End It With A Lie

At 4 o’clock Simon collected the papers from the printer and returned to the business equipment shop. The owner was glad to see him, and enquired jokingly as to why he needed two typewriters in such a short period of time. Simon had to lie again, and said that the first one had been stolen.

  This time he decided to hire a machine for the night. The owner didn’t ask for any identification on the rental as he already knew Jimmy Munroe from the previous receipts. It wasn’t until Simon had left the shop that he realized he’d nearly painted himself into a corner, and was relieved the rental shop owner hadn’t asked for such.

  By 5 o’clock Simon was sitting in his hotel room typing a letter to Abu on the Banks letterhead. The letter stated that a bank account was open in the name of the engineering firm which Simon had taken the name of. It explained that the bank held a letter of authorization for Abu Mohammed, who was to have access to 75% of the funds in that account. It also stated that the above mentioned Abu Mohammed should have in his possession an identical letter signed by Mr. Garry Sudovich. Simon listed the bank account number which was on the bill for services rendered. He thought of a German sounding name, typed it in and then signed it in that name.

  The second letter was the letter of authorization signed by a Mr. Garry Sudovich. It was written on the letterhead of the engineering company which Simon had printed prior his trip to Europe.

  He wondered about the signature of Sudovich, and practiced it a few times before he decided to enter a scrawl, hoping it would slip by the African’s attention. Even then, it might not come out clearly after a trip through a fax machine.

  Simon sat and looked at the two letters for nearly an hour. Checking his mental notes, trying to see if he’d made any slip ups along the way. He couldn’t see anything wrong.

  He typed a third letter directly to Abu and also on the engineering letterhead. Saying that the accounts were open, and all the necessary documents would be posted express mail in the next few hours.

  They couldn’t be sent until tomorrow morning, but he reckoned the African would appreciate the belief that the documents were virtually on their way. He signed it with the letter ‘G.’

  Simon put the copy of the bill for services rendered into a large envelope, along with the original copies of the letters of authorization. Then double checked the postal address which was the one on the original fax he’d received from the African.

  He wrote clearly, because he didn’t want it ending up at the wrong place. It would be posted tomorrow from the Post Office the first letter he’d received from Abu had been addressed to.

  A return address might be in order he thought, but he refrained from its inclusion in the hope it would draw the Africans attention to Sudovich’s post mark and therefore allow his mind to assume all is well.

  After he had removed all the papers from the hotel room table he rang the front desk and asked if there was a fax machine available for customer use.

  The lady on the phone said there was, and if he wanted to use it, all he had to do was turn up at the front desk.

  He did.

  Simon asked about payment for the use of the fax and the hotel lady told him it would be billed to his room. He fronted the machine. It looked user friendly, but he allowed the hotel lady to tutor him in the art of faxing anyway. His nerves were strung taut as he keyed in the African’s number.

  He hoped that nothing would go wrong. Not now, after all of his effort.

  The number he used was the more secure line the African had promised him, and Simon prayed it was still secure. He held his breath as the machine made its electronic comments, then let the breath slide slowly from his lips as the connection was made and the paper began to move through. He lined up the second sheet and it moved through in the same way, followed by the third sheet.

  Simon gathered his papers, thanked the hotel lady and returned to his room.

  Lying on his bed he looked at the ceiling and thought. I’ll be glad when this is all over.

  He felt sick in his stomach as he was not used to being in a nervous state, and wished there were something he could take for it. He knew in his heart that the only antidote was to walk the straight and narrow.

  Then you never had to look over your shoulder.

  CHAPTER 17