Chris Simms - Killing the Beasts

'He appears to be. Tom, this isn't just a sackable offence. It's highly bloody illegal.'

Tom thought for a few seconds. 'So what are we going to do?'

'Get rid of him, fast as possible. Look at it this way: what if he's planning to attack Julie Bowers? Does he seem the sort?'

'Seem the sort? How do I bloody know?' Tom felt himself getting angry. 'Did the Yorkshire Ripper's bloody wife think that he seemed the sort? Surely that's the point with these people — you can never really tell them apart from the rest of us.'

'All right, Tom. This is how we'll play it. Jim's wiped all the offending material from the computer system. Under no circumstances can we afford for this to get out. You just have a quiet word with this George character, tell him that if he goes without a fuss, we won't create one either.'

'So it's OK for us to sack him, but not for us to tell the police?'

'Tom, we've got a company to look after here. What he gets up to in his own time isn't our concern.'

'And what about Julie Bowers? Just because George no longer works here, doesn't mean he's not a threat to her.'

'We'll move her back down to London; I assume you can do without her?'

Tom wanted to laugh. 'Oh yeah, we've never been quieter. She's just twiddling her thumbs most days. Just like the rest of us.'

'She can carry on helping you from down here. It's the only way to play it.'

Just a few more days of this shit and I'm out, thought Tom. He suppressed the urge to giggle because he knew if he did, he might not be able to stop. He imagined the reaction if waves of hysterical laughter suddenly started flooding out of the director's earpiece. 'OK, but you have the conversation with Julie. I'm not dealing with them both.'

'Done. I'll call her now.' Tom hung up, reached for his powder and headed straight for the toilets again.

He emerged a couple of minutes later, got a cup of water from the cooler and as he slowly sipped it, worked out what to say to George. Feeling slightly better, he rang upstairs to George's desk.

'Hello,' came the reply, sounding faintly hostile, as if no one was meant to know his extension number.

'George, it's Tom. Could you pop down to Ian's old office? I need a word.'

As he waited for George to appear he imagined how the conversation would go, picturing George's abject embarrassment. He guessed hardly any eye contact would be made — certainly not after he revealed what he knew.

There was a knock at the door, the top of George's bushy haircut appearing first as he looked round the door.

'Come in, George. Sit down,' said Tom, now adding a note of formality to his voice.

George did as he was asked, dead eyes staring across the desk dividing them. 'George, I've just had a call from the London office about some material the IT department has found on the system up here.'

'Material?'

'Certain locked files on your system. You know what I'm talking about?'

George leaned back and folded his arms. 'No,' he said warily.

'George, the IT guy has gained access to them. You've got a…' he searched for the right word, '… glut of offensive images stored on your computer. Or you did; the lot has been deleted.'

He waited for George to start squirming, eyes fixed to the floor, but to Tom's astonishment he sat up in his seat, genuine fury in his face.

'Someone's destroyed my personal files? Without my permission?' He glared directly at Tom. 'That's bloody outrageous! An invasion of my human rights.'

Thinking about the human rights of the women in the photos, Tom raised himself up slightly too. 'George, the only outrageous things in all of this are the images on your computer.' He had to bolster his argument, turn the emphasis back on George. He resorted to a lie. 'I've seen them. I've seen the images you've created of Julie upstairs.'

Still George was indignant. 'You … you bloody snipe! You've got no right, no right at all.'

His anger was beginning to antagonize Tom, who pointed a finger across the desk. 'Listen. You've been using company property to access sites of a sadistic nature. If we turned that stuff over to the police, what do you think would happen?'

He paused to let the comment sink in.

Finally George broke eye contact, looking to the side and quietly saying, 'Sadistic, am I?'

Tom didn't know how to answer that comment, so he carried on in a more conciliatory tone. 'Look, George, we're not going to pass it on to the police. But I'm going to have to let you go.'

George stared at him, hatred in his face. 'You've destroyed my personal property and now you're sacking me?' He brooded for a second. 'What if I'm not prepared to go?'

Tom stood up. 'I'm not discussing this. Go upstairs and clear your desk or the police are getting involved.'

George didn't move. Tom knew he couldn't break eye contact, but the intensity of suppressed emotion emanating from the other man was unsettling him.

Suddenly George looked down and pressed a fist to his lips. Registering the anguish in the gesture, Tom knew he had won. 'Come on, I'll help you.'

Still avoiding eye contact, George got up. Silently they climbed the stairs. The solemn way they entered the room caused everyone to look up and watch. Tom stood awkwardly to one side as George unlocked his cabinet and removed his briefcase, jacket and tie. Next he pulled a plastic bag from his bottom drawer and began emptying the contents of his drawers into it.

Finally Ges stood up. 'George, Tom, what's happening?'

George kept his head down and Tom waved a silencing hand at Ges. 'If there's any other stuff we can come in at the weekend and sort it out,' said Tom quietly. He walked George back down the stairs and through to reception. As George went to leave, Tom steeled himself for the last thing he had to do. 'George, I'll need your key to the office.'

George stopped and remained still as if contemplating the comment. Tom could see tears in the corner of the other man's eyes as he slid a keyring from his pocket, extricated a key from the metal loop, then hurled it to the floor.

Tom was trawling through overhead variances on the monthly Purchase and Ledger analysis when he heard multiple footsteps coming down the stairs. Guessing what was going on, he kept the files open on his desk.

Julie knocked on the door a second later. Ges, Ed and Gemma were visible behind her.

'Tom,' Julie began hesitantly. 'We're going for a drink at The Church. A leaving drink actually…'

'Yes, I heard, 'Tom interrupted. 'Sorry I didn't have time to pop upstairs earlier.'

'Oh,' she replied, sounding disappointed. 'Some new account they've won down in London.' She looked at him to confirm the story.

'They didn't give me any details,' said Tom. 'Just said we're going to lose you. When is it that you…'

'Straight away. Well, tomorrow. My last night in that soulless hotel, thank God.'

Tom smiled. 'We'll miss you. Look.' He stood up and went over to her. 'I'll try and make it over, but I've got loads on, so if I don't …'

He gave her a big hug and she used the opportunity to whisper in his ear, 'No job is worth your health, Tom. You take care of yourself.'

The comment left him at a loss for words. Was it that obvious he was under so much strain? Self-conscious now, he searched for an answer but she saved him the trouble. 'You know what? I enjoyed it here — the North isn't quite so grim as everyone makes out.'

Tom laughed. 'You take care.'

There was an awkward silence and Tom knew they were all waiting for him to explain what had happened earlier.

'By the way, George has left the company.'

Everyone stared at him, waiting for more information.

'He had been using work computers for his own business. Head office found some files and that was it, they wanted him out. Immediately.'