Inside Job

Chapter One

On waking this morning I was faced with a scene of devastation which mirrored how I felt inside, a trail of muddy footprints led me to the scene of last night’s dramatic events. The large pool of blood on the floor indicated the violence of the struggle that had taken place, between two people with strong emotions and the woman’s open blouse and white bra on show only added to the suspicions of someone viewing the scene for the first time, as to exactly what, had taken place.

Louise and I had gone back to my flat after I had met her in a bar. She was a nice woman and I had been single for some time and maybe my guard was down, so when she opened with flattering conversation I felt happy of her attention and reassured by the fact that maybe things were turning for the better.

She had been a willing participant in our exchanges all evening and once we’d returned to my flat and got back inside we’d kissed passionately.

Things had turned nasty when she went hysterical and got up to leave. This was completely unexpected as only moments before we had been wrapped in each other’s arms. I had tried to reassure her but she’d become violent, and there had been a struggle. As her arms flailed at my face I had lifted mine to protect myself with.

Louise had grabbed a steak knife from on top of the worktop in my kitchen and in the struggle which followed I had grabbed her hand in which she held the knife high above her head and ready to strike. She had fought back but I had had been too strong for her and as we’d bumped against the cupboards in my kitchen, she’d slipped on the floor dragging me down and in the struggle I’d fallen on top of her and plunged the knife, quite by accident into her chest. Her blood had spattered my shirt and she had remained lifeless on the floor leaving me in an instant with a cold feeling and a silence in my mind which was followed quickly by thoughts of what now.

I remembered that she had smoked and I went to the packet of cigarettes that she had left on the table last night and lit one from the hob in the kitchen. I needed to calm down and plan my next move and I went out onto my balcony, gazing across at the panorama before me. It was still early but there were already lights on in the office blocks, many of which were home to well know financial institutions. I felt the coolness of the air as well and this caused me to remember that it was now late September and winter was on its way.

Going to the police was the obvious thing to do but with reports of a serial rapist on the loose already it was a move that would immediately put me in the frame for a list of crimes that I had nothing to do with and that was even before investigations as to what had happened in my apartment had even started.

My mind was now in overdrive attempting to formulate a plan as to what my next move was going to be. All sorts of things came into my mind, how was I to cover things up, should I in fact go to the police or maybe I should just grab my passport and head for the airport. I decided that this last thought was probably the best option as it would give me breathing space and buy me some time.

I needed time to think away from the scene and so grabbing my keys I left my apartment. When I got to the ground floor of my apartment block there was no-one around which I was relieved about. I hadn’t had a shower or shave and I was not in the mood to speak to anyone. Outside there were people about. Some were already on their way to work and there were others dressed more casually who had probably just come off the night shift. Where I lived in Kensington had a cosmopolitan feel, the roads in the centre had many coffee shops and bistros, a concept which was still a novelty in other parts of London. The coldness of the air which I had felt on my balcony was intensified by the draught created by each car which came past. The brisk pace at which I walked did go some way to counteract this.

I entered the next coffee shop which I came across, this was not one of those artificial ones which were coming up all over the place that were pretending to be something that they weren’t, instead this had character and metamorphosed into a pizzeria by night. A fabulous authentic pizza oven with an ornately decorated copper hood served as a centrepiece and reminded me of the coffee shop’s night time alter ego.

I ordered a large latte and a ham and cheese Panini before moving to the back of the coffee shop and taking a seat at a vacant table. I saw one of today’s papers on a table nearby and went to pick it up before returning to my seat. Thoughts that I could soon be making front page news came into my mind, but these thoughts left my mind as quickly as they had come into it, after all hearing of a murder was no big thing these days. It did not however change the fact that I was in trouble, big trouble.

I began to consider my options of places to go, Central Europe was just too near and America was dismissed on the grounds that my extradition from the US was a foregone conclusion these days, due to the close relations that the UK had with America. I had friends in South Africa as well. Evaluating its suitability as an escape haven it was far enough away and number two the U.K. did not really have any extradition procedure with South Africa. It was warm as well, after all if I was going to go somewhere new, I might as well pick somewhere with better weather than the U.K.

In London this year apart from a handful of days in mid-April the weather had been dreadful, the summer had been true to form and this early promise had been replaced by cloudy skies and rain, South Africa it was to be then. I allowed myself a moment to think and finished eating before gulping the last mouthful of my coffee down and leaving the coffee shop.

I was fighting to stay on top of the situation and had no real memory of the walk back to my apartment I was just glad to get back safely and unchallenged. I took the lift to my top floor penthouse and once inside I walked down the hallway and into the lounge, again to be greeted by Louise’s lifeless body. My immediate priority was finding my passport and I went over to a bureau in the lounge where I kept it with all my important paperwork, birth certificates and driving licence. My passport was on a shelf in the bureau where I’d put it having only come back from a trip to New York last month.

I knew that sooner or later the authorities would come looking for me and came up with the idea of changing my name. In South Africa changing one’s Christian name was easy but I needed a good reason to change my surname. I would say that following the death of my mother recently I had found myself taking stock of my life and felt it necessary to disassociate myself from my father. There was one thing in my favour, despite the desperate predicament I found myself in, as a well-paid investment banker I had funds available to assist my situation.

The visa situation for UK nationals travelling to South Africa was very much the same as travelling to the US. A temporary visa document was filled in on the plane and then stapled into your passport. This gave me a limit on my stay of up to ninety days, although I wanted to make my stay more permanent.

I went over to my laptop and began to look for flights. I found an Etihad Airways flight that left Heathrow for Johannesburg via Abu Dhabi on Tuesday, this was good as it would give me time to tie up all the loose ends here. Not wanting to miss my opportunity I booked the flights online by credit card.

With this done I started to think about the future and what I was going to do. I couldn’t treat my time in South Africa as if it were just a vacation; I had to hit the ground running. I knew that if I just sat back I would become lazy, self-conscious and possibly even careless. I decided that I would get a job, any job. This would keep me busy and allow me to blend in somewhat. 

I knew that Johannesburg, despite the images of a metropolis that it conjured up, had its problem areas. In the past when I’d talked to the friends I had there they had said that you had to be careful because the centre of the city was a problem area. Sandton, an area just off the outskirts of Johannesburg was one of the more affluent parts and home to South Africa’s financial hub. This did go some way to improve my perceptions about the place, though I knew it was still going to be difficult to find work in the field that I had experience of once the most rudimentary checks on my background had started to be carried out. I was already due in front of a disciplinary panel at work for some trading irregularities.

In my bedroom I began to gather some clothes together, I selected light t-shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans, as well as suit, time was of the essence. Whilst I had been sorting things out the phone had been ringing constantly but I knew from past experience that the calls were likely to be from auto diallers that were simply promotional voicemails.

When I passed the phone in the hall and checked who the last call had been from; it was not an auto dialler but my friend Karl. He wanted me to attend a birthday bash for his girlfriend Alex, but I certainly wouldn’t be attending.

I put my passport on top of my case, I would pick up the tickets for my flight from the airport. As I went backwards and forwards between rooms in an agitated state I passed the body of Louise again and again but any emotion I had for her was dwindling. In the lounge I flicked on the television as background and was greeted by the latest news headlines which I sat down to listen to. There was nothing really of interest, quite ironically the only item of any significance was news of a murder up in Scotland. Thinking about what my next actions would be I drew up a mental checklist; a lot of the usual things that you would do before going away were irrelevant though, as I was not intending to return.

I felt restless having attended to everything and as was usually the case I found myself with plenty of time on my hands. I had fallen back into my smoking habit once more and took a cigarette from the packet I had left on the worktop by the cooker in the kitchen. I lit it and inhaled deeply, pausing before I exhaled.

My thoughts were broken by the sound of my doorbell; it brought a sense of panic causing me to hurriedly close the door to the lounge. I dismissed any thoughts of any imminent disaster though, it was far too early for investigations into Louise’s whereabouts to have started. When I opened the door I was somewhat relieved to be greeted by a man who’d come to read the gas meter. Directing him to the meter in the hall I drew some sense of comfort from this as it would mean that it was one less person who would not be able to gain entry to my apartment once I had left the country. The man took the readings and after we’d exchanged goodbyes he left quickly.

Chapter Two

This morning as soon as I woke up my mind again began to think about my immediate predicament. In the next few hours I would begin my journey to the airport, though the flight was not until twenty to seven in the evening I knew that I had to check in at the airport by five. I headed to the bathroom and when I turned on the shower the heat from the water caused the bathroom to quickly fill with steam. This morning was on the cold side and on my way to the bathroom I had glanced across the corridor through the balcony window in the lounge to be greeted by a grey London morning. In normal circumstances with me on a flight to South Africa that evening my spirits might have been more upbeat, but today was different. This morning had a completely different complexion on it and I knew that I was to a large extent stepping into the unknown.

I took a time out to think about recent events and more importantly, what the future was to bring. With the time difference I would arrive at four in the afternoon on Wednesday in South Africa. The flight made a stopover in Abu Dhabi and the flight on to Johannesburg left some two hours after my arrival. This concerned me, because it meant that I would have to go through check-in once more and have my documents scrutinized and should anything have been flagged up to the authorities I would have nowhere to go.

All thoughts of mundane tasks like shopping had gone out of the window with the events of the last couple of days and smelling the milk I felt some relief that it was still fresh, today of all days was not one that I wanted to make do with milk that was barely drinkable.

Looking out from my balcony with my hands around my mug I took time to go over the first decade of my adult life and its trials and tribulations. For the most part it had not been bad and key events stood out in my mind. I recounted the weddings of two of my friends from university, Richard and John. These weddings had been lavish affairs as both of them had wealthy fathers but I did not allow myself to make too much analysis of them as the recollection of these events would only cause me to reflect on the shortfalls in my current situation.

I took some solace by the fact that, certainly career wise I was higher up the ladder, but my thoughts quickly returned to the negative, particularly the fact that I was not getting any younger. The one plus point there was for me was that, from the time of my arrival in Johannesburg I had a blank canvas to work with, so to all intents and purposes it was a new beginning.

Breakfast was not top of my agenda and I took some bread from the fridge before hurriedly popping two slices into the toaster. I again went to check that I had the essential things, like my wallet and passport, I knew that with these I had options, but without them I would create all sorts of unnecessary problems for myself that I could well do without.

My patience was now beginning to ebb away and as was usually the case I wanted to get on with things. It was still only about eight o’clock and I knew that I would arrive at the airport way before I needed to, but I reminded myself that each moment that I remained in the apartment only served to increase the chances of me being caught.

I dialled the number of a local cab firm and the phone was answered almost immediately by the woman at the other end, Capital cars. she said.

Yes, good morning, could I have a taxi to Heathrow Airport please?

Where from?

Cabot Square., I replied

What time?

Right away please.

"O.K. it will be about ten minutes. What name is it please?

Stadler.

The woman put the receiver down sharply and the clock inside my mind began to tick. The toast that I’d put on had popped up and I went to spread some butter on it, breakfast this morning was simply routine.

I would be in the taxi for a while in the traffic and I wanted a last cigarette before the journey so I decided to go downstairs and wait outside. I walked down the hall to the lifts and pressing ‘G’ I was relieved that it arrived quickly. The lift was fragrant and reminded me of the level of care that was taken with the building and its fittings. I looked at my face in the mirror which was in the lift and I could already see that the stress of the situation in which I now found myself was very evident in my eyes. Being on the top floor I had a nice amount of time to gather my thoughts and I was relieved that no-one else entered the lift on the way down, meaning that I was not forced to make small talk or eye contact with anyone.

When the lift reached the ground floor doors opened onto a large reception area and I could see the