Cullen led Zack down one of the arterial side streets and through the door of a narrow pub that was sandwiched between a currency exchange shop and a store selling tourist trinkets.
The Underground was a favourite haunt of Beswick, who had taken Cullen there on his first week after starting in the capital. Run by a railway enthusiast, the place was a haven for those with any interest in transport, especially of the rail variety. It was frequented by a lot of Cullen’s older British Transport Police colleagues, while the younger guys, some of whom were not too dissimilar in age to Zack, tended to prefer the more fashionable bars of the West End.
The place was dark and quiet. Cullen recognised the handful of locals, most of whom gave him a nod as they entered. Quite a few of the older guys were former Transport for London employees: tube drivers, bus drivers, and conductors.
Cullen caught Zack wide-eyeing the framed London Underground posters adorning the walls and other paraphernalia, including an old tube station sign that ran across the top of the bar. He was probably wondering what the hell this place was about. It did look a bit like one of those antique centres that Sarah liked to drag him around.
‘Paul,’ the barman said, with a broad smile. ‘Great to see you. It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?’
‘About two.’
‘Feels like longer. How’s Tony?’
‘He’s doing fine.’
The barman looked across at Zack, who was hanging back just behind Cullen’s shoulder. ‘Is this a new…’
‘No, no, Beswick and I are still very much together. No one’s going to break us up. Well, apart from the Grim Reaper. Or Maggie Ferguson,’ he added mischievously. He was amused by the thought of Zack here as his all-new, trendy sidekick.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ the barman said. ‘I was beginning to worry for a moment. Thought he might have finally retired.’
‘Not a chance,’ Cullen replied.
The man laughed. ‘He’s been thinking about retiring for as long as I’ve known him.’
‘He said maybe one more year, but I think he’ll go on for a few years more.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
Zack looked more confused than he ought to have been by their banter. In fact, rabbit in the headlights came to mind. But then this old real Londoners’ pub probably wasn’t Zack’s usual haunt.
Cullen smiled. ‘This is Zack. He’s a journalist with the Daily Post.’
‘Oh, right.’ The smile disappeared. ‘I don’t much like that newspaper,’ the barman admitted as Zack looked back uncomfortably. ‘Only one good use for it, and I have plenty of quilted toilet paper, thank you very much.’
‘Oh,’ he said, stepping back on his feet again. ‘Well, that’s, err…’
‘He’s yanking your chain,’ Cullen said, cutting in to end the guy’s discomfort. He was feeling a little guilty about Zack. ‘Aren’t you, Mickey?’
Mickey smiled. ‘Not really, no. I’ve still not forgiven that rag after they ran that terrible false story a few years ago about my beloved Spurs. But hey, no point dwelling on such things! What can I get you? I take it yours is the usual, Paul?’
‘Indeed.’
Zack looked across the pumps at the bar’s selection. ‘I’ll have what you’re having,’ he said finally, as the barman filled a pint glass with something called Northern Line.
‘You’ll like it,’ Cullen said. ‘As long as you like strong beer.’
Zack nodded, but didn’t look particularly convinced.
‘Or we’ve got some Babysham,’ the barman said.
‘No, no, that one’s fine.’
They took the drinks over to a table on the far side. Cullen nodded another hello to an elderly gentleman, Clive, who was nursing a pint and talking to a woman Cullen hadn’t seen before. He’d known Clive for a few years, since Beswick had first brought him to the establishment, and this was the first time he’d seen him with a female. Tony had filled him in on his backstory; he had driven tubes for forty years and had the cough to show for it. But it was his wife of fifty-five years who had succumbed to cancer just a couple of years previously, and the guy was heartbroken.
Maybe Clive, who must have been pushing eighty, had moved on.
‘So,’ Cullen said, as they settled down. ‘What was it that you’ve found?’ He wanted to get straight down to business – after all, there were things to do, not least interviewing the staff at New House and possibly Natalie’s co-applicants, if Tabitha had managed to get in touch with them.
‘First of all,’ Zack said, his voice still nervy, ‘thanks again for meeting me. I really appreciate it.’
Cullen nodded.
Zack reached into his satchel and pulled out a tablet computer. He flipped open the cover and opened up the screen using his thumb print, before swiping through to what he was looking for.
‘Trevor’s on holiday, went away this morning to Tenerife, but yesterday, before he left, he asked me to look into what happened yesterday, you know.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, I spent the afternoon trying to find out more about the guy… you know, the guy who died.’
He kept looking up at Cullen, as if expecting him to say something, add in more info. But of course Cullen didn’t. He let the silence push Zack on.
‘I did some informal investigations, but I couldn’t really find out much about the guy. He doesn’t seem to have a social media presence; nothing at all was coming up on internet searches.’
Cullen shrugged. If Zack was fishing for more information, he certainly wasn’t going to get it from him. ‘So you contacted his girlfriend.’
He was still irked by that action, and wanted Zack to know that it was still uppermost in his thoughts. It was out of order, really: an insensitive intrusion into the girl’s grief at a most vulnerable time – although Cullen had to admit, it was also totally understandable from a press perspective.
Zack nodded. ‘She was different. Really easy to find. Shazney is on all the main platforms. Has quite a big following on Instagram, where she posts about fashion and makeup. She’s also active on Twitter, and her Facebook page is open access. I knew from the photos from the morning that it was the same person, so I dropped her a line.’
His nervousness had dissolved, replaced by something like pride for his achievement. It made Cullen want to cut him down a little, as in his mind he had crossed a line, meddling at such an early stage in an active investigation.
‘Did Trevor authorise you to do that?’ he enquired. It didn’t seem like Trevor’s style at all. He was usually much more aware of boundaries, given his experience in the profession and his respect for police investigations.
Zack swallowed. ‘No. He was out of contact before the question arose. Simon did, though.’
Simon Hardacre. He was the deputy editor, working under Trevor. Cullen didn’t get on particularly well with him. Simon was ambitious and ruthless when it came to digging for stories. He’d managed to rub people in the force up the wrong way, not only in the BTP but also Cullen’s colleagues in the Met. On more than one occasion he’d threatened investigations through over-intrusive practices. Usually Trevor kept the guy in line, but when the cat’s away…
‘Simon should know better than to interfere with a police investigation,’ Cullen stated, watching as the flush spread across Zack’s neck.
He looked down at his pint, the bubble burst. ‘I… I was just…’
‘It’s okay,’ Cullen said, rather more quickly than he’d intended. As annoyed as he was, and as much as he did want to send a strong message both to the journalist and the newspaper, Zack was just a kid, not much older than Amy, if at all. Now he was faced with him, it took some of the fire out. ‘You were just following orders.’
This got a subdued nod from the young journalist.
Cullen took a sip of his drink as he played through his options. He would take the softly approach. After all, it wouldn’t do to burn bridges. The Post had been a help with various police inves
tigations more than it had been a hindrance, after all.
Which gave him an idea.
28
Previous Saturday afternoon
NATALIE MADE her way out of the open-plan room, and down the corridor past the private agents’ offices, waiting for inspiration to strike. She passed Diana Saunders’ room, expecting to see the formidable woman staring back at her, wondering why she wasn’t hard at work on the branding task.
But the room was empty.
And that’s why she saw the phone on Diana’s desk.
She felt Russell’s card in her pocket, and suddenly the urge to take the opportunity that had been presented to her felt irresistible.
It would only take a minute.
She looked left and right. There was no one else in sight.
She slipped into the room and closed the door softly behind her.
She felt shaky and vulnerable as she grabbed the telephone receiver. Keeping one eye on the door, she dialled Russell’s mobile number hastily. Such were her nerves that halfway through she hit the wrong button.
Damn it!
Another glance towards the door. Then she started again, punching in the numbers, this time trying to not make a mistake.
The number entered, she brought the receiver up to her ear. It was ringing.
‘C’mon, Russell, pick up, pick up.’
It rang through to the message service.
She left a quick message, saying that she’d give him another call when she could.
She turned again to look at the door, just as she was leaving her mobile number for Russell. Diana’s assistant Catharine was there, watching her through the glass.
Natalie brought the phone down and placed it back on its base. She was expecting some kind of inquisition, but Catharine didn’t enter the room.
She just walked away.
Flustered and full of nerves, Natalie wondered what to do. Should she follow her and try to explain?
She exited the office and followed Catharine back along the corridor. Thankfully there was no one else there.
‘Catharine?’ She got up to her shoulder, although Catharine didn’t stop. ‘Catharine, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have used the phone, I shouldn’t. I didn’t plan to do it.’
Catharine continued walking.
‘I just wanted to call my friend, she’s not well, you see.’ In her desperation, the lie came easily, although whether it was convincing was another matter entirely.
Catharine stopped and turned to her. ‘I didn’t see anything.’
‘I don’t understand.’
She moved closer, glancing left and right to check there was no one in earshot. ‘I know what Diana says about me behind my back. I don’t owe her my loyalty, or anything else. Your secret is safe with me.’
Natalie didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you. I really appreciate it.’
‘I’m leaving this place,’ she said suddenly, under her breath. ‘I’ve got my resignation letter in my bag.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ve got a new job, with a reading charity. They work with schools.’ Her face brightened. ‘It will be such a relief to get out of this place.’
‘Is Diana that bad?’
Catharine glanced around again. ‘Worse. But up to now I’ve been too afraid to leave. Diana has such strong contacts in the industry, she could make things very difficult for me.’
‘You know, the way Diana spoke to you,’ Natalie said, ‘it reminded me of how my ex-boyfriend treated me. It took me a while to draw up the courage to escape, too. I know how hard it is.’
This seemed to give Catharine cause for thought.
‘Come with me for a second,’ she said at last. ‘This room is free.’
Natalie followed her into the vacant room, which housed two photocopiers, a printer and what looked like the mainframe computer system for the building.
‘We should be okay in here for a minute,’ said Catharine, against the hum of the equipment.
‘What is it?’
‘I want to warn you.’
‘Warn me? About what?’
‘About Sir Kenneth. You need to be careful of…’
Diana Saunders entered the room, cutting the conversation stone-dead. She eyeballed them both, but saved her fiercest glare for Catharine.
‘Catharine, I need to speak with you in my office. Now, please.’
Catharine nodded, vacating the room while Diana held the door open, turning her attention to Natalie. She checked her watch.
‘Better get back to the others, Natalie. Time is running out for you.’
29
Previous Saturday afternoon
‘NATALIE, we wondered where you’d gone!’ Penny said, smiling with evident relief as Natalie re-joined them in the office.
‘Penny thought you might have decided to do a runner,’ Susie quipped.
Penny nodded. ‘When you walked off, you looked a bit troubled. I thought you might have decided to pack it all in. It would have been such a shame.’
‘I just needed to have a think,’ Natalie replied, distracted by the interrupted warning from Catharine about Sir Kenneth. What had she been trying to say? ‘I was trying to think of a better strap line,’ she said at last.
‘So have you?’ Penny asked hopefully.
Natalie shook her head, still not able to fully push aside thoughts of what had just happened. ‘Unfortunately not. Sorry,’ she said, sliding back into her seat. ‘We’ll probably have to go with what we’ve already got.’
‘I liked it anyway,’ Penny replied. ‘Publishing Reimagined.’
‘Me too,’ Susie said. ‘Let’s stick with it.’
Penny then ran through where she had got to with the website. She’d taken Susie’s Black Tiger logo and the related images that she’d created, and populated a mock-up of the new publishing house’s site.
‘Wow, Penny. Diana is going to love this,’ Natalie said, finally moving on from the experience with Catharine, as Penny scrolled through the pages, highlighting the features.
It looked stunning: stylish, modern, dynamic.
‘Thanks,’ Penny replied. ‘I’m really pleased with it. It helps that your graphics are so good, Susie.’
‘Thank you,’ Susie smiled. ‘You know, I think the three of us make a good team.’
Natalie smiled back, wondering if she should tell them about Catharine’s warning. There was no way she could tell them here, or in the taxi back to the house, so it could only be done later.
‘Just the pitch left to do,’ Susie continued. She glanced at her watch. ‘We’ve got less than an hour to get the presentation together.’
Natalie buried Catharine’s warning. She owed it to the others to focus and do her best. ‘We’d better get started then.’
AN HOUR and twenty minutes later, the three girls stood in front of EXCEL-ENT’s branding team and a selection of other company employees, including Diana Saunders.
She was standing at the back, texting.
The presentation was in one of the company’s small seminar rooms, and it was packed. Natalie scanned the audience. Most of them were chatting amongst themselves. A number, like Diana, were deeply involved with their cell phones.
Natalie decided now was the time. Susie and Penny gave her the nod as she picked up the microphone. They’d decided beforehand that Natalie would do the introductions.
‘Ladies and gentlemen…’
The chatting continued.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she repeated, a little more loudly. She looked towards Diana, who still had her head in her phone. ‘Thank you for taking the time to listen to our presentation today.’
Thankfully, the conversations were dying out as people started to focus their attention on her.
Natalie took a deep breath. ‘We’d like to introduce you to Black Tiger Publishing. Publishing Reimagined.’
Penny showed the first slide, featuring Susie’s striking Black Tiger logo.
‘Unique. Daring.
Ruthless. The black tiger is a rarity in nature.’
Penny flicked to images of black tigers in the wild.
Natalie glanced over at Diana.
She was watching.
She was interested.
‘Familiar but strikingly different, the black tiger represents something different and exciting, standing out from the crowd. It has that wow factor. That’s why we feel it is a perfect fit for your new publishing house.’
Natalie chanced another glance at Diana, who had put her phone down. She narrowed her eyes in concentration.
They certainly had her – for now, at least. The trick would be to maintain her interest.
‘Publishing Reimagined,’ Natalie said confidently. ‘A bold message, that both conveys the core mission of the company but also signals a departure from what has come before, and what still exists in an industry that is in need of a disrupter. Boundary-pushing, Black Tiger Publishing will take on the traditional publishing world with imagination and flair, harnessing the latest technologies for the benefits of their clients and consumers. A publisher with a global reach, from London to New York and across the world, Black Tiger will lead through innovation and the dedication of its team.’
Diana was still watching.
‘I’m going to pass you on to Susie, who will talk to you about the logo.’
Natalie stepped aside as Susie took the floor, with Penny switching the slide to a close up of the black tiger head. ‘The logo is designed to be striking and instantly recognisable. The black-and-white head, with bright yellow eyes, works well at various scales, and is especially good on book spines. Complimenting the headline logo is a series of graphics for use in promotion and marketing activities, showing the black tiger in various poses. The graphics also form the basis of the website branding. I’ll pass you over to Penny for more about this.’
Penny stepped to the front. ‘Thank you, Susie,’ she said, sounding natural and confident despite her younger age. ‘This demonstration site illustrates some of the features that would form the core of Black Tiger’s online presence. For example, on the home page the logo is prominently displayed, with space for featured books and a short introduction to the company. The pages behind this offer opportunities to showcase authors and their books, with links to all major sellers.’
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