End of Life As I Know It

Do you know how, on entering a room, you just know that something is not quite right. I was hit with that revelation the instant that I opened my front door and entered the living room. It could have been the furniture that had been upset, or my collection of vinyl albums that had been used as Frisbees against the wall. Or even the pool of good red wine in the middle of my prized Persian rug. It was none of those. Instead, it was the lack of the anticipated and enthusiastic welcome home kiss from my wife that gave it away.

Some minutes later my phone rang. It was not a number that I recognised and I was almost going to ignore it, but then it could be important, something to do with the mess that had greeted my return home. "This is Sam, speak to me." I tried to sound as normal as possible, something of a stretch as it happened.

"Do you love your wife, Mister Kingsley?" His voice was an attempt to sound like that archetypal movie villain, Alan Rickman in 'Die Hard'. I didn't know whether to respond with 'Yippee kayo mother fucker', or not, so I played it safe, "You know that I do, otherwise you would not have asked such a stupid question." I replied in the most even voice that I could muster under the circumstances. I was beginning to get a feeling of impending doom.

"We are on the same page then. I hope that you will be willing to follow my instructions."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course. The choices open to you are; follow my instructions or allow your wife to die."

"What are your instructions?"

"The first is that you do not contact the police."

"And the second?"

"What I require of you is three million dollars in used one hundred dollar bills, un-marked and non-sequential."

"Why should I pay you this money?"

"Because that is the amount that my client calculates that your little stunt ten years ago has cost him, plus interest, indexed for inflation of course."

"Your client has got to be joking. I have not cost your client, or anyone else for that matter, that sum of money. Secondly, I have no way of obtaining that amount of money now, or in the conceivable future."

"Then your wife must die."

"Before she dies I think that you should have a conversation with your client. If she dies he no longer has any leverage, and no leverage means no money. It also means that I will move both heaven and hell to find him, and when I do, he can kiss his arse good-bye."

"Those are brave words indeed, but they are still only words. You will never let your wife die, will you?"

"If you had thought to ask my wife about this she would have told you that your client has a better chance of getting that sum of money by tapping her father for it. He would never lend me that amount of money, but he would pay it prevent his beautiful daughter from getting killed."

"But it wasn't her father that cost my client that money ten years ago, was it?"

"How would I know, I don't know your client, do I?"

"I'll allow you to ponder that."

"How am I supposed to get the money to you, in the remote chance that I can raise it?"

"Not my problem. All that you have to do is to follow my instructions to the letter. The money you will place in a ubiquitous black wheelie bag. You will then go to the QANTAS check-in desk at the airport, tomorrow at 9:30am, you will identify yourself, there will be a ticket waiting for you for a flight to Sydney. You have twenty-four hours to arrange this. If you do not check in for that flight, your wife will die. You will check your bag in for that flight, you will board that flight, but when you reach your destination, you will not retrieve your luggage. Instead, at the Jetstar desk you will find a ticket on a flight back to Adelaide. You will catch that flight and your wife will meet you at the airport. Failure to board that flight and your wife will die. If there are police waiting for that flight, your wife will die. Do you understand these instructions?"

"But what if I can't arrange for that money in time?" A reasonable question I would have thought. I didn't have that amount of money just laying around for such an emergency.

"Then your wife will die."

"I have another idea, one that will not cost you the price of two air fares. Why don't you give me details so that I can electronically transfer the funds to any account that you nominate. You get your money immediately, there is no chance of anything going wrong like the bag getting lost. Airlines are good at that and I don't want to risk Roslyn's life on the efficiency of some baggage handler."

"A very good try Mister Kingsley, I give you account details that can be easily traced and you will have the police knocking down my door within hours. The instructions I have given you are my preferred method and you have no say in them."

My mind went into overdrive. Where would I find the money in twenty-four hours? How could I meet the terms that he had set out, hundred dollar used non-sequential bills? The wheelie bag was no problem, all that I had to do was to dump my clothes out and I was ready.

I swallowed my pride and rang Roslyn's father. "Roslyn has been kidnapped."

"Have you contacted the police?"

"No. I've been told that if I do she will be killed."

"And you believed that? I was under the impression that you were an intelligent man who loved my daughter. I guess that I was wrong."

"You were right, and that is why I'm forced to go along with the demands, and why I have been forced to ask for your help. I do not think that you would forgive me if I did anything that would result in her death." My next call was to my parents. "Hi Mum, this is going to sound strange, but, by any chance, did the school call you to pick up the kids?"

"I tried to call you but your line was engaged. Yes they are here and they don't know why Roslyn wasn't there to pick them up. As far as they were aware, she had no plans out of the ordinary that would have prevented her from picking them up. What is going on?"

"She has been kidnapped."

"What! Are you sure?"

"I have been talking to the person involved."

"How much is he asking for?"

"Three million dollars."

"And he expects you to be able to raise that amount?"

"Yes. I have spoken to Ryan and he is as anxious to get his daughter back as I am. He has promised to lend me the money."

"Always was a tight arse." Mum didn't have a high impression of my Father-in-Law.

It was Robbie Burns that once said something about the best laid plans of mice and men. My best laid plans began to go astray when I arrived at the QANTAS check-in. "I'm sorry sir, but there is no ticket for you here." She didn't hear me say 'fuck' but from the look on my face she probably got the message. "I'll check again for you." She checked with the other staff. Each shake of the head caused my heart to sink lower.

I walked away. Somewhere between the desk and the door I had an idea. I scrolled through my call records from the previous day until I found the right number. "What are you playing at? There was no ticket for me."

"Mister Kingsley, I understand your concern, but fear not, I have my money."

The taxi driver! He insisted on loading my bag into the boot and unloading when I got to the airport. If you've seen one black wheelie bag, you've seen them all. I had not noticed the switch.

"Then where is my wife, I have kept my part of the bargain and I expect that you will keep your part, or is that expecting too much?"

"Go home Mister Kingsley, a surprise awaits you."

I don't know what made me think that the surprise would be Roslyn hurling herself at me as I opened the door, but that was not what waited for me, in fact nothing had changed, it was the same trashed house that I had left just hours ago.

Surprise, surprise, the phone rang. "Okay you bastard, where is she?"

"She's right here Mister Kingsley, with me, would you like to say good-bye to her?" There was a pause before I heard Roslyn's strained voice. "Good-bye Sam, I'm sorry that you had to find out this way." I got the impression that she was reading from a cue card. The phone was snatched from her before she could say more, but that could just be my wishful thinking.

"Roslyn, darling, what is this all about, why are you doing this?"

"The answer to this vexing question," it was him again." Will require you to think back ten years. Good-bye Mister Kingsley, and don't bother trying to trace this phone, as soon as I finish this call I will be destroying the SIM card."

It was about this time that I was starting to really worry. While there was still a chance that I would be reunited with her quickly, I was not taking it seriously, but not now. Was Roslyn voluntarily ending our marriage, and why? Or was she being held against her will by some person unknown? Had she been having an affair behind my back and with who? I did not have an answer for any of these questions. The one factor that I was very much aware of was that I was now indebted to my father-in-law to the tune of three million dollars and had signed a repayment schedule that made 'pay day lenders' seem positively benevolent.

I decided that it was time for some serious thought, Ten years ago had been mentioned by the supposed representative of some aggrieved party. I did not believe that for one minute. The person that had made all of those threats was the aggrieved party, and while I told him that I had never cost anyone a large amount of money, I should have said that I had never directly cost him money. Indirectly was a different matter.

Ten years ago I was a Lecturer in Human Resource Management in the Business Management School at our local University. This was where I met my wife. Roslyn McMasters was a twenty something year old part-time student, studying HRM while she was working, because the qualification was necessary for her advancement in her career in a large company. As well as being a Lecturer, I also ran a Tutorial group that she was part of. Our interaction was cordial and relaxed right up until the end of the second trimester,

"Mister Kingsley, may I have a word with you?"

"Please, why so formal, my name is Sam. Do you have time after class?"

"Sure, Sam."

The other students had gone, some to other classes, some had finished for the day and were heading home. "Now what seems to be the problem?"

"A female staff member has approached me with allegations against a senior member of staff in her division."

"I assume that it is a male member?"

"Yes, a male member. She alleges that he has been making a habit of touching her inappropriately. She has told him that she was not comfortable with this, but he has not stopped. Because she is new to the job and is still learning, and making a few mistakes, as I would expect, she feels that if she makes a formal complaint she would lose her job."

"Is that likely to happen?"

"Knowing the guy, as I do, then yes she would. While she would have every reason to claim wrongful dismissal, he would find another reason to terminate her employment."

"And if you were to institute a formal complaint on her behalf, would I be right in you feeling that your job might also be in jeopardy?"

"That possibility has occurred to me, yes."

"Or is it that the staff member in question is in fact you?"

"Was it that obvious?"

"'Fraid so."

"What am I going to do? I can't just do nothing."

"The major problem that we face is that, for now, it's your word against his. What you must do is to raise a file and in it document each and every instance of his inappropriate touching, where it happened, were there any witnesses, where on your body he touched you, was it on your shoulder, or somewhere more intimate? You must record, not actually make a recording although that would be better, each time you told him to stop. We can hope that he does not remember each individual incident, by the sounds of things he won't because he thinks it is acceptable behaviour. We have to be able to present such a large and detailed body of evidence that he won't be able to talk his way out of it. Do you think you can do that?"

She took a folder from her case and passed it to me. "I have made a start, have a look at what I have and tell me if I need to be more detailed in my report."

I skimmed through the file, she has done a good job with it. "This looks fine. Just one more thing, has he done this before, and if so, what happened to the girl concerned?"

"I've been told by one of the other women that this behaviour is not new, but the woman in question did not report the incidents to management and is no longer with the company."

"Do you think that she would support you, or provide us with more ammunition against him?"

"I can ask, but I've got to be careful that they do not suspect me of wanting to take action until I'm ready."

"You could pose it as a problem that I have given you as part of your studies. Look, I've finished for the day, would I be acting inappropriately if I walked out with you?"

"No, that would be fine, better than fine, as long as that's all it is."

"Scouts honour." I gave her something that would, at a pinch, pass as a Boy Scout's salute. She smiled, it was a nice smile.

We were walking though the car park when she grabbed my arm. "Fuck, he's here."

"Where?"

"Over there in the green Mazda."

I walked towards the car but before I reached it he had started the engine and accelerated away.

"Right, that's it. I'll contact University Security and have them look out for him in future."

"What can they do? This is a free country, and anyone can come onto University grounds whether they are a student or not."

"Not if they are making life impossible for a student."

"Please, don't do anything, please. Give me a little more time."

"I'll wait, but for how long I don't know. Your studies are suffering as a result of this, and if you leave it too long, your passing grades are in jeopardy."

"I know. I promise it won't be much longer."

I continued to walk her to her car.

Two months after we had our discussion Roslyn came to my office as I was marking papers. "Sam, I have lodged my complaint against him."

"How has he taken it?"

"Not well. He has threatened to tell the General Manager that I've been having sex with you to get good grades, and that I don't know enough to keep my position with the company. What am I going to do?"

"Has he put anything in writing?"

"I don't know."

"If you are called into the General Manager's office you are to demand to see his charges in writing. Explain that you will be seeking legal advice with the intention of charging the company with wrongful dismissal, if it comes to that, and him with libel. Ask them who it is that you are supposed to be having sex with, and tell them that if he has named me, I too will be charging him with libel."

I put my arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her to me. It was only intended to comfort her, but, as soon as I had done it, I realised that I had wanted to do this for some time. She turned to face me and pressed her head against my chest. That she did this instead of pulling away from me led me to believe that she had wanted the same thing. "We should not be doing this." I said softly.

"Why, don't you want to?"

"Well, yes I do. But face it, we can do nothing until we see what happens with your complaint. If he challenges you about us, you need to be able to say, under oath, that there is nothing going on between us. This is not a forever thing. I promise, as soon as the time is right."

The matter came to a head much sooner than either of us thought possible, and in the process I learnt more about the convoluted nature of her problem. Roslyn was unaware, at that time, of the relationship between this man and her father. Her father, Ryan McMasters, was the CEO and major shareholder of the company, and the man she accused of harassment was her boss, George Preston, the Human Resources Manager. And it got worse, not only was he considerably older than her, but he had been her father's Best Man at his wedding. The two had been friends for most of their lives.

Even after she found out about the relationship between the two men, Roslyn was not about to withdraw her complaint. Her father threatened her in order to force her to withdraw the complaint. She moved out of home into a small apartment. She became aware, almost immediately, that someone had her apartment under surveillance. She complained to the police. The surveillance ceased.

It was not long after that that she found that her apartment had been bugged. We decided against reporting that to the police, instead we used it to our advantage, allowing the listener to hear only what we wanted them, to hear. Our personal conversations were confined to my office at the Uni and the tute room. We figure that if they had bugged her apartment, they could just as easily keep track of her mobile phone, after all it was a present from Daddy when she first began working for him.

I had a mate from High School that had studied Law. Talk about falling on your feet. Not only did he graduate with honours, but he scored a job with one of the top Law Practices in the city. His father being the Senior Partner might have had something to do with it.

"Loz." Lawrence (Loz) Stimson was the third Stimson who had that particular name forced on him. "I have a favour to ask."

"Ask away." He was the only Lawyer I knew who was economical with words, and this in a profession that charged by the word.

"One of my students has lodged a complaint of Sexual Harassment against her boss. He and the company are fighting it, and they are fighting dirty. Can we come and speak with you? We need your legal advice."

"I was going to play golf this afternoon, but as it's persisting down, I think I'll give it a miss. If you can get her here around three, I'll make room for you."

"Can we expect mate's rates?"

"For you mate, it's a freebie, and I don't do that very often, so you can expect to owe me. Two can play that game. In my opinion, the reason that they are fighting dirty is in the hope that you will go away. That way it's not going to cost them the arm and two legs that it is now going to cost them. We, that's you and Roslyn here and yours truly, are going to counter sue, and we are going to start at the top. We will sue the company for not acting on a legitimate complaint of sexual harassment by one of their employees, as well as a further against the employee himself. My guess is that they will ask for mediation in the hope that they can convince us that we have no legal grounds for our suit. This is when we hit them with our compelling evidence, which I sincerely hope that we have, of the actions of the employee, and the report to your boss."

"We have all of that."

"Great, leave it with me and I'll look through it and get back to you before we take this any further."

My phone rang just as I was leaving for work. It was Loz. "Good, I caught you. First question, are you slipping it to Roslyn?"

"No."

"I find that hard to believe, the Sam of old would be up her like a rat up a drain."

"When I said no, I meant not at this point in time. That doesn't mean that when this is all over a certain rat will be up a certain drain, if you get my drift."

"That's okay then, it means that you haven't lost your touch or decided to go over to the other side."

"You'd better wash your mouth out for saying such a thing. Now, what were you really ringing me about?"

"I've had a look at the stuff you gave me last night, and they do not have a leg on which to stand. As soon as I get to work we begin on the process of shafting these sleaze bags. Stand by for the fireworks."

Fireworks of a different kind lobbed in my office late in the afternoon, in the form of a summons to appear before the Vice-Chancellor.