Broken accounts

Nothing was what it seemed that night. Fake snowflakes twinkled in the light of the irregularly shaped building like a glam canvas of glitter against a black background. Inside the building, the windows were slowly steaming up from the make-belief exultation of the crowded floor.

‘5 - 4 - 3 - 2 – 1 - Happy new year!’

Mr Harbinger watched the celebration from his office window above the expansive foyer. His shrewd eyes measured every detail and pierced through the phoney façade of merriment downstairs, and saw deep into the bones of materiality in each of his staff. A solemn satisfaction softened the deep lines etched on his face. He was tall and thin, and watching his staff from the heights amplified him as the divine embodiment of the corporate giant he ran.

Down on the office floor it felt more bestial than human. The spasming mass of men and women moved rhythmically to the syncopated tune of free alcohol, synthetic weed, and nano-engineered amphetamines. As their shackles of corporate slavery were loosened, they stripped themselves of all social norms and succumbed their dignity to a moment of raw, untethered lust.

A group of men stood closely by one of the amphetamine machines. The high-tech fabric of their attire shone with unbroken uniformity, disturbed only by varying degrees of bad taste for their choice of ties.

‘Did you see?’ One of the men was trying to out-scream the subhuman bass beating monotonically from the concealed speakers. ‘That bastard Harbinger still can’t help spy on us?’ He raised his glass smilingly above his head, in the direction of the CEO office windows. His corporation slim suit accentuated the fat deposits around his waist.

‘Walker, you’re such a wanker,’ one of the others replied.

‘Why, do you think I care if they listen?’

‘Course you do. We all do.’

Walker grunted and temporarily lost his balance when someone from the dance floor bounced off him.

‘First chance I get I’m out of here,’ he shouted. ‘Might even take some of their money too.’ He looked up at the CEO windows, smiled, and raised his glass again. ‘Up yours, bastards!’

His friends were shaking their heads as they turned their attention away from Walker and went back to surveying the dance floor.

‘On, no!’ One of them shouted and pointed at the side door. ‘What’s this one doing here?’

A man walked through the door and apprehensively looked around. He wore a cheap, black, synthetic suit, and a pair of old-fashioned metallic frame glasses.

Annoyed by shifting the conversation away from him, Walker sniffed up another line of white powder and turned towards the door. He burst out laughing.

‘I know this prick,’ he shouted. ‘I see him mooching about the canteen after every lunch.’

The man in cheap suit shuffled to one of the tables, picked up a plate, piled food on top and turned around to disappear.

‘Hey, pal,’ Walker shouted at him. As he straightened his posture to look more bullish, his chinos accentuated his skinny legs and potbelly.

The man stopped and turned towards Walker but averted his gaze.

‘Come over here!’ Walker said and wiped some powder off his nose.

The man sidled closer. His eyes kept focusing on the growing sweat patches on the faux-velvet shirt around Walker’s armpits.

‘What are you squirrelling around here?’ Walker asked and looked at the lanyard that hang awkwardly around his neck. ‘Sirius Everhart,’ he read the name on the white plastic card. ‘Come and have a proper drink, Sirius.’

Sirius averted Walker’s unstable gaze and mumbled something.

‘What? Can’t hear you, pal,’ Walker shouted, and held out a drink for him.

Sirius took the drink, raised the glass in the direction of the drunken group and took a customary sip.

‘Need to go back to work,’ he said and waited patiently for Walker to acknowledge what he just said.

‘It’s New Year, pal, nobody works tonight!’ Walker turned around and looked up at the CEO windows above him.

Sirius saw the opportunity, put down his glass and disappeared with his plate through the door. When Walker turned back, he was gone. Walker’s face flushed and he forced out an uncomfortable laugh.

‘What the fuck,’ he slurred. ‘What’s his problem?’

‘Forget it, man, he’s Harbinger’s pet dog. Harbinger lifted him off the streets. The man’s the paragon of unswerving loyalty.’

Walker spat on the floor and unsteadily turned back to his friends.

‘His loss,’ he said and connected himself to the machine for another dose of amphetamine.

Upstairs, Harbinger turned away from the office floor and lifted his glass towards the other two execs in his office. The obsidian hue of his bespoke suit absorbed the luminosity of the room. One of the other execs was busy studying the reflection of his face in the office window, and was gently arranging his receding salt-and-pepper hairline, which was slicked back with an excess of expensive pomade. The other one was looking at the floor downstairs with a sharp, predatory gaze. His small, cold eyes that sat deeply in his fat cheeks and he repeatedly moistened his lips with his moderately discoloured.

‘To prosperity,’ Harbinger said.

‘To prosperity,’ two other glasses ascended in response.

Well-mannered knocking interrupted the elevated moment, and all heads turned towards the door. A man in a cheap, black, synthetic suit edged inside the room.

‘Sirius,’ Mr Harbinger said. ‘Come and have a drink with us. You deserve it.’

Sirius was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He averted looking into Mr Harbinger’s eyes.

‘Sir, there’s something...’ he started.

‘Please Sirius, no work tonight, OK?’ Mr Harbinger’s patronising tone made one of the other execs smile.

‘It’s the exec bonus, Sir,’ Sirius continued as if he hadn’t heard the remark.

Mr Harbinger put down his glass and looked around. The magnanimous smile was wiped off his face.

‘I told you never to discuss that,’ he said coldly. His words were terse and distant.

‘Sir, the money is gone,’ Sirus said, wringing his hands.

Hushed silence broke the solemnity of the room. Even the ambient noise of the party downstairs was replaced by tense stillness. The eyes of the other two execs darted between Harbinger and the bearer of the news.

‘What do you mean it’s gone?’ Harbinger snapped.

‘Sir, the exec bonus fund. It’s gone from our accounts,’ Sirius repeated in a monotonous tone.

One of the other execs forced a hysterical laugh.

‘What the hell is this, Harbinger?’ he asked. A shadow of annoyance cast over Harbinger’s face as he glanced at the exec for a degradingly short moment.

‘I’m sure it’s just an innocuous mistake,’ he said, and looked at Sirius to study his face. Looking back at him was a face of loyalty and hard work, not a face of mistakes.

Harbinger took a deep breath and unnoticeably let out a long exhale. He closed his eyes for a second and by the time he opened them he was fully composed and in charge again.

‘None of this can leave this room,’ he said and looked around. Sirius’ gaze bounced back with reassurance. The other two execs still confusedly shifted their eyes from their glasses to Harbinger and back. One of them finally understood the gravity of the situation and panic replaced the first shock.

‘It will leak,’ he squealed. ‘If nothing else, the police will do a botch job and leak it.’

‘There will be no police,’ Harbinger interrupted. ‘And there will be no private investigators.’ The others looked quizzically at him.

‘90 million units,’ Harbinger continued. ‘Imagine the public reaction if it leaked that we’re sharing a 90 million bonus between the three of us, whilst offering a 3 million tab for the other 3000 employees.’ He punctuated the gravity of his words with a short pause. ‘This cannot leek.’

‘So what? We just let someone get away with it?’ the larger of the other two execs asked.

Harbinger paused and furrowed his eyebrows. He looked down at the party downstairs. The mass of people tirelessly spasmed to the muffled beat.

The large exec cleared his throat.

‘Maybe we could replace the exec bonus with money out of the company’s regular accounts?’ he said, nervously fidgeting with his tie. ‘We could then tell the world that someone stole part of our R&D budget or something. That way we could have our bonus and we could also go public that we were robbed.’

Harbinger pondered the suggestion and quizzingly looked at Sirius.

‘Sir, the police will demand to look into our accounts. They will notice that we’ve been moving money around after the incident,’ Sirius said.

The exec with slick hair laughed again hysterically.

‘We can’t just do nothing!’ he said in a whiny voice. ‘Someone stole…’

’90 million units,’ Harbinger’s voice silenced him instantaneously. ‘Money that Sirius worked hard not to be noticed, not to be seen by anyone else, and not to be traceable in any way to the company.’ Harbinger stiffened his suffocating cold gaze at the exec. ‘That money practically doesn’t exist.’

‘So, what are we going to do then?’ the larger exec asked calmly.

‘We’ll report a major security breach to the police, to our investigators, to the world,’ Harbinger was formulating the words slowly. ‘And to avoid investor panic, we’ll say that no money or data was stolen. We’ll trigger a mass hunt for the perpetrators.’

‘And then what?’

‘And when we have them, we’ll make sure they’ll regret the moment the idea of robbing us conceived in their mind.’

There was polite knocking on the door. Harbinger looked up from the holographic report in front of him. He could distinguish that knocking from anything else.

‘Come in Sirius,’ he said without raising his voice.

It was almost impossible to hear as the door opened and Sirius slinked inside. Harbinger looked at him questioningly without saying a word.

‘Sir, the police officers have just left,’ Sirius said.

Harbinger nodded and stared into the air for a moment.

‘I gather there’s still no news,’ Harbinger said.

‘No sir, still nothing.’

‘Have they given up on the Walker lead?’

‘Yes Sir, they couldn’t find anything apart from some minor irregularities.’

‘Still, I want him gone. That petulant inbred scum. He’s been a rotten sore on the bank’s body.’

‘He has already resigned.’

‘Good. Keep our private investigator on him. I’m still sure it was him,’ Harbinger said with audible conviction.

Sirius didn’t reply. His eyes obediently surveyed his master’s face. The face, which remained impervious to the stresses of the drawn-out investigation, the gradual realisation that their money may never be recoverable, and the betrayal of his fellow execs who crumbled under the first sign of trouble, leaving him single handedly in charge of all operations. His master’s confidence did not falter even under pressure from their shareholders, the public that was thirsty for blood, and the politicians who were eager to piggyback any opportunity for a few extra votes.

Sirius watched him in a subordinate awe. He studied his measured moves, how he organised his affairs, the calculations, and the infinite self-restraint that allowed him to lure his enemies close enough for him to strike down and destroy them.

And then, as the afternoon light flooded the enormous office and painted an evasive halo above Harbinger’s head, Sirius spotted something. Harbinger looked up, and for the first time, Sirius thought he saw a minuscule hint of hesitation and desperation in his eyes.

‘Our shares are in free fall,’ Harbinger said.

‘Yes sir,’ Sirius replied in a tone that made it clear that he knew.

‘We’ll have to lay off some people, and even that may not help us regain public confidence.’

Sirius waited and looked at Harbinger expectantly.

‘Sir,’ he said finally, still looking at the ground.

Harbinger instinctively glanced at the time before looking at Sirus again.

‘Sir, if I may. You have been very good to me. Without you I’d still be a junkie on the streets.’

Harbinger’s face morphed from mild impatience to gentle magnanimity.

‘You’ve been a very loyal employee Sirius. More loyal than anyone else.’

‘Sir, if you allow me, I’d like to try and repay your kindness.’

Harbinger raised his eyebrows. Sirius continued.

‘If you allow me Sir, I could come out and take the blame for the breach. You know, Sir, to restore the investors’ trust.’

Harbinger couldn’t take his eyes of Sirius. He saw the cheap synthetic suit, the shirt that faded from being washed endless times, and the man that had never taken a single day of absence over 20 years of working for him, never asked for a raise, or for a promotion. An invisible tear of gratitude built up and disappeared in Harbinger eyes before they would have been noticed by anyone else.

‘You would do that for the company, Sirius?’ He asked.

‘I would do it for you, Sir.’

Harbinger shook his head.

‘No, Sirius, I cannot let you do that.’

‘But Sir, I wouldn’t do it for free of course. My wife. She is not well. And she’d need support while I’m gone.’

Harbinger waited patiently for the proposition. Sirius continued.

‘You announce that after a lengthy investigation you have found the culprit, and that people’s money in the bank was never in any danger. I will go to trial, admit what I’ve done, and that the bank’s security was so good that I couldn’t get to the money. Seeing that there was no money stolen I will be out in 2, maybe 3 years. In return, you transfer 100 thousand units to my wife.’

Harbinger looked at Sirius again. A new feeling emerged from the depth. Something unfamiliar, something bitter, something that would strip his soul bare naked in front of his own oblivious eyes. He was trying hard to give it a name, to control it. The feeling that someone else had something he never had. Something he could never have. He’d never be able to do what Sirius has offered to do. Jealousy. Now that he named it, he realised he didn’t want to control it.

He closed his eyes for a second, and allowed this new sensation spread and occupy every corner of his body, to fill places that had been devoid of emotions for so long, and feel how it morphed into an unstoppable wave of hatred. Hatred for Sirius. For his blatant disregard for his appearance, the way he snuck around the office, and the way he knocked. And he hated that he’d sacrifice himself for someone else. He hated that he’d never be able to do the same.

He smiled at Sirius. It was an instinctive smile, even he was surprised how effortless it was. It was a response he had developed over years of practice to gain the confidence of his business partners by disguising his inner hatred behind a face of compassion.

‘Very well, son,’ he said and stood up to shake Sirius’ hand. ‘Very well, Sirius.’

A solitary window allowed glimpses of the outside world into the small flat, revealing a desolate urban landscape, bathed in the synthetic sunlight, which cast long, distorted shadows that danced across the peeling brown wallpaper. The over-furnished room was adorned with stoic remnants of a forgotten past — faded photographs, embroidered tablecloths, and an army of cracked porcelain figurines. The weight of the air hung heavy with the scent of fatigued existence. The muffled sound of street vendors was welcomed by eerie silence in the compact room, which was amplified by the soft hum of a computer.

Sirius was deeply immersed in typing, and long lines of code filled the screen in front of him. A woman draped in an old gown stood in the middle of the room, nervously clinging on to the cracked handle of a weathered teacup.

‘I’m so scared, Sirius,’ she said.

Sirius stopped typing, turned around and looked at his wife. He watched her for a moment. The worn-out gown, the holes on her bed socks, and her gentle face, the eyes, which reminded him of a frightened deer caught in a car’s headlights. He reached out and held her hand.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I thought of everything, the money will be on your account later today.’

She shook her head and her eyes watered up.

‘I don’t think I can do this, I’m not strong enough.’

Sirius gently squeezed her hand.

‘You will be fine. And I’ll be out in no time.’

He turned back to his computer and started typing again.

‘The money,’ she said over his shoulder. ‘Couldn’t you ask for more? 100 thousand. Enough for a while. But what happens afterwards? You’ll never get a job with your prior conviction.’

Sirius smiled without looking up from his computer. For decades he had forced his face to show no emotions, and now his face welcomed this smile as if it had always been its natural state.

The computer’s screen cast a blue hue on him, and the black fonts of an account with a single item reflected back from his glasses, revealing the number 9, followed by seven zeroes.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Sirius said, and his smile made itself more comfortable on this face. ‘We’ll be just fine.’