e Squared (44 page)

 

from Hodder is on flight. He's wearing dark glasses and beret, so hard to tell. Suspect publishers might be on this one like flies round cow poo. Will proceed with speed. And caution. But mostly speed.

 

From:
Liam O'Keefe

To: David Crutton

Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.13

Subject: It's tatty-bye time

 

I've always liked you, David. When you were being your most despotic back in our Miller Shanks days, I couldn't help harboring a soft spot. You used to lose it with such élan. And even when you were firing people like you were going postal in your old school canteen, at least you were making us laugh. At you, if not with you, but any laugh is better than none, innit, bro?

 

And you never took bullshit. In a business that's built on Himalayan heaps of the stuff, that is to be admired. So you'll surely thank me for not bullshitting you now.

 

You're a fucking idiot.

 

I mean, only a numpty could think even for a nanosecond that Neil Godley is a thief. This is the man who can't take a copy of the free paper on the tube because it “feels like stealing.” Do you genuinely think he's capable of making a concerted effort to heist an entire office?

 

Honestly, do you?

 

Well, obviously you do, because the poor guy is on remand.

 

Phone the cops and tell them you've got it horribly wrong. Then compensate him with a big fat check made out to his favorite charity because he's Christian like that—a better man, in fact, than you or I will ever be.

 

You'll find the stuff from your office in a white Transit parked outside Unit 17 on the Compass West Industrial Estate in Tottenham. You'll have to move fast because the thieves round there don't waste time. God knows what they'll make of your Damien Hirst. That'll go straight in a skip.

 

Yes, it was me, in case you haven't figured it out already. And I did it alone. Godley was not Sundance to my Butch. That's just too fucking ridiculous.

 

Well done on the GIT meeting. Tell Zlatan not to fuck up the art direction on my posters. He may be handy in a life-or-death situation, but his typography sucks.

 

It was good working with you, David. Once was a revelation, twice was a treat. But please do the right thing with Godley.

 

Best wishes (and I really mean that),

PS: I heard about the tattoo. Are you sure? Is it really you?

 

PPS: Also heard the gay rumor. If it's true, respect, dude. It takes a proper man to face up to himself.

 

PPPS: If it's not, you might want to kick some arse. Suspect it started where most rumors do.

 

PPPPS: Most rumors start with Milton Keane. Sorry, but after the Godley-is-a-thief fiasco, I feel I have to spell things out.

 

From:
Liam O'Keefe

To: Bill Geddes

Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.24

Subject: Re: The day that keeps on giving

 

Yo, Bill. Sounds like an exciting meeting. Brilliant. Well done and everything.

 

You want me to restore some perspective though? Is that honestly what you're after? OK, I'll give it a go.

 

It's all bollocks. These precious moments of triumph we award ourselves, utter bollocks; self-serving sop to get us through a working day that would otherwise be futile drudgery. Face it, our lives are without merit. We just take from the world and give nothing back. We are leeches. That we read the Guardian and are appalled when something barbaric goes off in Gaza or the Congo, and that we choose dolphin-safe tuna and buy Fair Trade at Starbucks doesn't mean a fucking thing. In fact, it makes us worse than the leeches that truly don't give a fuck. At least they're honest. We, on the other hand, are fraudulent hypocrites. We believe we can fool ourselves with the same lies we feed the world in our advertisements.

 

Ah yes, those ads—you know, the ones we sweat over, argue about and fight for as if they actually matter. Well, they do matter. In a bad way. They make us the standard bearers for the cunts that are raping every living, breathing thing on the planet.

 

We are their bitches.

 

Got some perspective now? I know I have.

 

It was nice knowing you.

 

From:
Liam O'Keefe

To: Brett Topolski

Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.29

Subject: Re: All right, all right, I'll tell you

 

Tell Vince congratulations. I'm made up for him. True Love is All and when it comes along you have to cherish it—no matter where you find it. I wish him and his Princess Jasmine all the luck in the world. Seems they'll need it, given that Allah stands between them like a psychotically angry Care Bear.

 

Popping out now. Might be some time.

PS: I love you.

 

PPS: Like a mate, that is.

 

From:
Liam O'Keefe

To: Lorraine Pallister

Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.33

Subject: Re: You're still a twat, but ...

 

I'm sorry about the Turks. I didn't tell them about you. They must have found something of yours when they went around the flat. You're right, they don't want to buy me a drink. They want to fuck me right up.

 

But I think I'll save them the bother.

 

I'm sorry, Lorraine. I know I've said it a million times before, but this is the last time. I'm sorry for everything. For wasting the last eight years of your life. Worse than that, for giving you nothing but grief when you deserve so much better.

 

Someday you'll meet a guy who'll treat you with the love and respect you're long overdue. And if he doesn't, one day he'll have me to answer to.

 

I never stopped loving you. I've told you countless lies, but you know that's the truth, don't you?

 

Sorry for bothering you. It won't happen again. You can get back to work now.

 

From:
Liam O'Keefe

To: Harvey Harvey

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.02

Subject: Soon come, mate

 

Played one last game of Super PONG in your honour. New high score. I credited it to you. Just going to make a commemorative pyre of your Dr. Who DVDs and then I'll be joining you.

 

Stick the kettle on.

 

From:
Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier

To: Dotty Podidra

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.03

Subject: Milt

 

He's back. Think we might have to do suicide watch again. Come and see me.

 

From:
David Crutton

To: Róisín O'Hooligan

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.04

Subject: Job

 

If Slobodan and his mates are loafing down there, I have an errand for them. There's a white Ford Transit parked outside Unit 17 on the Compass West Industrial Estate in Tottenham. Tell them to go and collect it. It contains my office furniture.

 

From:
David Crutton

To: Sally Wilton

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.07

Subject: Godley

 

I think you called this one wrong. I've just had a confession from Liam O'Keefe. You'd better come up for a chat. By the way, I don't imagine you'll be Godley's favorite person when he gets out, so I suggest you talk to a lawyer. I'll do my best to cover for you in the all-staffer.

 

From:
David Crutton

To: All Staff

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.10

Subject: Office thief

 

I'm delighted to announce that Sally Wilton's ingenious diversionary tactic of having Neil Godley arrested for the recent rash of office thefts has paid off handsomely. She has succeeded in flushing out the real culprit, who when challenged with the overwhelming case against him, had no option but to admit his guilt.

 

I am referring to Liam O'Keefe. He was always my prime suspect—I simply lacked the evidence. Anyone with knowledge of his whereabouts should contact me immediately. Failure to do so will lead to charges of aiding a criminal.

 

In the meantime, do make sure to congratulate Sally on the brilliant success of her crime-busting initiative.

 

From:
David Crutton

To: Dotty Podidra

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.12

Subject: Milton Keane

 

Tell your homosexual friend to come and see me immediately. I have gossip to discuss with him.

 

From:
Lorraine Pallister

To: Liam O'Keefe

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.17

Subject: Re: You're still a twat, but ...

 

Just got out of a meeting and read your e. You're not going to do something stupid, are you? Reply immediately.

 

From:
Bill Geddes

To: Liam O'Keefe

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.18

Subject: Re: The day that keeps on giving

 

When did you get so righteous and maudlin? And what do you mean, “It was nice knowing you?” Where are you going? DC just sent an all-staffer saying you confessed to the thefts. Is that why you're off? Can't we have a leaving do? In secret, obviously.

 

From:
Brett Topolski

To: Liam O'Keefe

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.19

Subject: Re: All right, all right, I'll tell you

 

Your advice stinks. It's all well and good for you to sit there 3,396 miles away (I Googled it. Again) and talk of “True Love,” but I'm dealing with fucking reality here. And the fucking reality is that our mutual friend is drawing a metaphorical dotted line around his neck complete with helpful “cut here” instructions.

 

And what do you mean, you “might be some time?” Have you resigned or something? That'll pay off your debts, won't it?

 

Don't reply unless you've got something useful to say. Or something genuinely funny. Romeo is writing sonnets now. The very idea should be hilarious, and normally it would be, but I'm completely drained of my sense of humor.

 

From:
Bill Geddes

To: Kazu Makino

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.21

Subject: Well??

 

Have you seen the Prez yet? I know I'm a complete arsehole and you're not talking to me, but you've got to let me know.

 

By the way, if you never talk to me again, I'll never be able to tell you the full story of the GIT meeting. It was well beyond amazing.

 

From:
Janice Crutton

To: David Crutton

Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.29

Subject: Noah

 

Have you found our son yet?

 

Sent from my BlackBerry

 

From:
David Crutton