by Ted Denton
Gesturing behind them to the generous picnic spread which adorned the table cloth stretched over the carpet he mumbled aloud, ‘I was going to take you to a restaurant but…’
‘Daniel, you did all this just for me? It’s wonderful. I can’t believe it.’
‘Oh, it’s no problem. Really. I just figured it might be fun. I hope you brought your appetite,’ he said, fumbling to open a cold bottle of champagne from the bucket and fill two glasses, spilling half of the spurting bubbles and losing the cork somewhere behind an arm chair in the process.
They toasted each other, ‘To new friends,’ and stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the view.
‘You are so lucky to be staying here, Daniel’ said Matilda looking carefully around. ‘You realise I have to share a room with some old dragon in a cheap downtown apartment. Michael prefers to sleep in the truck.’ Daniel wondered if the old dragon might be the efficient, line-faced matron he has seen registering players on the first day. He couldn’t help but envy her being able to share a room with the sumptuous woman standing in front of him.
‘I know. I can’t believe it myself. I think I could just about get used to living the life of a golf agent.’
‘Don’t you fucking change on me though,’ said Matilda, fiercely placing her hand on Daniel’s shoulder. ‘There are enough assholes around here already.’ The Swedish accent was coming through stronger again.
‘Who do you mean exactly? Although I think I’ve already met a few to be honest,’ replied Daniel, draining his glass and then refilling Matilda’s.
‘Well, some of the caddies you already know I believe? Your new drinking buddies? They give me the creeps, always hanging around, staring, whispering, making lewd remarks. It can be a bit menacing really sometimes. Most of the agents are just slimeballs, always making innuendoes with me and ordering Michael around.’
‘No one ever takes your fancy then?’ asked Daniel.
Matilda giggled and playfully punched him on the leg. ‘Well a girl’s got to have some fun, right? I’ve been on a few dates, got to know a few of the agents out here. But they are all so boring. I went out with one guy in particular, Ollie. His daddy started the company managing sports stars years ago and now Ollie runs around on Tour sucking up to the players and pretending he’s very important to everyone else. I guess you could say we had some fun. He really made it big though when he got his whole stable to be sponsored by Rublex on their player programme. You should think about that too I guess. That’s real money.’
Daniel thought back to the slick looking guys he’d seen on the range, gelling with the players and their teams so naturally. Was Ollie one of those guys? he wondered. He found himself bristling with jealousy.
‘Righto. And I met that Russian guy we talked about. Sergei, right? He’s such a nice guy. He’s already been so kind to me. What do you know about him?’ enquired Daniel earnestly.
‘You’re just all business, you hot shot agents, aren’t you?’ answered Matilda smiling at him. Daniel sensed she was also trying to change the subject.
‘Sorry. It’s just I’m new here and any information is a help. I’ve got one chance and I’m determined to make my mark.’
‘He’s the face of the Russian Rublex Corporation on the golf Tour. They did this massive deal with the Tour a while back, supporting tournament infrastructure and building up the big prize funds to attract the best international players. Sergei delivers it all and ensures they get what they want. Not everyone approves though. Some of the more traditionalists like Bob Wallace, you know that tough little Scottish swing coach with the blue hat and always with the cigarette, he’s one of the longest serving guys out here. He says the Tour has “sold its soul” to compete with the US Tour.’
‘Surely that’s a good thing for the game, a bit of competition. Must be good for the players too,’ Daniel challenged.
‘Rublex has certainly divided opinion but they are the future. Sergei is a clever guy. He always has an eye for a deal and knows the right levers to pull at the right time. He’s a good man to be on the right side of. But he understands the importance of family and loyalty, although Bob seems to think he is somehow resentful of the game’s exclusivity and traditions. He is actually very committed to golf. His heart is in the right place.’
‘Sounds like a bit of an enigma,’ scoffed Daniel. ‘But he has certainly helped me out this week, that’s for sure.’ And then, ‘Look our food’s getting cold. Shall we eat?’
Leading Matilda by the hand back into the bedroom they sat facing each other on corners of the table cloth which served as their make-shift picnic blanket, he cross-legged and Matilda sitting with her knees curled beneath her. He busied himself removing the numerous lids that covered the delicious-smelling food unpacking baskets of warm bread rolls and small jars of exotic looking sauces. Since the aborted restaurant plan, he had decided against choosing a specific meal on behalf of his date, equipped with little prior knowledge of her tastes. Instead he had decided on ordering a vast array of delicate tapas.
‘It could get messy,’ joked Daniel, ‘please just get stuck in. There’s no order to it really.’ He reached across the spread to ease a ladle full of fearsome looking, paprika-rich chorizo and some folded pieces of thickly-sliced rustic ham onto his plate. Matilda helped herself in turn to a modest portion of thick lamb stew with a side of lush green salad leaves. Daniel replenished their glasses and, after a second helping, he leant back sighing contentedly.
‘I really don’t know that much about you,’ Matilda stated shyly peering over the rim of her glass.
‘Not much to tell really,’ he replied. He was met with a disappointed look. ‘I’m a straight forward bloke I suppose. Guess I’m just running scared from my boring life back in England. I want to do well but I’m not sure I fancy having to cut corners and compete with the supposed sharks out here doing my job.’
‘A man with principals. That can be very sexy you know,’ Matilda teased. He flushed red up the sides of his neck and cheeks. Steady on with the champagne he chided himself, you’re getting a bit loose here. ‘I suppose I’m trying to escape from my background, my parents, my life as it was meant to be, all mapped out for me. I only got this job through luck. You know, right place right time. I feel like a bit of a fraud most of the time. Like I don’t fit in.’
‘Oh, Daniel, of course you fit in. You fit in because you’re real. A real person. You don’t find that too often. You’re not someone pretending to be something that you’re not. I really appreciate your honesty in sharing with me.’ She clasped her hands against her heart as if showing the depth of feeling. ‘There’s not much genuine conversation or guys showing their feelings and making themselves vulnerable out here. Thank you’. She reached out and held his hand in hers, keeping eye contact.
‘What about you?’ Daniel asked gently softening his voice, his head cocked slightly to the side.
‘Me? I’m a bit of a mess too actually. Only in my case I wish I had parents to run from.’
‘Seriously? What happened?’ said Daniel, not releasing the delicate hand from his grip.
‘They were killed in a car crash outside Stockholm when I was nineteen. I lost the plot after that for a while. I didn’t know where to turn, Daniel.’ She held up her other hand and offered it to him. ‘I wear this ring you noticed because it’s all that I have left of my mother, she gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday, it had been her mother’s too you see and it’s always protected me.’ She pulled back, retreating a little. ‘I should have been on that trip with them that day. I only wish she had been wearing it instead of me, you know?’ She looked at her hand and twisted the small stone around on her finger. A moment of silence passed between them and she continued. ‘After a while I managed to get it together and I just threw myself back into my studies. My brother Nils, he took it harder, he went off the rails, got in with a bad group, turned to heroin to escape. It’s a fucking dirty, horrible drug, Daniel,’ she spat. ‘He damaged himself pe
rmanently. Now he’s trapped in a state clinic in Malmö. Lost. Alone.’
She looked up at Daniel and he could see her eyes brimming with tears. He reached behind and tucked a strand of fine blonde hair behind her ear.
‘It’s okay,’ was all he could manage.
Matilda reached forward and traced her finger down his shirt over the scratch on Daniel’s chest which she had treated some hours earlier. He let her nearly finish before grabbing her and pulling her towards him. Wiping the tears from her cheeks Daniel found himself suddenly kissing her tentatively on the mouth. He cupped the back of her head and, feeling her yield, he kissed her soft lips again harder.
He pulled back, holding her face in his hands and gazed for an age into those pretty blue eyes. With an impish grin escaping across his face, Daniel Ratchet couldn’t contain himself. Still kissing her at delightedly random intervals he asked, ‘So why me, Matilda? A girl like you could have anyone she wanted out here. I’m curious to know because I get the impression you don’t do this sort of thing very often?’
‘Right place, right time! Didn’t you say that yourself, hotshot?’ She giggled pushing him away and easing herself up and onto the edge of the bed. ‘Okay, you want to know what I like in you? You’re sincere. Honest, vulnerable, even. You didn’t act all cool and in control like most of the other guys out here when we met and I really liked that. Besides, despite all the people out here performing with this travelling circus, it’s actually a pretty lonely way to live and although I’m with Michael in the truck all the time, he’s married and treats me like a kid sister. Can you blame a girl for getting excited when some fresh meat arrives on the scene?’ Daniel blushed. ‘Besides, I need an escape plan to get off this merry-go-round at some point. So play your cards right and make sure you sign your players up to lots of juicy sponsorship deals out here and make it big. I heard you are looking after the hottest young international talent on the Tour right now so as far as escape plans go you might just be it.’
Daniel grinned and, standing directly in front of her, pushed Matilda onto her back. She squealed with laughter, thrashing around playfully as Daniel kneeled on the bed, pinning her by the arms and planting quick playful kisses all over her face as she snorted with laughter.
Chapter 14
ENGLAND. LONDON. WHITEHALL.
By the time Derek strode back into his office, chest thrust out, the blood coursing through his veins, there were only a few lights left on in the building. He marched down the corridor with a spring in his step he’d not felt for many a year. A lone chink of light emanated from under a single door. The small office of his diligent assistant Alexander Gontlemoon. A double first in languages from Oxford, the immaculately groomed young man was tipped as a rising star of the department and, Hemmings had noted to himself at the interview, was cut from the right cloth. That didn’t hurt one jot around the corridors of power. Tall, expensive suits, perfectly parted hair, and always prepared to go the extra mile. Not like his own son Robin or the rest of this self-entitled Facebook generation, he mused.
He rapped twice on the door and cleared his throat as he pushed it open. ‘Alexander, dear boy. Would you be so kind as to come to my office? I could use your help with looking into something important, something gravely sensitive to the interests of our great nation.’ Derek straightened his back and drew out his words as if to labour their significance. ‘And I do hope you don’t have plans. It may be a long night’.
‘I’m at your disposal, sir,’ came the reassuring reply. ‘It all sounds rather intriguing. Is it by any chance concerning the Russian Gas deal you were looking at today?’
‘I need to know I can depend on you Alexander.’ Derek Hemmings’ response was grave and considered, his voice choked thick with emotion.
‘Of course, sir, rest assured you can trust me with anything.’ An earnest reply sure enough. ‘I will be the very soul of integrity in the matter.’
‘Well you should be made aware that there are factions right here within our esteemed governmental departments, Alexander, that would wish for this commercial agreement with a certain Russian businessman to be signed sealed and committed to without the proper and correct due diligence it warrants.’ He laboured the word ‘businessman’, lacing it with heavy irony and looked resolutely into the handsome face of his young aide. ‘I can’t allow this to happen I’m afraid, Alexander. No, not on Derek Hemmings’ watch.’
Over the next thirty minutes, Alexander was fully apprised of the situation at hand. They ran through the stringent timelines imposed upon them and the dire implications of getting this decision wrong. The UK could imminently be entering into a legally binding commercial agreement with an international criminal organisation. This would de facto mean that Great Britain became little more than a conduit for money laundering on an epic scale and a reseller of dirty energy. By sanitising it with Britain’s good name and transporting it for sale in the western open market, there would be a significant risk of damaging carefully fostered international relations and crucial trading partners. It could take decades to repair the fallout. If such misuse of the Falklands Islands was seized upon by Argentina, with all their usual sabre rattling, the result could possibly prompt another war or having to cede the territory once and for all under pressure from the United Nations on the basis of illegal occupation for financial gain. The desperate alternative meant pulling out of this deal at the last moment and sacrificing seven thousand British jobs. It would mean passing up on a huge industrial infrastructure investment and boost to the ecomny of nearly seven billion pounds, plus the share of a projected hundred billion in sales over the next decade, whilst spending cuts, tax rises, increasing unemployment, refugees, and a contracting European economy ravaged a fragile continent. It also meant potentially handing a prime opportunity with the Russians over to an aggressive Chinese-Argentinian axis intent on exploiting the natural resources for themselves. Derek’s hands began to sweat. Get this one wrong and he’d be assured of a legacy in the annals of history all right.
For Queen and Country: Do the right thing. Do the bloody right thing.
They worked through the night, fuelled by endless rounds of coffee and packets of custard creams raided from the office tea trolley. Derek worked like a man possessed. His heart soared, energy abounded. A man on a mission once more. Under his close direction, Alexander scoured reams of intelligence data and financial records, seeking to understand the complex financial ownership of Rublex Corporation and its meteoric rise from such humble beginnings. By sunrise, they were both agitated and exhausted in equal measure. Some of the individual elements of what they sought to expose had been identified but they had been unable to pull the pieces together to make any sense. Without that golden thread tying facts together, the information would be as potent as the other unsubstantiated and unpleasant conjecture about Golich. Nothing had stuck. Derek was in despair. He tugged intermittently at his forelock as he worked, brow creased deeply in concentration. Gut instinct told him under no circumstances to trust the Rublex Corporation, despite the fact that he could still prove nothing. Innocent until proven guilty old boy, he chided himself. The deal would be on the table only a few more days. And the clock was ticking.
Chapter 15
SPAIN. EUROPEAN TOUR. DAY THREE. 05.15 HRS.
A shard of warm sunlight streamed across the bed through the open blinds. Daniel stirred and stretched lazily. He rubbed his eyes, blinking at Matilda as she stooped at the foot of the bed pulling on her crumpled white dress.
‘Morning,’ he smiled, pulling his pillow behind him and scooting up to lean back against the head board.
‘Morning sexy,’ cooed the womanly silhouette framed by a backdrop of fragmented early morning sunbeams. ‘Last night was amazing darling. But I’m so sorry, I’ve really got to run. I need to shower and change in time for a really early appointment this morning.’
‘What’s the time?’ mumbled Daniel.
‘It’s five-fifteen, sleepyhead,’ Matilda
replied, moving to the bed and ruffling his hair. ‘Thank you for a beautiful evening,’ she murmured, kissing him full on the mouth. ‘But I’m so late. Come and find me at the truck later, will you?’
‘Sure thing,’ Daniel replied, shuffled back down the bed yawning, ‘Have fun.’
The door pulled shut and Daniel, with the sunlight causing vibrant colours to bubble and dance across his eye lids, slipped back into a dreamlike state, peppered with snapshots and memories from a night of passion with an intoxicating Swedish siren. Ratchet was in freefall and he was falling hard.
Rising at just past seven, he dragged himself out of bed and forced himself to stand, limply hunched under the powerful jets of the slippery walk-in shower. He dressed hurriedly and left the room, hair still wet. The elevator doors pinged open and he trotted out, whistling down the hotel steps and out through reception.
‘Excuse me. Mr Ratchet?’ an over-groomed man at the front desk called out as he passed. ‘We have a package for you, sir’.
Daniel signed for a neat square box, tightly wrapped in plain brown paper. Ripping it open and lifting the lid of the navy blue cardboard box, Daniel pulled out a gleaming new gold watch coiled around a Perspex cuff adorned with smart lettering that announced a Rolex Datejust Oyster no less. Daniel fished out a stiff black business card stuffed into the side of the box and turned it right way up. The bold logo of the Rublex Corporation filled the centre of the space. Beneath it in gold leaf: Sergei Krostanov / President / Golf, complete with phone number, email, and an office address in Perm, Russia, on the reverse. Daniel felt his jaw go slack. ‘You sure this is for me?’ he enquired of the receptionist, eyebrows raised.
