CODED BETRAYAL

Chapter 3: The Record That Was Missing

Julian arrived at work the next morning with little sleep and a bad temper. He had bills waiting at home, yet he was spending his time chasing records from a business that had already failed. He knew how that sounded. He still couldn’t let it go.

During the morning break, he found Mr Bako near the loading bay, arguing with a driver over a missing signature.

“You need to check that before you send him away,” Julian said.

Bako’s disapproval showed in his face. Seizing the moment, the driver turned and hurried off.

“You’ve got advice for everybody now?”

“I need to ask you something.”

“That’s convenient.”

Julian let the remark pass. “I need access to some old dispatch records.”

Bako checked the entrance. “For what?”

“My old business used this warehouse. Some deliveries were recorded as missing, even when the drivers said they had delivered them.”

“And you waited until now?”

“I tried dealing with it before the business closed.”

“Tried how?”

Julian struggled to keep his temper in check. He had made mistakes back then. He had trusted the wrong people and accused others without checking his facts. He wasn’t going to explain his whole failure beside the loading bay.

“The date on a bank restriction matches the period when the deliveries started going wrong,” he said. “I want to check the records.”

Bako looked at him more closely. “You think someone here tampered with your bank account?”

“I said I want to check, not that I know who did it.”

“You should take this matter to your bank.”

“I have.”

“Then let them handle it.”

“Can I see the archived dispatch book?”

“No.”

Julian waited for him to explain. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“I don’t need to. Those records are for company business. You’re here as a worker, not a customer.”

“I’m not asking to take anything.”

“And I’m not giving you access. I have enough problems without digging through old paperwork for you.”

Bako walked away.

Julian wanted to follow him, but the last thing he needed was another argument that would get him called into the office. People had stopped taking him seriously before, partly because he kept pushing after they had made their position clear.

At lunch, Daniel called.

“Have you sent the application?”

“Not yet.”

“You said you would do it last night.”

“Something came up.”

“Julian, it’s a form. What could have come up?”

He almost told Daniel about Bako, but he could already hear the questions. Instead, he said, “I’m looking into the old delivery records.”

Daniel gave a short laugh without humour. “Of course you are.”

“Don’t start.”

“I haven’t started. I’m asking when you plan to do something for yourself.”

“I am doing something.”

“You’re chasing people who probably want you to leave them alone. Meanwhile, I’m the one you call when you need money.”

Julian went quiet. He still owed Daniel part of what he had borrowed, and Daniel had stopped pretending it didn’t bother him.

“I said I’ll finish the application tonight.”

“You also said you’d pay me back last month.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“You say that like it puts money in my account.”

Julian had no good answer. The line went dead before he could think of one.

Later that afternoon, Julian passed the staff noticeboard while collecting a trolley. A printed notice announced an internal audit of old operational records. Dispatch was listed among the departments involved, and supervisors had been told to preserve documents that might be needed.

He went over the details again before taking a photo.

At the bottom, a handwritten note directed questions about archived records to the records officer. The name was clear, but the last digit of the extension number had been smudged.

He was saving the picture when a young store clerk came up carrying empty folders.

“Why are you taking pictures of that?”

Julian turned his phone around. “It’s a notice.”

“I can see that. Why take a picture?”

“So I don’t have to come back and read it again.”

The clerk hesitated before answering. “You should ask the office if you need something.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“They said no.”

The clerk shifted the folders against his chest. “Then you know what they think about it.”

He walked away before Julian could ask what he meant.

Julian wanted to ask him something else, but he changed his mind. He had already spent too much of his life turning suspicion into certainty. The clerk might have been nosy, or he might have heard something. Julian had no way to tell.

After his shift, Julian changed his shoes and checked the picture again. He would find the correct extension number in the morning.

His phone vibrated as he approached the gate.

The message came from an unknown number.

“Stop asking about the old dispatch records.”

Julian read it, then called back. It rang once before going to voicemail.

He looked towards the warehouse entrance. Bako hadn’t been alone when they spoke. Drivers and workers had passed them, and any one of them could have heard the conversation.

He saved the message. His first thought was to go back inside and confront Bako, but he could already imagine how that would end: Julian shouting, Bako denying everything, and the whole place deciding Julian was trouble again.

He walked out through the gate.

Daniel’s words returned to him, and this time they annoyed him because they were partly right. He was putting his future on hold for a past he still couldn’t explain. But whoever had sent that message had given him a reason not to walk away.

He hadn’t even spoken to the records officer yet, so how had the warning arrived?