After the hallway carpet, the tiled bathroom floor chilled the soles of her feet, and she could feel a wave of goosebumps rising on her arms and thighs.
She turned and eased the door shut behind her, holding the handle down so that the latch wouldn’t make any noise, her fingers seeking out the bolt and gently sliding it home. Standing there in the darkness, she let her wide eyes close for a moment, allowed herself to breathe again. Her hand reached up and outward until she felt the thin cord, took hold of it and pulled.
Click.
The room blazed white and she covered her eyes for a moment, giving them a chance to adjust to the glaring light. Slowly parting her fingers, she opened her eyes a little, then moved her hands to hug herself as an uncontrollable shiver ran through her. The bathroom was cold after the warmth of the bed, and her skin felt like stone. Rubbing her arms, she cast around the room, then went over to the towel rail. Mercifully, it was on, and she took the large white towel and wrapped it around her shoulders, surrendering herself to the soothing warmth. Her feet were still freezing, so she padded over and sat down on the toilet, rubbing her toes into the soft carpeted bath mat, respite from the cold floor tiles.
Only now did she dare to think about it. Up until now, she’d pushed it all away, forced herself to concentrate on getting out of the room without waking him, getting some space so she could think. But now she was here, and there was nowhere else to go, no way to avoid it. She let go just a little, and was immediately overwhelmed by a searing glare of nightmare images blazing through her mind, though she shut her eyes tight against them.
Oh God, what had he done?
A woman. He’d killed a woman. All the excuses she’d fabricated, all the lies she’d told herself … everything had been blown away in the sudden icy gale of that revelation, leaving her tattered and alone with the truth. She struggled to rationalise it, to find some justification, but there was none. It couldn’t have been an accident, it simply couldn’t. He’d killed a woman on purpose.
Murder.
It was the first time the word had come to her and somehow that made things worse. Living with a murderer. In love with a murderer. She was so stupid.
She fought them back, but the tears came anyway. Her shoulders began to tremble inside the towel, the first involuntary sobs overtaking her small body. That would have woken him, if she’d stayed in the bed, if she’d let herself think about it as she lay next to him, and how would she have explained herself then? She’d barely made it out of the room in time. How long had she thought she could keep a grip on something like this, something so …
Her imagination tore itself free, running on ahead of her beyond any hope of reining it back in, leading her deeper into the nightmare. Image after image, each more terrifying than the last: red blood on a woman’s pale flesh, eyes rolling back, a host of different deaths. And standing over each one, that same figure, that man whom she had given herself to, his face grim and terrible.
It was too much.
Sagging forward, she wadded up a handful of the towel and pushed it into her mouth, crying into the layered material to deaden the sound, just like she used to do when she was a little girl. She couldn’t help herself, but he mustn’t hear her, mustn’t know what she was thinking.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there.
Sitting up stiffly, she felt exhausted and cold. Her bottom was numb from sitting on the hard wooden toilet seat – she must have been slumped over for a while.
Sniffing softly, she took some tissue from the roll and carefully dabbed her eyes dry. The crisis was past, the swell of panic had crashed over her like a breaking wave and receded. Now she just felt numb, disconnected from her circumstances, as though they were happening to someone else.
Weariness enveloped her like a fog and she yawned as she got slowly to her feet.
For now, she was all cried out. Her emotions wouldn’t betray her.
For now.
She slipped off the towel and draped it back over the rail, shivering as her shroud of body heat evaporated. Then, lifting her chin and trying to affect a calm expression, she moved over to draw back the bolt and open the door. The light clicked off, leaving her blind in the darkness, but she knew the way. Part of her was glad, not wanting to see or be seen, ashamed of her feelings, ashamed of playing her part in a horror she couldn’t understand.
Stretching her hand out in front of her, she tiptoed out onto the landing and walked quietly back to bed.
13
Monday, 16 June
Naysmith studied an email as he walked up the carpeted steps, then returned the phone to his inside pocket as he pushed the door wide and walked into the reception area.
‘Morning, Amy,’ he said, shifting the strap of his shoulder bag so it wouldn’t crease his jacket. ‘How are you today?’
Amy looked up from behind the large, curved desk and smiled at him. She was in her twenties, plain but professional, always dressed smartly, always courteous. Her straight brown hair was tied back today, which was unusual – he wondered if anyone else had noticed.
‘Good morning, Rob,’ she replied. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’
He glanced up at the three clocks on the wall behind her.
‘Are Fraser and Gina in yet?’
‘Gina is. Fraser called to say he was running late but he’ll be here by ten.’
‘No problem,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ve got a few emails to sort through – I’ll grab one of the meeting rooms for now and make a start.’
He put his hand on the internal door, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder.
‘Your hair looks good like that,’ he told her.
Amy beamed at him.
‘Thanks, Rob.’
Fraser was a lean, likeable man in his early fifties, with thinning grey hair and a pointed chin. He put his head around the meeting-room door and gave a small nod of acknowledgement.
‘There you are,’ he said, as though he’d looked everywhere. ‘Amy said I’d find you in here.’
‘Morning, Fraser.’ Naysmith smiled as he got to his feet. ‘Ready to start?’
‘Whenever you are.’ Fraser held the door open for him as he gathered up his open laptop and bag before they walked out between the cubicles and across the main floor of the open-plan office.
‘Sorry about the delay.’ The older man frowned as they approached the boardroom door. ‘Italian sports cars look nice but they can be rather temperamental. Had to borrow Chloe’s Volvo and that lumbered me with doing the school run first.’
‘That’s why I drive a modest German saloon.’
‘That, and because we don’t pay you enough, eh?’ Fraser chuckled.
Naysmith smiled.
That, and the fact he didn’t want a memorable car.
It was important that he not stand out – imagine the risk of making all those journeys to Severn Beach in a Maserati! And it wouldn’t have been nearly so easy to track down vehicles of the same make and model whose registration numbers he could duplicate on his false plates.
They entered the boardroom and Fraser shut the door behind them. Naysmith walked around the long wooden table and drew out one of the high-backed dark leather chairs.
‘Good morning, Gina,’ he smiled as he put his open laptop on the polished surface and slid his bag onto the empty seat next to him. ‘If you’re charged up, can I borrow your power lead? I’ve left mine at home.’
Wearing a tailored pinstripe jacket and with her dark hair styled in a smart bob, Gina glanced up from her own screen. She was a clever woman in her late forties who, along with Fraser, had built the business from the ground up. She regarded Naysmith and offered him a weary look.
‘You can have it for a little while, but I want it back,’ she sighed, unplugging the cable from her laptop and sliding it across to him.
‘For a little while,’ he promised gravely.
There was a brief chiming sound and the large black screen at the far end of the table flickered into
life, showing two figures sitting in a bright office by a huge glass window.
‘Good morning.’ The figure on the left of the screen was a tall man in a short-sleeved shirt, with gelled black hair and rimless glasses. He raised his hand in greeting as he settled back into his chair. ‘Good to see you all.’
‘Morgen, Andreas,’ Naysmith waved back. ‘Hey there, Christof.’
‘Hallo.’ The other figure nodded towards the camera. Christof was younger, in his thirties, with pale blond hair and a tiny beard.
Naysmith leaned over towards the screen.
‘Any chance one of you guys can get me a coffee?’ He grinned. ‘The stuff they have here in Woking is pretty much undrinkable.’
Christof laughed and held up a mug.
‘I let you have some of mine,’ he smiled.
On the screen, Andreas opened up his laptop, then addressed the camera.
‘Well, as you can see it is a beautiful day here in Hamburg,’ he gestured to the window behind him, the familiar office blocks and TV tower on the skyline. ‘How are things over there on the island?’
Gina smiled patiently.
‘Britain is great, thanks.’
Andreas shrugged apologetically.
‘Ah, it is just my little joke,’ he told her.
‘And a German joke is no laughing matter.’ Fraser had a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he looked up from his notebook. ‘So, shall we begin?’
They turned to Gina.
‘OK,’ she said, adopting a no-nonsense tone. ‘First up, I want to know where we are with the Friedman account.’
On screen, Christof’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head slightly.
‘Ah, so we begin with the thing that is not the best.’ Andreas gazed down at the table and nodded.
‘We’ve discussed this several times over the last couple of months,’ Fraser interjected. ‘Is the situation any better?’
‘No.’ Christof shook his head. ‘I would say it’s getting a little bit worse.’
Andreas gave him a slightly pained sidelong glance, then turned back towards the camera.
‘They keep requesting to change the specification,’ he explained. ‘What they are asking for is not so unreasonable if they are asking for it at the start, but we have spent already a lot of euros developing a solution which they now ask us to engineer again in a different way.’
There was an uncomfortable silence. Gina’s face was unreadable but Fraser shook his head and sighed.
‘This is getting expensive,’ he muttered.
Naysmith leaned forward, gently turning his pen around on the polished surface of the table. A glimmer of an idea was forming.
‘They’re tied in for a support contract, right?’ he asked, staring down at the reflections on the wood.
‘Ja,’ Christof shrugged.
‘OK, how about we give them a choice?’ It was coming together now – there was a way they could fix this. He turned to look at the screen. ‘They can honour the original agreement and negotiate any changes at a sensible rate – which is fair enough – or if they keep pushing us for changes on the specification, then we only support what was originally specified.’
Andreas rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
‘But how would that work?’ Christof asked. ‘They’d have to line up additional support or the system would be vulnerable.’
‘Exactly,’ Naysmith replied brightly.
Christof was still frowning.
‘So what’s the difference to them?’ he frowned. ‘Won’t they just keep screwing us around?’
Naysmith glanced across at Gina, noting the faint smile that touched her lips. She knew where he was going with this.
‘Our support rate is approximately double the negotiated development rate,’ she said coolly. ‘In short, we charge them twice as much if they mess around. That’s what you’re thinking, Rob?’
Naysmith bowed his head to her slightly.
Andreas nodded. ‘It would give us a much stronger negotiating position.’
They were all quiet for a moment, considering the implications of such a move. In the end, it was Fraser who broke the silence with a soft chuckle.
‘Somebody needs to explain the perils of their situation to them.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Then they’ll be more inclined to do a sensible deal.’
There was a pause. On the screen, Christof glanced across at Andreas, who said nothing.
Naysmith leaned back in his chair and looked at Fraser.
‘I’ll do it,’ he said.
Fraser gave him a slow smile, then turned to the screen and raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘All right with you?’ he asked.
‘That would be great.’ Andreas looked brighter now. ‘And it would mean our relationship with them could still be the same. Are you sure you don’t mind, Rob?’
‘No problem,’ Naysmith shrugged. ‘Sales are my responsibility, and I’m not going to pass the buck.’
He glanced across to Gina and gave her a quick grin.
‘Plus, I rather like the thought of being the bad guy.’
Gina shook her head and chuckled.
‘So we have a plan.’ Andreas smiled. ‘Let me know about the flights, and I’ll set up a meeting. Then maybe we can go for a meal with the team afterwards?’
‘An evening on the Reeperbahn?’ Naysmith spoke thoughtfully, then turned to smile at Andreas. ‘Now how could I refuse an offer like that?’
The meeting ran on until midday, when Andreas and Christof had to leave for another appointment. As the large screen went dark, Naysmith closed his laptop, lifted his bag onto the table and started packing away.
‘Hey!’ Gina snapped at him.
Naysmith looked across at her, puzzled.
‘Power supply.’ She pointed an accusing finger at him and he realised that he’d been rolling up the cables, ready to stow them away.
‘Sorry.’ He smiled as he slid the power supply back across the table to her. ‘Force of habit.’
‘If that was a habit, you wouldn’t keep forgetting to bring your own.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s almost lunchtime. Did you want to come and grab something with Fraser and me?’
‘I’d like that. Give me five minutes to make a call?’
‘That’s fine.’ She stood up and followed Fraser out of the room.
Kim answered on the third ring.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey, beautiful, how’s it going?’
‘I’m fine.’ Her voice seemed subdued. Maybe he’d caught her at a bad time. ‘How was your meeting?’
Naysmith leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the tiny recessed lights above the table.
‘It was OK,’ he shrugged. ‘Listen, I’m going for lunch with Fraser and Gina in a minute, but I wanted to let you know that I’ll probably need to pop over to Hamburg this week.’
‘When are you going?’
‘Not sure,’ he replied, ‘I haven’t checked the flights yet – but I should only be away one night.’
‘OK. Will you let me know once it’s booked?’
She must be thinking about their day out together. He’d almost forgotten.
‘Kim?’ He softened his voice for her. I know I said we’d take the day off on Friday, but I think that might be difficult now. Any chance you can shift your day off to next week?’
‘Yes, that should be all right. I’ll speak to Marcus this afternoon.’
‘Thanks. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No, of course not.’
He thought she might have sounded more disappointed, but no matter.
‘You’re the best,’ he told her. ‘Listen, I’ll call you this afternoon once I know about the flights.’
‘OK, enjoy your lunch.’
He smiled and got to his feet.
‘I will. Catch you later.’
It was a shame about Friday, but Kim had been very understanding, and he’d make it up to her. Leaning forward, he picked up his bag and slipped th
e strap over his shoulder. It was a pity about the Bristol woman too – he’d hoped to start looking for her, but now that would have to be put back as well. Frowning, he straightened his jacket and walked towards the door.
Minor delays.
But it wouldn’t change his plans.
14
Thursday, 19 June
Kim followed Rob out of the kitchen and into the hallway, watching as he patted his pockets, checking for his passport, his wallet.
‘Got everything?’ she asked.
He turned to face her, his expression softening into a warm smile.
‘I think so,’ he said, picking up his phone and slipping it into his jacket. ‘Anyway, it’s just for the one night.’
He stooped to pick up his bag and retrieved his car keys from the hall stand.
‘I’d better get going.’
She nodded silently, twirling a strand of hair absently across her mouth.
‘Kim?’
She started, finding his eyes on her, watchful, thoughtful.
‘Yes?’
He moved closer, his hands reaching up towards her throat, but she managed not to flinch. They moved higher, gently cupping her face and lifting it to his. She exhaled, hoping it sounded like longing rather than relief.
‘I want to kiss you goodbye.’ His eyes were smiling again.
She let her lips part, relaxing into his embrace. Her eyes closed but the troubling images remained, despite the remembered desire she felt in her own kiss.
He released her and turned away, not noticing the trembling she felt in her body, not seeing the cracks she could feel in her own expression.
‘Right, now I really do have to go,’ he said, opening the front door and stepping out into the grey morning light.
‘Take care,’ she called from the shadow of the doorway.
‘I always do,’ he grinned, walking across to the car and unlocking it. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Knife Edge Page 9
