The Silent Pool by Phil Kurthausen Page A

the muzzle. However, the sound of the bullet was deafening as it tore through the air above Malcolm's head, breaking the sound barrier with a crack. It slammed into the window causing a starfish pattern of cracks to splinter across its surface.
    In the split second before he hit the window, Malcolm knew he was going to die and the realisation caused him to howl like a beast, a sound cut off as the glass tore open his cheeks from jaw to ear as he hit the window.
    The glass gave way as it shredded his body and then Malcolm Ford, father, husband, lawyer and deal-maker plunged twenty-three stories in 4 seconds before hitting the concrete below and ceasing to exist.

CHAPTER 11
    Monday morning had never sat well with Erasmus. Even during his time in the Army when the days of the week were made redundant by the all-encompassing military routine, he reserved a special loathing for Monday morning and reckoned that it always brought with it that extra little dose of fear and loathing.
    He had read that suicides and heart attacks peaked at around 9.30 a.m. on a Monday morning, something to do with the release of the stress hormone cortisol. Erasmus thought that Mondays were just plain evil and today was just proving the point.
    The problem today was that the strikes had been called off and the teachers and other council workers were back in work. The city was in funds and the school runs were back on, clogging up the roads and making him late for work.
    His office was two rooms, an office and an antechamber in an old shipping building off Water Street. Back before the war, the building had housed the headquarters of one of the world's largest mineral and ore shippers. Now the grand offices were carved up with stud walls, and microbusinesses operated from the cells formed.
    Next door to Erasmus’ office was a tooth whitening operation run by Katy, a fortysomething ex-stripper with a permanent tan and eyebrows as thick as carpet swatches. Through the thin walls Erasmus could hear the low hum of the infrared lamps she had purchased off eBay as they bleached her seemingly never-ending queue of customers.
    Sandy, his admin assistant, was sitting outside. Sandy was looking, as ever, immaculate in a crisp white blouse and perfect hair and make-up. Sandy was thirty-three and a single mum to ten-year-old Max. She was everything he wasn't: organised, tactful and professional.
    ‘Dan's already here, I sent him in.’ She shook her head. ‘Late again, Erasmus. You need to set that alarm clock earlier.’
    Erasmus considered a witty riposte. They'd all sound petulant given that Sandy had, as she did every morning, got up, fed, dressed and got her little boy to school and still had time to make herself look like a million dollars.
    ‘As usually, Sandy, you are right. Good weekend?’
    ‘I took Max to see his father. You?’
    Max's father was currently doing a ten-year stretch for armed robbery in Strangeways.
    ‘I had a gun pressed to my head by a homicidal Islamic loan shark.’
    ‘Nice. So still no girlfriend then?’
    Erasmus
harrumphed
and walked into his office.
    Dan, looking relaxed, pointed at two Styrofoam cups of coffee on the desk. ‘Breakfast!’ he declared.
    ‘Thanks and sorry I'm late,’
    Dan waved the apology away. ‘Always like to see how the other half is getting on and I come bearing more gifts than just the coffee. But first tell me all about Jenna, she's hot stuff, isn't she?’
    Erasmus was forced to agree and he told Dan about his meeting with Jenna and the subsequent introduction to Purple Ahmed. He didn't tell Dan about Rachel and her theory about the Third Wave. In the cold light of day it seemed a little too much like paranoia.
    ‘Well, looks like you've made some progress and more importantly you're keeping Mrs Francis happy. And we want her happy so we can get the uncle's account. I've just been in with the Bean talking about this, among other things – more of which in a minute – and he is really grateful.