Matt: A Matt Godfrey Short thriller Trilogy Page 10

  He booked a transit flight to Athens, Greece via Doha, the capital of Qatar. The flight would leave the next day around one p.m. It would take about an hour to get to Doha, and from there, he would fly to Athens at two p.m. There, he would be just a drop in a vast sea.

  He carefully placed all his new documents in the pocket of his suit coat, then went to check on Daisy again. She was still fast asleep and was securely tied up, with her mouth taped, and she would be unable to make any noise if she did come to. He then grabbed his car keys and moved on to Stage Two of his plan. His previous three crimes had caused a stir in Dubai, but what he was about to do would cause mayhem in the city.

  After visiting three local pharmacies, he returned with sixteen packs of Dormalin, a benzodiazepine derivative used to treat insomnia. It would impair the motor functions by inducing a hypnotic state, and it had anticonvulsant properties. Matt also purchased twelve packs of Unisom, an antihistamine that helped to induce sleep. Finally, he purchased twenty packs of Doxylamine another antihistamine that would induce sleep. All of the drugs were over-the-counter, so he had no need for a prescription, and a quick calculation in his head told him he had more than enough grams and milligrams of each medicine. As for the rest of the supplies, he already had those on hand at home. Back at his flat, he emptied all the tablets into a bowl, and he added eight packs of Valium. With pen and paper and the help of the calculator on his phone, he determined that the amount of medication he had could be diluted with 1,000 liters of liquid and still work as a sedative for an average adult.

  He carefully ground them into a powder and mixed them all together, then placed them in a coffee mug. By the following day, his formula would be inside 278 cases of cola, exactly 6,666 cans, thanks to the manufacturing lines in the factory at his beloved company. “This will be my masterpiece,” he said as he placed the cup next to his jacket, but he knew it was too early to celebrate. First, he had to deal with Daisy.

  He sat on the chair next to the bed and dozed off for a while until Daisy stirred and woke him. As soon as she grasped reality, she tried to scream, but it was no use beneath the duct tape. She looked at him helplessly, with the look of a woman betrayed, and her tears flowed nonstop.

  Matt moved close to her and tried to calm her down. “I hate to see you cry, Daisy,” he said. “Don’t worry, baby. You aren’t going to die.”

  His words did nothing to comfort her; in fact, she only cried louder.

  He ignored her sobs and sniffles and continued talking. “I set your phone on a timer to call the police at precisely ten thirty tomorrow night. I already recorded a message for them.”

  She looked at him, wide-eyed, then shook her head and glanced down at the floor.

  “I really do love you, Daisy,” he said. “It was just my bad luck—or maybe yours—that you found my pins when you finally decided to come back to me.”

  Daisy suddenly stopped crying, cracked a smile, and laughed.

  Confused by her reaction, Matt carefully removed the tape. “What is so funny?” he asked.

  “You!” she snapped. “I wasn’t coming back to you. I only came here to search for my missing earrings. No matter what you do to me, Alex, I think I’m damn lucky I found the pins. At least now I know what you really are, and I didn’t get fooled into spending the rest of my life with a monster!”

  Matt carefully covered her mouth again. He took her hair in his fingers and played with it for a moment, then grabbed it forcefully. His eyes were suddenly red as fire, full of hate. With his inner demons in absolute control, he moved to the wardrobe, took the can of pins out, and selected the letter A. Without another word, he smiled at Daisy, then stabbed it deep into her chest.

  Again she screamed, but not a soul would hear her.

  “As I said, it will not kill you,” he said, “but you will be yet another piece of the puzzle.”

  * * *

  At seven the next morning, after a cool shower and forcing Daisy to drink some orange juice and a piece of cheese toast, Matt put on his jacket, picked up his mug, and left for work. He said nothing more to Daisy on his way out the door. She would not have to worry about showing up at work, since an email had been sent, presumably by her, to report that she was quite ill; oh, how Matt loved technology and the ease with which it could manipulate life.

  Matt arrived at work by eight. He sat down with Omar and only touched upon the topic of his personal issues with Daisy. “We patched things up, and I think we’ll be fine, but she wants to rest today.” After that, he moved on to more serious business talk, like finalizing the weekly agenda with Omar and the marketing plans for Ramadan.

  Ramadan was a holy month for Muslims, and they were expected to fast from sunrise to sunset. They typically gathered during Iftar, at sunset, to break their fast with a celebratory feast. For the food and beverage industry, the religious month represented their biggest period of sales, but it was certainly a lot of work for the marketing and advertising departments.

  Matt went over the details, and Omar was as responsive as usual. In another world, another time, Matt would have loved for Omar to work for him, perhaps in a company of his own. Little did Omar or anyone else know that Matt was going to leave them at their busiest time, just another worry that would be added to the big problems Dubai was going to be facing.

  Matt later went to Marcus’s office to have a chat with him.

  Marcus looked up from a newspaper. “This Pinner is a psycho,” he said, shaking his head. “They just found out those parts sent to the newspapers belonged to animals, not humans. The whole world’s going crazy.”

  If you only knew how right you are, Matt thought with a smile on his face. He finished his cup of coffee then stood. “Nothing like a stroll in the factory to ease a troubled mind,” he said.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” Marcus said. “We’ll talk more later.”

  Matt hurried back to his office, grabbed his mug, and made his way to the factory, eager to put his plan in motion.

  For the past few months, Matt had been getting to know the plant manager, mixing staff, and security personnel. It was no coincidence that they had all become friends; the very first moment Matt had laid eyes on the mixing station, he had known his finale, his swan song, would take place there. His close acquaintance and the trust he had earned was entirely instrumental and integral to the success of his evil plans.

  While some would guess that the process of packaging beverages might be complicated, it was actually quite easy. The mixing station mixed the raw materials together, and that mixture quickly passed through pipes to the filling stations to be poured into the bottles or cans. All of this was done automatically by machines, without the need for human intervention or labor. The line was currently pouring beverages into 150ml cans.

  “When will the next batch be ready?” Matt asked Adil, the mixing manager.

  “We’ll start prepping another batch in about forty-five minutes,” Adil answered.

  During the weeks of working in the company, Matt had learned that the general ingredients for most carbonated soft drinks included sugar, flavors, citric acid, coloring, and, of course, water. About 2kg of cola flavor was enough for 1,000 liters of finished product. The main ingredient was sugar, around 110kg per 1,000 liters, which made it bad for the waistline as well as the teeth. Of course, Matt’s batch would be bad in a whole other kind of way for the thirsty and unsuspecting citizens of Dubai. They usually mixed the sugar with hot water in a separate mixer to create a syrup. When the syrup was ready, it was added to the mixing tank next to it. There, it would be mixed for ten minutes, and the whole batch would be passed on to the fillers.

  The chemical preparation Matt had brought would be carefully added to the sugar in the small mixer, a secret ingredient, since only one person was responsible for overseeing that part of the process and often left the station for a while once the sugar was added.

  While the attendant was gone for only a few minutes, his absence afford Matt plenty o
f time to add thirty grams of his special recipe. It seemed a small quantity, but the effect would be powerful. The finished product would be consumed within three to four days, according to company sales statistics involving supply and demand, and chaos would run rampant. The pin bearing an M would later be discovered by the police; by then, their collection would include nine letters of the alphabet.

  Matt left the factory and was in Athens by seven p.m. Dubai time. Qatar Airways was always on time, and he enjoyed the hospitality of the business class. After months of ups and downs, constant and drastic changes in his state of mind, he believed he deserved some rest, and the comfortable flight gave him just that. I’m famous now, he thought, a VIP, and he felt that warranted some rest and relaxation.

  At 10:45 p.m., prompted by the automatic phone call and Matt’s prerecorded message, police raided Matt’s flat and rescued Daisy. The hunt for Alex Mathews began shortly after that, and it was a global undertaking.

  Salzburg, Austria

  Interpol was ready to make the arrest, and a team of twelve had been stationed outside the suspect’s home for the past six hours. Alex Mathews, or Peter Thon, as his identification dubbed him currently, had not left his home all day. It was a small, lovely place made completely of wood, situated on the outskirts of Salzburg, Austria. The three-bedroom home belonged to Maria Weissmann, Peter Thon’s mother, who had passed away in 1997. The house was located on a small hill, nestled amidst one of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. The closest neighbor was a five-minute drive away, down a small, curvy road.

  People had rarely seen Peter, and the last photo anyone had was from when he was a teenager. He did not go to college, so there were no records on him at all after high school, until an eye scan at taken at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam two days previously matched that of one taken in Dubai by Alex Mathews the previous December. The authorities managed to trace him back to his home in Salzburg within a day. Records showed that he spent only five hours in Amsterdam, to visit a company that specialized in software technology. He picked up a parcel and returned back to Salzburg the same day. Two Interpol agents took the same flight but did not make an arrest, for they thought it would be better to catch him on his own turf, his home base, where they might find more evidence and information.

  It had been over a month since Alex had left Dubai, and his last known location was Athens. It was now known that he had killed three people directly and caused the death of another fifteen by the cola poisoning, so the search for him was worldwide. The Dubai police interviewed everyone who knew him, including Marcus and Omar, Ghafoor the doorman, and Daisy, as well as those who worked at the restaurants and cafés and hookah bars he liked to frequent.

  As a result of the cola poisoning, the factory was closed for a week, causing over a million dollars in losses for the company. Every employee was interviewed, and all of them said they never would have suspected Alex of a thing. They were all shocked by the allegations and couldn’t imagine that the friendly, hardworking man with a smile always etched on his face was really a sick, coldblooded murderer. His apartment was searched and fingerprints were taken, but none of them matched anything on record with the crime-fighting authorities of the world. If it wasn’t for the eye scan he had taken when he’d first arrived in Dubai, there would have been no way for them to make the connection or track him down. Now that they knew who he was, it was time for The Pinner to be brought to justice.

  Everyone in the UAE suffered from Matt’s evil doings, either directly or indirectly. Strange cases of drowsiness and sudden onsets of sleep hit the nation. Hospitals were swarmed, and police received call after call. As the days went on, more and more cases piled up.

  The worst case was that of an Afghani truck driver who stopped at a local gas station for fill-up and a cold, refreshing drink. Five minutes after consuming a can of his favorite cola, he was back on the road. He dozed off while driving, lost control of his big rig, crossed the center line, and hit a smaller van head-on. The trucker and all eight passengers of the van were killed instantly, staining the asphalt with blood, another horrible legacy left by The Pinner.

  Allergic reactions to some of the substances resulted in another five deaths. Hospitals reported over 345 cases of poisoning and sickness, and a few pregnant women lost their babies. Several expectant mothers were admitted to the overflowing hospitals for observation after complaining of odd symptoms. In addition, at least fourteen more car accidents reported, due to drivers losing consciousness, but the injuries were minor, mostly concussions, small lacerations, and bruises.

  It took over forty-eight hours for the situation to calm down. In response to all the mayhem, the authorities declared a nationwide ban on all soft drinks until further notice. Within a day, they found the M pin next to the mixer at Matt’s company. As soon as they realized the homicidal maniac known as The Pinner was probably involved, the authorities took strict precautions to ensure the safety of the citizens of Dubai and the UAE in general. They destroyed and disposed of every soft drink, promising the manufacturers that they would be compensated once the dust settled and the crime was solved. Eventually, they managed to locate the remnants of the infected batch, 3780 cans that had not yet been consumed. The papers made reference to “Mayhem in the UAE,” and the headlines could not have been more accurate. They were the worst days ever experienced by the nation, and the country mourned for days.

  Once breaking news hit that The Pinner had been caught in Austria, celebrations took place, and fireworks filled the skies. Unfortunately, just two hours later, those elated cries of victory changed to wails of frustration and defeat, for it was not Alex, and The Pinner was still loose.

  Epilogue

  On a white, sandy beach, basking in the beautiful sunlight, he enjoyed another cold mojito. Contrary to everyone else’s taste, he preferred to add salt rather than sugar, as he enjoyed the extra kick. He watched as happy tourists frolicked in the water and giggling children built sandcastles. The sun glistened off the tan skin of women who were sunbathing in skimpy swimsuits, only adding to the beautiful serenity of his surroundings all over. He laughed, imagining the shocked look that must have been etched on Peter’s face when the police raided his home. It was pure luck that put Peter in Matt’s plan.

  Two months before visiting Dubai, Matt attended a Black Hat Briefings security conference in Vegas. There, they reviewed findings published by academics who had been researching the ability to re-create accurate iris images that matched those of real people. The process worked perfectly and had no problem tricking all commercial iris recognition systems and scanners.

  Matt was very interested in protecting himself, and he knew the newest technology was the best way to get ahead of the rest. Fingerprinting was history; besides, Hunterman had carefully destroyed his original fingerprints, so that would not be a problem for him anyway. He also knew that fingerprinting systems only measured about 20 to 40 points for matching, while iris recognition systems measured about 240. The iris scans offered far better accuracy, and they were nearly impossible to override.

  As such, the conference was of great value to Matt. He listened carefully as four knowledgeable speakers discussed the issue. The studies were mainly conducted by researchers at West Virginia University and Universidad Autonoma de Madrid. Another conference was scheduled to be held in Spain three weeks later, and Matt planned to go. He also wanted to get his hands on an iris-scanner so he could try to use special software to engineer iris codes that would replicate that of an actual human being.

  It took him only two weeks of deep research to track down such a device. It was as small as the cameras used by spies in the movies, and he carried it on a keychain. During the conference in Spain, he was seated next to a man in his thirties. The man had about the same build as Matt, and he had a similar facial appearance as well.

  They both listened carefully to the speakers, jotting down notes. After several attempts to make conversation, the man introduced himself as Peter a
nd indulged Matt with a bit of a discussion. It was evident that Peter was passionate about learning about advanced security, but Matt also learned that he was Austrian, single, and made his money working online. “This is only the second time I’ve been away from Salzburg,” Peter divulge. “I don’t even really know why I’m here, as I’ve never had an eye scan in my life.”

  At that point, Matt knew he had found his target. He took out his small scanner and said, “You should try this thing out then,” Matt said, smiling and hoping Peter would take the bait.

  Peter took it as a joke and complied. Little did he know that the iris scan he had done that day with the nearly microscopic device would lead police to his door on a global manhunt for a murderer.

  Throughout the course of the day, Matt continued to talk to Peter, gleaning what information he could. “If you give me your email address,” he said, “I’ll send you copies of any new studies I find. I’m always researching this stuff.”

  Again, the unsuspecting Peter took the bait and quickly handed his email address over.

  Subsequently, the only email Matt sent to Peter contained a copy of a return ticket to Amsterdam and the address of a company where Peter would supposedly receive a new device related to eye technology. In that email, it was mentioned that it would all be paid for by Alex Mathews, the new friend he’d met in Madrid.

  * * *

  Now, Matt was sitting in his favorite spot, on the white, sandy beaches of North Frigate Bay on St. Kittis. He was proud of himself for a job well done. Besides the Canadian passport, he also had one from the Dominican Republic, a gift in return for a small donation he’d made to the government and a month of routine procedures. He used that passport to get to St. Kitts. There, he applied for another passport, with a heftier investment in the sugar-processing sector. St. Kittis was one of the few countries in the world, where you could easily obtain a passport by investment. Now, it was impossible for anyone to trace him. He had prepared his exit strategy from Dubai perfectly, even prior to his arrival there.