Dark Tidings

Chapter 10 - That Dreadful Night

Michael had been obsessed with his plan since he was eighteen years old. No pangs of guilt pricked his conscience because he genuinely believed his planned fraud was for the greater good. Anyway, it was perfectly justifiable to do bad things to bad people; his father had drummed that into him from an early age. Tears welled up in his eyes as he remembered his father; the man who'd done so much to give him a moral compass to be proud of.

His first clear memory of putting points on his compass came from his early schooldays. His father abhorred violence, so his support was unexpected after he'd been called to the school to be told of Michael's attack on another pupil.

"A headbutt, Mr Philips, can you believe he headbutted another child?" said the headmaster. "It was a vicious and unprovoked assault."

"Violence is always to be condemned," his father replied, "but I'd like to hear Michael's side of the story."

"Nine-year-olds don't have a 'side of the story', Mr Philips, they're just nine years old."

"I will listen to my son's version of events. It's up to you whether you listen too."

Michael described being subjected to months of bullying by the 'victim'. Okay, his description had been exaggerated and embellished but that's what kids do, isn't it? Anyway, his dad had believed him. He was still furious about the violent retribution he'd taken but he understood and subsequently spent weeks fighting the school's attempts to discipline Michael. It eventually paid off when the school fully investigated the bullying allegations and expelled the other child.

He'd greatly respected his father's perseverance and the incident added cement to the unbreakable bond with his father. That dogged pursuit of justice was just one of many lessons he'd learnt from 'the old man'. Little snippets of wisdom flashed through his head reminding him just how much he'd taught him.

'Treasure kindness,' his father had told him over and over again. 'The more you believe in your decisions, the less you need others to believe in them,' was another he'd heard many times. 'There's good in most people but don't view life through rose-tinted spectacles. There are some very nasty people in the world.' He could still hear his dad saying those words.

And where had his old man got his moral compass from?

"I learnt a lot from my own father, your grandfather," his dad had explained. "He told me to take everything with a pinch of salt. I loved him dearly, but he made lousy tea."

Happy times and lots of wisdom shared, but the best gift had been the introduction to his abiding passion. His father had been a manager in a well-known insurance company and used PCs in his day-to-day work. Even though he'd never got into the nuts and bolts of computers, he was smart enough to realise how Information Technology could help a young man build a well-paid career. Stimulating his son's interest in computers became one of his driving passions. It worked, and Michael had thrived on the encouragement given to him. He flourished in the knowledge he was growing up in a secure and treasured his growing accumulation of happy memories.

Sadly, everything changed the evening his uncle arrived at the door accompanied by a serious looking policeman and policewoman. His comfortable and cosy world was ripped to shreds when they told him that his mum and dad had died in a car crash.

"N-o-o-o-o," he screamed, punching the wall over and over again. Blood dripped from his knuckles as he fell to the floor screaming obscenities at the world.

His uncle took him to stay with his family and he lived there for the next year and a half. Michael had been just eighteen at the time and even though three years had now passed, it still hurt him deeply every time he thought about that night.

He often reflected on the events which had led up to the tragedy. Over a period of about six months, he'd eavesdropped on conversations between his parents. He'd learnt about a multimillion-pound fraud which his father had uncovered within his company; a fraud involving a web of phony policies set up for one of the country's big banks. Michael had no idea which bank was involved, but he knew how much his father hated what it was doing and he remembered well the very last conversation he'd overheard.

"It's just plain, simple theft," his father had told his mother, "and yet another example of the rich getting richer at the expense of the ordinary man in the street."

"There's nothing you can do," she'd told him.

"You just watch me. Someone has to stop them so why shouldn't it be me?"

The accident had come a few days later.

Michael knew it probably had been a genuine accident but he could never shake the niggling suspicion that maybe, just maybe, the thieving bankers had had something to do with it. Either way, surely it was his duty to complete what his father had started?

His father's words had haunted him since the accident, 'Someone has to stop them so why shouldn't it be me?'

And so, he developed a plan.