‘Here’s your keycard,’ the glamorous young receptionist said. ‘The welcome reception is at six.’ She looked across at the grandfather clock in the corner. ‘You’re nice and early, so there’s plenty of time to settle in and explore.’
‘Thank you,’ Natalie smiled, taking the card. ‘I’m really looking forward to it all.’
‘Your welcome pack is in the room. It outlines what you should expect during the weekend, and spells out the ground rules.’
‘Ground rules?’
‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s all pretty standard for this kind of thing.’
Natalie nodded, never having had any experience of anything remotely like ‘this kind of thing’.
Would the rest of the applicants be just as naive as her?
She doubted it.
What is it that Amy had said? ‘Fake it till you make it.’
‘Your room is on the top floor, second on the left,’ directed the receptionist. ‘Sorry, there’s no lift. Just the staircase.’
Natalie was about to quip that she could manage the walk, even with her suitcase, but before she could speak a porter appeared at her shoulder and grabbed the case. ‘I'll take that for you, madam. Please, do follow me.’
She followed the porter up the wide, winding staircase, glancing back as she went – self-conscious that if she’d carried any dirt on her shoes it would really make a mess of the cream carpet. Fortunately the carpet remained pristine in her wake.
‘Here you are,’ the porter said, as they reached Room Fourteen.
‘Thank you.’ She reached into her bag.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said, smiling. ‘All part of the service. Would you like me to carry the bag into the room?’
‘No, it’s fine, thank you.’
‘Very well.’ He half-bowed. ‘Have a pleasant stay, Miss Long.’
She watched as he set off back towards where they had come from. She could get used to this.
‘WOW.’
Natalie stood open-mouthed as the door closed behind her. She stepped slowly into the luxurious room, savouring every moment.
‘This is… just… wow!’
She turned in a small circle, not quite believing just how amazing this room was. There’d been a programme on television a few months ago, featuring the world’s most glamorous hotels – spa resorts in Switzerland, gold-laden towers in Dubai. And this property was right up there.
The room was about twice the size of any hotel room she’d ever been in. There was an inviting-looking Super King-sized bed, a flat screen so large it covered half the wall, and a sofa area complete with a bean-to-cup coffee machine.
The bathroom had a superb-looking shower, and a sensational roll-top bath at its centre. There were two marble sinks and a huge wall-to-wall mirror, with angel-white lighting around.
Kicking off her shoes, she flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, still not quite believing that this was real.
Things were really looking up.
After a few minutes of just taking in the ambience, she found the welcome pack and, legs tucked underneath her on the sofa, began to leaf through it.
The inside page had a short welcome message from Sir Kenneth New, complete with a close-up professional photo of him smiling to camera. The photo looked like a recent one. He was sixty-five, but had youthful, enthusiastic, bright-blue eyes. His close-cut red beard matched his still full head of hair.
Welcome to New House, in the heart of the great city of London! And congratulations for doing brilliantly enough to get this far. You stand on the edge of a great future. For one of you, this weekend will mark the beginning of an amazing journey with me and my company. So, best of luck to you all and may the best person be triumphant!
Natalie’s nerves returned. This was for real. Somehow her speculative application had won her a place here. How on earth had she stood out of the crowd? Surely there must have been hundreds, if not thousands of people desperate for such an opportunity?
Why her?
She leafed through the rest of the welcome pack, which contained details of mealtimes, and the locations of the dining area, gym, and even a small swimming pool in the basement. Applicants were free to use any of the facilities outside of assessment hours. But she didn’t have a swimming costume or clothes suitable for working out – who would have brought those things with them?
She was just checking out the coffee machine when there was a knock on the door.
‘Natalie, so lovely to meet you.’ The woman proffered a hand, smiling with teeth so white, it looked as if they’d been painted with emulsion. She was dressed in a black suit, and her hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail.
‘Hi,’ Natalie replied. The woman’s grip was stronger than she had expected. ‘Lovely to meet you too.’
‘I just thought I’d see how you were settling in.’ The woman seemed to steal a glance past Natalie into the room. ‘I’m Tabitha Blair. I work with Sir Kenneth. I’ll be your relationship manager for the weekend.’
‘Oh, hi. It’s great to be here. A real honour.’ She immediately regretted sounding so sad, but it gained another smile from Tabitha.
‘It will be such an experience for you,’ she said. ‘I was wondering, have you watched the video yet?’
‘Video? No, what…’
‘The induction video. There’s a note on the table? Maybe it wasn’t…’
Natalie twisted and saw it there. She turned back, more embarrassed than she should have been. ‘Really sorry, I didn’t see it.’
‘That’s fine, no problem, no problem at all. It’s just that it would be really great if you could watch it before the get-together this evening. As soon as possible.’
‘Sure, I’ll watch it now.’
Another beaming smile. ‘That’s great, then. I hope you have a lovely stay with us, Natalie.’
‘I’m sure I will.’
‘And if there’s anything you need, anything at all, just call down on the room phone and we’ll get onto it straight away.’
Natalie returned to the coffee machine, managing to produce a good-tasting latte before powering up the TV to watch the video that seemed so important. Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Amy, wishing her luck. She would answer it after the video. But she noticed the battery was down to thirty percent, so she fished out the charger from her case.
Where were the wall sockets?
She looked on each side of the bed, but there was nothing. And nothing above the table, or underneath. All the lights were set into the walls and ceiling, so it wasn’t even possible to use sockets from there.
‘There must be a socket somewhere…’
But there wasn’t.
She gave up looking and switched on the television to watch the induction video. The screen sprang to life: another close-up headshot image of Kenneth New, smiling right at her. It kind of gave her the creeps, like one of those paintings where the eyes seem to really look at you, and follow you around the room.
A few seconds later, the video began. It must have been set to autoplay upon switching on the system. Natalie hoped that she wouldn’t have to watch it every time she switched on the TV.
‘Hello and welcome to New House,’ a female voice said. Then the video played through a high-spec production of the company’s history, accompanied by vox pops from several beaming company staff, unanimous in their love of both Brand New and Sir Kenneth. One of the workers was Tabitha.
‘I’ve been with the company just under twelve months now, and it’s been the most fantastic experience imaginable,’ she said to camera. ‘I really couldn’t imagine a better place to live out my career!’
Five minutes in, and Natalie was tiring of the bombardment of positivity. She glanced down at the remote control and wondered whether they had Netflix piped through. Maybe this evening, after the activities, she could catch up with a box set.
‘So,’ the narrator said to a black screen, ‘we hope you enjoy your weekend stay at
New House, whether or not you are ultimately successful. To maximise your experience, we ask all participants to comply with the house ways of working and living.’
‘Ways of working and living,’ Natalie repeated.
‘Firstly, New House does not permit the use of electronic communication devices. Please deposit your mobile phones, personal computers, smart watches, fitness trackers and other electrical equipment with a member of staff. Your devices will be held securely and returned to you at the end of your stay.
‘Secondly. New House does not permit guests. Guests must not enter the property at any time. This includes family, friends and partners. Any family member, friend or partner who arrives at New House requesting to meet with you during your stay will be politely asked to return after the recruitment experience.
‘Thirdly, New House does not permit intimate relations between participants.
‘And finally, participants are asked not to leave the premises during the duration of the experience, unless express permission has been given by your Brand New relations manager. In the event of a fire or other emergency, then please follow the evacuation procedures as outlined in your welcome pack.
‘Your continued presence at New House represents your express agreement of the aforementioned ways of working and living. Should you decide that the ways of working and living are unacceptable to you, then we politely request that you leave the property immediately. You will then be withdrawn from the recruitment experience. This decision is final and return will not be possible. You will be unable to apply for any similar opportunities with Brand New going forward. Do think extremely carefully before making your decision and its implications for your future career prospects.’
‘Heavy stuff,’ Natalie noted.
‘If you contravene any of the aforementioned ways of working and living, you will forfeit participation in the recruitment experience and will be immediately asked to leave the property. You will have no longer than ten minutes to gather your belongings and leave. Any participant who, upon request, refuses to leave the property will be questioned initially by our experience manager and house security. Any escalating situation will involve law enforcement officers.’
‘Very heavy stuff.’
‘Thank you for your co-operation. Enjoy your experience!’
Natalie just stared at the screen. These ‘ways of working and living’ sounded over the top. But then again, Brand New was a company known for its eccentricity. Now that she thought about it, there had been something in the news a few months ago about how the company offices had introduced an ‘email-free day’ each Friday, where no one was allowed to send or look at emails. This was about focus and productivity, or so the company had claimed. Supposedly quite a few companies had done likewise. But a total ban on electronic equipment? It seemed extreme.
Still, rules were rules. Even if they were called the rather strangely worded ‘ways of working and living’. She pulled out her phone and began to text Amy. Her friend and housemate had asked to be kept up to date with events over the weekend; she might get worried if she didn’t hear anything. If Natalie just texted to explain the situation, then it would stop her from…
Knock! Knock!
Phone in hand, the message half-written, she moved towards the door.
‘Miss Long.’ It was the guy who had carried up her case. ‘I’m here to collect your personal electronic devices.’
‘Oh,’ Natalie replied, the phone in her hand hanging down by her side. ‘I was just in the middle of messaging my…’
‘The ways of working and living are clear. Use of electronic communication devices on site are forbidden.’
‘Yes, but I thought I’d better…’
‘You did watch the induction video.’
‘Yes. But…’
‘Then you know that you do have free choice to leave the property and forfeit your participation in the recruitment experience.’
Natalie nodded. She turned the phone off and handed it to the man.
‘Thank you. Do you have any other devices?’
‘No, that’s it.’
Then she had a thought. ‘The room phone. We can use that for outside calls?’
He smiled sadly. ‘I’m afraid not. It’s on the internal network only. If there are any emergencies, then we do have external phones down at reception. The staff would be happy to make calls, should the need arise.’
‘Okay.’
‘Have a pleasant stay, Miss Long.’
Natalie closed the door and surveyed the room again, wondering what on earth she had walked into.
3
‘Paul. I hear you’ve had a busy start to the week.’
Paul Cullen grimaced as he took the seat that had just been offered by Detective Superintendent Maggie Ferguson, Cullen’s senior officer at British Transport Police’s Central Division, based at BTP’s Camden Town Force Headquarters.
‘You could say that.’
Despite being offered a lift in a squad car, Cullen had decided to walk the few minutes from the tragic incident to HQ, an unassuming high-rise block of offices on Camden Road. It was home to the Major and Serious Organised Crime department that Cullen headed up, working on cases nationally that involved the rail network, alongside his colleague DCI Harper and her team in the Leeds northern office.
‘Talk me through what happened.’
Cullen exhaled, still trying to process the events himself. He’d already told them to one of the uniformed officers who had followed him out of the station. And without doubt he would be telling the story a number of times more yet, including during the Coroner’s inquest and inevitably as part of the Independent Office for Police Conduct investigation.
‘I’ve been briefed already, of course.’
Cullen couldn’t help but smile at the honesty of his boss. She was a tough Glaswegian who didn’t suffer fools. Upon her arrival from Police Scotland, she’d certainly stamped her authority on the division, taking on some of the more difficult characters with gusto. But she was also a fair-minded person and had backed him for his promotion to Detective Chief Inspector just a short six months ago.
‘I was on the tube, a few minutes out of Euston, when I saw what I suspected was a case of ongoing sexual assault, involving a young male against a young female.’
‘Suspected?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And you tried to confirm your suspicions?’
She pulled across her keyboard.
‘I asked the… the victim for confirmation, and she gave it.’
‘I see.’
She tapped away into the computer. ‘I just want to get this clear, for any further investigations.’
‘Of course.’
‘So you asked her if she’d just been sexually assaulted and she said yes.’
‘That’s correct.’
‘It all happened very quickly,’ she commented. ‘You were trying to get off the train and had limited time. It was a high-pressure situation. Are you sure you heard her correctly?’
‘I’m sure.’
Warning bells were sounding. Something wasn’t right here.
He asked the question. ‘Has she denied it?’
Ferguson’s brow creased, giving him his answer.
‘I’m one hundred percent certain that she confirmed the assault,’ Cullen stated, trying to remain calm. ‘There might be witnesses from the train carriage who heard what she said.’
‘We’ll certainly pursue those lines if we need to,’ she replied. ‘So, you then gave chase.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think that was wise?’
Cullen shrugged. ‘No less wise than not giving chase. He was wearing a distinctive yellow jacket. I was confident of apprehending him before he left the station.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘No.’
‘Go on…’
‘It took a bit of time getting out of the carriage, and then I was stopped briefly by an underground worker. I
caught up with the guy outside the main concourse.’
‘And he ran.’
‘As soon as he heard the word “police”.’
She was typing again. ‘Seems an odd thing to do if you haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Uniformed found a small amount of cannabis on his person. But only enough for personal use.’
‘Maybe he just panicked in the moment,’ she offered. ‘He knew he had the drugs on him, and his first instinct was to run.’
‘Maybe.’
Ferguson detected Cullen’s mood. ‘I’m with you on this, Paul, believe me. I’m just asking the questions to get it clear in my mind from the source I trust the most. I have total confidence in you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But… we do have a problem. We have a dead man, who was killed whilst being pursued by one of our officers. We have a suspected victim who now denies being one and is very angry and upset. And we’ve got a potential media storm about to break across the capital. It’s not good.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘The girl is key. We’ll be questioning her again shortly, obviously mindful of the sensitivities. Hopefully she’ll go back on what she said in the immediate aftermath and confirm your version of events.’
‘What did she say?’
‘You know I can’t tell you that.’
‘Of course. Sorry I asked.’
She pushed the keyboard away from her. ‘Paul. How about having a break, just until this blows over?’
‘You're not…’
‘No, not suspension, of course not. Just a break. Call it a holiday, whatever you like, maybe for a week or so.’
Cullen was about to argue – there was so much to do in the office and he didn’t like how this might look to those on the outside. ‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Yes, of course you do. But that would be my strong recommendation.’
He thought about his wife packing and travelling up to Wigan alone. A week off would enable him to accompany her, help her settle in, show her that he really cared and supported her in her decision to move back up North for the short term.
Long Gone Page 2
