No One Kills Accountants

Beth jumped at the sound of the doorbell, ripping the paper she had been reading in two. Her body tensed. She dropped the two halves of the newspaper. They floated to the floor, slowly and peacefully.

'Hi how are you,' she heard Adam say, from the front door downstairs. 'Great, doing just great. You?'

It was Jennifer from next door. Beth collapsed on the bed, her head aching. She felt like she was having an aneurysm. Could you get those at 30?

She listened to Jennifer ask Adam whether they were coming to the party tonight. Beth had binned the invitation. And she hadn't told Adam. Jennifer was in her 40s, liked period dramas and talking about her twin 5-year-old sons. Fuck that noise. She'd had a long week at work, law firm hours were starting to grind her down; and there was no way she was going to top it off by going to Jennifer's Friday night boreathon.

'We'll be there,' was the last thing she heard Adam say before closing the door.

Beth sat up and picked up the two halves of the newspaper from the floor. She looked at the headline again, breathed deeply, and walked downstairs into the kitchen.

‘Want one?’ Adam asked, indicating to the juicer in front of him on the counter. A slimy mess of fruit and avocado peel lay strewn around the juicer’s chrome box. Adam thought that eating avocado and mixed berries every day would extend his life. She wasn't sure it was working. He was portly, prematurely grey, and had dark circles around his eyes. Middle-aged chic at 30.

'Apparently the neighbours are having a party tonight. Apparently they invited us. Apparently they posted a card through our letterbox.' She knew he thought he was charmingly skirting the line between jocular sarcasm and irritated chastisement. But he wasn't. It was just annoying.

‘You can go if you want. I'm not. I can't deal with those two right now.'

'It'll be suspicious if you don't go,' he said as he emptied the juicer into a glass, scraping out every last bit of pulp. He held it above the glass for what seemed like an age. Beth felt like grabbing the juicer and hurling it across the room.

The need to avoid suspicion had justified Adam dragging her to every social gathering this overactive middle-aged street put on. She had agreed to move to suburbia, but not to its water-torture-like social functions. And, if today's paper was to be believed, they needed to do more than just avoid suspicion.

‘Have you seen today's paper?’ she said, shoving the crumpled newspaper into his chest.

He frowned at her and slowly unfolded the paper, flapping it out in front of him like a wet sheet.

‘What have you done to this?' he asked, horrified that the paper had been ripped in two.

'Just read the front page.'

'Six people sentenced to death,’ he said reading the headline. ‘What’s this about?’

‘The death penalty. That’s what this is about,’ she said stabbing the paper with her index finger. ‘Harbouring enemies of the state. Treason.’

‘Enemies of the state?’

‘Yes, refugees, non-citizens, the homeless.’

She wondered whether Gabriel and Qalid could hear them in the living room. She doubted it; the walls were thick. And there was a rule that they didn't walk around the house until after rush hour was over; less chance that someone would walk past the house and spot one of them through a window.

He rolled his eyes and put the paper down.

‘If you are saying they’re going to kill us because of Gabriel and Qalid then I think that's a little far-fetched.’

Gabriel had been staying with them for almost a year now. Her parents had been deported back to Argentina because of some unpaid taxes. Beth knew this allegation was a fiction; just an excuse the government used to deport thousands of families. She and Adam had been happy to take her in. Qalid had been with them for six months and had come from Morocco, escaping a violent crackdown. Things had been going well. Really well. But today's news changed everything.

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ Beth said.

‘You’re overreacting.'

She knew he was doing that thing where he was calm because she wasn't. She did it to him as well; his fear of flying made her more calm during flight turbulence.

'It wasn’t like we took anyone in after it was outlawed,' he continued.

That wasn't technically true. They had taken Qalid in after it had been made illegal to give shelter to the homeless and refugees.

‘It doesn’t matter. Providing shelter is enough. There’s no allowance that says anyone taken in before the government lost its entire mind is exempt.’

Adam looked at the paper again and took a long gulp of his green smoothie.

'How do you think this is not problem,' she said, flicking the headline. 'How do you think six people getting the death penalty for giving shelter to refugees is not a problem?'

'Okay, okay. You're right. We need to strategise. A full on risk assessment is needed.'

'No, not now Adam. Leave your management consultant gimmicks at work. We don't need a risk assessment. We need to do something,' Beth said.

'OK…You need to take a breath. We both need to take a breath.'

He took a dramatically deep breath.

'Right, give me a second. I've got an idea,' he said, and then disappeared out of the kitchen. She heard him walk upstairs and enter the spare room (the room they had been trying to fill with a little version of themselves, but which currently functioned as their work-from-home office). He reappeared in the kitchen with a whiteboard.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Brainstorming. This is what I do,’ he said, attaching the whiteboard to the fridge, ceremoniously drawing a circle in the centre and scrawling the word solution in it.

'Strategy one,’ he said, drawing an arrow from the circle. He wrote the word fugitives in the upper-right corner.

‘Fugitives?’ Beth said. ‘Listen, I have to be at work in half an hour.’ She had about 40 unread emails and a contract to review before 10.

‘I know, this will only take a few minutes. It’s the quickest way. 10 minutes, 15 max.’

‘The fugitive option, means letting them keep the house, he said.’

‘This house? Qalid and Gabriel get the house?’

‘Yes, most of it belongs to the bank in mortgage anyway. We’d make a new life for ourselves.'

She stared at him, trying very hard to control her frustration.

'We pack bags, and go. If the authorities ever looked here, we could say they moved in afterwards,' he added.

'So we go on the run? Like the people we were trying to help?'

'It's only an idea. I'm just thinking outside the box.'

'Adam, we don't have time for the corporate mumbo jumbo,' she said.

'Mumbo jumbo, who says that these days?' he said, snorting.

'Cut it out. You’re harbouring enemies of the state in the house. That's the death penalty.' She pointed at the paper.

'What do you mean you’re harbouring? We both agreed to this, it’s not me, it’s us,’ Adam said.

‘Oh, right. Yeah, like you really gave me a choice. I mean… I just came back from work one day and there Gabriel was in the spare room. I could hardly chuck her out then, could I? I mean she had arranged her photos on the bedside table.’

‘That was a local council-run shelter scheme. Loads of our friends did that. It was only meant to be two months, you could have ended it when that time expired. It wasn't like I forced you to keep Gabriel here after that ended.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s right, I could have just put all her stuff in a black bag and said sorry get out. Your two months is up. I mean, you two started practising guitar together! What was I meant to do? Sorry, the bands being broken up. Adios and buena suerte, Gabriel.'

Beth knew she was being unfair. But Adam didn’t seem worried enough. She wanted him to be as scared as she was. She wanted him to jump at the doorbell.

‘You said it was sexy that I cared,’ he said, taking a small sip of his smoothie.

‘Are you serious? Is that what this is about? Your sex appeal?'

She had found it sexy. She liked the idea of him as a caring man. It felt like a personal secret to her, something the outside world didn’t see. They saw the suit, the tie and management consultancy job. She saw his big beating heart. It had felt like they had a purpose; they were doing something together other than commuting, working and counting the ever-increasing grey hairs.

'No, of course it wasn't,' he said. 'But I thought it was something we both wanted.'

He was right it had felt good. And it had made her and Adam so close. It had been their thing. A part of them that she had held onto during her long days at the office reviewing contracts. The part of her that, during a three-hour meeting to discuss a 500 page contract, had whispered 'There's more to you than this. You’re sheltering illegal refugees in your house. Fuck this contract. Fuck every contracts.' And now the contracts and Adam's whiteboard were staying and Gabriel and Qalid were going.

‘And anyway you were the one that let Qalid in after the election. You said it was our responsibility to fight back, to do what we can as people,’ Adam said.

He was right about that also. She had been swept up in the post-election gloom. It had felt like a way of doing something. And their time with Gabriel had been going well. She enjoyed watching them both play guitar together. She looked forward to their Sunday lunches; where Gabriel would help them cook. It had felt like they were a family of sorts.

'That was before they started executing people.’

Until this morning, she had thought the worst that could happen to them was a fine. Sure, it might have made things difficult at work, but she wasn’t worried about that. Worst case scenario, she'd quit. Sometimes she had fantasised that being found out might be good for her. Maybe it would propel her into public life. Former corporate lawyer turned social media campaigner… but in a mild-mannered, well-groomed way; the kind that trod just the right line between being politically risqué and not getting imprisoned. She definitely didn't want to be imprisoned. She definitely didn’t want to be given a lethal injection.

‘Right, but let's stop the blame game. I'm trying to help us. On that note, strategy two.’ He drew another arrow to the left-hand corner and wrote operation distance.

Beth looked at Adam for signs that he was winding her up. She found none. She took a deep breath and tried to push her anger and fear down. Give him five minutes. He had won Strategy Consultant of the Year a few years ago. And maybe it was a good idea to go through all the options, she thought.

‘We could drive them somewhere blindfolded for miles and let them go,’ he said writing the words drive and blindfolded under the heading.

‘And cross our fingers that they don’t remember who we were or where our house was?’

‘Gabriel definitely knows the area,’ Adam said. 'And we have to think about torture.'

'Torture?'

'Yes, if they’re caught and tortured, they’ll give our names. People always crack.’

‘What do you mean, people always crack?’

‘I mean under torture. People crack like nuts when it comes down to it.’

‘How would you know?’ Beth said, staring at him in disbelief.

‘Well, I know I would. I mean… have electrodes attached to your testicles? No, thanks. I would tell them everything’

Beth wondered how he would cope if they were arrested. She thought he would break down. And she found herself feeling a desire to protect him. To shield him and keep him from harm. She wondered whether she would be able to sleep with him again having felt this quasi maternalism towards him. Maybe in time.

‘Electrodes? You know what, whatever. They just have to go,’ she said, shaking her head.

'What, just… like… walk out?' Adam said, writing walkout on the whiteboard with a big question mark next to it. 'Same problem: capture and torture.'

Beth walked over to the cafetière sitting on the kitchen island and poured herself some coffee. She sipped it, lukewarm and weak. She downed the mug.

‘What are we saying?’ she said, looking out of the window at the faint sound of a car driving past on the road. ‘We had dinner with them every weekend up until a few months ago, and now we’re going to blindfold them and drive them somewhere and just drop them off?’

Beth stared at Adam, feeling tired and ill.

‘They are our friends,’ she said. She wasn’t sure whether this was exactly true. But they felt like a part of her and Adam’s life. Qalid and Gabriel were part of what made Adam and her different from the other older than their years couples on their street. They weren't just two corporate cogs. They helped people.

‘You’re right, we can't do that to them. I mean Gabriel and I are in a band together.'

Adam said putting the marker down.

Beth tried not to laugh at the band reference. They definitely were not a band, but they did have something special. She liked that Adam recognised that.

Adam picked up the newspaper and read the article again, shaking his head. ‘This guy is an accountant.’

Beth walked over to the cafeteria and poured herself more coffee.

‘They’re going to kill an accountant. I mean when has that ever happened? Yes, I get the lawyers, but the accountants.’

‘What?’

‘Well… all I’m saying is, historically, lawyers get killed. But when they kill the accountants that’s when you know things are serious.’

She imagined the scene. The police truck pulling up suddenly. The armed men pouring out. Their dogs barking. No knock on the door, just a deafening smash as they broke it down. Like she had seen on TV. It could happen here. It could happen to them. It made her feel faint.

‘But at the same time we’re sitting ducks,’ she said not looking at him

‘Right, yes.’

She didn’t want to die. That phrase started to repeat itself in her mind. I don't want to die.

‘It’s only a matter of time before we're caught.’

Adam wasn’t a doer. He would spend hours with this whiteboard. He would spend weeks working up a colourful and carefully-packaged risk assessment. And they would be carted off to prison while he clutched his whiteboard and marker pen.

‘Right.’

‘What about the housing estate?’ she asked.

‘I thought they were pulling that down?’

‘They’ve been talking about pulling it down for years.’

She heard his pen drawing an arrow on the whiteboard behind her. A soft squelching squeak that filled the kitchen. She turned to see that he had put in the bottom right-hand corner, strategy three, abandoned estate.

‘We can do food runs to them every month or so.’

‘Yes,’ he said writing food runs as a bullet point under the strategy heading.

‘And we would give them money,’ Beth said.

‘Yes, yes,’ he said, pointing the marker at her in excitement. He knocked back the last of his smoothie.

‘£20,000.’

‘That’s a lot,’ he said, pausing.

‘We’re talking about people’s lives here. We're talking about Gabriel and Qalid,’ Beth said.

To Beth, they were also talking about a part of who they were. They were talking about making sure that no one, not even the government, could trample on their secrets. Maybe he didn’t get that. Or maybe he just thought they could do it on the cheap.

Adam started clearing away the pile of fruit that surrounded the juicer.

'Adam?' She prompted.

‘Yes, and I guess the loft extension can wait,’ he said.

‘Fuck the loft extension,’ she said.

‘Yes, fuck it. Until next year.’

‘Okay, so will you tell them?

‘Me?’ He looked shocked and wounded.

‘Well… yes. I mean, you invited Gabriel here. It’s, like, polite or something that you be the one to tell them. They would expect it from you.’

Beth saw him calculating whether it was worth fighting this. Whether it was worth the argument.

‘Okay, I’ll tell them,’ he said in a dejected tone.

She felt the desire to protect him again. A feeling that drew her to him, but in a way that felt platonic; like a sister to a brother. She worried that she no longer felt sexually excited by him. Had the whiteboard and risk assessments drained the romance? Maybe what she wanted him to say was 'Qalid and Gabriel are staying and to hell with the costs'. Would that have thrilled her?

They walked out of the kitchen together in silence. Adam found her hand and held it as they walked to the living room door. His palm sweaty and tremorous. She turned the living room door hadle and pushed. She would be strong for both of them.

‘Morning, everyone. We’ve got something to say,’ she heard Adam booming in an almost theatrical tone behind her. Gabriel was still in bed on the right side of the living room, while Qalid had folded his bed away and was sitting in the armchair, vaping and looking at his phone. They both looked up in confusion at her and Adam's entrance. Gabriel smiled at her, and Beth did her best to smile back.

‘There’s no easy way of saying this,’ Adam said.

Beth saw the look on Gabriel’s face shift as she sat up in bed.

‘Things have changed. It's too dangerous now. I mean… for you to stay here.'

'Don't worry though we have a plan. Things are going to change, yes, but maybe for the better in some ways,' Beth said.

She looked at Adam, and then to Qalid and Gabriel. She heard the sounds of Gabriel and Adam's guitars fill the room. The house would feel empty without them, she thought.

And then there was a loud bang and the splintering of wood. The sound of heavy boots and barking dogs at their backs. She clutched Adam's hand.

By Tim Oke

From: United Kingdom

Website: http://www.tim-oke.com/