Chapter 77

77

Anthony

Anthony placed the electronic device inside the palm of his hand and worked his way around his office, swiping and waving it in front of each section of wall until it began to emit a low beep. He had found it.

He’d installed security cameras both inside and outside the house, but not like this one. He took a closer look at the near-translucent circle, no bigger than a centimetre, positioned just below the coving. It was an optical fibre camera used to record every word and every movement in his office. It was how Hyde knew that he kept the weapon used to kill Jem Jones in his bottom drawer. He had likely been monitored around the clock long before his attempted resignation. He ripped the circle from the wall and stamped on it.

Back in the office, Anthony unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the gun. For a moment he thought he saw traces of Jem’s blood on the barrel. It was impossible; his mind was playing tricks on him. Next, he opened a carton of bullets, then the gun’s chamber and placed each one inside until it was full. He stretched out his arms and aimed the weapon at the screens on the wall in front of him. Then he pretended to fire the weapon, one imaginary shot after another.

Finally, Anthony turned himself towards the translucent lens, staring directly at it. He placed the barrel to the right side of his head – the exact same place as Jem Jones’ entry wound – and, ever so gently, began to squeeze the trigger. Only when all six screens in his office turned on remotely did he release the pressure.

They contained the same image. Hyde was glaring at him from inside the rear of a moving vehicle. It was the first time Anthony had ever witnessed an uneasiness in his employer.

‘Don’t,’ Hyde said sharply.

‘Why not?’

‘Because things will take an unpleasant turn for Matthew and Jada if you do.’

‘Then just let me go.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘You told me yourself that none of us are irreplaceable.’

‘I have invested too much time and effort in you to let you fuck up your future.’

‘Stop recording me. Turn off the cameras in my house,’ Anthony replied. ‘Don’t monitor me. Let me get on with my job.’

Hyde hesitated. ‘You attended a Freedom for All meeting. You disappeared from surveillance after our last meeting in London. I cannot trust you.’

‘Likewise. But I’m doing as I’m told. I’ve sent my family away so that I don’t lose focus. When the next stage of this project is over, I want out. And I want a guarantee there will be no repercussions.’

When Hyde didn’t answer immediately, Anthony’s finger again squeezed the trigger. It was enough to secure an answer.

‘Okay,’ said Hyde. Anthony lowered his weapon, the screens turned themselves off as quickly as they had switched on.