43
DYING ALONE
At the age of eleven, Maddox Cavendish had switched his school satchel for the smart brown leather doctor’s briefcase that he still carried to work. He treated his job as if he was permanently preparing to sit before an examination board. He went into the office seven days a week, although he allowed himself the luxury of spending Sunday afternoon at home, even though he was usually at a loss for something to do there. His spare time was spent seated at his laptop, surfing the net for news of rival companies. He knew that Marianne loved his corporate loyalty, but was also aware that she would not hesitate to fire him if he failed to deliver.
He couldn’t go to her and tell her that he feared for his life, because it would mean admitting to his mistake. He had no friends, no lover with whom he could discuss his fears. His family idolised him for being a success, which meant that they could not be involved, either. Overnight, the shining path leading up the stairs of corporate success had become a dead end.
Cavendish worked hard but didn’t play hard, partly because he didn’t drink. In the past eighteen months he had started gambling on-line, and now his bank account was flickering on empty. To get the money to pay off Mr Fox, he knew he would have to borrow or embezzle. When the staff left that night, he remained at his desk trying to think of a way out. After she shut down her computer, Sammi came back into his office with her coat on, and asked if he was all right.
‘I’m fine,’ he told her. ‘Just a bit tired.’
He knew something was on her mind when she unbuttoned her coat and sat down on the other side of his desk. ‘You’ve been on edge for the last few days,’ she said, hesitant and anxious not to cause offence. ‘I just wondered if there was something, you know, that you wanted to talk about with me.’
‘What do you mean?’ His question was a little too sharp.
Sammi had been his assistant for eight years, and had never once questioned his judgement. Now she looked on the verge of saying something that could change their relationship forever. She studied his eyes, waiting for him to speak first, then realised he would never open up to her. ‘Maddox, I know about Camley Lane.’
He played with the ballpoint pen on his desk, unable to speak.
‘If you’re in any trouble you should talk to me, because I might be able to help.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Please, Maddox. I saw you talking with that awful man, the one with the tattoos. I saw you through the window of the pub. I’m not an idiot; I know when something’s wrong. And I know that anything you’ve done is for the good of the company. You’re trying to get hold of the property rights before Marianne finds out. Is that man blackmailing you?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘Then what?’
‘Suppose I told you? What do you think you could do? You’re a secretary, for God’s sake.’
The only way to get rid of her was to hurt her. She studied him a moment longer, unconvinced that he meant what he said. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do?’
He decided not to answer her, to pretend she had left the office.
‘It’s not worth it, Maddox. All this—paranoia. It’s just a job.’
‘No, to you it’s just a job. This is my career.’
This time she really was hurt. Rising, she rebuttoned her coat, avoiding his gaze. ‘I’ll say good night,’ she said softly, and although he wanted her to leave, part of him was willing her to stay.
When she had gone he sat with his head in his hands, and for the first time in his life he knew how it felt to be truly alone.
An hour later the door buzzer sounded, and he recognised the shape behind the glass, and knew that his time had run out.