When Evil Wins Page 9

  As was his habit he'd left organising himself for the occasion until the last minute. It was time he sorted out his dinner suit for the party, especially as he was the reason for the dinner party in the first place and, in effect, he was to be the featured guest. This time the dinner wouldn't just be Janus and Richard's family, it would be some of the top players in the publishing world and even, possibly, Greg Dyke, schedule permitting, as Mandy had told him.

  After a few phone calls to dress hire shops in his area he found one which still had stock available for two days’ time. Janus made his way down the stairs from his flat, shutting the front door behind him as he left for his fitting.

  He couldn't believe what was happening and now that he was on his way to the shop the reality of the situation struck home. He was going to mix with the rich and famous and this wasn't just in the writing sense it was TV as well.

  Janus drove to Benfleet; to the dress hire shop on Essex Way. He pulled up in the car park next to the converted semi-detached house and killed the engine. As he opened his car door his mobile phone rang.

  Janus got out of the car, stood up and retrieved the phone from inside his jacket pocket, then pressed the answer button. Before he could say anything he heard Richard's voice.

  “Janus, this is Richard.”

  Subconsciously Janus registered an unusual timbre in Richard's voice but continued in his usual cheery manner as he always did when his boss phoned.

  “Richard. Hi. I was just going to get my dinner suit. How are you? Looking forward to your dinner party?”

  There was an uncharacteristic pause before Richard answered. “Janus. I'm sorry. I've had to cancel the party.” Another uncharacteristic pause, then; “My wife's been in an accident.”

  Janus was dumbfounded. Liz of all people, he thought.

  “Oh my God. Is she okay? What happened?” Janus asked.

  “Her car went off the road, something to do with the steering; she's had quite a bad smash… But she'll be alright.” It seemed that Richard was trying to reassure himself more than anyone else, let alone Janus. “Just in hospital at the moment,” Richard finished.

  “I'm truly, really sorry, Richard.” Janus wanted to know more but didn't feel it appropriate to ask. “Which hospital?” he said.

  “The Royal Free but as soon as she can be moved I'm getting her into a private one.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Janus said, wanting to help Richard in any way that was possible.

  “No. But as soon as I can get this situation sorted out I'll rearrange the party,” Jameson said; his usual business-like manner reasserting itself once more.

  “Richard, please forget that. For the moment you need to focus on Liz.”

  “Of course,” Jameson said, putting the phone down.

  Janus felt deflated, he knew he shouldn't feel like this, his friend's wife, his friend, was in hospital, but he couldn't help it, he'd been preparing for this moment for a long time.

  He shut the door to his car and wandered into the hire shop to cancel his fitting.

  Poor Liz, he thought as he drove back home, wondering when he would get a chance to give Liz a friendly hug.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A week had gone by and Janus hadn't heard a thing from Richard. He needed to find out what was happening but felt too awkward to intrude in his boss's life. Janus wondered why his publisher hadn't contacted him yet.

  He consoled himself with the thought that Richard would be in touch as soon as there was something to know. In the meantime he ought to do some work but Liz's car crash had been a complete distraction and he had found it hard to focus on anything, he hadn't even checked his emails in the last few days. He knew he had to do something; he’d been distracted from his work for long enough. As a start he decided to tackle the mess that was his writing desk; bits of paper, bills and junk mail had built up over the last few weeks cluttering his entire work space.

  One by one he opened the junk mail, checked it and threw it in the bin.

  Then he came across the anonymous note that had been left for Richard on the table in the Royal Dragon and he read it again; “If you carry on publishing work of this kind expect an accident within your family.”

  Was he reading the note correctly, he wondered, shaking his head? It couldn't be referring to Liz's accident could it? It was an accident after all.

  The note's ominous tone still rang through his mind; “If you carry on publishing work of this kind expect an accident within your family.”

  Richard had dismissed the note as nothing untoward and Janus had accepted his boss's stance. But now Janus was not so sure. Nothing had happened since receiving the note but now Liz had been in a car crash and this had occurred after his book had been published.

  No, he thought to himself, this is just a coincidence; my imagination running away with me.

  Janus was trying to convince himself that there was no link between the two. There really couldn't be. But despite this final logical feeling he could not stop his mind focusing on his original supposition.

  Could there be a link? Should I tell Richard about this? He didn't know. If he was going to mention this to his publisher he ought to get more information, but how? He was not a detective, well, not a detective in the normal sense of the word.

  Janus stopped clearing his desk and leant back in his chair, staring at the note; thinking. Perhaps his spirit guide, the entity he’d become familiar with during his self-devised training, could give him some information.

  As he had no other way to approach the question, he decided to attempt a connection between himself and his guide, and perhaps after that he would have some idea as to whether there was a connection between Liz's accident and the note or not.

  Janus got up from the chair at his desk and walked around his lounge, closing the window blinds as he did so.

  This process he followed was down to another discovery he had made during his research and training: blotting out all worldly distractions helped when attempting contact with the other realms.

  He turned on his radio and tuned it so that it was between stations; a low level hiss filled the darkened room; he’d now dealt with the visual distractions and the audible ones also.

  Janus sat back down in his chair and closed his eyes, emptying his mind as he did so.

  Now that there was nothing apart from the hiss of the un-tuned radio and the darkness of the room, he concentrated.

  “My guide of guides are you there and ready to speak to me?” Janus thought. There was no response.

  “My guide of all guides, are you able to help me?” Janus continued, concentrating harder.

  “Yes Janus, I am here,” came a reply, his spirit guide manipulating the radio's hiss into sibilant words.

  “Can you tell me what malevolence has caused the accident of my friend's wife?”

  “Janus, in this plane there is no malevolence focused on your friend's wife, there is no incorporeal entity wishing ill of you or your friends at this time.”

  “You cannot tell me of the incident?” Janus's mind queried further.

  “I have no knowledge of the incident.” The random hiss of the un-tuned radio filled the room once more.

  “My guide of guides you have told me of your thoughts and for this I thank you. Please now be at rest.”

  Janus opened his eyes and got out of his chair turning the radio off and opening the blinds.

  If there was something going on it had nothing to do with the afterlife and he was stuck, he had no other avenue to go down in order to unravel the link he had made between the note and what had happened to Liz, his close and good friend.

  Probably there was no link and it was just his paranoia. Janus certainly hoped this was so. He looked at his desk; the note was sitting there taunting him; “If you carry on publishing work of this kind expect an accident within your family.”

  Janus grabbed the note and tore it up, then shoved the pieces into his paper shredder.

&nbs
p; Enough was enough and that was the end of it. When the last bit of the note had been consumed by the shredder he started to relax. All he had to do now was get in touch with Richard and check that Liz was alright.

  Janus hated this forced separation from Liz. He didn't understand how Richard could do this to him. He was their friend and they were his. Janus mourned the loss of the witty and incisive conversations he used to have with Liz whilst Richard was at the office. But perhaps Richard was so distraught about what had happened to his wife he had little idea of what he was inflicting upon him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Four more weeks passed before Liz was able to leave the private hospital and even though there’d been no party organised for Janus, to meet with influential publishers and TV executives, his book was doing well without the extra promotion.

  Janus could not rest on his laurels though; he had to get another commission soon, if only for his sanity. Since the release of his book his investigatory work had dried up. He knew the two weren't connected as he had been through dry periods before. Janus decided to kick-start his investigations business by placing advertisements in relevant publications, as he’d done when he had started out.

  But before he could do this he had to put together the right words for the advert he would be having printed. Janus powered up his computer. What could he write? What words could he use to persuade those, who may be in need of his services, without coming across as some kind of nutter and without coming across as a self-publicist now his name was in the public domain?

  He was about to type the first line of text for his advert into the word processor when the clinking of his letter box interrupted him. He got up from his chair in front of the computer and made his way to the front door.

  His whole flat was open plan barring the bedroom and shower. The work area where his computer was placed filled an alcove which looked out over his road. On the right of his work area was his kitchenette, a small square area delimitated by the lino flooring and the associated accoutrements required to make the area a kitchen and behind the kitchenette, towards the back of his flat, was his lounge.

  As he reached the front door he saw that an envelope had just, at that moment it seemed, been pushed through his letter box. He picked it up and opened it. It was an invitation to the Jameson's Publishing anniversary dinner; a special one too, twenty-five years since Richard Jameson had entered into the publishing business.

  He smiled to himself as he remembered last year's anniversary dinner, the one where he’d stood next to the buffet table with only Liz and Richard acknowledging his presence, making the point by crossing the dance floor to talk to him.

  He also recalled Mandy getting carried away with the dancing after too much champagne. Perhaps it would be a bit different this time, he considered. Perhaps it won't be just the Jameson family talking to me.

  Janus checked the date on his calendar; Saturday week at eight o'clock. He phoned the hire shop to make sure they had a dinner suit in his size.

  “Mr Malik, we hope you won't be cancelling at the last minute like before.”

  “What? Of course not,” Janus said rather crossly, deciding not to go into the reason for his last cancellation with them. “I'll pop in on Saturday to pick it up.”

  The week went by fairly quickly and during this time he did receive a few inquiries about his services, even before he’d placed the advertisement.

  None of them were worthy of any follow up, mainly being from cranks; some asserting that the disappearance of their favourite pet could only be put down to alien abduction and asking whether he could trace their route to the stars, others were about poltergeist activity with banging doors and windows and how the person had linked this to pressure differences in the earth's atmosphere and whether he could contact the spirits to appease them so they need not be aggrieved about the differing atmospheric pressures.

  Even so, he wrote replies, politely declining the commissions offered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The two college girls just stared at her, as, yet again, she left the premises early.

  “Can you believe that, Trace? I don't know how she gets away wiv it,” Tanya said in her typically Essex accent.

  “I know what you mean. D'you think she's having it away with the boss? It's only been recent like.”

  “I don't care if she's shagging 'im and 'is brother, it ain't fair on us. We don't get no money for being in charge of the shop. She can't do this.”

  “You ain't wrong there, Tanya,” Tracy replied, sympathising with her mate’s point of view.

  Lois Johns left the pharmacy smiling to herself; she’d overheard the two part-timers not so hushed conversation, and she didn't care. She'd only got involved with the boss because of a slight error which meant the yearly audit had shown some fairly strong drugs had somehow got lost during one of her shifts. She was certain that they’d turn up some time.

  It hadn’t taken her boss long to come around to her way of thinking; a few treats in the empty rooms above the pharmacy, an intimate massage with her tongue as he had given her a lift home one night. Nothing special, nothing meaningful and nothing she supposed her peers wouldn’t do when they had to persuade the men in their lives that the decisions they’d made had been wholly wrong.

  In the end she’d kept her position as supervisor and gained some extra fringe benefits like leaving work when the time suited her, as long as the business carried on without any problems.

  She didn’t mind working at the pharmacy too much; but she was annoyed she was there in the first place because her lousy ex-husband had stopped her money: the money she deserved to have for the mental anguish he’d caused her during the time they were married.

  Aaaargh!, she thought to herself through gritted teeth, what a bastard; still, and when we were together.

  But she had moved on now and she no longer thought of the little shit.

  Just to show that low life what she had thought of him, she’d started using her maiden name as soon as the money had stopped coming in.

  Today was going to be a good day though. Once she got back to her house she would be able to pick up the card the postman would have left and go to the post office and collect the delivery.

  Ordering from the Internet was certainly a lot easier than dealing with the mail order catalogues. And there were so many other things you could buy online, things that just weren't available any other way.

  She had a busy time ahead of her. Once she had collected her delivery she would have to travel to London and meet up with her date for the evening. She didn't doubt that he would be surprised to see her at his after work pub of choice.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It had been another long day and a Saturday at that. The work he was having to do for the financing of the new office in Edinburgh was not as straight forward as it should have been. The whole process could have been made a lot easier, if only his boss would allow himself to be contacted outside business hours. But his boss was adamant.

  “When the office is closed I decide whether I'm working or not,” Richard Jameson had said. “And no one else. I’ve spent many years setting up this company, to the exclusion of everything else, but now I employ people, such as yourself Greg to manage this part of the business for me.”

  This stance had made Greg Smith's life a lot more complicated. It was very rare that he would receive the telephone calls, faxes or emails required to move things along within Richard's working day.

  Always, on the dot of 5.00 p.m., unless Richard decided otherwise, Mr Jameson was out of the office and everything had to wait until the next business day.

  Obviously there was some stuff Greg could deal with, but when it came to that final required signature, he had to wait on Richard and his availability.

  At one time Greg had tried to convince Richard that he ought to be given the level of authority so that he could sign documents in Richard's absence. However, when he’d mentioned it, he was waved out of Richa
rd's office with a flick of the hand.

  The whole situation really bugged him, quite a lot in fact. Why Richard didn't realise that when he went home a lot of people remained in the office, working away for a good few hours more and for the good of the company to boot? Greg couldn’t understand.

  He leant back in his chair and took a breather from the spreadsheets, placing his hands behind his head, thinking.

  Greg decided he needed some rest and relaxation and when eight o'clock came he would down tools and go to Bar Room Bar. It was a decent place for a drink and was only minutes away from the office. As an added extra, it was a place that attracted good looking women. Maybe he would get lucky tonight.

  Feeling renewed with the thought of the evening's excursion, he leant back over the computer keyboard and started working on the spreadsheets once again. Perhaps, because of all the work he was putting into Richard's new venture, he would reward himself with a night on R.J. Publishing. At least the expense slips were something he could sign off.

  He looked up from the computer monitor at the office wall clock and was shocked; it was now just after 8.00 p.m. He knew that when it boiled down to it, he really did enjoy working with figures, but enough was enough. Greg powered off the computer.

  Bar Room Bar, here I come, he thought.

  Before leaving the building, he popped into the gents to make sure he looked as good as he knew he did. After a quick spray, and a scrubbing of his teeth, he left. Five minutes later he was in the pub and it was filling up nicely with beautiful girls.

  Greg leant over the bar; “Barman, a pint of Stella please.”

  Greg always started his evenings out with a pint of Stella, but if the evening ever looked like it was going to go on and on, he switched to the wine. In his experience the women he liked to meet always appreciated a man who knew his wine.