Sir Malcolm is seated on top of the toilet lid, slouched backwards against the cistern with his head so far back, it is resting against the wall. All I can see is the bottom of his chin and his nostrils. The tiled wall behind has a small hole in it, about a foot above where his head is resting. And there, surrounding the hole, is a circle of splattered blood and brain which is slowly flowing into red streaks as it runs down the glossy white tiles. On the floor to his left is a glass tumbler half full of what I am certain is single malt whiskey, whilst on the floor to his right is his old army-issued revolver.
My heart sinks. Sir Malcolm had his faults, and he was certainly an old dinosaur, but he was a very determined and intelligent man. Even though he was born into wealth and could have probably lived very comfortably on that wealth, he had the drive to build Orion into an extremely successful company which gave him and many others wealth that far outstripped anything they were used to. He was sixty-eight years of age and still ran this company like it was his baby, so how could it end like this, blowing his own brains out all alone and sitting on the toilet?
My first inclination is to just pull shut and relock the bathroom door, leaving Sir Malcolm in peace as he is, but I force myself to enter. There is a chance that he may have the information Colonel Reed is seeking, either in the room with him or actually on him. It could be on a flash drive in his pocket for all I know.
Sir Malcolm may have been old, but he was very tech savvy, he made sure of it; he never wanted anyone to have the upper hand on him, so it is entirely possible the files are now digitised. I scan the bathroom for anything that could possibly contain them. But there is nothing, so I search Sir Malcolm himself. Checking his pockets, I try not to disturb him but again come up empty-handed; if he did keep copies of these files, they are not in here.
Shutting the bathroom door as I leave and relocking it, I find myself standing in the middle of Sir Malcolm’s lounge area. Should he have kept any files, they would be in here somewhere, I am sure of it. He didn’t like taking any work home with him when he did leave the office, he made a point of keeping what personal life he did have separate. He believed that if you had business to take care of, the workplace was the most efficient place to do it. That is probably why he spent so many hours here, six or seven days a week; for the most part, you don’t build such an internationally successful business doing school hours.
Looking around, I soon come to the conclusion that there are only two possible places where the files could be, and neither is going to be easy to access, unless.....
Sir Malcolm’s computer is switched on, which is positive. Now, if he has left it logged on, I will have access to at least one of the possible places. The other place is Sir Malcolm’s safe which is hidden away, built into the long rosewood sideboard that runs along the back wall next to his beloved drinks cabinet, actually, more like a bar when fully opened. The safe is also fixed to the floor and I doubt he’s left it unlocked; if he had, I would expect the sideboard to be open because the safe door swings out. But I will investigate after checking his computer, just in case.
As soon as I move the mouse, the large flat screen illuminates, showing me the log-on screen. Shit. I have no idea what the password would be and knowing Sir Malcolm, there is no way it is going to be something simple like one of his children's names. Leaving the computer for now and going over to the sideboard containing his safe, I lower onto my haunches. Feeling a bit of anticipation as I slide the door across, it glides open effortlessly, as all the furniture in this office is of the highest quality. Again, I hit a brick wall. The safe is, as I expected, closed and locked. Staring at the safe which is also of the highest quality and is not going to be opened easily, I try to think of different options to access both his computer and the safe.
Behind me, there is a knock at the door and it opens.
"Andy?" Catherine's voice asks. "Is everything okay? Dan is here. Where is Sir Malcolm?"
I push myself up off my haunches and turn to them.
"Come in, both of you," I say before walking over to one of the couches and sitting down. Catherine and Dan both enter, Catherine taking a seat next to me and Dan takes the couch opposite.
"Emily is fine and still sleeping," Catherine says, reading my mind.
"Okay, thanks, good," I say. "How did you get on downstairs?" I ask Dan.
"Everything is sorted, the weapons are secured away as is the food, and I have a list of everything here," Dan replies.
"Thanks, mate, you keep hold of that for the moment. Is everyone okay down there?"
"Yes, Boss, Mick is handling them well and will let me know if they need anything, but what’s happening here? Where is Sir Malcolm?"
"I am afraid Sir Malcolm is dead; he has shot himself in his bathroom."
Dan doesn’t really show if he is shocked or not, but I hear Catherine gasp. I look at her and can tell immediately she is both horrified and upset. I
