Thinking how she might find out more, she decided that Tavis Hamilton might provide the key to unlocking the secret.
She grabbed her phone, hoping that he wouldn't be with Nick, and hit his name in her contact list.
Let's play them at their own game, she thought as she waited for an answer.
"Hi, Alex, how are you?"
"Good thanks, not interrupting anything?"
"No, just on the internet looking for a new jacket as my wife says I'm scruffy."
"You are. But I just wanted to thank you for your briefing on Nick, not that it was necessary as he was really easy to get on with."
"Yes, I saw him afterwards and I think he was happy with everything," said Tavis.
"Oh good. I really enjoyed the lunch, just a pity I had a meeting planned for later in the day. He is off to my home town tomorrow?"
"Yes, I think the plane leaves about five in the morning – I've never been up at that time in my life."
For a reason she couldn't explain to herself, she was keen to find out when he would return. "There is something I need to talk to him about. When will he be back, or should I just call Katherine?"
"Well, I'm not involved with your contract, Alex, but Katherine is going with him and they'll be back next Thursday. "
"Oh, OK, that's great.
"And when are we going to have our afternoon drinking binge?"
"Monday?"
"Good for me."
"I'll call you Sunday to arrange."
After hanging up. Tavis tried to work out why the girl who had something to hide was now calling him. This, before he was about to call her in his pursuit of finding out what she was concealing.
Alex, meanwhile, was pleased that she might find out next week what was going on.
"OK, conference call, everyone," she shouted across the office.
Kerry, Adrian and Suzanne joined her at her desk.
"I think we have had enough for one week, so I propose some time off.
"Adrian, if you can do your stuff from home tomorrow, then you have a free pass. Whatever, don't bust a gut over anything that isn't necessary. Girls, you don't have to be here, so stay in bed tomorrow, as I intend to do, and we'll all meet up on Monday."
"Well, thanks Alex, I could do with a day off," said Suzanne.
"What about if the people we saw today call?" asked Kerry.
"I'm sure Adrian will be able to divert calls to your mobile, Kels, and for tonight put a cab on expenses. With all your gear it won't be easy to get home on the tube."
Adrian said it suited him and implied that, with modern technology, there was no reason to ever come into the office.
"Then who would we take the piss out of?" asked Alex.
The three of them looked pleased at the prospect of their long week-ends, and Alex was happy too.
"I'm going to buy a pay-per-go-mobile on the way home. I'll text you all the number later. My main phone will be switched off."
She thought of three days lying in bed watching movies and reading, with no text messages from weirdos. On Monday she'd see Tavis and try to glean what she could about who might be sending them.
"Well, go on then, piss off" said Alex. "You'll all get paid."
Suzanne and Adrian left immediately, while Kerry lingered and asked whether she wanted her to stay at her place again.
"No, I'm on the offensive now, hon," said Alex and told of her meeting with Tavis on Monday.
"First, I need to shore up my defences, and that I think can be done by spending a long time in bed.
"Nick's off to New York at some crazy hour in the morning and if I am sleeping or even reading I won't be thinking about him, or the crazy people that work for him."
Packing her stuff, Kerry asked whether the meeting with Tavis was a good idea. "He thinks you're hiding something and he is going to ask you about New York, your schools, where you lived and everything. And he might know New York well if he goes over there with Nick.
"Listen, we've got nothing planned for the weekend so if there is anything you want just call at any time."
"Won't be necessary, Kels, the counter attack is about to begin."
But as soon as Kerry had left, Alex felt less confident. She has a point, she thought. Did she really want to answer all Tavis's awkward questions on Monday? And she knew he was bound to ask them. She was in the office another two hours, searching on the internet for schools and places that might provide her with a story to explain her past.
Before catching the train, she bought a cheap mobile in a Vodafone shop, and in the supermarket she bought enough food to last her for three days of hibernation. No alcohol, just three bottles of sparkling water and lime juice. Over the next three days she would detox her body as well as her mind.
In the evening she texted her temporary number to her employees and switched off her main phone. She grabbed her iPad and started downloading Woody Allen films. By nine, she was in bed watching Manhattan Murder Mystery.
Chapter seven: The Big Apple.
Shortly after noon UK time, but still early morning in New York, Nick Hensen and Katherine Price were being driven to the company's US office in what was officially the Avenue of The Americas, but known to locals as Sixth Avenue of just 'Sixth'.
Nick liked the location as it was walking distance to Greenwich Village which was more European than big-city America. He loved the wonder of New York but it was in the shabby bars and music clubs of 'the Village' in which he felt more at home. Often, after losing his minder, he walked round the area alone, and in his apartment close by he kept suitable attire to disguise the wealthy-man look.
Freeing himself from the shackles of his wealth, he was able to experience what he regarded as real life with the locals and tourists and talk to them as if he were just any other punter from England. Which was what he always supposed he was anyway.
"Dinner in the village tonight, Kath?"
"Sure, can't make it a late one, though. The boys and girls are coming first thing to brief you on next week's meetings."
"On a Saturday...you're joking?" he groaned.
"Afraid so."
"No late-night jazz at the Vanguard then."
He looked at his mobile. He wanted to text Alex to thank her for her good company at lunch, but thought he'd wait until Katherine wasn't there.
"Katherine, where's Katz's?" he asked.
"It's on the Lower East Side, East Houston, I think. What do you want from there?"
"Blueberry cheesecake."
"Are you kidding?"
"Nope."
"Blueberry cheesecake. Are you pregnant?"
He laughed.
"We'll get it near the office," she said.
"No, it's got to be from Katz's."
"I worry about you sometimes. I'll send a driver tomorrow."
"No, I need get it myself, and I need to get it fresh just before we leave," he replied.
She looked at him as though he had gone mad but had an inkling it might have something to do with Alex Anderson.
"The area has been gentrified over the last few years, but I'd still leave your watch at home."
Then, ever the efficient PA, she asked him whether he intended to take the cheesecake back to the UK.
When he replied yes she wondered about the lifespan of cheesecake and, as ridiculous as it seemed, whether it was actually legal to bring it back to the UK. Even on a private jet they had to go through passport controls and customs, and she was pretty sure that no dairy products were allowed into the UK from outside an EU nation. But was cheesecake a dairy product. Was cheesecake made of actual cheese?
She was a good PA but would have made a hopeless chef, so she made a note to check out cheesecake as soon as she had decent internet access, half-hoping that he would abandon the plan.
"Hi Jack, how are you!" she greeted the porter in the lobby of the building that included Hensen's New York office.
"Katherine, it's great to see you again. And you too, Mr Hensen. Lo
ng stay?"
"No just a few days, Jack. "Just checking we actually have staff working here," Nick smiled.
"Don't worry, I count them in and I count them out, and they are all good.
"You know I'd call you if one of them was a minute late," he laughed.
Nick and Katherine both liked Jack, not least because of the way he talked. They joked that he must have been the voice behind T.C. in Topcat before getting his current job.
In the office, there were already maybe twenty staff – about half the total - poring over computers flashing prices of stocks, currencies and commodities. Nick and Katherine went to Nick's office, dropped their luggage, and Katherine went to find some of their top people.
Lauren Wilmslow, Vice President Sales, it said on the glass inscription. Katherine knocked and opened the door and the incumbent smiled and greeted her warmly. "Sure, I'll go see him at ten, she said."
Michael Johnson, Chief Investment Strategist, said he'd be there along with Charles Campbell, his number two. On Nick's request, Katherine also tried to find their Cyber Fraud Protection Officer Jimmy Wallis, but he wasn't in so she left a note on his desk.
She went back to Nick's office where her boss was leaning back in his chair admiring the view.
"We've got sales, investments and, I think, fraud coming at ten. The traders are busy trading but we'll talk to a couple of them tomorrow. I'm getting some coffee, want some?"
"Please," he replied, looking at New York but thinking of London.
He pulled out his phone and typed a message to Alex. "Thanks for lunch the other day – really enjoyed your company...."
"Too much?" he thought.
He deleted the word "really", then added "Queue for blueberry cheesecake is three blocks."
In London, Alex was in bed starting on the third Woody Allen film from her downloads list. And, with her main phone off, she was oblivious to Nick's text.
No better way to rekindle the batteries than to spend a whole day in bed, she thought. Hearing the neighbours leave for work just after eight had made her feel even better about her day of idleness.
One of her favourite scenes in Manhattan, Diane Keaton showing bewilderment at what Isaac was liking and not liking in the art gallery. made her miss her home city. And it also reminded her that Nick was there. But before she could think further, her newly-bought mobile let out a shrill. She recognised Kerry's number and fumbled with the buttons before eventually working out how to answer it.
"Hi Kels."
"You good, babe?"
"Chilled as a penguin," Alex replied.
She explained that she was "in bed with Woody Allen" and had only got up to make tea.
"It'll do you good, honey," Kerry remarked.
"I just wanted to call and make sure you were all OK and that you hadn't looked at your main phone for dodgy text messages."
"Nope. Business closed until Monday morning, though I might eventually have to get up for an hour to fumigate myself and get some food."
Kerry reassured her that all must be good with the office or Adrian would have called one of them. She herself had been almost as slothful but was going to take the kids out shopping as soon as school was over.
"We'll have to do this once a month," Alex suggested.
"Or once a week," laughed Kerry.
"By the way, do you Yanks know how to make tea?"
"We invented the tea bag, my dear girl."
"Yes, and you serve it accompanied by a cup of tepid water," Kerry ribbed her.
"Mmm, maybe as well as spending all day in bed I need a butler."
"But if you are in bed with the butler who will make the tea?" Kerry quipped.
"Please don't make me horny. I'll never look at Woody Allen in the same light again."
The pair giggled like schoolgirls.
In New York , sales executive Lauren Wilmslow was diplomatically explaining to those gathered at the morning meeting that she personally had worked hard on getting Jack Wyatt to invest in the fund. He, one of America's richest men and owner of more land than some European countries, was not best pleased that his conference call with Nick had been cancelled earlier in the week.
"What's his problem?" said Nick. "We made him 13% this year. If he wants to chat tell him to go on Twitter."
Lauren looked awkward. "He is one of our biggest contributors in fees," she said.
"The 13% was after the fees," said Nick.
"I think we need to keep him happy."
"The 13% should keep him happy."
Lauren had never seen Nick like this. Normally a stickler for detail, he looked uninterested, sluggish and not much bothered whether Wyatt made a good return or went bankrupt.
Her boss, with less than total sincerity Lauren thought, thanked the investment people for their performance. "Well done, guys, you outperformed the Dow, the S&P and property," he said.
It was only when Wallis, the fraud man spoke, that he looked more attentive. He reported that there had been a couple of attacks on the company's computer system but nothing out of the usual and nothing they couldn't handle.
"Is it totally impossible that anyone could hack into our system and fuck us up?" Nick asked.
"Well, on all known technology, yes. But there are east European and Asians working hard on changing that. Not just us but with every big company in the western world," Wallis replied.
"Obviously we are doing everything to ensure we stay a step ahead of them."
"So there is no chance a one-man show, say in London, could break in and cause us grief, even if he has fairly high level clearance?"
"One man couldn't do it by himself whatever clearance he has got. It would take a big team working round the clock. Even you, sir, would find it hard to switch funds without us knowing about it."
"Interesting," said Nick. "I haven't got a clue how it all works but since we have never had anyone hack our system, let alone steal clients' money, I do have confidence in what you guys do."
"Thanks, you should have, sir."
"OK, everyone, I think that's about it. Apparently there is a meeting tomorrow morning - my PA not realising it was a Saturday - so if any of you are present I will see you then and if not before I go."
The employees left the office, whispering among themselves once outside that their boss didn't seem "right".
"Well, that wasn't very productive, was it?" Katherine said to Nick.
"What did you expect? Investments are well ahead of the benchmarks, security is tight and Jack Wyatt is an arse. We knew that before we came," he said.
Katherine knew that something was bothering him and she thought she knew what it was. She was just waiting for the right time to mention the subject. That subject being, she was sure, one Alex Anderson.
"Have you got a hotel or are you staying at mine?" Nick asked her.
"I'm in the Library."
The Library on Madison Avenue was the hotel for which the description 'boutique' must have been invented. The floors were designated under a library system, that helps readers find books easily, called the Dewey Decimal Classification. So the hotel's seventh floor was arts, the eight floor literature and the ninth floor history. Each of the rooms had their own theme, subgenres of the floor category. The eleventh floor was the Philosophy floor and room six was love. The eighth floor was Literature and room one on that floor was Erotic Literature.
"And what room are you in this time?" Nick asked.
"I think I'm in Medicine but perhaps I should have asked for Psychology," she said.
"Meaning?" he asked.
"Nick, you were on autopilot for that meeting. Whatever is going on in your mind, you need to get on with running the business."
He looked at her.
"They have a 'Money' room at the Library, don't they?"
"Yes, they do."
"Well, if they gave me that one I would ask to be moved to another floor."
"Oh brilliant," said Katherine. "The head honcho of a company whose sole
aim is to make money is bored of making money. I'd better put more in my savings account.
"But for now I'm meeting a friend for some serious shopping, New York style.
"And I'll call you later for dinner arrangements," she said as she picked up two of her bags and left the office.
Nick called Tavis. "How's the Big Apple?" he answered.
"It's great, very big buildings and lots of people running around. Makes a change from very old buildings and lots of people running around."
More small talk followed before Nick broached the subject of "the Anderson contract".
"Well, you were only in Great Britain this morning, Nicholas, so unsurprisingly there is little to report.
"But Miss Anderson and I are going for drinks on Monday and I have some questions to pose, the answers to which might illuminate her dark, mysterious past."
"I want you to lay off," Nick said.
"So you are happy having someone who is not who she says she is having access to your computer systems and, my dear man, probably access to you, and all your ludicrous riches? That's if I'm reading things correctly."
Nick explained that he had spoken to Jimmy Wallis that morning and that unless Alex Anderson was being supported by teams of the Russian mafia there was no hope of her doing anything to put numbers - also known as money - from the Hensen accounts into whatever account Tavis was imagining.
"She is not interested in material things, as I told you before I came over here."
"This being the girl you have known less than a week and who you have met twice?"
"Look, just forget the questions, take her for drinks and tell her that you have spoken to me and that I'll meet up with her again after I get back.
"But definitely no questions."
"If that's what you want," said Tavis before explaining he was about to catch a flight to Scotland to watch his football team, Edinburgh-based Hibernian play Glasgow's Celtic the next day. "Bag O' Shite" was Tavis's description of the opposing team.
Nick didn't want to talk football. He just wanted Tavis to promise that on Monday he wouldn't grill Alex about her past.
Tavis agreed again. And Nick knew he would be true to his word.
Special Relationship Page 8
