Fatal by Arno Joubert Read Free Book Online Page A

Carlos. Tell them to assemble some men and take out Bryden, permanently.”
    “Will do, boss,” the accountant said as he mopped his brow with a dirty handkerchief.
    Perreira let go of the girl’s neck and stood up straight. “Leave me with her, I need a distraction.” He clutched his hands opened and closed, like he was massaging a stress ball, then grabbed the girl by the arm. “Lots of things on my mind.”  
    The accountant nodded and hoisted his bulk from the chair. The girl sobbed and tried to pry Perreira's hand from her arm.
    Perreira grinned. “Come here, my pretty. You Filipinos always fight so hard. I can see why your country has so many good boxers.”  
    The girl whimpered and pulled away, panic in her eyes.
    Perreira slapped the back of his stump through her face, sending her sprawling onto the ground, blood dripping through her fingers she held to her nose.  
    The accountant whistled as he trundled out of the room.
    Perreira bent down. “Bitch, you’re going to die today.”  

CHAPTER THREE

Dublin, Ireland

    Callahan switched on his tablet PC then logged onto his bank account. He grunted, satisfied. He had four million in his personal account.
    He logged out and then typed in the access codes to the Dalerian Institute’s account. His eyes widened in shock and he hit the refresh button.
    He was greeted by a bunch of zeroes. Bad zeroes. The shittiest kind of zeroes.  
    He fumbled for his cell phone, punched in a number, and waited impatiently for it to be answered.
    “Perreira, did you transfer money from the company account?”  
    “No, why?” Perreira asked, sounding out of breath. Someone moaned in the background.
    “Because the account is empty. Nada, zilch. It's all gone!” he shouted.
    “Gone, how? Where?” Perreira asked, his voice sounding panicked.
    Callahan clicked on an icon, scanning through the online statement.  
    “The funds were transferred to an account referenced as 'Cuspis Dei’”, he said and slapped the arm of the sofa. He breathed in deeply. “Any ideas?”
    “No, how could this—”
    Realization dawned. “Bryden. Allen.” He swallowed. “Who was the girl with them?”
    Perreira hesitated. “We don’t know, we’re still trying to trace her.”  
    “I need to think,” he said and disconnected the call. He dropped the phone in his lap. “Shit!”
    He grabbed the phone and dialed a number.  
    A groggy voice answered. “Hello?”
    “It’s me, Callahan. I have a crisis. Bryden stole all our money. It's gone,” he said, his voice quivering.
    “I know,” the voice answered. “I have some of it in my personal account.” The voice went quiet. “Don’t phone me on this damn line, we’re being traced, you idiot. I’ll get in touch soon,” Neil Allen said, and then the call disconnected with a click.
    “Allen, Allen, you better—” he shouted and looked at his phone in disbelief. “Dammit!” He threw it at the wall with all his might, shattering it into a hundred pieces.  
    He cupped his face with his hands, breathing deeply. He stood and poured himself a stiff drink then leaned against his desk. A bead of sweat formed on his eyebrow and meandered down his nose. He slammed the glass on the table, spilling the amber liquid over his expensive pants. He ignored it, staring blankly at the wall.
    “Shit.”

Alexa scanned the notebook then tried the third password. It worked, and she logged into Neil’s cell phone company internet portal. She had found the passwords in Neil’s wallet; he had scribbled them all on a piece of paper in a tidy cursive. She duly copied them all.  
    She didn’t find anything else except for a black-and-white photo of Neil with a toddler on his lap. Probably his daughter.  
    She flipped through the pages on the browser and did a lookup on his call history. Within a couple of seconds she noticed the pattern.
    Fifteen phone calls had been made to his phone from the same number during the past eight hours. The number