Thursday 20 – Sunday 23 February 2014
Two police cars blocked the street, one at each end, preventing anyone from entering or leaving the vicinity, and there were more officers present than Henry had ever seen in his life. A shabbily dressed detective sauntered up to Henry as he sat in the back of the ambulance, while a young paramedic diligently attended to Henry’s wounds, ignoring the detective’s impatient sighs. He flashed his police identification, and gold shield.
‘You wanna tell me what transpired here?’ asked the detective, waving a hand haphazardly behind him in the general direction of Mike Albright’s corpse. Henry patted the paramedic on the shoulder, and thanked her for cleaning his wounds before he gingerly lowered himself from the rear of the ambulance.
‘Detective . . .’ Henry waited for the detective to offer his name.
‘Gordon. Now back to my question. What the hell happened?’
‘Well, Detective Gordon, this guy jumped me, and we fought. My actions were all self-defence. Other than that, I’m not saying a word until you contact Adelaide Danvers at the Department of Justice on my behalf.’
Gordon sneered at Henry’s requested, an expression caught perfectly by a variety of media outlets, and a number of Social Media savvy observers who were quick to capture any event on their smartphone.
‘As you wish,’ the detective snapped, and stormed off in the direction of Albright’s body.
Henry stood, alone and vulnerable, long enough for the media to obtain clear footage of him. Robert Carter would know that Henry was loyal to him, and that Albright was no longer a problem. In order to maintain his position at Carter Industries, this was exactly the sort of image Henry needed to create for himself.
Soon enough, two uniformed police officers approached Henry, read him his rights, handcuffed, and escorted him to their patrol vehicle. The throng of news media pushed forward as a group to take photographs and footage of Henry being bundled into the car, and whisked away to the police station.
* * * * *
The breaking news bulletins adorned every television screen in Carter’s home. However, he’d chosen to perch on the edge of the sofa in his home office to watch the story unfold. There, on his television screen, was Henry Jones being arrested for the murder of Mike Albright. Carter smiled to himself.
‘Two birds with one stone.’
‘Sorry, darling, did you say something?’ asked Angela as she walked in holding two cups of coffee.
‘No, dear, I was just shocked by this breaking news. Both of these men work for me. Well, only one of them does now because the other is dead.’
‘Good God, Robert, that’s terrible. Are you able to do anything to help?’ She perched next to him on the sofa.
‘You know, I think it’s best that I stay out of this until I’m invited,’ he replied coldly.
‘But they’re your employees.’
‘I know, but given the attention that the company has been getting, it might be best to distance ourselves, personally, from this horrible, horrible situation. I don’t want you brought into any of this.’
She considered the plea from her husband.
‘I suppose you’re right, Robert. Best to stay away until you’re needed.’
Angela lingered in the room for a moment longer, but it was not a room in her house that she felt entirely comfortable being in. It was Robert’s domain, and as with any of the rooms, offices, or buildings that Robert called his, she felt unwanted and out of place. Her only solace in the Carter empire was her daughter who, now, rarely visited. She leaned across the sofa, and kissed her husband on the cheek.
‘I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?’ she stated more than asked him.
‘Yes, okay, dear. Don’t wait up for me. I’m not sure when I’ll be up.’
Robert waited until he was sure that Angela had made it upstairs to their bedroom before he picked up the phone. A few seconds after dialling, Robert’s call was answered.
‘I’ll keep this short,’ Robert spoke in hushed tones into the phone. ‘Albright is out of the way, and now I want Henry Jones taken care of. In the harshest way possible. With extreme prejudice . . . is that what they say?’ He paused, nodding at the reply.
‘And then there’s the matter of the Department of Justice, and their poxy little case against me and Carter Industries. I want the woman in charge . . . yes, I’m fully aware who she is, just . . . just get rid of her.’
He didn’t wait for a reply, replacing the phone handset in the cradle. He linked his hands behind his head, and let out a sigh.
‘Whatever needs to be done . . .’
. . . To be continued . . .