Sisters
By colonel_hackney
- 335 reads
‘I’ve been such a fool,’ she said. Indeed, I thought.
‘He is a total bastard,’ I wanted to show some solidarity. ‘How were you to know he was ripping you off?’ Certain intelligent questions might have exposed some part of the truth. But maybe that’s just the way we lawyers think. I passed my sister, Fiona, the box of tissues. I brushed her hair back from her face. She blew her nose. It upset me to see her like this.
‘Thanks for coming over. You’re so good to me when I’ve been so …..’ she subsided into another flood of tears and nose blowing. It had been a long day in court, on my feet for most of it.
‘Drink?’ I walked over to the well stocked tray. I poured us both a glass of whisky. My first sip made me take a look at the bottle. ‘Macallan 1928’ it said. It was smooth and soft and lit a pulsing glow inside me. Dad would have appreciated it.
‘Crikey. This is very nice stuff.’ I tipped the glass back. I poured myself another and joined Fiona on the cream leather sofa. Far below the huge glass windows, the city rumbled on into the night. The moon was full and bright.
‘What exactly happened?’ I slipped my shoes off and stretched my toes.
‘What did he do to you?’
‘Oh he didn’t hit me or anything. He’s just gone and blown everything. I’ve got nothing.’
‘What about this place?’ The penthouse apartment was huge.
‘This is all I’ve got. All the cash is gone. He took it to finance his stupid schemes. And do you know the silliest thing? You know the money dad left us…’ I felt my chest tighten. Our father had only died a month before. He left a sum of money to each of us to invest wisely.
‘You mean the fifty thousand?’
‘He said he could double it in a week.’
‘You believed him?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was pitched high enough to make me fear another bout of tears and nose blowing. This was averted, however, by the thought that hit her. I love my sister dearly. But I know that for her, thinking requires an effort that is visible.
‘He’ll be on the news.’ She padded across the floor in her stockinged feet and flipped the television on.
‘And now in other news, financier Roland van der Groot was arrested today on suspicion of fraud. Police are investigating complaints about the disappearance of large sums of money from his companies.’ Fiona muted the sound.
‘So it’s not just you?’
‘No. There is talk of him owing millions to some Russian guy, Igor. But basically all the money has disappeared. It’s got to be somewhere, right?’
I started thinking. I wanted to help.
‘Come and stay with me tonight Fi. My place may not be quite as bling as this, but I do have all the home comforts. It would be nice to spend some sister time together.’
‘I’d love to.’
Whilst Fiona powdered her nose and got a few things together I made a call.
‘Miss Hager! How the devil are you? It’s such a pleasure to hear your lovely voice again, an unexpected delight.’
‘Listen, I need some help,’ I hissed into the phone.
‘Anything for you Miss Hager after you got my boy off that charge. Just say the word.’
When I had got home and settled Fiona into my spare room I went downstairs and peeped through a gap in the curtains. A car was parked across the road. It looked like the one I was expecting. At the wheel was Charley Norris. I put on my coat and went outside. Charley flipped the passenger door open for me.
‘Miss Hager,’ he had a broad grin on his face. ‘Such a pleasure to help a beautiful woman.’ He took my hand and kissed it.
‘This is perfect,’ I said disentangling my hand and sweeping it through the layer of dust on the dashboard. The car was a fifteen year old Volvo estate. People noticed me in my own sports car with its roar like the bellowing of Thor. In this aged rust bucket, if I dressed down, I could blend into the background. I could be any other frumpy mum doing the school run.
‘This is perfect. And the other things?’
‘In the glove box,’ he said, smirking on all cylinders.
I opened the glove box and pulled out a revolver. My father had been in the army. You learn many things from your dad but one thing that I had never expected to need was the ability to shoot straight. Underneath it were some handcuffs.
‘Smith and Wesson 38. Light and easy to use. Not too much recoil.’
I weighed it in my hand, gripped the handle and checked the chambers.
‘My dad had a service pistol, an automatic, a Glock I think. This shouldn’t be any trouble.’
‘And there’s some ammo in there,’ said Charley. ‘I know I don’t have to ask you to be discreet.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Look Charley I really appreciate this.’
‘Not at all my good woman,’ he said. I wondered if his face would start to ache with all this grinning. ‘After all you’ve done for me and mine.’
‘I won’t ask you what you need all this for, but good luck.’ Like a Cheshire cat he was gone.
I didn’t sleep too well. I was up at six, showered and dressed in my court room gear – black suit, white blouse, black stockings and flat shoes. I went up to see how Fiona was. The bitter smell of freshly brewed coffee did not rouse her. I knelt by the bed.
‘I’m off. I won’t be back until late. Make yourself at home.’ I kissed her on the cheek.
‘Love you,’ she whispered with a sleepy smile.
Before I left home I backed my Nissan GT-R into the garage. It sat there, its gun metal grey haunches and huge black wheels, squat and menacing under the low roof. I loved that car. I drove the aging Volvo to court. I didn’t park in the court car park not wanting the security guards to remember me in that car on that day. I parked in town and walked up.
The morning passed slowly. The prosecution barrister was reading out uncontested witness statements to the jury who looked bright eyed and bushy tailed at ten. But by quarter past eleven they looked like they had lost the will to live. During the break I made enquiries. Roland van der Groot had been brought in for a bail hearing. Assuming he did not get bail, or the surety was set too high, he would be heading back to prison in a private security van at lunch time. Back in court I passed the time by pretending to take notes but actually listing out all the classical composers I could think of beginning with the letter B. I got up to nineteen, all men of course.
The court was not sitting that afternoon. In the ladies, I put on an old vest top and over it a hooded sweatshirt. I squeezed myself into some faded jeans and put on trainers. I wiped all trace off makeup from my face and pulled my hair back in a pony tail. I looked at myself in the mirror. Cheaper, harder, sadder. I dumped the courtroom clothes in my locker and walked into town.
The next bit worried me. I parked the Volvo in the high street and waited. At half past one the van of an outsourced security firm pootered past. I started my engine and snuck in behind. I imagined the bored, underpaid guards and behind them the low risk prisoners with no police convoy. I pictured Roland. I wondered whether his impeccably coiffured Tintin quiff was still in place, how his tailored shirt and chinos were coping with criminal grime. The van merged into the traffic on the dual carriageway that led to the prison. It stuck resolutely to the inside lane. This was going make things very difficult. This part of the journey only lasted 3 miles and soon I spotted the sign post indicating our turn off was one mile away. As I was preparing to give up, I saw the right indicator flashing and the van pulled out to overtake a car moving so slowly that it looked like it had stopped. As soon as we were clear I snuck in behind the van and to the left of it before it could pull in again. I needed to get a clear view of the nearside rear tyre. Time was running out. The slip road was now just half a mile away. I only had one shot. I pulled in close so that the front of the Volvo was level with the middle of the van. There were speed cameras and we were both doing less than fifty.
Keeping the car level with my left hand, I lifted the revolver in my right hand and, holding it against the sill of the window, let off one shot. Bullseye. Thanks dad, I thought, although he might not have approved. The tyre deflated with a loud bang. The van wobbled and swayed as the driver fought for control. He pulled onto the verge. I stopped behind him, in one pocket the handcuffs, in the other the gun.
‘Bloody hell,’ I shouted. ‘I saw that. Are you guys okay? Do you want me to call for help?’
The driver was walking round to inspect the damage. The suburban traffic continued to roar past at a leisurely fifty miles per hour. No-one noticed the little kerbside scene.
‘No thanks love,’ he said. ‘You’re alright.’ As he squatted down to check the shredded tyre I stuck the gun at the base of his skull.
‘Don’t move or your tyre won’t be the only thing with a hole in it. Stand up very slowly. Walk.’
The other guard was in the passenger seat. I got the driver to handcuff him to the steering wheel, and then return to the back and open the doors. Three grey, overweight men emerged shakily on to the roadside. Roland appeared. Despite a night in the police cells he had still something of Monte Carlo about him.
‘Say nothing,’ I snapped. ‘Just get in the car.’
The ‘not talking’ bit was difficult for him. As soon as we were pulling away from the prison van, where I had locked the driver in the back and smashed the radio, he started up.
‘Emma,’ he said as we darted in out and of the slow moving traffic, ‘you are so brave and fearless.’
All the while I was ordering guards around with a gun in my hand I felt calm and in control. Now that the enormity of what I had done was starting to sink in. I gripped the wheel tight so he would not see my hands shaking. I hoped I had given myself enough of a head start.
‘Are you here for Fiona?’ he asked. ’Or are you here for yourself? You know I have always admired you. And you of course are attracted to me.’
‘Roland,’ I said, ‘I know that you chose Fiona. But I have always respected you. I had to do this to help the two of you be together. It is but one small deed I can do to help.’
It was a measure of the man that he took this nonsense at face value and shut up with an annoying smirk on his face.
It was dark when we arrived at our destination. I kept to country lanes to avoid CCTV and the police. The only lights, as we bumped along the coastal track, were from ships far out in the North Sea. The jolting of the car shook Roland into wakefulness.
‘Where are we?’
‘Somewhere safe,’ I said.
‘I am safe with you.’ He put his hand on my knee. I could feel the gun pressing up under my bra. I had hoped to avoid hurting anyone but he was getting on my nerves. I moved his hand away gently but firmly.
‘Here we are.’ We pulled up in front of a small fisherman’s cottage. ‘Take the key. Fix us a drink. I’m just going to put the car in the barn.’
I put the car away and as I walked across to the cottage I made a phone call. I could see Roland watching me through the un-curtained window.
‘Who was that?’
‘Where’s that drink? I don’t run to fifteen-hundred-quid-a-bottle scotch but I’ve got some respectable stuff.’
He poured two glasses of whisky and sat down opposite me.
‘Now Roland,’ I said as calmly as I could manage, ‘I understand you know someone called Igor.’
Roland dropped his glass.
‘I, I….you,you…’ he stammered. A man who shows fear is never attractive.
‘Igor tells me that he would like to buy you. I said that you ripped my sister off to the tune of fifty grand. That was her inheritance; a father’s final gift to his daughter. I said Igor could come and get you for fifty grand. He liked that.’
Roland jumped up. I pulled the gun out.
‘Sit down.’ He did not move but just stared at me, mouth agape, eyes bulging.
‘You’re crazy. Igor will kill both of us.’
‘Well that’s a chance I’m prepared to take. With you on the other hand it’s a dead cert. You will die slowly, painfully, one little bit at a time.’ I sipped my whisky.
He slumped down in the armchair.
‘There is a way for you to save your miserable hide. I’m not vengeful but I want what is owed.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Give Fiona her fifty grand. I’ll cut you loose and you won’t have to party with Igor.’
‘But I have nothing,’ he protested.
‘Don’t give me that crap,’ I said. ‘Everyone has lost out. The money has to be somewhere. Are you telling me you don’t have a little nest egg somewhere? When Igor has chopped you up into little pieces it won’t be much use. Now is the time to play the joker. Get yourself out of jail. Well actually I got you out of jail but you know what I mean.’
He sat thinking.
‘Don’t take too long. Igor will be here in about an hour and a half.’ I looked at my watch. ‘If I don’t get the fifty grand, I will hand you over.’
‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘Get Fiona on the phone. I’ll tell her where it is.’ And he did. There was a half a million in cash in a safe, concealed behind a picture in the bedroom. I told Fiona to take her part and put the rest in a charity box. I told her to get to my house and I would meet her there.
I dropped Roland at the train station.
‘What am I going to do?’ he bleated leaning through the passenger window
‘I think you’re confusing me with someone who gives a flying……..’ An express train rattled through and drowned out my words.
‘It is a good thing Igor took his time arriving,’ he smiled weakly. ‘I guess now he must be annoyed.’
‘For a so-called smart guy,’ I said, ‘you’re pretty dim. I’ve never spoken to Igor.’ I left him outside the deserted station scratching his head. I headed home to spend some quality time with my little sister.
‘You did what?’ I was standing in my hall.I was tired after the long drive home.
‘Please don’t be cross, Emma. He was so scared. I said he could use the money to pay Igor.’
‘I need a shower and a drink.’ I ran upstairs and was soon naked under the pulsing jets of warm water. I spent a long time trying to understand how my sister could have been so foolish as to admit Roland back into her life. No matter how long I stood with the hot soapy water cascading over me, it made no sense. After all the trouble I had taken to sort out her mess, she leapt back at Roland like a cheap magnet. When I went downstairs she was gone.
It was after midnight but I was not tired. I decided to take the GT-R out for a drive on the empty city streets. The speed built up. Before long I was power sliding round corners and going far too quickly down the straights. It felt good. It felt dangerous. I spotted a flashing blue light, and then I heard the siren and I found myself being pulled.
I recognised the policeman who walked slowly up to my window.
‘Miss Hager. Emma. This is a surprise.’ It wasn’t a surprise for me. I knew most of the local cops through my work at the court.
‘A pleasant surprise, I hope?’ I asked, looking demurely up at his serious hazel eyes and the sharp thrust of his jaw.
‘Why yes…’ he stammered. I ran my finger tips over the back of his hand as it rested on the door sill.
‘Look,’ I spoke softy so that he had to lean in to catch my words. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek ‘I’m really sorry. I’d like to explain, but not here. Why don’t you come over to my house when you get off duty?’
For a few moments he looked quite serious. But then his face relaxed and he smiled.
‘About an hour?’
‘I’ll slip into something more comfortable. Don’t be late.’ I left him standing by the roadside stroking his chin with a broad smile on his face.
At least for tonight, I was going to escape from my sister and her bad choices.
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Comments
Great ending - I like this.
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I agree - very well written
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