The Shift of Numbers (7 page)

“
Okay, dear,” r
eplied Pete weakly.

*

Bill stood before his
27
workers at the main gate with one arm around Gordon. They were all looking at his blackened face with quizzical expressions.

“We
’re all going to the pub. All the drinks are on me. T
oday has been a very good day for the Carrot Corporation™ and I would like to thank Gordon for th
at. It’s him we are drinking to
tonight. And don’t worry about the hangovers
, lads. T
omorrow morning we will be starting an hour later.
Okay
?” A cheer went up among the workers as Bill whispered i
nto Gordon’s ear, “Don’t worry. M
y wife can draw you on some more eyebrows.” 

“It's amazing that the amount of news that happens in the world every day always just exactly fits the newspaper.”

Jerry Seinfeld

“Pete
, it’s me. Quick, turn over to channel 2!
” shouted Joan down the telephone before hanging up. Pete jumped out of bed where he had been resting for the last couple of days, doctor’s orders, and switched on the television. He switched to channel 2 and was greeted by the chirpy, pretty face of the news presenter.

“Welcome to a special news update with me
,
Pelexia Brown.
Big news today in the financial sector, as we saw
.
Shure Stock, the country’
s second largest independent brokerage house
has
file
d
for bankruptcy. The managing directors
are
citing mismanagement of funds as the cause. On the video
phone from Uist we have Aldrich,
channel 2’s own financial guru.
”

“Good afternoon
,
Pelexia.”

“Tell me
,
Aldrich, with such a large financial establishment going bankrupt, what effect will this have?”

“The effects are already being felt at the highest levels, with the CHASDAQ down 230 points in less that 3 hours. This will most likely have a ripple effect on interest and exchange rates. A more direct cons
equence will be on the companie
s that used S
h
ure Stock to invest on their behalf, with 3 already filing for bankruptcy.”

“And we can’t forget the private investors.”

“Absolutely not
, Pelexia. U
nfortunately
,
they will have lost everything.”

“Is there anyway
they can claim any money back?”

“Unfortunately not.
3 years ago
,
it would have been a different story, with the government legally having to insure private investors with
20p in the pound
against just this scenario. After the fiasco of Exo Oil, with the government having to pay out a record 60 million to investors, they changed the law. At the present time…”

“Sorry to interrupt but I’ve just been told that we
’
re out of time. More from this late breaking news at the usual time of 8 o’clock. Goodbye.”

And with the usual wink from her sparkling brown eyes, Pelexia was gone, replaced by an advert for a documentary on the benefits of a high fibre diet. Pete quickly turned the television off
, lost in his own thoughts. W
hat
the hell were he and Joan to do?
Against
doctors
orders
,
Pete had a shower, a cup of tea, put on his best suit and went to the bank.

*

Richard’s
fiancé
e had just opened the mail:
only 2 letters today. 1 was a final demand for a mortgage payment an
d the other appeared to be
hate-
mail
from sources unknown. She chucked them both away without reading either; i
t wasn’t the first letter of it
s kind and probably wouldn’t be the last. Apparently
,
some people had blamed Richard for the decline of Shure Stock and needed to vent some anger
,
thinking he was still living here. Her most pressing problem was that being without Ric
hard meant having no money and,
very soon
,
nowhere to live. So
,
against the psychiatrist’s advice
,
she went to see Richard.

*

Leaning on the gatepost at the top of the driveway to the farm, Bill watched as an increasingly familiar-looking stranger walked slowly towards him. Pulling his dog-eared hat further down his head in an attempt to shield his eyes from the late afternoon sun, the stranger’s face became apparent. An invisible icy hand clamped around Bill’s heart as his mind tried desperately to make sense of what he was seeing. The only feasible explanation seemed to be that the ghost of the Scientist had come back to haunt him, arising from his shallow grave to cause untold mischief. Bill was blinking uncontrollably by the time the ethereal-looking figure stood before him, the sunlight radiating from a pristine white lab coat, the tails of his coat blowing in the wind like an angel’s wings. Bill gulped as his mouth became as dry as the dusty road upon which they both stood.

“Good afternoon,” said the man, without a trademark cough.

“Erm…Hello,” squeaked Bill, nervously, a bit like a teenager asking a girl out at a disco for the first time.

“
You seen
my brother about? He left this address as a place where I could find him.”

“Brother…Erm, no.”

“You sure? I thought he was doing some work for a farmer round these parts. I’m assuming that would be you.”

Bill’s mind somersaulted a few times before his wits returned enough to form a coherent sentence.

“Ah, I remember now… A fella looking just like you sold me some fertiliser a while back. Didn’t work as I recall. Ain’t seen him since.” Bill was so impressed by his own answer he stopped blinking.

“I see,” said the Scientist with a puzzled air about him. “When was that?”

“Must be a couple of months ago now.”

“Really… it’s not like him to not tell me where he’s going,” he muttered half to himself.

“Well, I best get some work done,” exclaimed Bill in a friendly manner. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked briskly away in the direction of Gordon’s hut.

The Scientist stood for a few minutes, lost in his own thoughts. Eventually, he lifted his head and sniffed a few times. Caught on the breeze, tantalisingly faint, came a very familiar aroma of cabbage and very cheap aftershave. Realising something quite strange was
afoot,
he decided to follow Bill over the rolling expanse of fields - at a discreet distance.

*

Pete found himself sat in a very small uncomfortable chair listening to a very short man sat behind a gia
nt desk in a very large chair.
H
e was introduced to Pete as the assistant manager of the bank by his secretary
. While the short man looked for Pete’s bank details, Pete found himself wondering how big the actual bank manager’s chair was.

“There we are, I’ve found your details. I’m sorry to hear about Shure Stock
. Y
ou must be devastated.”

“We are,” r
eplied Pete, snapping out of his chair daydream.

“Unfortunately
,
as you probably know, there is no chance of recovering any of your money.”

“I know. What is
the…you
know, situation with our house and the repayments?” asked Pete uncomfortably, using his hands to help him talk.

“You re-mortgaged your house and
withdrew all your savings. As it
stands now
,
you are overdrawn over your limit after the first mortgage repayment came out this morning. Do you have any more money in any other banks or such like?”

“No,” r
eplied Pete rubbing his face in an attempt to hide from the probing eyes of the assistant bank man
a
ger.

“The only thing I can suggest
, I’m afraid, is this. It’s
clear
,
looking at how much both of you earn,
that
you will have to move out of your house and find alternative accommodation. This will allow the bank to repossess it and then we will have to look into some form of long-term payment plan for the interest accrued on the mortgage to date and the overdraft. I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

“
Okay,” said Pete, dejected.
“I think I need to talk to my wife
.
”

“1 more thin
g before you go:
you will need to be out of the house by the end of the month.”

*

As
Richard’s
fiancé
e
made her way up
the driveway to the Dullstand Psychiatric H
ospital
,
she noticed how pretty the place was, with large open well-groomed lawns surrounded by trees and hedges cut into the shapes of animals. While admiring a particularly good likeness of a rabbit
,
a large gentleman in a lab coat walked up quietly behind her.

“Can I help you miss?” h
e asked in a disturbingly gentle voice.

“Actually
, yes.
I have come to visit my fiancé.”

“Can I take your name and see some identification
, please?” c
ame the
softly
-
spoken
response. After giving her name and driving licence to the man
,
s
he
was led slowly up to a bright new-
looking building made mainly of glass. As they walked through the front door
,
the large man stopped and turned to face Richard’s fiancé
e
.

“You liked the rabbit?” h
e asked softly
,
leaning in close and looking intently.

“Erm…it’s very nice.”

“Good,” he replied with a smile and a nod. “You can wait over there, while I see if I can go and get Dicky.” He pointed to a collection of seats.

“Dicky?
You mean Richard?”

“We give all our…” he made
quotation marks with fingers, “…
´patients`
alternative nam
es. It speeds up the recovery. N
ew start and all that.”
Richard’s
fiancé
e
took a seat while the man ambled off down a corridor. After 20 minutes of listening to cheery ambient music
, she watched the large man return
without Richard.

“Where is he?” e
xclaimed Richard
’
s fiancé
e
when the man had got close enough.

“I
’m sorry. Y
ou won’t be able
to see Dicky today. H
e has some gentlemen with him.”

“What gentlemen?
I really need to see him. Do you not understand?”

“There’s no need to take that tone with me
, miss.
I’m only doing my job. I’m not sure who the gentlemen are but it’s quite impossible for you to see him today.”

Without warning
,
Richard
’
s fiancé
e
side-
stepped
the big man and ran down the corridor he had walked out of. She ran as fast as she could, clattering down a maze of corridors in shoes not made for the task. She rounded a corner and ran into a large bright room; at the far end next to a desk, Richard was being handcu
ffed. She jogged over. T
he 2 men
with Richard
, both wearing suits
,
stopped and looked at her.

“What’s going on? Where are you taking him?”
Richard’s
fiancé
e
asked the men breathless
ly.
Richard just stared at the floor in a heavily sedated stupor.

“Who are you?” a
sked the shorter of the 2 men politely.

“I’m his fiancé
e
!”

“We
’
re taking him to the MSD for questioning.” The shorter man motioned to his colleague and he started walking Richard towards
a glass door behind the desk. A
black car could be seen parked outside.

Richard’s
fiancé
e
looked at the man in front of her
,
all the while trying to catch her breath. He wore an immaculately pressed black suit with a washing powder advert white shirt and a dark
blue tie. He was closely shaved
with a short military
-style hair
cut. She glanced down
,
noticing his suit jacket was open just enough to show a gun holster.

“You can contact
the MSD for further information,” he said handing her a card. B
efore she could reply
,
a hand clamped
her right shoulder and twisted her around. T
he han
d belonged to the large man in the lab coat. H
e too was out of breath.