David E Balaam - Columbus Day

It was nearly three years ago Aimee had died in a car accident. That was the official line – an accident. Actually, her car had been shunted by a drunk, underage driver, with no tax or insurance, and not old enough to prosecute for manslaughter. No one had been held accountable. No one had been punished.

Every day the papers report killings, fights, stabbings, riots, and thefts and it seemed the whole country was going to pot. Over one thousand people a month leave the UK for a new life abroad, mostly over fifty-five's, disillusioned at the way things had become - or rather the way things were not as they used to be.

Many go to Australia, especially the younger ones, and some to the USA and Canada, but most of the ‘older’ generation look for their ‘place in the Sun’ in Europe.

George was convinced he was no different to all those other discontented souls looking for a place in the sun.

Earthquakes, war, oil spills, famine, corruption, murder, religious extremists. All of these were good enough reasons to find ‘shelter’ elsewhere, and turn one's back on the world. George also added a broken heart to his list.

But was that fair? Ordinary people in the adopted country still have to live their lives knowing what is going on in the world.

As do the children he left behind. As do friends and colleagues. Is it denial, not wanting to know what happens in the world? Is it cowardice? Yes, some of each, but more than that, these modern-day evacuees want to remember how things were when they were young, when their country was civilised, authority was respected and youngsters were polite. 'We all want to escape to the past', George said out aloud - then smiled at his supposition.

Most of these ‘ex-pats’ also accept that change needs to happen for the wealth and growth of any nation, but too many anomalies have been introduced onto the world stage which no one seems to have control over. In these modern times of twenty-four-hour news, and the constant analysis and post-mortem of global atrocities, some citizens just want to hide away and let the world get on with destroying itself, hoping they will be the last to hear about it. He remembered something Peter Mayne had written in his book, A Year in Marrakesh - ‘I shall be content in the centre of my universe and leave the universe to do the spinning.’ "Yes," George thought, "that’s exactly how I want to live my life now".

George was not prone to nightmares or bad dreams, but he did fear for his children, and for several nights had woken in a cold sweat dreaming of the day the world would end. The question was, he asked himself, was it the real world, or his world.

He had found the whole idea of living in England unsavoury after Aimee’s death, but had not banked on leaving so soon – until the second disaster hit him. He was accused of a major cyber theft.

George had been working for six months after Aimee’s death when one of his clients, the private firm Barnes & Barnes International Bankers of Jermyn Street London, had reported a cyber theft, or ‘missing funds’ as they called it. George wrote high-level security software for banks and financial institutions, and someone had skimmed off five million pounds without any trace. George was the immediate suspect and the police worked hard to prove he was behind it. They took every piece of hardware he owned (including what was in the loft), all his software and files, and effectively closed him down for twelve months.

Word got out. No one gave him work. He was not allowed to work.

The reality was the police did not have enough evidence to prosecute. Secretly, they thought he did it, but even their best high-tech forensic guys could not find any trace back to George. The finger was pointing to him and no one else, and he was disillusioned with the way he had been treated in the whole affair. Guilty until proven innocent. The way things are done in England now.

After a while, he started to get work back from some dedicated clients who knew his worth – which really touched George. During the twelve months lay-off, however, he had plenty of time to take stock and consider the future, and the only logical conclusion was to start it somewhere else.

He needed a new life in new surroundings with new people. He was not old, approaching fifty-four, quite healthy, and able to work anywhere in the world in his line of business.

The children all lived miles apart and only ever got together at Christmas and special occasions. They had, however, been fully supportive of him during the investigation. Alex even wanted him to move in with them, but the thought of sharing a house with Tom, Alex’s husband, persuaded George to decline.

Having done that, he could hardly move in with either of his other two children. On reflection, Bonnie would not have entertained the idea – against her street-cred to have dad staying, and he was not sure how he felt about sharing with Chris, his son. His only gay son.

So he stayed in the house he had lived with Aimee for the past twelve years in Windsor and planned his future.

He eventually felt he had been given a second chance in life. Time to see something of Spain, a country they both enjoyed and had visited often. His ‘interests’ could be run from anywhere, thanks to modern technology. A few hours a day to ensure everything is ticking over, and it seemed an ideal way to ‘wind-down gently’, with the bonus of living in Spain and indulging in his favourite hobbies; cooking, travelling and music - and now, repairing broken Jukeboxes.

. . .

Oliver left his father’s office still not convinced that the right decision had been taken. Without consulting the board of directors he called a private security firm to investigate further. Oliver contacted Jackson Security who were on the bank's list of approved ‘contractors and suppliers’. This meant they had been checked out by HR and passed all the required ISO criteria to be given work by the bank. Work which Oliver Barnes wanted to be carried out as quickly and as quietly as possible. His father, he felt, had handled the whole affair badly. The board had been persuaded to launch a ‘quiet’ investigation headed up by Chief Inspector Cox, who his father knew well. Probably from the same club or lodge, Oliver thought. CI Cox, however, did not have the manpower to continue the investigation unless the bank made a public announcement of the theft, which it did not want to do.

Although George Morton was the prime suspect, and Oliver felt this in his bones, nothing could be found to link him to the money. No computer traces, no bank accounts, no suspicious phone calls. In fact, since his wife died he had led a quiet, sober life. Oliver did have to admit he could not fathom out why Morton would want to carry out such an audacious crime, especially so soon after the death of his wife. He could have been planning it before she died, and therefore, having done his homework, decided to go through with it. After all, he had nothing to lose.

He knew Morton had had his computers confiscated, but the police did not have the manpower to track his every movement. Now he had fled the country Oliver Barnes needed someone to find him and get close to him, but more importantly to get him his money back so he could impress the board.

. . .

Since George moved to Spain the weather had been considerably warmer than springtime in England, and he had become accustomed to waking up to blue skies and sunshine. However, one morning in late April, a week before Easter, George woke up and knew something was different. He opened the wooden shutters and rubbed his eyes and shivered for a moment. There were no blue skies and certainly no sunshine, but there was plenty of rain, consequently, the morning temperature was down by several degrees. George rubbed his shoulders and yawned, and thought of diving back into bed to keep warm, but suddenly froze. "Shit," he said out loud and ran downstairs as fast as he could.