Eye for an Eye Read Online Free PDF

declined, so the investors’
funds had dwindled. It was the kind of thing one had to expect when
dealing in a speculative arena such as the share market. He spread
his hands and smiled sincerely. There was nothing more that he
could have done.
    The reporter
asked about his sudden departure from the country. A family event
in Canada, said Mr. Symons smoothly, followed by an extended
holiday. And the luxury yacht, asked the reporter, was it paid for
out of investors’ money? Mr. Symons appeared shocked by the
question, and hastened to dispel any suggestion that he was the
owner of the yacht or indeed had any funds at his disposal at all.
The interview was taking place on board solely through the kindness
of its owner who had no financial connection with Golden Fleece
investments whatsoever.
    At this point
Robyn came to her senses and flicked on the DVD recorder, watching
the last of the interview with mounting outrage. The list of
defrauded clients went on and on, including pensioners who had lost
their life savings, unemployed workers who had handed over their
redundancy payments and were left with nothing, and a family who
had a sick child needing costly overseas treatment. All of them had
been left penniless, devastated and powerless. The interviewer’s
grim conclusion was that legally, nothing could be done about
it.
    As the credits
rolled, she reached for the phone and dialled Pete’s number with
shaking fingers. It rang for what seemed like an eternity, while
she breathed deeply and forced herself to stay calm. At last Pete
answered, sounding breathless.
    ‘Hello? Sorry
about the wait.’
    ‘Pete, did you
see that? On TV - Colwyn Symons was just interviewed. That freaking
bastard was there on TV, Pete, he went to Canada with all the damn
money.’
    ‘You’re joking!
No I didn’t see it, I was out in the shed fixing the tractor. So
how do you know he’s got the money?’
    ‘Because he’s
got a huge fancy yacht and poncy designer clothes and he’s living
it up in Toronto - and according to the reporter, he’s bloody got
away with it! They can’t touch him, there’s no hard evidence of
fraud, and the cops can’t do a damn thing. He’s ripped off dozens
of people, not just us, and most of them are left with absolutely
nothing. Doesn’t it make you bloody sick?’
    Pete was
silent.
    ‘Pete? You
still there? Say something, dammit!’
    There’s nothing
to say, Rob. OK, he’s a smart bastard, but if the cops can’t touch
him, there’s not a hell of a lot anyone can do about it, is
there?’
    ‘There bloody
is if I go over there. I’ll bloody kill him, I swear it.’ She clung
to the phone till her knuckles turned white. ‘I’ll go over there
and find him and turn him inside out through his own bloody
arsehole! Someone has to get him back for the money he stole. He
can’t get away with it, it’s just not FAIR!’
    ‘Robyn! For
God’s sake calm down! Look, be sensible, will you? You can’t go
tearing off to Canada.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘You’d lose
your job.’
    ‘I’ll take
unpaid leave.’
    ‘You haven’t
got a passport.’
    ‘I’ll get
one.’
    ‘You can’t
afford it.’
    ‘I’ve got ten
thousand dollars, remember?’
    ‘Robyn, you
can’t! Dad died to give you that money.’
    She gasped as
if he’d slapped her. ‘Christ, that was a low blow. OK, fine. Just
you watch the late news tonight so you see why I have to do this.
I’ll call you tomorrow.’
    She slammed
down the phone and stormed outside to take a walk.
    Loud music was
playing from her next-door-neighbour’s house as she crossed her
garden. She wheeled in fury and screamed at the open window.
    ‘And you can
turn that bloody noise down too, you selfish bugger!’
    The music
volume dropped abruptly as she strode away.
    When she
finally returned home, much later, there was a message from Pete on
her answer-phone.
    ‘Rob? Caught
the late news. I see what you mean. That Symons character was way
worse than I thought. For