Signal Point Read online

  Signal Point

  By Marcus Alden

  Copyright © 2017 Marcus Alden

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  A black car pulled to a stop underneath a bridge; the bricks glowed red from the brake lights. The derelict building had once been a tyre garage and remnants of painted signage peeled from the brickwork. Water gushed out from a leaking pipe under the bridge. It splashed on the concrete and collected in little pools. A tall, muscular figure got out of the car. The man shut the door to silence the incessant dinging sound of the dashboard. As the figure walked towards the car’s boot his footsteps echoed in the hollow space like a distant clock. The man had dark skin and, as he moved, a tattoo of a bird in flight poked above his shirt collar. The passenger door opened and another man got out and followed the direction of the first. The second figure had pale skin and sunken cheeks that gave the appearance of malnourishment. His shaven hair petered out into stubble that swept round his jaw. On one of his thin fingers he wore a gold ring that caught the red glow from the car’s lights. The ring, just like the other man’s tattoo, had an etching of a bird on it.

  ‘Hawk,’ the pale man with the ring said.

  ‘Shut up Harrier,’ interrupted the tattooed man.

  ‘But what about—,’ Harrier spoke again.

  ‘Just get on with it.’ Hawk opened the boot door and looked inside the car. A lumpy zipped bag lay where the seats should have been. ‘I’ll take the head, you the feet,’ Hawk said. They slid the bag out; it glided over the carpeted floor and sunk in the middle as they held it at both ends. Harrier retched at the smell of what was inside. ‘Cut it out,’ Hawk demanded as they shimmied away from the vehicle. The men carried the bag towards a door which was cut out of a larger industrial-scale hatch. A halo of warm light beckoned them in to the warehouse. The wooden door swung back with a creak, and the men shuffled in carrying the body.

  Inside the derelict warehouse a hunched man stoked a furnace. He had a grubby apron and held a poker which he jabbed at the flames with. The hunched man grunted and gestured towards the blazing fire. Hawk and Harrier carried the slumped bag past abandoned industrial machinery and rusty tools. The warehouse had a strong molten smell that overpowered the putrid bag. Harrier breathed in the metallic air to replace the rotten odour of flesh.

  ‘Right then,’ Hawk said as he swung the bag towards the opening of the furnace.

  ‘Are we not throwing on three?’ Harrier asked.

  ‘Will you shut up.’ Hawk motioned with his eyes for Harrier to let go. The bag flew into the furnace. Both men stood back as the body hit the fire and caused sparks to fly up. The plastic bag began to crackle as the flames wrapped round it. The two men turned away before the decaying body could stare back at them. The hunched man shuffled over to check on the furnace, but he said nothing. Hawk reached inside his jacket pocket and brought out a roll of £50 notes tied up with an elastic band. He threw the money down onto a workbench and whistled. The hunched man turned around and gave a nod before turning back to tend to the furnace. Hawk and Harrier stepped through the doorway and went back into the expanse of dark.

  A cargo train rattled on the bridge; the sound created an eerie howl. London dozed in blissful slumber. For many people, the day began like any other. But for some the light illuminated the shadows.

  Chapter 1

  Lift doors pinged open into a large room. Daylight shone through frosted glass divisions that separated the work areas. Phones rang and fervent fingers tapped at keyboards.

  ‘Adrian,’ a woman’s voice called out over a desk. ‘In my office, now.’ The woman stood over one of her new interns and scrutinised their efforts. Adrian followed her to her office. As they walked away the intern gestured at Adrian and mimed being strangled.

  ‘They don’t have a clue you know.’ Adrian’s boss paused. Adrian had learned that these types of statements did not require a response; eye contact and an understanding nod would do. ‘Not a clue. He’s not going to last long. It’s that Melanie, she always thinks she’s discovered some untapped talent. All but a few have been moronic time wasters; this one’s hopeless. Take a seat.’

  At the far end of the office stood a desk, and on it a plethora of paperwork and computer screens. The stationary had acquired what little space there was left and sticky notes lined the edge of the monitors. Adrian sat down opposite his boss at the desk. Her face had a mediocre paleness that bore the lines that are gained with overwork. Her thick wavy hair was unkempt like she had started to brush it and then got interrupted. Adrian avoided getting too close to his boss as her breath had a faint sour odour, though he felt safe with the desk between them as a barrier.

  ‘I need a high-profile article written.’ Adrian waited, he sensed his boss hadn’t finished speaking. ‘I was thinking of Stuart, but that appalling piece he did last week proved again he’s not up to it. I need an exposé; something punchy; revealing. If you get it right I might just consider you for your own column.’ Adrian’s heart skipped a beat; it was the chance he’d been waiting for. He restrained himself and kept a calm expression and revealed none of his giddy thoughts.

  ‘What do you need?’ Adrian asked.

  ‘Robert Atmore. You know him? Neither does anyone else. This is a man in hiding. Made his first million aged 19 and never made a wrong step since. His company’s estimated fortune stands at billions, yet little is known about him. I want you to delve; scratch back the layers and see what you can find. I want a compelling piece on my desk in ten days.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Adrian, make it good. Otherwise you’ll be joining Stuart babysitting the interns and, trust me, that’s not where you want to be.’ His boss held the intercom button down.

  ‘Charlotte, I need the Atmore info for Adrian; and a coffee.’ She clicked the intercom off.

  ‘An anonymous source gave us a lead; I suggest you start with that.’ A knock at the door broke her trail of thought. A woman with auburn hair walked in with a slim paper file. The woman handed the file to Adrian and snuck out again. The phone rang and Adrian was shooed away by his boss. He had got to the door when she held the phone against her shoulder. ‘Remember Adrian, something compelling.’ He nodded and she put the phone to her ear. ‘Ah, Rupert how are you, and how is New York?’ Adrian left his boss as she talked on the phone and walked to his shared workspace.

  Adrian stood at his desk. Somehow, he felt different about the messy papers and cramped space he worked in. Phones rang and keyboards typed, but he did not hear any of it. He sat down. The possibilities of promotion filled his head: a large desk; a view of London instead of the dull faces of his colleagues; hot coffee brought to him at whim. Somebody tapped him on the back. Adrian swivelled round.

  ‘You look happy for first thing in the morning. I think someone got lucky.’ The man smirked. ‘C’mon who is she? You can tell Stu.’ Everybody knew Stuart was the office gossip; he was the one to ta
lk to if you wanted to spread rumors.

  ‘It’s not a girl,’ Adrian said. He hoped Stuart would just leave him alone.

  ‘Really, you’re into guys now? Wait till I tell Joe, actually, he’s single at the moment.’ Stuart winked and turned around to search for his colleague.

  ‘No, I’m not it’s—.’

  ‘Don’t be shy. Hey, has anyone seen Joe?’ Stuart shouted across the office. Adrian rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t get up—.’

  ‘Look, Stuart, I'm not having a fling. I already have a relationship with Emma that I'm happy with; there’s nothing more to say.’ Stuart seemed disappointed. ‘I’ve been given a new assignment. Boss wants me to do a piece on this business tycoon and, if she likes it, I’ll—.’

  ‘What? I thought I was getting that.’ Stuart gulped. ‘Manipulative cow. You’re no better. You knew I wanted that. It’s because of that article last week isn’t it? One slip up—.’

  ‘I didn’t choose it, and how did I know—.’

  ‘Don’t even bother Adrian,’ Stuart said with a sour face. Adrian had little patience for Stuart’s dramas or his work ethic. Besides, it had not been just one slip up but many.

  ‘Look, Stuart, I’ve got to get on.’ Adrian shuffled papers about with a sense of purpose.

  ‘Yeah. Whatever.’ Stuart walked back to his desk as he muttered insults.

  The slim brown file lay unopened on the desk. Adrian checked around the office to see that no one would interrupt him again. He peeled back the cover of the file.

  Chapter 2

  ‘The next stop is Winchester. Change for London Paddington and the Midlands.’ Dan knew he had to be quick. He had not bought a train ticket at Bristol Parkway and knew many stations had electronic barriers. Tickets were for people with jobs. Dan stood with other travelers in the gangway as the train halted to a stop. Strangers stared past each other with distraction or tapped on their phones. Dan watched the door button ready for the yellow ring of light to glow. He felt a shove from behind. A woman with a pushchair struggled to squeeze through the crowd.

  ‘Here, let me help you with that,’ Dan said. The doors opened and people spilled out onto the platform.

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ the woman said as Dan took one end of the pushchair and lifted it over the gap. ‘These things are not easy to pilot you know.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ The thought flashed through Dan’s mind that if he could keep the woman talking long enough he could go through the wide barrier at the same time as the pushchair. ‘Is that a Yorkshire accent?’

  ‘That it is. Born and bred, though I’ve lived down here for ten years now.’ They walked towards the barriers.

  ‘Really, what made you move here?’ Dan couldn’t think of what else to say to her. He saw a station officer in a fluorescent orange jacket. ‘I mean, do you like Winchester? I’ve never been here before.’

  ‘Oh, Winchester is beautiful. I love the market and the cathedral and walks along the river. Little Ben likes it too, don’t you darling,’ the woman said as she looked down into the pushchair. They stood in front of the exit barrier. ‘Now, where’s my ticket gone?’ the woman said.

  ‘You can use mine,’ Dan said as he fumbled in his pocket for the imaginary ticket. The guard stood by them.

  ‘It’s alright I got it now,’ the woman said as she inserted the ticket into the machine. The double barrier opened. The woman pushed the pushchair through the gap; Dan followed her.

  ‘Maybe I’ll see you around,’ Dan said feeling somewhat disingenuous.

  ‘Yes, we’re always walking around aren’t we Ben? Thanks again,’ the woman said. Dan felt like he should have thanked her instead; he hated pretending to have more money than he did.

  Leaves blew through the railings on Station Road and a taxi drove past which whisked up more. As Dan reached the end of the curved road he saw an ancient stone archway with thick walls. He opened his bag and found the map the solicitor’s office had sent him. It all seemed so strange still. He knew nothing about Winchester or why a solicitor would want to meet with him there. Something about his family; someone had died. But Dan had no biological family that he knew of and his foster parents were traveling round America in a camper van.

  Dan walked under the stone arch and could see the building described in his directions. It was a tall cream-coloured building with pillars at the windows and ornate railings on the first floor. As Dan looked up, a face moved away from a top floor window. A few stone steps led up to the white front door. Dan saw his flushed face in the reflection of the polished brass sign. He was pleased; it was just after 10am. Dan pushed back the door.

  ‘Good morning, I’ll be right with you,’ the woman said as she walked down the curved staircase. Dan assumed she was Jennifer who he had spoken to on the phone. The woman was tall and slim and wore a fitted grey jacket and skirt. She had long blonde hair that she tied back into a ponytail. Jennifer walked into another room. Dan looked around while he waited. The hallway had an elaborate corniced ceiling and a golden chandelier that glistened from the light that came through the half-round window above the front door. Jennifer came back through. ‘You must be Daniel Easton, good to meet you,’ Jennifer said as she extended her hand out to shake Dan’s in an efficient manner. Her nails were manicured and pale pink. ‘I’m Jennifer, Alexander’s assistant. Let’s go up, he’s expecting you.’ Jennifer led the way up the staircase and knocked on the panelled door. ‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ They waited for confirmation to enter the office.

  ‘A black coffee would be great,’ Dan said. Jennifer opened the door and shut it once Dan had gone in.

  ‘Morning,’ Maybury said in an elongated way. The suited man in his fifties got up from his desk and walked toward Dan. He was balding and had an angular, lined face. Maybury shook Dan’s hand. ‘Please, do take a seat.’ Dan sat down and took his bag off. The room was lined with dark panelled wood and floor to ceiling bookcases. Dan felt underdressed as he compared his old jeans with Maybury’s navy suit. Maybury sat down behind his mahogany desk. ‘Let’s get straight to it; what do you know about your birth parents?’ Maybury said.

  ‘Well actually I know nothing about them; I have no contact with them.’ For a split-second Maybury let a small smile escape and then drained his face of emotion before Dan could notice.

  ‘This may come as a slight shock depending on your viewpoint. I have, with the assistance of Jennifer, tracked down all members of the Easton family.’ Dan’s mind spun. ‘You, Mr. Easton, are the only living member.’ The words pierced Dan like a sword. All hope of ever meeting a real blood relative crashed down on top of him. ‘I have been appointed to manage the affairs of a Mr. Charles Easton, a relative of yours. He is your grandfather in fact.’ Dan stared on, taking in every word. ‘Now, don’t get too excited. He was very ill in his last days and most of his possessions were sold to pay for his care. However, he did have a small sum of money left over. Since you are his only remaining blood relative you inherit all that he had.’ Dan’s thoughts raced with a mixture of emotions. Jennifer came back into the room with the coffee. She set it down and went into the adjacent room.

  ‘Ok, but what does that mean?’ Dan said. He sipped the coffee. ‘It’s going to be a mangy cat and some plant pots, isn’t it?’ Dan said.

  ‘Not quite,’ Maybury said in a disapproving tone. The solicitor creased his lined forehead. ‘You have inherited forty-five thousand pounds give or take.’ Dan’s eyes lit up.

  ‘You mean I'm not broke anymore? Wow, that’s great news.’ As he said it, Dan realised that with the news also came sadness. It was final; he would never know his birth parents.

  ‘Well that may be so, but if you could let me continue.’ Maybury read out the will as Dan listened transfixed. ‘There’s a few things you need to sign and then it’s all yours.’

  ‘Sure, of course. I’ll sign the paperwork now.’

  ‘If you’ll excuse me I need to make a quick call. Jennifer will take care of you.�
�� Maybury stood up and shook Dan’s hand with a firm grip. ‘It’s been good to meet you Dan. Jennifer,’ Maybury called out towards the double doors.

  ‘Yes, thank you. I just have a quick question,’ Dan said.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Maybury said as Jennifer came back in.

  ‘Where did my family live?’

  ‘Ah yes, well, I believe your parents moved to Australia some twenty years ago or more. It would appear they died in a fire. There is very little information out there; we nearly didn’t find you at all.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Dan said unsure of what to say to the news. ‘Thanks again.’ Dan left the room with Jennifer.

  Jennifer opened the file and gave it to Dan; between the A4 sheets were pink sticky tabs with arrows that pointed to where he needed to sign. Dan started to read the slab of paperwork.

  ‘You don’t need to worry about reading it all. I know it must look overwhelming but most of it is just formality. You just need to sign and date each one.’ Jennifer pointed to one of the signature boxes on the page. ‘It’s our job to understand all the legal terms so you don’t have to.’

  ‘That’s a relief. Otherwise I’ll be here all day just unpicking the language,’ Dan said.

  ‘Yes, Alexander certainly has a way with words, doesn’t he?’ Jennifer said. Maybury walked into the room.

  ‘I hope Jennifer is taking care of you?’

  ‘Yes thanks, I was just trying to understand what this all means,’ Dan said.

  ‘The document details the inheritance, followed by your details and, finally, the account the money will be deposited into. I just need a signature where the arrows are and it’s all yours.’ A phone rang in another room unanswered. Dan held the cold pen between his fingers and leaned in to sign the page. The nib touched the sheet of paper and Dan scrawled his signature on the line, but no ink came out. Dan tried again but only a dry scratch marked the page.

  ‘Typical,’ Dan said.

  ‘Here, try this one,’ said Maybury. The solicitor reached into his jacket pocket for a pen and held it out. Before Dan could take it, a loud screeching noise interrupted him. The sound of metal and glass smashed in an abrupt crescendo. Without thinking, Dan got up and rushed outside to where the sound came from. It wasn’t until he was on the street that he realised he still clutched the unsigned documents.