The Burnley Boys
Page 38
"What do you think about it, Jack?" Quilter said turning to face his Chief Officer.
"Uh?" Jack said, his train of thought interrupted. He wanted to grab this asshole and accuse him of stealing his proposal, but he knew that would be playing right into Quilter's hands. Instead, he said; "I think it's an excellent idea."
Quilter nodded amidst the murmurs of approval that accompanied Jack's apparent backing of the project.
Jack did his best to take the rest of the meeting in his stride. However, he was mightily relieved to eventually get into his car and head for home. Was Philippa really capable of something like this he thought, or was it just a massive co-incidence? No matter how hard Jack tried to convince himself that it was, his mind just refused to accept the idea. As he drove into his drive, he told himself to keep calm, to give her a chance to explain. When all was said and done, there could just be a logical explanation to all this. She was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he didn't want to jeopardise their relationship, if there was even the slightest chance that she was innocent.
Jack got out of his Jag and closed the door; his hand shook slightly as he went to lock it. He took a deep breath and walked towards his house.
"Ay-ah Jack," Philippa called out, "how did your meeting go?"
Good, she was still up, Jack thought. How the hell did he approach something like this? 'Yes, I'm fine honey. Oh, by the way; have you been spying on me?' "Yes. it was fine, thanks." He said calling through to the kitchen before going into the lounge. Jack went over to the wall unit and poured himself a scotch. He took a sip and the liquid warmed his mouth and throat. He went over to his easy chair and sat down. He stared at the wall in silence. Just when everything seemed to be going so well, he thought. That idea would’ve got the troops back on his side, he was sure of it, but instead Quilter had made him look stupid. 'It's an excellent idea.' Couldn't he think of anything better to say than that, for God's sake? He may as well just have handed Quilter the leadership and had done with it. Jack felt bitterly disappointed with himself.
Philippa entered the lounge; "Oh," she exclaimed, upon noticing the whiskey in Jack's hand, "I've made you a coffee." Her hair fell around her face as she put the two cups down on the coffee table.
"Thanks." Jack said without altering his gaze.
Philippa sat down on the sofa and looked at him, "Is anything the matter?" she asked.
Jack stared at her, "Actually, the meeting didn’t go great." he said taking a gulp of his scotch.
Philippa nodded, "Do you want to talk about it?" This had something to do with the information she'd passed to Quilter, she could just sense it.
Jack shook his head, "It'll keep." he said draining his glass and setting it down on the coffee table. He got up went to the unit and poured himself another drink. He walked out of the lounge and closed the door behind him.
Shit, by the look of things, that bastard Quilter had dropped her right in it because Jack suspected her of something, of that she had no doubt. Whatever it was she'd just have to do her utmost to bluff it out, but to be honest, she'd not paid that much attention to any of the documents she'd copied, she'd been more concerned with copying them out accurately. Thank god, she had nothing on her. She had intended to do some more tonight, but she'd decided against it because she'd felt too tired. If something had gone down at the meeting, those bastards could've warned her. He's checking through your things for evidence right now, she thought suddenly. He doesn't want to confront you without being totally sure his suspicions are correct. Philippa got up and walked to the door.
Upstairs, Philippa walked quietly across the landing to her bedroom. He was in there, she was certain. She opened the door; the light was off. She switched it on - nothing, she switched it off again and went to Jack's study. She knocked lightly on the door.
"Come in." Jack said from inside.
Philippa entered; "Hi," she said, "Jack, are you alright, you look worried about something."
Jack straightened his papers and put them to one side; "Do you know anyone who works for me?" he asked her.
Philippa shook her head, "I know Gerald, kind of, and of course Maggie. Why?" Here it comes she thought.
" I genuinely believed that things were looking up again, and now this." Jack said shaking his head.
Philippa was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable under the harshness of the study's lights. "And now what, Jack please tell me what's happened?"
"Someone's leaked information, confidential information, to one of my colleagues, a guy who's trying to take over my job. And there are only two people apart from myself, who could possibly have access to it."
Philippa shook her head, "I don't understand Jack, are you suggesting that I’ve leaked something, to this, this colleague of yours?"
Jack said nothing, I don't think she has done it, he thought. If she has, she's a bloody good actress, but besides that, his gut feeling told him that she hadn't.
"You are, aren't you?” Philippa said her voice wavering.
Jack shook his head, "I just don't know." he said. "All I know is that Gerald is adamant he hasn't let anything slip, and I certainly haven't. Maybe, you've not done it knowingly, is it possible you've just said something at work, to a friend perhaps?" Which was a ludicrous idea because he knew for a fact, he'd never discussed the Spanish project or anything remotely connected to it with her, he just didn't know what else to say.
Tears coursed down Philippa's cheeks, she knew that the fairy tale she, they'd been living for the last few days was well and truly over, and reality had come crashing back into their lives with a bang. She'd known all along that it couldn't last but somehow, she'd managed to push that thought to the back of her mind. However, now her priority was fronting this out because her life may well depend on how well she performed this particular task.
"Jack, I don't know anything about your work, so how could I possibly tell anyone about it? All I do know, is how much it means to you. So, if you honestly believe I could betray you, I think I’d better leave." By now Philippa was sobbing wholeheartedly. "I honestly thought we had something Jack. I truly did." Philippa stamped a foot in frustration and left the room. She wiped the tears from her eyes and went into her bedroom. She had to get out of here, he no longer trusted her. Those assholes. She could kick herself for her stupidity, she should've known that when the chips were down someone like Quilter wouldn't think twice about hanging her out to dry. She began to empty the contents of her wardrobe onto her bed.
A knock came to her door, Philippa ignored it and continued to sort her clothes. Jack opened the door, "Philippa." he said. Philippa didn't turn around, so Jack went over to her. He went to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it. "Philippa, I know it's not you, I was only checking if you'd let something slip, that's all.”
Philippa turned to face him, "Listen Jack," she said, "maybe all this has been a mistake. I mean I can never repay you for all that you've done for me. I honestly don't know what I would've done without your help, but maybe we've both just got carried away. I don't blame you for not trusting me, we've only known one another for a couple of months. We don't really know that much about each other at all, do we?"
Jack looked at her, she looked pitiful, but even in this state she still looked truly beautiful, and moreover he was in love with her. "I know you well enough to know I've made a complete fool of myself here tonight." he said taking hold of her. They embraced; "Please stay." Jack said.
15
"You've dropped her right in it, Quilter, you do realise that, don't you?” Jenkins said as he waved to the security guard on exiting the estate. Jenkins's Saab Turbo pulled out onto an empty road.
"You know your problem Dave; you worry too much." Quilter replied stretching his legs out and folding his arms, a broad grin etched across his face. "She's a pro in every sense of the word, she'll talk her way out of it. He's obsessed with her; he'd believe anything she told him. Besides, she's on a shit load
of money for this 'assignment', as she calls it, so it's about time she started earning some of it.”
Jenkins shook his head, rain began to spot on the windscreen, he turned his wipers on. The lights around Burnley twinkled like fairy lights.
"The look on Davies's face when I turned to him and asked him what he thought of his own idea. Oh God, that was pure magic."
Jenkins smiled, "You're a cheeky bastard." he said slowing the car as it gathered speed going down Todmorden Road.
"Anyway, how come you're so concerned about the tart all of a sudden?” Quilter asked turning to face Jenkins.
Jenkins could feel Quilter's eyes on him, "I'm not concerned about her Quilter; I'm concerned about us. She's a valuable asset, that's all, and if her cover's been blown. it'll be us who’ll lose out."
Quilter considered this for a second; "maybe, we should pull her out?" he said finally. "I mean, I can't see us losing now, can you?"
"I suggest we see how things look after the dust has settled. My gut feeling is that we still need her. However, Davies will be watching her like a hawk from now on. That's my opinion."
Quilter nodded, "Okay, I admit, I have put the girl under a bit of pressure, but we had to have that Dave, it was just too good to pass up. Besides, I've seen this girl in action, and believe you me, she wouldn't look out of place in fuckin' Hollywood."
16
"Is he in yet?" Gerald asked Christine, nodding in the direction of Jack's office.
Christine whispered; "It's up to you Gerald, but if I were you, I'd leave it a while, he's like a--"
"Is that Gerald?" Jack shouted from within is office.
Gerald and Christine exchanged glances, and Gerald walked over and tapped on the fluted glass of Jack's office door before entering.
"Ah Gerald, come on in, take a seat. How are you this morning?"
Gerald sat down, "I was just going to ask you the same question." he replied shifting in his seat and pushing his glasses up on his nose.
"Oh, I'm fine, well actually, I'm not fine, as you can imagine, but what's happened has happened, and we've just got to get on with it. We'll still wipe the floor with them, I'm certain of it.”
"Jack, I need to talk to you about the leak, I've been up all-night thinking about it.”
Jack nodded, "Go on." he prompted.
"It might've been me." Gerald blurted out.
Jack frowned, “What do you mean; it might've been you?" he asked tapping his pencil on his desk. He didn't believe what he was hearing.
"Well, I told Harry Robertson ..."
Jack's eyes widened.
"Not all of it mind, just the briefest of outlines, really. He swore not to breathe a word of it Jack, he's one of us." Gerald was becoming a bit emotional.
"Harry told Cath," Jack said, "Cath told Christine, Christine told Maria, and so on and so forth."
"I spoke to him late last night, and he swears he hasn't told anyone, not even Cath."
Jack nodded, “Nevertheless, she's decided it might just be a good idea to stock up on swimming cossies and Ambre Solaire."
Gerald looked to be on the verge of tears, "I’ve let you down Jack, maybe I'm getting to old for all this high-powered campaigning. Maybe you should find yourself a new running partner?"
"Bollocks!" Jack replied. "So, you made a mistake, so what? No-one's died. I've made far greater errors than that in my time Gerald, and you know it. It's a setback, that's all it is. If you were more prone to making mistakes, you'd realise that. We're going to win this thing, Spain won't be important, not in the long run. There's no-one out there I can imagine replacing you with, so let's get to work, okay?"
Gerald sighed, "Okay." he said.
Jack couldn't contain his relief. He knew all along it wasn't Philippa. He had to admit though; he was still a little disappointed with Gerald. However, he'd meant what he said to him about being the best man out there. God, he wished he'd kept his mouth shut last night. Should he tell her that he'd discovered who had leaked the information? Yes, he would. He didn't care about looking stupid, he just wanted things to go back to the way they were between them. He would make this up to her, no matter what it took. He prayed that she wouldn't move out today. He began to panic. No, he told himself; he felt sure that she'd go to work. Mind you, he'd leave early this evening, in order to get home before her.
17
Jack heard tyres on gravel, "Yes!" he exclaimed; she was home. The meal he was preparing was simmering away nicely. He took a corkscrew from the cutlery drawer and opened a bottle of red with it. He'd always loved the sound a cork made when it came out of a bottle. He heard the front door go and turned down the heat on one of the saucepans. "Philippa, is that you?" he called out.
No reply, Jack wiped his hands on a pot-towel, "Philippa?" he called out again. Still nothing. Jack was beginning to feel concerned, and his heart picked up pace. He looked around for his gun, but it was upstairs, so he grabbed a carving knife instead.
Philippa walked into the kitchen and put her bag down.
Jack was about to chastise her for not answering him but chopped the words off in his throat. She looked downhearted. "Are you okay?" he asked reaching for the pot-towel to wipe his hands for the second time in as many minutes.
Philippa nodded.
"Philippa, I owe you a massive apology; it was Gerald who leaked the information I was telling you about. He didn't do it deliberately, but it was him all the same. I am so, so, sorry for even thinking, for one moment, that it could've been you. It's not an excuse, but I'm under a lot of pressure at work at the moment. Please say you'll forgive me."
Philippa's mind was thrown into turmoil, she was just about to confess everything to Jack. All the pretence and deception had just got too much for her, she was weary of it. Even the money didn't seem to matter anymore. However, she was acutely aware that Jack knowing the truth could put her in extreme danger, but she'd decided to take that risk because although Jack was no angel, he was an infinitely better man than either Jenkins or Quilter. She'd made a huge mistake getting involved in all of this and was desperate to offload all her guilt when, Wham! Out of the blue, Jack absolves her of any blame over the leaked information. She felt confused, her mind was reeling, what should she do now? She slammed on her mental breaks, and her thoughts came to a halt just in time. "Something smells good." she said with a smile. She left the kitchen to go and hang up her coat.
18
"You've been a bit quiet tonight." Jack said as he stowed away the last of the dishes. He gazed at the black widows which made him realise that winter was fast approaching. Jack hated winter.
"Listen Jack, I've something to tell you." Philippa said pacing the tiled floor.
"If it's about last night, all I can say is I’m sorry, and I promise you, with all my heart, I'll make it up to you." Jack said fearing the worst. She's going to finish it, he thought, that's why she's been so quiet, she's been thinking about how to let me down gently. Why hadn't he been able to keep his big mouth shut for once, at least until he'd known all the facts?
"No, it isn't about last night," Philippa said pushing her hair back from her forehead with one hand, "well not directly, anyway. Oh Jack, can we go into the lounge and talk please."
"Yeah sure." he said taking a beer out of the fridge. "Do you want one?" he asked.
Philippa shook her head. "No thanks." she mumbled before leaving the kitchen.
Jack poured his beer and Philippa watched, trance-like, as the froth began to build. The lighting was fairly dim, romantic even. Philippa would've preferred a brighter setting, but feared if she didn't start this thing soon, she never would, and that simply wouldn't be right.
She inched towards the edge of the sofa, and Jack looked at her, she was truly beautiful, Jack thought, but she was leaving him, of that he was certain. They'd had no pictures taken together, so as he looked at her now, he was desperately trying to memorise every detail of her appearance. Her eyes, her mouth, how she styled her hair.
"No," Jack said, "I've told you; it was Gerald; he let something slip to Harry Robertson, and he told his wife." Jacks mind raced like the wheels of a vehicle stuck in mud. His mind knew it was hearing something bad, but it couldn't quite compute exactly what it was.