Comeuppance

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Comeuppance
A short story by
Mark Harrington4

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Monday 12th November 2007.
8.30 am10

Phillip Michael's is just another grey suit among the sprawling masses of men and women bustling through Liverpool St station on a drab Monday morning in November. A veritable needle in a haystack or perhaps a single straw in a haystack would be a more fitting description.11

He departs the 7.32 from Colchester at a dash. Clearly he is a man in a hurry. Having passed the ticket barriers at the end of his platform we see him give a quick glance at the giant digital clock that hangs above the ever changing arrivals and departures board, confirming to him what his imitation rolex watch had been telling him for the last twenty five minutes. He was late.12

Now if you knew Liverpool street station like I do then you'll know that at 8.32 am during London rush hour is no picnic, 18 platforms conveying some 123 million passengers a year into the heart of London from destinations all across the East of England such as Norwich, Ipswich and Cambridge and London’s largest serving airport Stansted. You’d guess therefore that this Monday morning was as busy a time as any you'd be likely to see.13

You may well have seen men and women in Phillips predicament. Fighting a slow losing battle, stepping this way and that, a few steps to the side just to make one step forward, I always visualize someone running the wrong way up an escalator or wading waist high in water and you'll get the idea of the slow progress Phillip was making. At last he finally makes the entrance to the underground, and emits a small groan as he sees the lengthy lines stretching back from the automated ticketing gates leading to the platforms beneath the heart of London.14

Ticket in hand he starts to fume at the Japanese tourists in the queue he has joined who wait until they get to the gate itself before withdrawing there wallet or purse to find there ticket inside. Perhaps like me you'll have a little sympathy for Phillip in this. He has wrapped up warmly against the bitter November chill and a bead of sweat slowly trickles down the back of his neck and his breathing is some what ragged, testament to a steady regime of nights in front of the television with a take away. His mind quickly turns to thoughts of a taxi but he knows surely the streets above are more likely as busy as the streets below and a taxi would make him even later. Fucking tourists he thinks to himself, cluttering up the subway in there small packs, chattering inanely about the delights of madam tussauds or some such, Phillip could scarce believe that a nation such as the Japanese at the forefront of the technological industry would find such delight in travelling half way around the world to visit a bunch of wax work dummies who were sculpted bearing the likeness' of western icons! At last salvation presents itself, they are through and he stuffs his sweaty hand forward for the machine to snatch the ticket from his grasp to have it reappear in the next instant and allow him entrance the inner sanctum of the London Underground.15

Rushing now, the crowds are thinner as they make there way to this line or that, he races to the escalator and for the first time that morning makes some time as he bounds down the moving stair, occasionally bumping his briefcase into the calves of an unsuspecting victim. Off the end of the escalator now passed the surprisingly talented violinist busking for small change and into the oncoming numbers having just departed there tube train. Again he nimbly begins his dance with the on coming strangers. There is a train at the platform! If he could just make it he might make the office in time. Aggressive now he pushes against the wall of people as the doors to the tube slowly, agonizingly, begin to draw closed. At the last he reaches forward to brace the door with his arm. But is buffeted at the last from a mother, motioning for her three children to keep close. The door shuts in his face and the train slowly begins to motion forward. His mind is numb as he stares after the retreating mother only to return to the view of the door, sliding past his face and the view of his colleague Bryan Nelson standing with another man and laughing, seemingly laughing in his direction.16

Nelson you bastard! Phillip thinks to himself, that son of a bitch must have seen me coming; he could have held the door! But no, that fuck is gliding past my face pissing himself in hysterics knowing that he's going to make me late for work. Phillip could almost feel his face flush redder with anger, Ever since Bryan had started at the firm nine months ago, Phillip knew he had set his sights on the deputy manager position, and seemingly caring little that in the natural progression of things that Phillip himself was surely due the position. There had been snide remarks, barely disguised put downs and the one-upmanship that Bryan had displayed in his time there at the company had all served to raise his own standing and lower that of Phillips. Really? An inner voice replied, that’s just paranoia talking Phillip, get a hold of yourself, and come to think of it hadn't Bryan sang his praises only last month for all his hard work and dedication? All of a sudden Phillip wasn't too sure of himself, maybe Bryan hadn't seen him, and maybe he was just sharing a joke on something else. Maybe.17

Ok maybe Phillip wasn't the go getter that Bryan Nelson was, at 45 years of age he had slowly risen to the verge of deputy manager, but he was under no illusions as to why. Time and patience. Twenty two long years at the company had seen better men come and go until ultimately only he remained in the frame for the vacant position. Until the arrival of Bryan Nelson that was. Phillip was also under no illusions as to his chances of promotion, Nelsons arrival had stirred things up and although almost 10 years his junior had set his eyes firmly on the prize and Phillips years of service and dedication be damned. Everyday had become a battle just to keep afloat where he was in his managers eyes, trying to remind him of his duty to reward his long standing servant.. And being late wasn't going to help the situation any. This thought raised him from his reverie and he looked about, anxious now as to his situation. The overhead sign flicked over and informed him the next train would be due in five minutes.18

8.51am19

Phillip's morning is clearly showing him no mercy, he is well aware that his stop is still five stations away and he hasn't been afforded the luxury of a seat. Resigned now to the inevitable ear bashing that Matthews will administer he begins to relax some, his mind drifts toward some possible excuse for his late arrival? An illness? A dying relative? Alien abduction? Maybe wet his hair and tell of his heroics, diving into the Thames to rescue a drowning woman? His lips begin to stretch into a smile at the thought of actually telling Matthews this, but quickly he turns his head away as he can see a Muslim woman sat opposite looking in his general direction (people seen smiling to themselves are clearly thought of as insane and must be duly sanctioned! He thinks to himself, which stretches his smile a little further) clearly his mood is somewhat lightened as if now the situation has become unavoidable he should simply have to grin and bear it, Phillip then begins to look around him at the Commuters sharing this enclosed space with him, (of course avoiding eye contact as is the law on the subway!) He realizes then that he is being slowly drawn into the conversation that two simarly drab grey suits are having. He shifts his weight to turn in there general direction and pretends to study the map of the London underground whilst keeping the two suits at the proporifery of his vision also affording him better acoustics to eaves drop there conversation.20

“So that's how many now?” said the taller of the two men to his somewhat smaller and balder companion.21

“Well the Police haven't released any details as yet, but that makes six now, Jesus. Mary is starting to get worried you know? What with all the late nights”22

“Oh come on, what are the odds? You only stop out at Witham, trains packed all the way. This guy is getting them on the smaller lines, you know, middle of no where stops. Where was the latest one?”23

“Out on the Braintree line” replys the bald man.24

“Exactly my point, Braintree line, must have been in the small hours, guy cases the train, waits till everyone is off then Bam one more victim to the Railway Ripper!”25

“Railway Ripper? That’s pretty dumb.”26

“Don't blame me” replied the tall man defensively. “That’s what the tabloids are going with.”27

“Tabloids? Don't get me started”28

Railway Ripper? Yes. Phillip had heard something about this in the office, he didn't personally take the time to read the papers or watch the news, content as he was pottering about in his garden or indulging himself with the latest James Patterson. The bald man was now clearly well into his rhetoric about the state of British Journalism despite clearly telling the Tall man not to get him started. Although looking plainly uninterested the tall man was nodding along in the right places, so Phillip shifted his weight back to his previous position. A serial killer on the East Anglian Railway lines? He thought, really? And apparently now at Braintree, that cut a little to close to home, he used to live out that way in a small town called Halstead and had often used the Braintree line.... Don't be daft his mind told himself, that’s like those idiots who harp on about being in the twin towers on any day other than September the 11th! So what if you used to use that line, it’s not like you do now. True, if indeed there was a serial killer on the railways then Phillip knew he would be fine, he was out of the office at five and safely back at home by 7.30 at the latest and that was on the busy line to Colchester, no, there was nothing to worry about. 'Even still' he thought to himself 'I might just pick up a newspaper when I get off.'29

9.23am30

The smile that had stretched Phillips mouth a little more than half an hour ago had now been firmly wiped from his face. Matthews was delivering him the dressing down of a life time. Instead of slipping quietly to his desk unnoticed Phillip had decided to put on a brave front and confront trouble before trouble confronted him and had knocked on Matthews door to put his explanation and apology out there to try and deflect any potential flack. No sooner had he drew breath to begin, the words forming on his tongue when he cut down, Matthews delivering a verbal onslaught comparable to that of a chain gun, Tata Tata Tata!!!31

“Why is it Michaels that you don't see fit to be at your desk for a 9am start?” Phillip shaped the words to reply but Matthews continued unrelenting.32

“Moral fibre, or rather the very lack of it is your problem Michael's. The very cornerstone that this company was founded on, look around you, there they are the people of Johnson's Office retail all at there desks, all at work, and then there is you and me. I am at this time not engaging in the duties which conform to this company functioning at full capacity. Have you forgotten that I’m shortly to announce the new deputy? You know you’re not helping yourself Michael's with this shoddy attitude. I need a man who can be relied upon in ALL facets of his work and that begins at 9am on the dot. A man who lives and breaths for his work, a man who can be relied upon in a crisis. At this moment I am very much questioning myself as to whether or not that man is you. Does this sound like the kind of man that you are? I think not. I think you need to have a long hard look at yourself and show me some real application.”33

Phillip observed that almost all of Matthews’s questions were rhetorical, a man like Matthews knew all the answers or so he believed, or, at the very least had no patience for answers from any subordinate. All Phillip could do was to stand there, squirming like a naughty school boy, the humiliation! He was 45 years old for Christ sake not a five year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar.34

“A deputy manager has to display the right moral fibre so as to set an example to the rest of the staff, don't you agree? To take his position and the standing of this company seriously. I mean for god's sake man look at yourself you look like you've been dragged through a swamp”35

Matthews was standing now leaning forward onto his desk with his palms flat, narrowing the distance between them uncomfortably, his eyes searching. For one instant Phillip allowed his eyes to rise and to lock onto those of his manager, and for one second he held that glance and all at once he felt his anger rise and then surely subside, he saw that in this small moment of anger he had cast doubt in this other man, doubt at the resolve in his own eyes and in that instant he screamed his reply in his own head.’ Well shut the fuck up and let me get back to work you mean old bastard! It’s my hard work that keeps this place ticking over! Whilst you go on your four hour business lunches and sit at that desk looking at porn all day or whatever the hell it is you do in here! This instant of rage was brief of course as he could not let himself to hold that gaze, to show this man the fury in his eyes, for he was not the type of man to rattle the cage he simply lowered his head and nodded. The respite was brief and surely gave Matthews some concern as he returned to his seat in a much less threatening posture.36

From the corner of his eye he could see the people of Johnson's office retail were not in fact studiously working themselves stupid, that one charged moment between himself and his manager and the second of doubt which had quelled Matthews monologue had peaked there interest and they had begun casually glancing over and trying to take in what was going on in the office. Just in time to witness his inevitable defeat His anger flared again when he caught sight of Bryan Nelson in a hushed whisper to Crystal one of the company secretaries, who emitted a small giggle. You Bastard Nelson I’ll see you get....37

“Well?” Phillip's reverie was broken.38

“I'm sorry sir?” he replied.39

“What have you got to say for yourself man?” Matthews asked incredulously.”Are you even heard a word I’ve said!”40

“I'm terribly sorry sir, I will make certain that it doesn't happen again” he replied softly.41

he knew how this pantomime should play out now and his part in it. Matthews was putting on a display for the masses outside, the “I'm top dog, make sure you all remember routine” And his part was to subjugate completely.42

“Your damn right it wont” Matthews fired back triumphantly.43

Phillip knew there had been a moment of fear for his manager, that instant of doubt that the dog you’ve been beating on all these years might finally turn and bite back. Phillip knew however that his days of biting back were long ago. At 45 and a large mortgage to pay for he knew he needed this promotion, this position, with its larger pay scale and as much as he would like to take that pencil lying on the desk there and stab Matthews in the eye with it he couldn't, he would simply roll over as he always did and take stick he was being beaten with.44

“Well back to work with you then” Matthews snapped. “And I expect you to stay on this evening to make up for lost time. I want the full inventory from the Marx account fully up-to-date and finished by the end of the week. It is vital we get this business Phillips, this could well prove to be a very large interest for this company”45

Well there it was, not just a tongue lashing after all. He was being tested, tested to ascertain his metal, to do or die, to prove he was the man for the job. Matthews knew the Marx account wasn't due until the end of the month, In his chastened position he knew he was in no position to argue this point and he also knew that meant some very late nights for the rest of the week, Damn it! Commuting was bad enough but at the outside he liked to be home by 7.30 at the latest, some small time to himself before sleep and the six o'clock alarm's shrill call to begin the cycle all over again. Head bowed to avoid the inevitable looks Phillip turned, tail between his legs and returned to his desk.46

1.05pm47

Chewing slowly on a ham and tomato sandwich, savoring the taste Phillip reached for his briefcase and withdrew the copy of the London standard that he had stopped briefly for at the exit of Euston station where he alighted every morning. Exact change in hand the brief transaction adding no real time to his inevitable late arrival at work (which was still another two minutes walk). Sixth victim for Railway Ripper pronounced the headline in bold type. Underneath the story read. 48

Police today are today elevating there search for the so called “Railway Ripper” who unconfirmed reports suggest has claimed his sixth victim in the early hours of this morning. Witness reports suggest that a body had been discovered on the 23.44 service from Witham to Braintree on the 'One' network serving London Liverpool Street. Police have not yet confirmed the identity of the victim or any relation to the recent spate of deaths that have occurred on the southeast network. Chief Superintendent Richard Baker of Essex Police in conjunction with Suffolk constabulary announced early this month a joint operation to track down a serial killer working on the East Anglian Rail Network was now in affect after the murder of 19 year old Emily Stephens of Harwich, whose body was found in August at Wrabness on the Harwich line. Police chiefs announced this joint operation citing 'undeniable similarities' to two earlier killings also affected on this network, those of Nathan Pringle of Hockley in February of this year and Patricia Stirling of Lowestoft whose body was found in July. However Police investigations thus far have come up empty handed as two further victims were claimed by the killer, Mary Worth of Harlow also found in August and Jason Patrick of Bury st Edmunds who was found with his throat cut in October.49

Doctor Irving Schwimer a retired Police serial profiler formerly of Scotland yard has expressed concern at the recent elevation of activity of the killer, stressing that a heightened level of excitement brought about by fervent media attention and lack of progress by Police investigations could have led the killer to heightened levels of exhilaration at his success, leading him to accelerate his agenda and thus disregarding his chances of being apprehended, perhaps leading him to believe he is now unstoppable. Doctor Schwimer however did go on to stress that a person in such a state would leave themselves open to mistakes and that he was certain that the increased Police presence on the Railway Network would soon be forthcoming with some positive action.50

Although no comment has yet been forthcoming regarding this latest gruesome discovery, Police are however continuing to urge anybody with any information and particularly any persons who may have been using the said trains on any of the given nights to come forward as any information could prove decisive in the apprehension of this psychotic killer. Also stressing that lone passengers who were in fear of there safety should rule out travelling alone at night and might also consider alternative means of transportation in the short term. Story continued on page 251

Phillip sat back in his chair dropping the newspaper to his desk. Some of the fractured conversations he had heard over the last few months played back into his head. And two and two finally came to four. Being some what introvert he had little concern for the outside world, 9/11, the London bombings, two wars in Iraq had all passed him by like ships in the night and his only concern on the 7th July in 2005 had been the delay in getting home. (There had of course been no phone call regarding his wellbeing). Of course he was aware of such events but in his mind all this could be put down to immigration, letting half the bloody world through our doors. Free house. Free money and not a word of bloody English amongst them, leeches. Not the most enlightened view I’m sure but Phillip was a stubborn man and his mind made up could not be swayed. (He always had a wary eye for these types). A serial killer though that did get his interest, on the Eastern Network no less. He'd seen the yellow placards placed at various stops along the route, were you here on such a date? Did you see? Suspicious activity? But of course had paid them no heed. But now this latest development had hit home hard, a murder on the Braintree line was all to close to home and raised certain questions. Of course his first concern was always to himself and his own safety, was he in danger? His initial reaction came back to him, he doubted it very much, the commuter trains that he always used were usually packed all the way to his stop, Colchester. Also he was always home at a reasonable hour and from what he had picked up in the scant conversation he had heard and the little he had gleaned from the article had told him that the spate of killings came very late at night on the much quieter trains and also on the much quieter routes. Still a nagging doubt lay in the pit of his stomach, a small quiet voice, distant, whispering, feeding his paranoia. He dismissed the voice reassuring himself that there was no danger but still the thought quickly raced across his mind that the same nagging doubt must have lay with the later victims who had travelled on those fateful nights with reason winning out over seemingly senseless fear in there decision to travel. He deemed to investigate further, why he was giving into such a pointless exercise was beyond him, he prided himself as a man of reason, but knowing full well that Matthews ridiculous deadline for the Marx account was certainly going to mean some late nights this week meant that by acquiring further details he was sure to put his mind at rest, by acquiring a mental projection of any possible threat and thus eliminating certain possibilities he knew he could put his mind at ease. So reaching for the newspaper he resolved to read the story in full and any details he felt were left unresolved he could catch-up on the internet, the Police were sure to have a web site dedicated to the case.52

Before he could do as much as straighten the paper though an unwelcome face popped around the partition wall of his sterile cubicle. Bryan Nelson.53

“Phillip hi” he said with an award winning smile. Phillip could almost feel his hackles rise.54

“Err Bryan, what can I do for you?”55

“I heard on the grapevine that Matthews has asked for the Marx account. Is that right? If so I was wondering if I could be of any assistance.” 56

Assistance? What did he think he was getting at? Playing superhero? Swooping in to save the day. Or just trying to score a few brownie points with Matthews or worse score points off of him.57

“That’s very kind Bryan but I think I have everything under control” Difficult as it was to be tactful he managed to sound quite cordial he thought The incident earlier this morning coming to the forefront of his mind.58

“Look Phillip” Bryan quickly looked around himself and stooped low into the cubicle lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. “I have to say I heard what went on with Matthews this morning and I’ve got to say I think that was bang out of order, I mean you were little more than twenty minutes late. Last week Smith was late twice and the man didn't bat an eye lid”59

Yes that was true, Phillip recalled, he'd passed by Matthews window on the second occasion last week as Derek Smith had taken his desk and had seen Matthews look up only to let the incident pass. At the time this was of no concern to him but now? Given what had happened this morning? That was flat out discrimination!60

Bryan continued “I know your going to have to pull a lot of late ones to get this done and to be honest I do have an ulterior motive” that smile again. “I’d really like to get in on the Marx account you know? As well as giving you a hand I would be gaining some much needed background, I’d only be in as your wingman, you can stick it to the old man when you turn it in, and I’d gain a leg up when he starts dishing out the assignments at the end of the month. What do you say?”61

It certainly was tempting, on top of his current work load it was certainly going to be touch and go as to whether or not he could finish on time, without sleeping at his desk all week that was. One thing did nag at him though and he wasn't shy in making his concern known.62

“So as I’m clear, you’re saying you'd jump on board and not take any of the credit?”63

Bryans smile grew wider if that was possible “straight up Phil.” Phil, he hated it when people called him Phil. “It’s a win win situation, I’m sure you could easily cope by yourself but you'd really be doing me a favour”64

This was the winner for Phillip, sure he needed help, the idea of all those late nights made him wince. Don't forget the late journeys home, a quiet voice added. He shuddered at the thought. As much as he was loathe to admit that he needed help, especially from a worm like Bryan Nelson he knew he needed it and Bryan had given him the perfect out. Also most convincing of all he knew that delivering the Marx account could well be the very thing to tip the scale in his favour regarding the deputy manager’s position.65

“Well if it would be doing you a favour”66

“It sure would Phil” Bryan replied enthusiastically, knowing full well he had won him round with the favour line.67

“Well ok then, but it stays strictly between us”68

“You know it. This place usually empties out by six, half six, so I’ll swing back by around then. Thanks for this Phil.” There it was again. Phillip opened his mouth to protest but Bryan had swung away around the partition back to his desk.69

This wouldn't be so bad he thought, he already knew that early completion of the file would have no real bearing on Matthews toward him, but at least he could glean some satisfaction from turning it in early, and although he wouldn't admit it, it would show Matthews that he was still an important member of this team. And if Nelson wanted in on the Marx account then so what? Although a lucrative account they were certainly not the biggest fish in the Johnson Office Retail pond and if Nelson wanted to climb the ladder then so be it.70

Thursday 16th November
6.35pm71

It had been a good week, of course there had been the late nights but with Bryans help they were making good progress with the Marx account, in fact things were looking on course to finish that very evening. Phillip was anticipating the moment when he could deliver the finished file to Matthews. From being a potential career threatening problem it could well turn out to be a turning point for him, of course he was aware that Matthews didn't like him, but results mattered and this was a result, if Matthews could see that he was after all a dedicated hard working servant of Johnson's retail it could well see an upturn in his career prospects after all. And all thanks to Bryan Nelson, who would have thought it? Bryans help and knowhow had been instrumental in there early completion of the project. Bryans assertion that he was in on the need for a leg up seemed somewhat perplexing as he had taken to the work like a natural, second guessing some of Phillips own assertions, infuriating at first but ultimately proven right time and again. Hey ho go with the flow, Phillip thought, it had seriously annoyed him somewhat at first that this upstart would even question the logic of his decision making, but his knack for putting things in there place was unquestioned where Phillips own processes were slowing the procedure down. And so he'd learnt to accept Bryan's assertions without question. It was after all removing all doubt of making the Friday deadline and he now knew that only a few hours more work and satisfaction would be his. And working with Bryan to get it hadn't been such a bitter pill to take after all. Hell he'd even managed a few light conversations with the man. Of course his ambition was a problem, Phillip had been looking over his shoulder for so long now that he had begun to feel hunted, but with this feather in his cap maybe he could turn things around? Become the Predator, yes, no doubt about it Bryan Nelson would have to go....One thing at a time though Phillip he told himself he was getting way too ahead of himself, first deliver the account, second Johnson's had to secure the contract, only then would his work be seen to be of value and then Matthews would have to recognize his influence, then and only then could he deal with those people who were casting coveting eyes on his position.72

Phillip leaned up to see Derek Smith leaving, good, the office was empty now except for himself and Bryan and with that thought Bryan entered his cubicle. They had made a very good job thus far of keeping there dealings secret from the other office workers, with Bryan supposedly attending to his own business until the last worker had left the room. Phillip had even heard him go as far as telling a colleague that although he had been staying on to “keep on top of things” that he was out of the building by seven. This suited Phillip to the ground. Matthews himself usually left around six and Phillip had seen him casting glances in his direction on his way from the building, he knew therefore that he was creating the perfect illusion of the studious worker grafting late into the night.73

“All set Phil?” Bryan asked.74

All set Bry! he thought, he'd learnt to live with Bryans indiscretion, of course the fact that he'd decided he was going to rid himself of this fool had helped to reconcile the fact. Phillip nodded his reply. 75

“Cool I thought if you stuck to the actual pricing of the inventory, I’d look after the proposal itself."76

“Yeah that would be fine.” Of course he'd left him a fool’s task, simply checking the figures making sure everything came up hunky dory, but the presentation of the proposal was a key facet to any account and Phillip was glad to leave it in Bryan’s capable hands.77

“That’s great, all things considered it’s gone really well, we should be out of here by nine.” Bryans brow furrowed somewhat, “can't say I’m sorry either, these late nights you know? Can't say I’ve been happy getting the train home at those late hours.”78

Realization struck “Oh...yes, the killer you mean?” the whole thing had temporarily gone out of his head what with the work load and all. His old fear rushing back. He lambasted himself at his realization that he had not taken the precaution to do some background research. His hectic schedule enveloping his mind until it was too late and time to take the journey home each of the passing nights.79

“Yeah, I don't mind telling you I’ve been a little creeped out of late, you know working late this week and all, the journey back to Wivenhoe hasn't been all that pleasant.”80

“Wivenhoe? On the Colchester line?” Phillip replied.81

“Yeah, why do you ask?”82

“Oh, I'm in Colchester myself you know.”83

“Really, I didn't realize, I’d never seen seen you before. Journeying in I mean.” That was no real surprise, Phillip always took the train that came directly in from Ipswich via Colchester, it didn't stop at every single pissant stop on the way in. Wivenhoe on the other hand was on the branch line out of Colchester toward Clacton on the coast, if Bryan caught his train there it would be unlikely that they would ever see each other. That was good news, now that they begun to converse in the office, some small level of etiquette had developed whereby Phillip could no longer ignore Bryan’s presence. Be it a good morning here or a nod in passing there. Imagine the horror if they should accidently meet on the train? They'd be forced to exchange pleasantries and possibly even share the journey in. a whole hour of forced small talk with this buffoon? It was not a pleasant thought.84

“So what to you make of it all?” Bryan followed on. “I mean doesn't it make you nervous at all? What with the late nights.”85

“I hadn't given it a second thought.” Phillip countered with false bravado. And then proceeded to delve into his long winded repertoire regarding the busyness of the line etc which had thus far made made him feel somewhat safer.86

“Yeah I guess your right, I’ve been telling myself the same, the wife too, but to be honest it doesn't stop me giving everyone I see the once over, you know checking them out? Suspicious characters? You know?”87

“Suspicious characters? On the trains?” Phillip snorted. “I don't know about Serial Killers but every last person you see on those night train looks shifty to me!” Bryan laughed.88

“Yeah, you ain't wrong, all a bunch of weirdo’s, doesn't help everyone eying up everyone else either. No wonder everyone’s so paranoid. I even heard a rumour that there are under cover police on the trains now, if you asked me they should put the uniformed ones on. At least that way we'd all feel a little safer.”89

“Agreed” Phillip countered. And with nothing else to say the silence between them began to draw out, uncomfortably so, till Bryan bid his farewell citing the fact that the work wouldn't finish itself. The conversation though had brought back the familiar dread that had been lurking with him back at the beginning of the week. And he did not appreciate the reminder of the potential dangers of late night travel. He cast his mind back to the week now departing, if he had stopped to think about it his fear may have overtaken him, the trains which were usually steadily busy at that late hour were now all but empty. The travelers of the Rail Network heeding Police advice and either not travelling or finding alternative arrangements. Those who were either brave or foolhardy enough to continue travelling, were wearing masks of paranoia, eyes darting, many Phillip thought bared the resemblance to an animal trapped in the headlights of a fast on coming car with death but a few seconds away. And as he had done, he imagined them laughing at themselves for there foolishness once they had reached the sanctuary of there own front door. But things were going well he mused, he'd be out of here shortly, and that old nagging fear that had sat with him during his late night passage home would soon be but a distant memory. Still better get started he thought, Bryan was right, although tedious work, it wasn't going to do itself and so he reached for the draw for his calculator to begin.90

Friday 17th November
9.1791

Phillip sat at his desk tapping his pen idly against his coffee mug looking at the entrance to the office, of all the cheek, Matthews was late! He drifted off into his thoughts. Imaginining himself sitting at Matthews’s desk, feet perched on the polished oak, hands behind head as Matthews entered the office. Face red and sweaty through running up the stairs, stealthily sliding into his desk. Phillip rising to the office door and for all to hear “Mr. Matthews if I could see you in my office for a moment?” The eyes of the office now on the sad figure shuffling its way into the lair of the beast, the new manager of Johnson retail Phillip Michaels. Just as he was beginning to submit the imaginary figure of his manager to the vilest of tortures his concentration was broken as Bryan Nelson glided past his booth with a quick wink. His gaze glanced down to the file at his left hand and he couldn't help but smile, perhaps he couldn't submit his boss to some form of deserving torture but at least some satisfaction would soon be his.92

10.0593

Phillip sat in his cubicle bewildered, Matthews had been in now for some thirty five minutes and had yet to make any motion to summon Phillip to his office and he was just itching to get in there. At last some movement, Matthews was rising, heading to the office door. Phillip reached down to take the file, rising himself in anticipation of the call.94

“Bryan could you come to my office for a moment please?” Phillip thought he had misheard at first and was still in a semi crouched position, half risen, half seated as if frozen in midair replicating the street mimes you would see at Coveant Garden. His eyes roamed and met those of Bryan Nelson who gave him a quizzical look and shrugged his shoulders, suggesting that he was as puzzled as Phillip.95

Phillip sat himself down. Had Matthews forgotten? No more likely he was trying to make Phillip sweat, knowing full well how ridiculous the deadline had been he would have expected Philip to come up empty handed. Supplying him with all the ammunition he needed to hammer the last nail into the coffin that was Phillips career. But his mind countered, perhaps he had simply forgotten? After all the Marx account wasn't due till the end of the month, so it would be no surprise if he had forgotten with some much more pressing issue at hand. Though, he had seen Phillip working away until late, so on the other hand maybe he was putting off the inevitable, the sweet moment when he would have to submit to the fact (grudgingly) that Phillip had performed a small miracle of management and was in fact made of the right stuff after all. So maybe in summoning Bryan he was simply stalling, getting on with any business at hand so as to negate Phillips achievement and the moment he would have to acknowledge it. Phillip slumped back relaxed, that would be it, this was after all a busy office and it wouldn't live or die on the Marx account alone. Phillip simply decided he would bide his time, wait until an opportune moment presented itself, when Matthews was clearly not busy or on the phone. Then he would casually rap on the glass door. “Mr. Matthews? That account you were waiting for?” Although surely begrudging, some praise was due for his efforts (Yours and Bryans) his mind replied. Yes, yes mine and Bryans. The little angel speaking into his right ear that was his conscience had been a persistent nag all week, questioning the morality of passing someone else’s work as his own, the same someone who he was ultimately planning to be rid of. The other voice, the darker voice that seemed to rise up from the pit of his soul always won through though. After all had it not been Bryan’s idea to help? Also wasn't it giving him a leg up as he'd suggested, to bigger and better things? Yes, the tiny voice in his left ear won through (unsurprisingly) it had after all made the majority of his decisions for most of his adult life. Phillip smiled to himself at the thought of two tiny caricatures of himself resting on his shoulders, one dressed in pure white the other in red, both vying for his attention. It seemed to Phillip though that the little guy on the left was holding a bullhorn of late, so loud and vehement his arguments. He remembered reading somewhere that the right side of a person’s body belonged to God and the left to the Devil. Well he mused better the devil you know! He grinned moronically at this as he tapped his pen rhythmically against his coffee mug with his left hand.96

Not long passed before Bryan exited the office a small smile playing at his lips, Phillip looked up questioningly, but could not meet Bryan’s eyes. Matthews was still at the office door.97

“Phillip could I see you for a second?” Ah here it was at last, my time to shine! And so he plucked the file from the desk top and strode purposefully into the office. “Please take a seat.” A seat? In the three years that Matthews had been manager, not once had Phillip been offered a seat, in fact he couldn't even remember spending more than five minutes at a time within these four walls. He sat down, resting the file across his lap taking in his surroundings. Taking in the lackluster portraits of certain London landmarks and the densely overflowing rubber plant threatening to break through to the floor above. Also to the perfectly polished oak desk with its stationary and computer all sat at perfect right angles to one another, Phillip thought it looked more like a desk from there catalogue of supplies than the working desk of a busy working manager. Testament to how little work he thought Matthews really did. However it gave rise to thoughts of having his own office, all be it the much smaller room next door, vacant now for almost a year following the death of the former Deputy, Alan Smart who had died of cancer at the beginning of the year. The company deciding to plough on regardless, deciding not to fill the vacancy due to financial constraints, until now that was, what with the recent upturn in business.98

“So you have the Marx account for me?” Matthews opened.99

“Yes sir” he said leaning forward passing the dossier over. 100

Matthews snapped open his glasses case and balanced his horn rimmed glances on the very edge of his nose, looking downward as he began to scan through the documents. Phillip sat back relishing the appreciative noises that Matthews was expressing as he made his way through the pages. He smiled inwardly, he was well aware of the quality of the pages and the accuracy of the information within (what with Bryan proof reading all of his own work and correcting some glaring errors.) At last Matthews finished, placing the file to one side, a frown on his face.
“This is very good work Phillip, very good.” Matthews said evenly. “You were able to accomplish all of this within one week?”101

“Yes sir, there were one or two late nights, but it didn't really prove too much of a problem.” He replied. The frown on Matthews face was beginning to trouble him, inwardly at least he should be delighted with the work he had been presented with, it surely meant the capture of a very lucrative contract for the company, so why the frown Mr. Brown?102

“Here’s the problem Phillip, as you know the company has responded to the reason upturn in business by declaring that the position of Deputy manager will be reopened so as to take up some of the slack from myself, a sort of wingman if you will.” Wingman? Bryan Nelsons face suddenly swam into Phillips mind. ”Of course Phillip you had been at the forefront of my mind in this regard. Mondays episode not with standing I decided to call forward the Marx account so as to fully evaluate your work effort and potential, and I must say the results are most exceptional, on the basis of what I have here I would have to say that clearly you are the man for the job.” Phillips smile began to beam but was short lived as Matthews continued. ”However it has come to my attention that in fact this isn't your work at all.”103

“Sir?”104

“Don't play the innocent, Michaels” Michaels, that didn't ring well in his ears, Michaels was only reserved for moments of discipline and lecture. How could Matthews know the work wasn't his? His mind swam, looking for coherent thought, how could he make this right? All at once the vision of Bryan Nelson came to the fore of his mind, returning to his desk, that sly smile stretching his lips, not able to make eye contact. The truth then flooded in. The conversation that he'd witnessed prior. Nelson had blabbed, told everything, sold him down the river!105

“I can explain sir, I...” He began.106

He was cut off. “So it is true? Here I was about to name you as my number two!” His voice rising. “Until I find out that this work is not yours at all!”107

His mind rallied. “Very well, I did have some help, I realized with the deadline and all that.....”108

“Help!?” spittle was now flying from Matthews lip, Phillip couldn't remember seeing him so angry. ”From what I’ve learnt this morning, hardly one iota of this this work has stemmed from your hand. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me further? If this is your so called handy work, maybe you can tell me the sypnosis of the proposal?” Phillip was backed into a corner and there was no way out. He couldn't of course give the sypnosis, he'd barely glanced at it in all his excitement, anticipating the moment of glory, not considering for a moment the likely hood of some failure (or betrayal). He simply could not answer; his mouth had dried completely feeling more like a strip of sand paper.109

“I thought not.” Matthews anger had dampened somewhat and he now took on a more resigned tone. “This has been a very distressing situation for me Michaels, almost duped into promoting a man clearly not up to the task of seniority within this company. For God sake man, could you so quickly have forgotten what we'd discussed Monday? Moral fibre! Despite your recent inadequacies I go against my better instinct and present with you an opportunity to show me what you’re made of. To show me that you’re a man of responsibility, a man I can trust. Instead you repay me with falsehood. Luckily one man here had the integrity to come forward and tell the truth.” 110

A dark veil lowered itself over Phillips mind. He could feel his pulse beating inside his head, as if his hatred and anger itself were rythmically beating there way to the very core of his mind, and with each beat a name raged across his very psyche. Bryan Nelson! BRYAN FUCKING NELSON! Oblivious Matthews continued. “Under the circumstances Phillip, for the lies and deceit that you have vested upon me, my first instinct was to dispense with your services.”111

Those words rang like a gunshot in Phillips mind, his attention automatically regaining focus to his situation. His job? How had it come to this? Only Five minutes ago he was....112

“However, Mr. Nelson spoke very eloquently on your behalf. And I have decided to give you another chance; however you should know that I’ll be watching you like a hawk. Just one more indiscretion Michael's and that will be it for you. Gone!”113

The word hung in the air between them. He felt numb, shell-shocked. His mind writhed for cohesion but could find none. How had it come to this? Only five minutes ago he was anticipating the crowning glory of his adult life and now everything was in tatters and it had almost cost him his job. The Irony! His very job saved the man who had almost cost him it in the first place!114

“Back to your desk now Phillips.”115

Some damage limitation was in order. Maybe put Nelson in the frame himself. ”Sir? If I could speak?”116

“I've very little time Phillips, make it quick.”117

“I would just like to say that it was my intention to work alone, it was Nelson who approached me in order to assist, said I’d be doing him a favour; give him a leg up so to speak. I felt I was helping a colleague, I didn't see the harm, just mere delegation. Obviously it was his intention to undermine...”118

“That’s enough! Perhaps you don't understand the gravity of your situation here! Mr. Nelson explained to me how he offered to help, that he was looking to advance himself. It was with great reluctance that he told me what went on. He couldn't in all good grace accept the situation you were taking advantage of. And that Mr. Phillips is the Moral fibre I was speaking of. That is why I have taken the decision to make Mr. Nelson the number two here. It was his first decision as Deputy Manager to save your worthless hide! Now get out of my sight before I change my mind!”119

And that was that. Everything was undone in less than five minutes, distraught he ambled back to his cubicle not meeting the eyes of the circling vultures vying for shreds of flesh. How could he have been so stupid! Why hadn't he trusted his instincts on Bryan? In one fell swoop he had eliminated the opposition and gone to the head of the class, all because he had been a fool. He should have stuck to his guns, refused the help that was offered, ok he may well not have finished the account, probably done a sloppy job and failed Matthews test, paving the way for Nelson to become Deputy. But like this? This humiliation? It was all too much to bear and it was all he could do to fight back the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. His anger gone now in a wave of self pity and loathing, he was weak and he knew it. Deep down part of him knew he wasn't meant for good things, didn't deserve them. A whole montage of failure and disappointment that had been his life washed through his head. Berating himself now for the stupidity of allowing himself hope and expectation. 120

9.35pm121

Phillip sat at a table of the Hamilton Hall, a public house, part of the Wetherspoons chain that was situated above the underground station that was Liverpool street itself. The day had ended as it should do at five o'clock. Nelson and a group were heading to the West End for celebratory drinks (Phillip not invited). He had made his way via the usual route to Liverpool Street, expecting to catch the 5.30 as he usually would. But the days events had pressed hard on him, his head ached from it all, and instead of boarding the train as he normally would he rode the escalator onto Liverpool Street, The bar at that time was heaving of course and he had to fight his way to the bar to be served. The hum of conversation was almost overpowering, many voices vying to be heard over the incessant din. Phillip made the bar at last and ordered a straight Jack Daniels.122

Now he cast his somewhat blurred vision over the rest of the crowd, A few suits in the corner laughing too loudly, here and there the odd couple sharing a glass or two of red after a day of sightseeing, the odd few travelers, backpacks propped up against table legs. Snatches of conversation came to his ears. - ...put Jesse down last week the kids were distraught.... -, -...Spurs really climbing the table now.... -...I see Northern Rock shares are down again.... - and of course - ...six murders now, only a matter of time till...- The place was quieter now, earlier it had been standing room only. He had savored the Jack slowly and was experiencing a light pleasant buzz that told him he was well on his way to drunk. His mind returned to the day’s events, those self same events he'd been drinking steadily to forget. The rest of his day had been a blur, the rage in his head had grown again, Cursing Bryan Nelson, cursing Matthews and of course cursing himself, he had kept his head down. He had not talked with anyone or anyone to him. Shortly after lunchtime. Matthews had emerged from his office to make the announcement; of course the news had swept round the office by then, this part just a formality. Phillip had to be there of course, hiding at the back of the small group, not finding the courage to walk from the room. (Or the job itself, an idea that he had pushed round his head all morning).123

”If I could have your attention please Ladies and Gentlemen, as you all may be aware this has been a very difficult year for the company, what with the sad passing of Alan Smart back in January” Phillip witnessed a few heads nod in gentle agreement. “And of course an unfortunate downturn in the annual figures. Of course I am very glad to say that we are well on the road to recovery, productivity is up and I can confidently predict that some substantial contracts are in the offing. With this up turn it has been decided by the powers at be that the office of Deputy manager should again be filled, much to my personal satisfaction as I have been pushing for this appointment for some time now. I'm sure you'd all like to join me in welcoming our new Deputy manager Bryan Nelson!”124

Matthews stood back vacating the space for Bryan to fill, beginning a small round of applause with a huge beaming smile. The line about pushing for Bryan to fill the deputy manager’s job didn't really come as much of a shock to Phillip, what with the catalogue of events unfolding as they had. It struck him that he had never been in with a shout of securing the position at all, almost as if the whole charade that had been played out this morning was solely for the purpose of eliminating him as a potential candidate. Could that be true? Could Matthews and Nelson have collaborated with the intention of removing him as a potential successor? Anything seemed possible; his seniority would after all present a problem to appointing a virtual new comer to the company. They would know that in his humiliation that he wouldn't kick up a stink. Phillip felt his anger rise as this realization dawned on him. Bryan then proceeded to work his way through an obviously rehearsed speech further indicating to Phillip that the appointment had been in place well before the morning’s theatrics. It seemed his rage was as a pan of water slowly being brought to the boil, only now the water was frothing and bubbling and the steam could well have been coming from his ears, much like a character in a children’s cartoon. He simply stood there though as he fought an inner battle, his inner voice screaming at him to do something, to react in some way. Had one of his colleagues turned to look at him at this point they would see the veins begin to stick out on his neck as he flexed his hands into fists, over and over. His visage of calm shattered. But nobody turned to look, wrapped as they were in Bryans speech, drawing the occasional laugh as he went. And so Phillip continued to stand and continued to stew until at last it was over and he could at last escape to the sanctuary of his cubicle, to lament his weakness.125

Of course now a few J.D's later, he had felt the familiar heat of anger rise within him again as he recollected the events of the afternoon, the inner voice mocking him for his weakness in excepting what had happened without fight. 'But what could I do?' he whispered into his glass. What he had now accepted was an elaborate sting to negate his chances of promotion had almost gone as far as costing him his job. 'There was nothing I could do' he answered in reply to himself drawing a glance from a passing waitress. But the voice in his head was unrelenting. You are Pathetic! Just show some god damn balls for once for Christ sake! This inner voice had tormented him for his weaknesses over the years, from an early age when his response to school yard bullying was simply to run and hide, into his adult life, from his lack of confidence with women to his inability to make or keep friends. His response to these difficult social situations to simply avoid them, with the unrelenting voice in his head forever chasing him forever mocking him. Staring vacantly into the bottom of his glass a voice, from somewhere deep inside of him whispered soothing comforts to him. 'Bryan Nelson will get his'126

“He will?”127

'Yes Phillip, just remember, time and patience' this voice often came to him in times of difficulty and although the voice came from deep in his subconscious he instantly recognized it as his late mothers. 'What that boy did to you was wrong Phillip. He set you up.'128

“Yes, yes he did”129

'Well God has ways of making people pay for there sins Phillip and that boy certainly deserves his comeuppance' Phillip nodded in agreement drawing curious glances from the waitress and the barman she had shared her observations with.130

'Just be patient Phillip and everything will be just fine.'131

Even in his slightly drunken state Phillip was aware that he was mollycoddling himself just as his mother would have done if she were still alive, calling on that familiar voice inside of himself to banish the spectre of the dark voice which chastised him so. Yes of course everything would be fine after all, I mean I still have my job don't I? He thought. And all good things come to he who waits (another of his mothers pet phrases) referring to Bryan of course. Bryan would get his comeuppance he was sure of that. If he watched and waited something was sure to present itself. Feeling better now he drained the last of his drink and glanced at his watch. 9.50. If he hurried he could make the 9.55, a good nights rest and the whole weekend to himself would give him time to relax and reflect and ultimately feel better come Monday morning. He grabbed his briefcase and left the bar at a trot.132

10.37pm133

He'd just made the train. In his fragile emotional state it was a small victory. He'd reached the first carriage and slipped through the doors just as the guards whistle sounded, cue for the doors to close. The carriage was sparsely filled and he managed to slump into a four seater and duly dumped his briefcase by his side, a clear sign that the whole seat was taken, please move along nothing to see here. The train was the fast train all the way through to Ipswich and having already stopped at Shenfield, Chelmsford and Witham he now had the carriage all to himself and had allowed himself the luxury of putting his feet up. He stared blankly out into the night, the occasional fluorescent glow of a street lamp or the small square of white of some isolated house or farm in the distance were all the scenery that the chill night would allow. He sighed, heavily fogging up the window pane, he hated this journey passionately, of course peak time was the worst, it could be standing room only some mornings, if not it would be the insecent click click click of some hack started his working day early on his lap top or some business suit speaking too loudly into his cell phone for the whole train to hear. Invariably these people seemed to be attracted to Phillip like moths to a porch light. He'd watch on infuriated as the rest of the days travelers could start the day with some modicum of decorum, doing the crossword in the Times or reading from a paperback as the latest in a long line of annoying people sat next too or opposite him. Some invisible sign reading LUNATICS AND IDIOTS HERE. Teenagers were the worst of course, eyeing him up and down, just waiting for the first one of a group to make some smart alleck remark to the hilarity of there companions, his face flushed red with embarrassment for the remainder of his journey home. But for now at least he was at peace the whole car to himself and home was ten short minutes away. Home. It wasn't much but it was his. Five minutes walk from North Station, the location purposefully chosen for its short walk too and from the station and for the fact that it lay in the opposite direction of the busy town itself, situated in a quiet cul-de-sac it was Phillips hideaway from the world, where he bothered nobody and nobody bothered him. It hadn't come easy of course. The house prices in this neck of the woods were bordering on the scandalous. However the years of careful saving coupled with the small amount that his mothers life insurance had bestowed upon him had finally given him license to get out of Halstead for good.134

'Halstead' his brow furrowed at the thought of his home town. Born and raised there, he had been ecstatic at finally distancing himself from the cavalcade of dark memories that the name Halstead invoked in him. His father leaving when he was only seven, his mother struggling to bring him up on his own. There scant income level directly influencing the clothes he would wear to school, in turn leading to the mocking taunts of 'pauper' and later the bullying itself. Through his awkward teenage years. God not showing him any mercy, duly delivering acne with the onset of puberty and of course the dark insatiable lust that only teenage boys know. A torment that could only be vented in the darkness and privacy of his bedroom until of course the ill-fated union with a prostitute on the eve of his twenty first birthday. The shame as he recalled his tears mixing with the blood as he beat her senseless for her laughter at his size and performance. He winced at the memory; the alcohol had this melancholy effect upon him where he was prone to bouts of wistful nostalgia. No he wouldn't think about that, there was only darkness behind that door, and although he missed his mother dearly as she had been the only person in his life to truly love him, her death had released him from the waking hell that had been his life. He had sanctuary and anonymity now. The faces from his past could be obscured by the veil he hung over the vast chasm that was his memory. Yes things were good now. He smiled to himself. The insatiable lust he could not satisfy as a younger man was now given full license to roam, what with the invention of the internet. He could spend hours of his evenings surfing the net, either engaged in some adult chat rooms where he could be just whoever he damn well pleased or scouring the porn sites searching for scenes of bondage and degradation that certainly floated his boat (so to speak) Hell he was even on friendly terms with the neighbours passing niceties’ across the garden fence on the topics of the day, from the weather to local news. It wasn't perfection of course but it would do. He reminded himself of this fact as he sat there, the whole Nelson thing be damned, he was still in work and he still had his small haven in the suburbs of Colchester that was the most important thing. So he'd had to eat a little shit to keep it? Big deal. It was all about the bigger picture. Bryan Nelson was welcome to the job. As for him he would be happy just biding his time. Regularly contributing toward his pension fund, anonymous and alone until retirement. It wasn't much of a life but it would be the best that he could do given the circumstances and if he upset the applecart now he could lose everything. Yes it was clear now, everything that had happened had clouded his judgment and the drink hadn't helped either. His mind made up he looked out of the window again and could see the lights that meant he was approaching the outskirts of Colchester. He reached over and picked up his briefcase. As he began to rise he saw that he was not alone after all. A dark head of hair protruded from one of the seats further down the aisle. He stumbled lightly down the centre aisle as the train gently buffeted him too and fro. He reached out to grab the pole that rose near the alcove of the door to steady his balance and as he did so he turned to glimpse at the figure that he could see slouched back in the nearby set of seats. Recognition dawned on him as he recognized Bryan Nelson. Of all the people! A flare of anger rose in him despite the pep talk he'd only just finished giving himself. What was Bryan Nelson doing here? Now? One look at Bryans visage answered that for him, the sleeping man he looked upon was clearly in marked contrast to the well oiled, perfectly lined Bryan Nelson he knew from work. This Nelson was clearly hammered, his clothes dishelved, his hair tousled and unkempt and a small line of drool protruding from his lip, that and the fact Phillip could smell the booze on him from where he was standing sort of tipped the balance too.135

But what was he doing here? A small light bulb clicked inside Phillips head and he remembered that Nelson and a few others had gone on into the west end to celebrate his promotion and now here he was in all his glory. Phillip remembered there conversation from earlier in the week. Bryan had in fact told him that he lived out this way, had in fact expressed surprise at never having seen him on that route before. Why was that? Oh yeah he lived out in Wivenhoe. If that was the case then this was Bryans stop too. He would have to change trains at Colchester to get back home.136

At that moment a bigger light went on inside Phillips head. If he didn't wake in the next minute or so he was going to miss his stop! And where did this train go to again? Oh yeah it was Ipswich wasn't it? Wouldn't that be a shame if Bryan fucking Nelson missed his stop and ended up in Ipswich for the night? A smile played its way onto his face. Now wouldn't that be a fitting comeuppance? He could hear his mother’s voice now. 'Well God has ways of making people pay for there sins Phillip and that boy certainly deserves his comeuppance.' Okay it wasn't much he knew but it was a start wasn't it? Maybe the bad people of the world did get there payback if only one small piece at a time? 137

The beginning of the platform began to enfold in front of Phillips eyes and he smiled again, this time for the fact that he himself was going to bestow this small unpleasantness upon this man and he would never be any the wiser. A huge billboard glided into view Phones 4U in gigantic ten foot letters. Bryan stirred somewhat in his sleep and Phillips eyes shot back to him. 'Don't wake up!' he pleaded in his head. The last thing he needed now was Bryan awake and alert to the fact that he was about to leave him here on the train. Of course he wouldn't register this fact immediately, what in his drunken state and all, but some time over the weekend he knew that the thought would just pop into his head. Friday night awake on the train, almost missed my stop! And who was there? Watching over me like some pubescent voyeur? Phillip Michaels that’s who. And in this moment of remberance he would recognize the guilt in Phillips eyes and know that he had no intention of waking him. Was in fact going to let him sleep on to god knows where!
Perhaps he better wake him after all he thought, visions of Monday morning recriminations running through his head. After all hadn't Matthews indicated that it was Nelson who had in fact saved his job? Given him one more chance? All this ran through his mind in the scant seconds it took for the train to grind to a halt, he was just reaching over to shake Bryan awake when the doors began to part. He turned and looked at the opening, indecision plaguing his mind. Torn between flight and meek surrender.138

The guards whistle pierced the night and the sardonic sound of the doors, beeb beeb brought him back to his senses. What was he doing?! He jumped back and hammered the door release button, with but a second to spare. And jumped from the train, eyes fixed all the while on the sleeping figure within. At that moment he was buffeted from behind as a hooded figure brushed passed him and onto the train. Phillip turned, his eyes roving from the still figure of Nelson to this newcomer who had only just made the train thanks to Phillips last minute intervention. The man stood in the alcove as the doors slowly began to draw shut again. His face somewhat obscured in shadow from the dark hoody he was wearing. His eyes boring into Phillips, returning his gaze. And in his heart Phillip felt that he was found out. That this man knew he had abandoned this colleague or friend and was silently judging him for his cowardice. The moment stretched on and he found he could not avert his eyes from those of this stranger, and he felt shame at what he had done. But at last it was too late. His attention was diverted at last by the guards whistle and the train slowly began to draw away. The man within was smiling now. A mad grin stretching his lips back to reveal his teeth. You've done it Phillip! That smile told him. You've gotten away with it! And he had. Bryan Nelson was passing his eyes totally oblivious to what was going on. Phillip looked back along the train, his own smile confirming to the passenger his achievement. Fuck you Bryan Nelson he thought manically. See you in Hell! And with that he walked along the platform, up the stairs and made his way home and thought no more about it for the rest of the weekend.....
Monday 20th November 2007
7.20am139

The first that Phillip was aware that something was wrong was upon entering Colchester North Station. The morning had started fine and he was in good spirits. He'd showered, breakfasted and strolled toward the station without a care in the world on what had started as a particularly bright mild November morning. What he'd done on Friday hadn't really occurred to him at all. I mean after all it was hardly crime of the century was it? He was quite sure he'd hear Bryan Nelson laughing at himself with one of his colleagues, laughing that he'd gotten so smashed he'd missed his stop and woke up in Ipswich! It didn't really amount to much in the whole scheme of things but it still made him smile as he pictured Bryan’s confusion when he awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. The smile was now well and truly wiped from his face however. As he walked the steep incline toward the station the yellow rectangle glimpsed back at him from the distance, he could see the placard just by the entrance to the station itself, just next to the Dry cleaners where so many commuters dropped and picked up suits after a long day in the city. Where had he seen a placard like that before? It was just too far away to be in focus as he trudged toward the station entrance. It seemed awfully familiar. Delays on line? God damn it! Not aga......Then it hit him, he knew where he'd seen similar boards before, it was the self same type of placard he had seen hung at every station along the line. A simple board with few scant words that up to now had held no meaning to him. The board was a police board. A board appealing for information. The wording on the placard wasn't clear from where he was but his stomach seemed to turn at the recognition of what it implied. A chill of fear gripped him as realization finally hammered home. The boards had been on display at all the major travel links on the Southern network, all appealing for information in regard to all of the deaths at the hands of a serial killer! And that board, here at this time meant only one thing. Someone else had died. And he knew it to be true. For he knew the face and name of the victim. Bryan Nelson. 'NO' his mind countered it wasn't possible it could be anything. But in his heart he already knew. At that moment a face swam into focus within his mind but it was not the face of Bryan Nelson it was the face of the man who had barged passed him and onto the train, That face with its mad staring eyes and that grin, that grin that he had taken to mean accomplicity, the sharing of his bad deed on a hated work colleague. But that smile meant something else entirely, that smile meant that he was accomplice to something darker and sinister than any practical joke or ill deed. It meant he was accomplice to Murder. He swallowed hard, stopped dead in his tracks. Suddenly he was pushed hard from behind as someone ran into the back of him.
“Hey watch it!”140

Phillip turned, confused “I’m sorry.....I’m sorry.” He stammered meakly. The man simply looked at him and walked off shaking his head. Get it together Phillip! You haven't done anything wrong, how could you know? He couldn't of course but that didn't help matters. In his mind he saw the grin again, manic with a promise of ominous meaning. He straightened himself and walked on; fear his constant companion now, eyes twitching left and right, searching for some hidden danger. But the world around him was as normal. Taxis were drawing up dropping off scores of passengers; the steady throng of pedestrian traffic was strong and purposeful. Its mind set only on destination. It was after all Monday morning and the world didn't stop spinning. Not for him, not for Bryan Nelson and not for a crazed killer. That thought brought him about. Yes it was Monday morning and he had work to get too. He was simply being jumpy, he told himself. He had pulled a nasty prank and now his mind was playing games with him. Bryan Nelson was fine as he would find out in little over an hour and a half’s time. This didn't abate his fear entirely but it did get him moving. But now there it was. Not specific in detail but specific enough for a guilty conscious. He was just outside the main entrance stopped dead in his tracks, the words on the yellow placard a hammer to his heart.141

Essex Police
Operation Hunter
Friday 17th November 2007
21.00hrs-00.00hrs142

On the night of Friday 17th November 2007 the body of a man was found on the 21.55 Liverpool Street to Ipswich service. The body was found at approximately 23.37hrs at Ipswich Station. Due to similarity’s relating to other investigations the joint task force of Essex, Suffolk and Metropolitan police need YOUR help.143

Were you on the Rail Network on the night in question?144

Did you see or hear anything suspicious?145

Any detail no matter how small may be significant146

If you have any information please ring the hotline on
0734 238178
All calls will be taken in the strictest confidence. 147

So there it was. It all added up. The 21.55 service. Terminating at Ipswich. Terminating. The word rung hollowly within his head. Maybe it was someone else. I mean after all it was a large train? Don't be a fool! He scalded. He shuffled on. The world, oblivious to him and to the sign as it went about its way. 148

8.22am149

Phillip was so lost in thought that the usual nusancices didn't even register with him. The man opposite laughing too loudly into his mobile. The bawling toddler further down the car. Instead he was trawling through the Daily Mail (he hated those idiots who attempted the spread sheets on the cramped train), trying to find further details of Fridays killing. It was front page news of course but the article was little more than speculation as it seemed the police hadn't yet released details of the victim. What was for sure however that a man in his mid to late thirties had boarded the 9.55 London to Ipswich and left it in a body bag. His body apparently replicating something akin to a pin cushion, from the savage attack that it had experienced. Phillips limited knowledge of the whole affair to date stood him in good enough stead to know that the Railway Ripper had indeed struck again, claiming his seventh victim. His mind had gone over all available permutations several times over. Had he been seen on the train with Bryan Nelson? Was there CCTV at Colchester station? Could any other passenger identify him? Were the Police at this minute looking for him? In his mind he only saw the possible recriminations for himself. He had left a man on the train to die and all he could think about were the accusations and the marked looks that he would receive if people knew. It hadn't occurred to him that he may have actually seen the killer in the flesh, that he may in fact be able to help police with there enquiries. None of this occurred because in his mind he was still in denial. It couldn't have been Bryan Nelson. It could have been a different train. It could have been a different victim. He hung to these hopes like a man dangling from a cliff, but like that man he knew he couldn't hold on forever, not in the face of overwhelming evidence. He had toyed with the idea of returning home, simply to hide and hope that it all blew over. But if they were looking for him (as CCTV was an undeniable fact in this day and age) then it would simply make things look worse for him. And so he had decided to front it out. To go to work and act none the wiser and if pc plod wanted to know if he had been on that train he would reply 'why yes officer' and if asked had he seen anything it would be a apologetic 'no officer, I just wish I could be of more help.' I mean it was almost the truth wasn't it? If he had just turned right out of his chair and taken the doors at the rear of the car then he would never have even known Bryan Nelson had been on the train at all. And that was just how he had chosen to remember it. He had had the car all to himself, of course he had been terribly afraid what with the recent news and all, but he had left the train safely (and with some relief.) yes that would do nicely. He could lie of course say he wasn't even on that train but if he was found out in that lie it would look bad, so to stick as close to the truth as possible. In fact maybe it would be better if he came forward? Eliminate himself from the enquiries so to speak? In the end he thought better of it, let sleeping dogs lie. And of course in the back of his head, denial. 'Its all for nothing as he'll be there at work, safe and sound'150

9.05am151

He wasn't at work and he wasn't safe and sound. The police car parked outside the office block had made his heart sink. The news was further confirmed as he entered the office to find Crystal in floods of tears. She came forward and grabbed his arm.”Oh my God Phillip, have you heard?”152

“What’s going on?” he replied, feigning surprise. She looked into his eyes through mascara streaked lashes. He could not hold the gaze and allowed his eyes to take in the whole scene, attempting to show incomprehension at the unfolding scene of this office of turmoil and tears.. He did not feel he had made a very good job of it. But Crystal seemed not to notice and went on.153

“Its Bryan....He's been killed...Murdered!” She almost screamed the last word. He held his hand over his mouth to show his shock, when in fact he was hiding the beginnings of a smile, he couldn't help thinking how very Noel Coward this all seemed. (The Butler did it! His mind shouted as if in pantomime). But Crystals performance brought on a fresh wave of tears and his smile would give him away as people had averted there eyes to look at them. So he gently led her by the arm to a nearby desk, seemingly the very model of caring and consideration when in fact he planned to pump this girl for all the information that she had so that he wouldn't have to feign shock and surprise under a more scrupulous and judgmental pair of eyes (namely the police).154

“Murdered? How? What happened?”155

What followed was a blow by blow account of what had happened Friday night since Bryan, Crystal and a few others had gone into the West End to celebrate Bryans promotion inter mixed with fresh bouts of tears. She went onto say how they had parted at a club and had in fact offered Bryan her couch for the night as he was in no fit state for travel. Of course he had declined citing his wife and two children as his reason to be home. Phillip tried very hard not to let his brain work at that, but to no avail. Children, he had children? Oh my god what have I done? Crystal went onto say how she had been questioned by the Police as to there movements that night, whether or not she had noticed anything out of the ordinary, either that night or more generally in his day to day life. Phillip balked at this, had she put the police on to him? It was common knowledge in the office that Bryan had jumped over him to land the Deputy Managers position. If the policed linked him to the scene via CCTV footage this new information wouldn't look good for him, in fact they may even look at him as some one with possible motive too....No stop it, don't be ridiculous he told himself. How could anyone think he was involved? But he had to know.156

“So What did you tell them?” he asked trying to make his voice sound light and care free, when inside he had began to shake slightly.157

“What could I say? Everybody loved Bryan; I mean who would want to hurt him? It just doesn't make any sense!”158

“Yes of course, Bryan was a great guy” a thought occurred to him. Yes Bryan was a great guy! If he played that line then no one would be any the wiser. He could say how he had worked late with him on a project, that they had in fact got on really well. Nobody at the office knew the inner workings of his soul and his hatred for the man, so if he could just tip the balance back some and share in everyone’s pain then motive would be taken out of the picture. He realized of course he was being mellow dramatic. Being placed at the scene of the crime didn't make him a killer. And the police would be the first to know it, what ever evidence they had built from this gruesome death pointed in the direction of the Railway Ripper and not a jealous bitter work colleague. But if push came to shove he didn't want people to know the part he had played in the whole affair. So if he had to pretend that Bryan was an okay kind of guy then he would. And as he had already said, if asked of his whereabouts he would tell the tale that he had planned that morning and all of that added up should leave him in the clear. He’d clearly gleaned as much information as he could from Crystal, so he offered her his handkerchief and made his excuses. Returning to his cubicle he could make out Matthews and two unknown men in his office, clearly the Police. He sat in trepidation of being called, praying that he wouldn't. He nonchalantly began his work as others around him had slowly began to do. After all the phones were ringing were they not? The call came with a tap on his cubicle at about ten minutes to ten. It was Matthews.159

“Err Phillip, if you've got a minute the Police would like a word” Phillip could see that the man was strained, his face was white as if the face of a ghost. And the bags under his eyes told a story of several sleepless nights. He could see that Bryan’s death had hit him hard, that he had obviously had some kind of personal investment in the man.160

He feigned surprise. “Me? What would the police want with me?”161

“Oh, it’s all just routine, you know? Have you noticed anything odd lately Phillip?” This was Matthews question and not that of the Police and it spoke of knowing, he knew there was something amiss here at Johnson’s retail, and the scent had led him here to Phillip.162

Phillip swallowed hard before answering.”No sir...I mean it was only last week he, Bryan I mean, was saying that he was nervous about the train. To be honest I was too but I never thought in my wildest dreams that something like this could really happen.” Matthews nodded in agreement, seemingly satisfied with his answer. His heart was beating a little faster now at what had felt like an accusation. Why should Matthews ask him if anything was going on? God knows what the Police had in store for him.163

“Mr. Michaels is it? Please take a seat.” He was in Mathews office now, temporarily allocated as a police interrogation cell. “I'm Detective Constable Finch and this is my colleague Detective Constable Mortimer” He motioned to the imposing frame of Mortimer a 6'4 black man who Phillip thought would look more at home on the basketball court than a police station.164

Phillip nodded in his direction and sat down.”I don't really know how I can be of any help..” he began.165

“Please try and relax Mr. Michaels, we know that this has been a very distressing time for everyone involved, we simply have a few questions regarding Mr. Nelson and his movements up until the night in question.” said Finch. Phillip looked back and forth from Finch to Mortimer who was simply standing there arms crossed, scrutinizing him. So it was good cop bad cop was it? Oh hell please let this be over soon!166

“Can you tell us when you last saw Mr. Nelson?” There it was, direct, unavoidable like the sun on a fierce July afternoon, unshakeable, a spotlight directly shone onto his guilt. Did they know? He was aware of the seconds stretching out between them as he scrambled for an answer. DID THEY KNOW?! His mind screamed in protest. If he was caught in a lie it would be bad, just how bad he couldn't comprehend. His mind fizzed infinite possibilities through his head like a slideshow and the word that came to the fore was Contempt of Court. He hadn't killed Bryan Nelson but if he was caught in a lie that directly influenced the investigation he could be in big trouble. He furrowed his brow in pretence of deep thinking. However as in most things when he was in trouble it was the dark voice that reacted first. The little man on his shoulder dressed all in red with two little horns and a forked tail and it was with that voice he spoke.”Well let me see now. I think I can honestly say that it had to be around five o'clock...Yes that was it, I was just packing up my things to leave when I saw Bryan and several others, they were all gathered over there at the reception area” He motioned in the direction of Reception by turning and pointing.”I believe they were going out somewhere for drinks. I never saw him after that.”167

“Hmmm I see. Mr. Matthews told us that you had recently spent some time in Mr. Nelsons company is that correct?”168

“Yes, Bryan had offered to help me out with an account that was due for completion, very tight deadline you see? We stayed back most of last week to complete it. Jesus I remember him saying something about the killings. He asked me if I was scared, what with the late night travel. My god who could have thought it would come to this.”169

“Was there anything odd in Mr. Nelsons behavior at that time, did he seem nervous at all? Was there anything out of the ordinary?”170

“No not particularly.” Phillip replied. He paused pretending to think”He was just his normal self; we were very busy you see and we didn't spend much time talking.”171

“What about routine?” This was Mortimer.”Were you on a regular schedule? Would he have taken a regular train for example?”172

Phillip to his relief could see where this line of questioning was going. They wanted to know if Bryan’s killer had been stalking him in the days prior to his death.”No I don't think so, we were fairly regular through to Wednesday, about 10pm that was our limit but Thursday we finished up early around 8.30 I think.”173

The detectives exchanged a disappointed look. Clearly there was no pattern to Bryan’s movement on the train. Phillip guessed that they were hoping that by establishing a regular pattern they might pinpoint someone out of the ordinary tracking his movements. That look between them told him two things, One that the killing was random, that Bryan had not been preselected for his gruesome fate and two that the Police didn't have a clue as to what was going on or why, least of all they clearly didn't have any suspects. Most joyously of all they had bought his line about last seeing Bryan in the reception area at five o'clock. He was seemingly in the clear. The rest of the interview was short, clearly they felt that this portly middle age man was of no use to the investigation (and why should he be?). He felt that this would be his last involvement in the whole sordid affair. So as they bid him farewell he risked his gambit.174

“Well I only wish I could have been of more help. I hope you catch this son of a bitch and string him up.”175

Finch nodded vaguely as he sorted some papers.”I'm sure you must be close now Phillip continued.”What with D.N.A and all that.CCTV?”176

Finch looked up, irritated. He had finished with this man and just wanted rid of him.”It will only be a matter of time Mr. Michaels.”177

Phillip was at the door now and hadn't gotten the answer he had wanted so he pressed on more directly.”I imagine you have taken all the CCTV footage though. I mean your man is bound to be there somewhere.”178

Finch who had gone back to his papers assuming this man had left, sighed in his exasperation. Bloody public he thought, with there CSI and Miss Marple they were all bloody amateur sleuths and all wanted to tell you how to do your job.”Yes of course Mr. Michaels but for some reason the CCTV footage at the time in question is inconclusive.” There that should shut him up. What he didn't tell him though was that the Video recordings at the time in question were not just inconclusive they were useless. And this was what had scared him and his colleagues the most as it seemed they were dealing with a phantom. Not one eye witness. Not one strand of Physical or phorensic evidence and all of the camera footage for ALL of the crime scenes had come back blank. They were fighting a losing battle and the body count was rising.
Inconclusive. Phillip mused as he returned to his desk. Well they were hardly going to give him the bloody case file were they? It had been a risky gambit but it had paid off. He had half expected them to do some double take and question his testimony at the last. A vision of Colombo the TV detective swam into his mind, walking away to the relief of his suspect only to swivel back round and say those immortal words “Just one more thing” as he waved his finger in there general direction. But they hadn't. Of course not, they had no reason too after all, if the camera footage was 'inconclusive' then they had no reason to question the fact that the last time he had seen Bryan Nelson was at five o'clock. He was in the clear. 179

16.32pm180

And didn't the day just get better and better? The mood in the office had been understandably solemn. But the wheels of capitalism ground vigilantly ever on. Matthews had called him into his office just a little over an hour ago. Phillip assumed to witter on about Bryan Nelson. But no, with the new deputy manager indisposed (so to speak) there was a vacancy. Matthews didn't beat around the bush either. He'd been very frank in fact telling him exactly what he thought of him as a man. But with the situation as it was he had no other avenue open to him, the Marx account was due for presentation next week and seeing as only he and Bryan knew the layout it would be down to him to give the presentation. And if, if he could manage it without screwing it up and they landed the account then the Managers job would be his. It was hardly the most glowing of appraisals of his character, but Phillip knew when to keep his mouth shut. An opportunity had presented itself to him, no matter how loathe Matthews was to give it to him. It meant work of course he knew that much. Bryan had done most of it and he was going to have to familiarize himself with those parts that were not his own. But this time there was going to be no mistakes. And no one but no one was going to be coming in on this project with him. NO sir bob, not for all the tea in china. It was kind of ironic really if he'd turned Bryans help down and submitted the report himself, then Bryan wouldn't be where he was today (presumably on a slab in some mortuary) Of course he wouldn't have got the deputy managers job he was sure of that much. Matthews would simply have found another way to get round that little problem that was for sure. But now inspite of everything that had happened to him, he WAS on the verge of the position that he had coveted for so many years. Bryan’s betrayal and ultimate demise had finally opened this door for him. Why if he was around he deserved a big pat on the back for all his hard work and poor judgment! Phillip sniggered out loud at how ludicrous it all was. Yep every cloud had a silver lining all right (another of his mothers pet phrases) Things were looking up up up.181


Friday 31st November.
23.45182

What a day! Phillip slumped into the padded softness of the four seater chair. His head slightly buzzing from the vast quantities of champagne he had drunk. Today he had delivered the Marx proposal and it had been good. No not good it had been perfect, in fact at the completion of his ten minute presentation there had been a small round of applause from the small delegation of Marx incorporated. The room belonged to him; he had turned around and saw Matthews sitting there with something like awe on his face. The fact that the report had been largely completed by a dead man all but forgotten in his and his manager’s mind. Ok so he had done his home work. Reading up on the case material at home that week had been invaluable and he had changed the makeup of the delivery so as not to remind himself that these were in fact the words of a man who had died one short week ago. Of course after there had been drinks. The Marx delegation having come in all the way from Newcastle were staying the night in the city and of course Michael's had suggested dinner and drinks to celebrate. Phillip himself had reveled in the limelight. Normally shy at anything resembling a social event, he had in fact come out of himself somewhat. Being from Newcastle, the Marx delegation (of five) could certainly hold there drink (that was one stereotype that Phillip now knew was true) And seven men on an open tab of champagne was something to be behold. The jokes had flown thick and fast, sexist racist you name it. Phillip even added some of his own. The pc environment of the working place was as dead as the late great Elvis Pressley. There had been one sobering moment when the head man of the delegation, Simon Wright broached the subject of Bryan Nelson. It was Michael's though who dealt with the awkwardness and they had all raised there glasses in his memory. Good times Bryan, Good times, Phillip thought as he raised his own glass to toast.183

And the cherry on top? As they left the bar (the company account some seven hundred pounds lighter) Michaels had uttered the words that he thought he would never hear.”Phillip my lad, well done! Or should I say Mr. Deputy Manager?” Phillip had simply stood there mouth agape. Michaels smiled in return. Simply patting him on the shoulder and saying “you've earnt it” as he made his exit to the waiting taxi cab. What a night indeed! Feelings of unadulterated joy had been so far and few in his life that he simply stood there beaming for what have been two or three minutes, until at last a passing couple made him realize that he must look a loon. This made him giggle as he began to search for a cab of his own.184

Now he was on the last train home, head still buzzing somewhat, a small smile still played at the corner of his mouth. It had been some roller coaster ride he had been on. But what a ride! “Good times” he repeated as he slowly closed his eyes as the doors began to close. God he was tired, all that booze had certainly taken its toll. He felt his eye lids begin to sag again, so he sat bolt upright with a start.”Mustn't fall asleep” he mumbled to himself. “Might miss my stop.” he pulled his Nokia from his briefcase and squinted through one eye so as to focus on its operation. He first pressed settings, then alarm and finally set alarm time. He stabbed at the keys until he was satisfied with the reading, the alarm now showing 00.30. There that would be fine. If he couldn't keep his eyes open then the alarm would sound a good ten minutes before his destination. Good work MR DEPUTY MANAGER! He thought. He duly slumped back and slowly the gentle two and fro of the train lulled him into a deep sleep.185

He awoke with a start. He'd been having a bad dream, his sleep addled brain trying to piece together the disappearing fragments of the scene. Something or someone had been chasing him down a long corridor. Mother? Even as he came too even this small scrap was beginning to elude him. He blinked at the bright fluorescent light overhead as he tried to remember where he was. Suddenly realization hit him. And he sat up sharply. What in God's name had he been thinking? Asleep on the train! Jesus that’s just how.... He snapped his mind closed. Oh no, he wasn't going to go there. He quickly looked around himself scanning the car. He was totally alone, thank god... no wait, by raising himself slightly he could just see the top of one of the broadsheets way down at the bottom of the car. Someone slowly leafing there way through the day’s news. Yes he thought, this was the time for broadsheets not in the god damn mornings when the carriage resembled something a kin to a chicken coup. He drew in a large breath of air and released it. He had given himself quite a scare there. I mean falling a sleep on the train? What on earth had he been thinking? But the small dose of reality of something as simple as someone reading a newspaper had brought him back from the edge of something that could only be described as raw panic. He looked at his watch 12.22 .Where did that put him? About twenty minutes out from home he reckoned, just two more stops and he would be home.
He looked into the blackness that was the night and only saw his own reflection peering back. God he looked rough. Not one light shone. Not on the horizon or above in the heavens. He wet his palm and began to smooth down the small lick of hair that was protruding from the top of his head giving him a rather comical appearance. That just wouldn't do Mr. Deputy Manager. Deputy Manager! Was it true? Had that really happened? The small filing clerk that he liked to imagine lived inside everybody’s head. Opened the bottom draw of what can only be described as the world’s largest filing cabinet within the office that was his brain. This bottom draw read memories and the clerk slowly leafed through the vast multitude of files within, until he came to the file that read BEST NIGHT EVER. And with that he had his answer. Yes it had happened! He looked back at his reflected visage; he straightened his tie and sat a little straighter. Yes he looked the part alright, kind of distinguished he thought. With curiosity he noticed that his reflection was wearing a red tie. He hadn't really paid much heed to it before but was surprised to find as he looked down that it was in fact red. He couldn't remember putting on a red tie and for one second questioned himself as to whether it had been appropriate for his meeting.
No matter he thought. Everything had gone brilliantly, He sat back admiring his reflection again realizing the fact that he kind of liked it. It had a kind of boldness too it, a certain assertiveness. All of a sudden a wide yawn stretched his mouth, god he was tired. But the rush of adrenaline he had received on waking would make sure he wouldn't fall into the trap of falling asleep again. Oh yeah that reminded him. He fished back into his briefcase for his mobile phone, he wouldn't need the alarm now and he didn't relish the idea of the loud annoying ringtone. Belting out the Macarena onto this subdued train carriage. He flipped the phone over in his hand to find that the screen was blank. That's odd he thought absently as he depressed the keys simply assuming that the keypad might have been locked and that the phone was in some sort of 'screensaver mode'. But again to no avail. Perhaps he turned it off by mistake? A long press on the power button refuted this claim. The phone was simply dead. Hmmm he thought. Battery must be dead. No biggie. He returned the phone to his briefcase and sat back. It wouldn't be long now he thought. And to confirm this thought he gazed absently out of the window trying to find the first signs of light that would signify a town and then ultimately the next station. But all was still dark as the train plummeted through the night.186

After a short while he began to feel somewhat restless, apprehensive, but to what end he couldn't quite figure. He'd been awake for a full ten minutes now and still the train hadn't come to a station. He figured he should have by now come to Witham after all it must be at least....He looked at his watch to confirm the time but was taken back some when he read the still hands. 12.22. “Piece of junk” he whispered as he put the watch to his ear, listening for the tiny tick tock of life. Great, he knew it was an imitation but it had always served him well. It seemed as though the battery had finally elapsed. He would just take a trip into Colchester market to resolve that, two or three quid and hey presto! Good as new! A new thought came to him then and he smiled. Maybe he would just buy a real Rolex watch? Sure they were ludicrouslouly expensive. But with his new pay raise he would be able to afford it, and it could serve as a symbol of his new found elevation into the ranks of the working elite. Perhaps he was still a little drunk, after all this was not the frugal Phillip Michaels that he knew. But his mind lapsed back to earlier in the evening and the Phillip Michaels who was telling the dirty joke about two nuns and the Phillip Michael's who wore red ties to work and he decided that he would rather be that man than the man he had come steadily to loathe over the years. Yes a whole new him he smiled again at his reflection. But slowly his smile faded as he looked past the image and out into the blackness. Still no lights? For some reason that he could not identify a small pang of fear rose within him. Surely there must be some sign of light some where? He pressed his face close to the glass as was possible to gaze as far as he could into the distance, searching left and right, and then back over his shoulder at the window opposite. Blackness surrounded all and still the train sped on into the night. He told himself to relax and sat back, perhaps he was just disorientated? He didn't know the right time after all and maybe it just seemed like so much time had past. Yes that would be it. He craned his neck to look down the aisle. The newspaper was twitching slightly as the person settled lower into there seat. Maybe he could ask them the time? As we have heard he wasn't the most social of creatures and like a lot of English men would rather get lost than stop and ask for directions. But slowly his tension was rising; instead of looking now out into the night he was avidly trying to avoid it. The darkness held a deep kind of fear that he could not name. It was just so disconcerting; I mean where were the god damn lights?!187

Finally he couldn't take any more, by his reckoning he had been awake for a good twenty minutes now, at the very least they should have made one stop. He craned his neck again at the passenger with whom he shared the carriage and opened his mouth. Quickly though he snapped it shut again he felt as if his voice would betray him across the open space, disturbing the silence to which only the motion of the train and the small ruffle of pages were not adhering too. Instead he slowly rose; licking his lips for his mouth now seemed devoid of any moisture. Was it getting warmer? Slowly he walked the centre aisle to the figure at the back of the carriage. Bringing his feet down too hard so as to warn the stranger of his impending presence. As he drew closer he could see the familiar shape of a man. The Brown brogues, the neatly pressed grey trousers. The single wedding band of the large hand gripping the newspaper. Good he thought, he didn't want a hysterical woman on his hands, startled by his appearance. As he drew breath to exclaim a small excuse me his eyes fell upon the banner headline of the front page facing him. It simply read 'Ripper strikes again' in large print. The cold fingers of fear clutched at his heart and a vision of a demons eyes flowed into his mind, a demons eyes and the devils smile and his mind was cast back to the week before and the face of the dark man who had bore them. The Ripper! His guilt suddenly overwhelmed him and he staggered forward nearly tripping himself and falling onto the sitting passenger, at the last though he swerved and crashed into the seat opposite the man. Not the entrance he had hoped to make. “I'm sorry” he stammered at last, but the figure in front of him appeared not to notice as it simply turned the page. He had made a fool of himself and he struggled to regain his composure.’ I’m sorry' he began again.188

The voice was cold and flat in its reply and Phillip felt his brain begin to freeze.”Are you sorry Philip? Are you truly sorry?” the newspaper slowly began to lower and Phillip tried to press himself as far back into the chair as he could. His eyes wide now in terror. He didn't want to look, but he could not look away as the first strands of disheveled hair came slowly into focus.189

“It can't be you, it can’t be!” his voice nothing but a low pitched whine.190

Slowly a wide smile revealed itself. However there was no joy in that smile, it seemed somehow tired as if worn that way for too long, waiting for the moment when the newspaper could finally be lowered and he could reveal himself. Phillip at last closed his eyes tears slowly worked there way down his cheeks; he drew his knees up onto the chair, trying to become as small as possible, to put as much distance as he could from this apparition.191

“Look at me Phillip” Bryan Nelson finally said after a few seconds had elapsed. then firmly”Phillip....look... at... me”. Phillip didn't want too. Through tears he countered “No, No..I won’t look at you, because you’re dead!”192

“Phillip.....” Bryan slowly reached out and touched Phillips leg and that made Phillip scream. ”NO!!!!!!” But Bryan was unrelenting as he moved his hands up and grabbed Phillip with both hands, steering his face back toward him. Gentler now he said “Phillip please look at me, I’m not going to hurt you, I have something I want to tell you.”193

Phillip did not want to look but the pressure on his face was unrelenting and anything, anything would be better than those cold dead hands on his cheeks, so slowly he opened his eyes and mercifully the thing that looked and acted like Bryan Nelson settled back into its seat.194

“I'm a bad person Phillip; I want you to know that. I have said and done many bad things during my life. I have had time to see that now. Time to reflect. I have wronged many people and for that I am truly sorry. And you my friend I have wronged you.” Phillip listened dumbfounded; he hadn't woken up after all. The thing in his nightmare had caught him and it was Bryan Nelson. Back from the grave to wreak his revenge. He began to plead with himself, Wake up Phillip, Wake up! But the thing that was Bryan Nelson simply smiled sympathetically at him and answered as if he had read his mind.”No I’m sorry Phillip you are not dreaming, I wish it were so. This startled Phillip out of his stupor.”What...What do you want from me?”He finally managed.195

Again that smile “Only what I said before, just to apologize. I wronged you Phillip and for that I will forever be sorry”196

“Wronged me?” Whatever else was going on this thing seemingly did not want to hurt him, and so Phillip found the courage to continue.”How have you wronged me?”197

“You remember, don't you?” And then he did, it was if a slideshow of dark memories went off in his head in an instant, everything that had happened between them. The Humiliation, the hatred all there. All in one instant. As if a bomb had gone off in his head. Bryan looked sad, as if he too had witnessed the show.198

“But, I killed you Bryan, I killed you.”199

“No Phillip, you didn't, don't you understand? What you did was wrong but you will have time to reflect on that. I was the one who drove you to what you did. I stole your job, your promotion as well as your self respect. I'm sure that was the very least I deserved.”200

“But you were killed!”201

“Yes that’s true Phillip, a cruel twist of fate, moment’s indecision, a slowly opening door; yes I have had plenty of time to reflect upon that. I am paying for my sins Phillip, they may be small in some men’s eyes, but not in the eyes of God. I have stolen, conned, and lied my way to the top, I have committed adultery even though I loved my wife and now I must pay for my sin, as the man who committed his sin against me must pay his. I humbly beg your forgiveness for the wrongs I have done upon you”202

What kind of warped dream was this? His terror had abated and instead become something more like curiosity.”So let me get this straight you have come to me to apologize?”203

“Yes”204

“For what you have done to me?”205

“Yes Phillip.”206

Phillip was exasperated, he sat back smiling.207

“I'm sorry Phillip”208

“Yes I know you just said”209

“Not for that Phillip, I don't think you really appreciate your situation here. Do you remember thinking of the irony of your situation? How you would never have got the job if you'd turned down my help? How I would still be alive?” Phillip remembered. “It goes a lot deeper than you think. The planet that we live on is all one intricate web, two unrelated events, seemingly anonomus at first, all strands connected by the whole tapestry that is coincidence and chance. You were right when you said you wouldn't have got the job if you'd refused me, that I would still be alive, that everything would have worked out in a different way. Me never being on that train. You never having been there to leave me to my fate. Do you understand?” Phillip did.”But the tapestry runs deeper Phillip; there are more than two strands. There are millions and millions. Each one as desicive and as random as the next, all intermingling to create the one true passage of time. As a direct result of my death Phillip, you gained the position that you so richly deserved, but landing that job has brought you directly here. To now with me.”210

“And where exactly is that Bryan?”211

“I'm sorry, Phillip you are dead.” 212

“Dead?” slow comprehension began to dawn and at that moment things began to change; He saw that Bryan was not as he remembered him at all. His face was strangely drawn, his skin ashen. Phillip gasped in horror as his eyes traced downward to reveal his shirt, stained crimson, the lacerations cut into the silk revealing the many thin puncture wounds underneath that all at once began to pour blood. Back to his neck line and the thin red line that stretched from ear to ear, now grotesquely stretching wider as Bryan relaxed his head back. The blood now seeping from that raw red wound. And the final horror as Bryan slowly began to raise the newspaper again of his sunken eye balls. Fallen back into there sockets as he blubbers through the blood that spills from his mouth.” I am so sorry Phillip...” Finally he is again confronted with the banner headline, but this time his eyes are drawn to the date on the newspaper reading Saturday 1st December 2007, Tomorrows paper! And the news is all to clear as he takes in the photo beneath, the photo is of himself, and it dawns on him that he is the eighth victim of the Railway Ripper. That he has fallen asleep on the train as Bryan Nelson had and left himself vulnerable. His vision swims and he staggers to his feet, drawing backward. He turns looking back to where he had just moments ago been seated, and sees a vision of himself fast asleep on the train and behind him the hooded man, drawing ever nearer, the blade glinting in his hand. Phillip cannot move, he cannot comprehend the scene that is playing out before his eyes. The hooded man draws close to the sleeping figure and lowers the knife slowly to the neck. “No!!!! He screams.” and motions forward, but again stops dead as the hooded man stops and looks up at him, slowly lowering his hood so that Phillip can again see those eyes and that smile that feel like a dagger plunged into his very soul. And he sees that those eyes are not those of a man but are those of the devil himself and Phillip thinks that he will go mad if he continues to look.
Then with a low guttural sound the thing that is dressed as a man begins to speak.213

“You've been bad Phillip, and God has ways of making people pay for there sins and you Phillip certainly deserve your comeuppance.' With that the creature began to laugh manically and drew the knife across the sleeping figures neck and simultaneously he felt thee wound begin to draw across his own neck, and slowly the blood began to pour, and in that instant, reason came inexplicably to mind and he knew why the tie he had been wearing was red, it was red with blood. His blood. He backed up now distancing himself from the beast in the throws of its orgy of destruction as fresh wounds punctured his own chest. Sidling back past the rotting corpse of Bryan Nelson which now had maggots dropping from his eyes. And as he finally screamed and ran for the door at the end of the train he heard the words uttered from the useless strangled throat of Bryan Nelson. “I'm sorry Phillip...Its Forever.....Its Forever.....Its Forever.” And with that he heaved open the door to the next car and scrambled through. Running now. He glimpsed a person at the end of the row and runs toward them.”Help me! Oh dear God please help me.” But as he drew near the figure that was sat at the back, simply lowered its newspaper and Bryan simply continued his drawling mantra...214

“I'm so sorry Phillip...Its Forever.”215

Michael Dawes was cold and miserable; He'd just witnessed what could only be described as the worst capitulation in football history. 3-0 up at half time! How could they throw that away! On top of that with the game kicking off late he'd missed his train back to Clacton so was stuck here in the freezing bloody cold waiting for the last connection to come through. His mother had warned him against it of course what with all the trouble on the lines. But he was a big boy and it didn't worry him none. Besides he hadn't missed a home game in three years. That was the point of a season ticket wasn't it? God he was going to get a ribbing at work tomorrow. Even those people who didn't care too much for the beautiful game seemed to take joy in his pain. Not for the last time he thought about giving the whole bloody thing up. This thought process was soon broken as the distant sound of a train came into earshot. He looked up at the arrivals board. 12.22. Well if his train was going to be early thank god for that. He deserved some small luck. He picked himself up and plodded to the edge of the platform in anticipation as the trains front light came into view. All of a sudden he became aware that the temperature had dropped noticeably and a fine vapor of steam came from his mouth with every breath. The train showed no sign in stopping, it was obviously the fast train through to Ipswich, just his luck, but his mind told him something else, that he didn't want to get that train, that maybe he was better off getting a cab. He stepped back, telling himself that he should be careful as high velocity trains often created something of a vacuum and could draw a person out onto the track. That’s what he told himself as he hurried toward the stairs and the exit above, trying to ignore the knot of fear that had settled in his stomach. He was on the second set of stairs when the train rocketed through the station stopping him dead in his tracks. Instead of the normal whooshing sound that he associated with it, his blood ran cold at the shrill scream of terror that emanated from the darkness below, Rising and falling with that of the passing train. He ran now, bounding up the stairs two at a time until he made it to street level and the mercy of a waiting taxi.216

By morning though it was all forgotten, as if it were just a bad dream, and when he tried to recollect what fear he had felt during the night he simply drew a blank. Going down for breakfast he gathered the paper from the front door and simply glanced over the horrific news of another gruesome discovery on the Rail Network as if in some kind of trance, instead turning straight to the back pages to see the fall out from his team’s disastrous night. He was surprised however when he finally looked at his wrist watch to see that the digital read out had stopped at 00.22.217

The End. 218

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