Dusk was bordering on darkness as the train
sped through the countryside. For some reason the eerie evening light brought
witches and ghouls to Carter’s mind. He could almost see them hubbling, bubbling,toiling
and troubling in the shadows; weaving their magic and making their mischief.
Carter clung hold of the memory stick in his hand. He looked at the other
people in the carriage searching for his partner in crime. All he knew was he was looking for a woman, early
thirties, and ash-brown hair. But he didn’t really know what ash-brown hair was
and early thirties well it could be anyone. He went back to looking out of the
window. trying to ignore the cackling witches on the next table. Were they
laughing at him?
The contents of the stick in his hand would probably lead to him losing his job and to everyone he worked with losing theirs too. Some deserved it, some didn’t. He’d been over it time and time again in his mind. What was morally right to do, would be economically disastrous for himself and his friends. But could he stand by and watch while his company used bribes, facilitation payments and slave labour to build the fortune of the few at the top?
He’d seen it with his own eyes, seen the conditions those people worked in and he could not get that image out of his mind. He'd watched as his boss handed over a large chunk of cash to the owner of the factory to make sure “issues” were dealt with swiftly. This almost certainly meant any trouble maker being made incapable of causing trouble ever again. But the straw that had broken the camel back was when the factory owner picked two girls off the shop floor and offered them to Carter and his boss. Carter could see the girls were barely legal and were scared stupid, He'd shaken his head and refused the offer, willing to upset his host to preserve his own dignity and the women's peace of mind. Carter had expected his boss to do the same. But the boss had called Carter a poof and arranged for both the girls hto be waiting for him in the hotel later that day.
So Carter had collected evidence, contacted the press, thought it over in his mind time and time again, and now was about to blow the whistle.
A movement tore him away from the window. He looked back into the carriage. There was a woman making her way up the aisle. She had what he would call red hair but what could pass as ash-brown. She looked younger than mid thirties but he just knew it was her. She smiled at him, a smile that lit up her eyes. Then she lurched forward as if the train had made her lose her footing. She'd grabbed his arm to steady herself and then stood up straight, brushed herself off, thanked a startled Carter and disappeared taking the memory stick and Carter's future with her.
The contents of the stick in his hand would probably lead to him losing his job and to everyone he worked with losing theirs too. Some deserved it, some didn’t. He’d been over it time and time again in his mind. What was morally right to do, would be economically disastrous for himself and his friends. But could he stand by and watch while his company used bribes, facilitation payments and slave labour to build the fortune of the few at the top?
He’d seen it with his own eyes, seen the conditions those people worked in and he could not get that image out of his mind. He'd watched as his boss handed over a large chunk of cash to the owner of the factory to make sure “issues” were dealt with swiftly. This almost certainly meant any trouble maker being made incapable of causing trouble ever again. But the straw that had broken the camel back was when the factory owner picked two girls off the shop floor and offered them to Carter and his boss. Carter could see the girls were barely legal and were scared stupid, He'd shaken his head and refused the offer, willing to upset his host to preserve his own dignity and the women's peace of mind. Carter had expected his boss to do the same. But the boss had called Carter a poof and arranged for both the girls hto be waiting for him in the hotel later that day.
So Carter had collected evidence, contacted the press, thought it over in his mind time and time again, and now was about to blow the whistle.
A movement tore him away from the window. He looked back into the carriage. There was a woman making her way up the aisle. She had what he would call red hair but what could pass as ash-brown. She looked younger than mid thirties but he just knew it was her. She smiled at him, a smile that lit up her eyes. Then she lurched forward as if the train had made her lose her footing. She'd grabbed his arm to steady herself and then stood up straight, brushed herself off, thanked a startled Carter and disappeared taking the memory stick and Carter's future with her.
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