names,
companies, dates, and records. I checked the contents:

Part 1: Overview

Part 2: Analysis

Part 3: Solutions

Part 4: Evidence

Taped to the inside of the file
was a usb stick. I ripped it off and pocketed it just before the
lift came to a gentle stop on the ground floor. Bursting out into
the lobby I weaved forward between the businessmen and women
leaving work for the day. I caught sight of King, standing near the
glass, taking shelter from the rain under the entrance’s canopy;
phone to her ear, and a cigarette in the other hand. I surged
forward, blood thumping in my ears. Somebody walked across me and I
stumbled forward to the floor. They let out a scream and King
turned. She saw me getting to my feet and there was a second’s
unbelieving hesitation in her face before she dropped her cigarette
and ran. My foot eventually gripped the shiny, wet floor and I
barged through the crowd filling the entrance and out into the
cold, whipped rain.

King was slow, and the dense
rain made the ground too wet for her heels to get any real traction
on. But my body was failing too, muscles firing and loosening at
random, my left leg stiffening at every push and weakening with
every impact. I pushed through the crowd, trying not to lose sight
of her. I saw her stumble and pushed myself harder, gaining ground
fast.

She ran out into the street,
almost jumping in front of a black cab. I staggered off the
pavement and leapt towards her, feet away. She opened the cab door
just as I reached out to grab her, realising only at the last
moment that I was still clutching the file. My arm clattered
against the side of the door, causing me to fall into it just as
King slammed it shut.

The wheels screeched, splashing
me with dirty puddle-water as the cab pulled away. I crumbled to
the gutter, shouts and car horns fizzing around me. I was wet
through, and my body had reached its limit. I clutched the file
tightly and somehow felt warmer.

I emerged from the train station
and stopped at a nearby cash machine, withdrawing all the money I
had in my account. I would take Vicky away. Not even pack. A
completely fresh start somewhere else. Maybe Brighton, or Devon.
One of those places that had space, and was quiet. Somewhere there
wasn’t any distractions. Maybe even somewhere abroad. Learn a new
language and eat different food. That way there wouldn’t be so many
memories. Maybe. I’d send the book back to Abdi, get him to print
off some copies, get its message out there somehow, and forget
about it. Concentrate on Vicky, just like I should have done. Let
her grow older however she wanted to. Someplace I needn’t
worry.

My body ached and stung as I
entered the lift. I picked out the bottle of painkillers and opened
the cap, changing my mind at the very last second and dropping it
instead. It fell with a clatter on the lift’s metal floor, the
pills spraying out of the bottle.

The doors opened and I stepped
outside, falling to my knees. After a second to catch my breath I
pulled myself up. Still clutching the file, I leant against the
wall with my forearm and made my way to the door. I instinctually
felt for my keys then realised I had left the door open.

I pushed the door and saw
several policemen standing inside the living room. I walked towards
them.

“What’s all this?”

“Joseph Williamson?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Detective Constable Peters.
I’m arresting you on charges of arson, breaking and entering,
grievous bodily harm, assault, burglary, harbouring a minor
illegally, and tax fraud. You do not have to say anything, but it
may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned,
something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may
be given in evidence.”

Another, younger officer,
advanced towards me with cuffs. He pulled the file out of my grasp
and threw it onto the table.

“Give me your other arm.”

“I’ve only got one arm.”

He shifted his eyes between my
sides for a few full seconds before looking at Peters,
confused.

“Where is Vicky? Is she here?
She’s at school. I have to pick her up. You’ve got to let me see
her one more time.”

Peters looked at me then nodded
his head somewhere behind me. I turned and saw a short woman with
glasses and long, straight brown hair.

“Hi, Joseph. I’m Jennifer
Thornby from the child protection agency. Vicky’s absolutely fine.
She’s going to be taken care of wonderfully.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Jennifer Thornby, child
protection agency.”

“Child protection? You’re gonna
take Vicky away?”

“I understand you’re upset, but
depending on your sentencing and—”

“Oh fuck this. Fuck this. This
is not happening.”

“Calm down, Joseph.”

“Don’t you— Oh shit. I don’t
believe this. Vicky. No. No no no. This is wrong.”

“Joseph nothing is certain at
the present moment.”

“Where is Vicky now?”

“We have an agent waiting for
her at the school. She’ll be picked up and treated very well.”

“Oh fuck no. I got to see her.
You can’t do that without letting me see her.”

My knees went weak, and I was
about to fall before the officer with cuffs extended an arm and
held me up.

“Call in and get a doctor to
meet us at the station.”

I looked at Peters, then at
Jennifer.

“I don’t be—how?”

I strained and pushed and
managed to stand fully again.

“Shit. No. Can I just, get some
fresh air? I’m feeling a bit…”

Peters looked at the young
officer and nodded sympathetically.

“Two minutes.”

He let me go and I staggered out
through the open balcony door. I leant out over it, scanning the
dark, foggy skyline, then the myriad of balconies around mine.
Above and below. I felt a drop and raised my face to the sky. I
remembered the dreams.

I took one last look behind me,
at Peters, Jennifer, the young officer with cuffs, and the wet,
battered file on the table. I put my hand on the balcony rail, and
with the last bit of strength from my body leapt over it. Reaching
out my hand, just as I had done in the dream, hoping that something
would save me.