Special Relationship

by Fox, Alessandra

  In his room, he checked his phone for Alex but there was nothing. He had just started to snooze when a call came through from one of his traders at the office, but he rejected it and turned the mobile off.

  He was refreshed and ready in his dinner suit in time for Katherine's return and she came up in the lift with Christos as he sat on the sofa catching up with CNBC. The driver never drunk on duty – he liked his job too much - and had only a fizzy water, while Nick and Katherine downed a Scotch before they left for The Savoy.

  Outside, he saw Jamie's silver Range Rover parked a couple of spaces from their car and frowned at Katherine before getting into the rear seat while Christos bitched about the traffic. But it was a short journey and they arrived just as Lord and Lady Ashton were getting out of their garish silver-blue Rolls.

  "Hi Henry, Ellie, glad to see you," Nick greeted them.

  "Nick, how are you?" replied Lady Ashton as they swapped kisses.

  "No Alexander?" asked the Lord, shaking his hand.

  "No, should she be here? And, Henry, it's Alexandra."

  "Oh just what my moles are telling me, and if they are not right then you are missing a trick, my dear boy," he laughed loudly. Katherine, privy to the chat, walked away hastily.

  Inside Nick and Katherine sat on separate tables to spread the company's presence. He was sat with two couples and Sandra Richardson, who was a member of parliament for a deprived area in the north of England. "Please don't talk politics," he thought. But the starters hadn't arrived before she began.

  "So, Mr Hensen, weren't you before a parliamentary committee a couple of years ago, regarding the banking crisis?"

  "Yes, I agreed to the committee's request to provide evidence, albeit having been cleared of any wrongdoing myself."

  "But you must feel, whatever small part you played, that you share some responsibility for the crisis? I mean, it was bankers in general that brought the country almost to its knees?"

  "Why? I personally pay a whack in taxes as do my employees. My company has always traded profitably and never received a penny in government aid. Nor would it ever want to. Among the scariest words you can hear from anyone is 'I'm from the government and I am here to help.'" This small speech, he hoped, would be enough to shut her up, but she carried on.

  On the table opposite Katherine mentioned the company's work in some of the poorest parts of Africa. She told the guests that even Nick himself had risked the constant tribal and civil wars in Burundi to help deliver aid to the country's starving and needy in that country less than a year earlier.

  "But it's a bit cynical, isn't it?" said a man – probably about mid-twenties but looking still school age – who had already revealed he was a Guardian journalist.

  "Why?" asked Katherine.

  "Well, to put in bluntly, your boss went there for his company's PR, not the starving of Burundi."

  "He runs a hedge fund, it's not something that the general public have access to. Him or the company working for a charity isn't going to bring us a load of new clients. We are not a fucking supermarket. Excuse me."

  "Not the language you'd expect," he complained indignantly as she got up.

  "Can I have a word," she whispered into Nick's hear. He excused himself and joined her outside. "I'm only on the same table as a fucking Guardian hack," she informed him.

  "Well, it could be worse, The Independent or the Socialist Worker or someone. I've got a Labour MP!" he replied. "And who did the table arrangements?"

  "The charity did, but maybe that shouldn't have happened. We were in New York when it was decided. You remember New York, do you, Nick?"

  "Yes, I remember it well, and I remember you saying it was 'just sex'."

  Katherine turned away abruptly and walked purposefully back to her table. "It's going to be a long evening," he thought.

  He went to The American Bar and decided to give up playing hardball with Alex. "Have I done something wrong? Please call me. x," read his text.

  By the time he got back the others had finished their salmon starter. His sat on the plate with the triangular brown bread where it stayed until the waiters cleared the table. After a dinner of Dover sole, he skipped dessert and went back to the bar, where he checked his phone for a message from Alex. There wasn't one. "What the fuck is wrong with her?" he thought.

  "Your tie is a bit wonky," said Olivia, making the adjustments.

  "I didn't know you were here."

  "Like to keep in with the beautiful people, especially when it's for charity," she said, mimicking the word 'charity' as it might be said by an Hollywood actress. "No kiss?"

  He pecked her on the cheek, half-heartedly.

  "How you getting on with that American babe everyone's talking about...what's her name, Alex?"

  "Liv, I have to say, I don't think it's something that we should be talking about."

  "I'm no longer a confidante of the high-roller Nick Hensen, my former lover?"

  "Don't think you ever were my confidante after we split," he replied bluntly.

  "You've changed, Nick."

  "No, Liv, I'm exactly the same as I was when I was twelve. Any change is purely in your mind." And he walked back to his table to endure the MP again, leaving Olivia sipping a a large gin and tonic and, he guessed, revising her strategy.

  "I suppose you'll be bidding?" the MP asked as he sat down.

  "Would you prefer I didn't?"

  The auction started with footballs and shirts signed by various Premiership football teams. Nick won a Tottenham shirt signed by the squad and, being a supporter of Arsenal, their fierce rivals, made a show of using it to wipe their table.

  Sarah Richardson looked aghast. "What are you doing?"

  "Having fun."

  He also bid – and won – tickets for the country's leading boy band, a week in Florida for two and a cooking lesson from a TV chef. He went to see the auctioneer during the midway break and told him to reauction the items at their next charity event. "Not tonight, people will think I'm showing off and, please, make sure they do go back to auction," handing him a tip.

  He called Christos to ask him to take him home. "Be there in ten, boss" the driver said. But as he was leaving, and just as he thought the evening could get no worse, he was greeted by a harassed-looking Jamie, his suit and tie crumpled, telling him he "needed a word."

  They found a quiet area and sat on a leather-clad bench. "What is it?" he asked.

  "Well, boss, on your trip today, there was a guy behaving strangely. I saw him a couple of junctions before you turned off for the stables. Didn't think much of it at first but I saw the car again outside the stables. I took a picture of him on my mobile when he got out for a smoke.

  "I didn't see him on the way back but the thing is I spotted him here tonight. He was hanging around outside and kept peering into the dining room, apparently checking on you. So I was watching him all the time and when he went to the toilet I followed him in."

  "And?"

  "Well, questions needed to be asked, your safety and all that. So I bundled him to a cubicle and asked what the fuck he was playing at.

  "He wouldn't say anything at first. He even denied he was at the stables - until I showed him the picture."

  "Then?"

  "I had to get a bit rough with him, but for all I know he had a team behind him and you were about to be taken, err, out of the auction...without anyone making a bid, if you see what I mean."

  Nick appreciated the humour .

  "So," Jamie continued in his strong London accent, "I was about to call for back up but thought I'd give it one more go, and sort of used enough force that might get me an answer but not enough to get me a prison sentence."

  "So you stuck his head down the toilet and flushed?"

  "Had to, boss. Oh, and I had to give him some encouragement from underneath, if you know what I mean. Plus a couple of blows to..."

  "Yep, Jamie, don't give me the gory details. Who was he?"

  "He was a Private Detectiv
e."

  "And he was working for who?"

  "I don't know how to tell you this boss, because I've heard the office gossip. But he told me that his company was being paid by...err...Alex Anderson."

  Chapter twenty-four: Alex's plan goes badly wrong.

  Alex's phone got her out of the shower shortly after eight. The agency said they would call only in the event of a significant development and one day after they had started work they were calling. "Hensen, you've been found out," she thought, grabbing a towel and pressing the green button on the mobile.

  "Sorry to trouble you so early, Alex, it's Sophie from the agency. I'm afraid we have some bad news."

  "That didn't take long," she replied.

  "No, but it's not the news you might have been expecting."

  "I knew he was not what he seemed, so don't spare the details," she said, in a combative mood to prepare herself for the dejection she was about to endure.

  "It's not that we ascertained that Mr Hensen was or is involved in any relationship, Alex, with his PA or anyone else..." She paused. "Rather, that I am sorry to tell you that Mr Hensen detected that we were following him."

  "You what? No...no...you promised me that there was no chance he would ever find out! You said you employed only the best..."

  "Please, Alex," the woman on the other end of the phone interrupted. "I'm afraid that the man we sent was spotted by one of Mr Hensen's team and he now knows that a detective agency was looking at him."

  "Shit, I really can't believe that. You said no one from your company had been uncovered in the thirty whatever years you have been going and however many thousands of jobs you have done. And I come along and you get found out straight away. Excellent fucking job."

  Alex was furious with the company's incompetence but was briefly consoled by the thought that even if the agency had been found out Nick might not know who had sent them. "So he knows that you were following him, right?" asked Alex.

  "Our operative did not mention the name of our company. I understand that while the bodyguard was putting him under physical and mental duress, in what was clearly an assault, for which we will have to consider legal action, the attack was interrupted before that information was provided."

  "Thank fuck for that," said Alex theatrically.

  "I'm sorry Alex, but our employee was subjected to quite a ferocious onset by the bodyguard...and I'm afraid that he was forced to reveal who he was working for."

  "I thought you said that he didn't tell him your company's name?"

  "He didn't get our name Alex, but...well....I'm embarrassed to tell you that he did reveal yours."

  She was dumbstruck, looking at her phone in the hope that if she stared at it long enough this call would go away. But the agency's boss could still be heard. "Alex..are you there...hello?"

  She pressed the red button and called Kerry, walking around the flat trying to compose herself and waiting anxiously for her to answer. It rang for for an agonisingly long time before going through to voicemail. "Kerry, would you come to the flat, not the office this morning. Something terrible has happened."

  "Shit!" she yelled., loud enough that even the couple in the adjacent flat overheard. "Someone's not having a good start to the day," Michael Stubbs, the travel agent, commented to his partner before kissing her goodbye.

  Alex wished her own flat was bigger as she paced round trying to work out the mess she had got herself into. She was considering whether to call Nick and explain everything when Kerry called. "What's up babe?" she asked urgently.

  "You need to come over Kels, I've done something really stupid."

  "What, you're not ill or anything?" Kerry asked, aware that her friend had once tried to end her despair in the most final of ways.

  "No, no, it's Hensen. I'll tell you when you get here."

  "OK, I'm coming as quick as I can get across town."

  Alex lay on the bed to try to think. She considered calling Nick but at the same time was terrified that her phone might ring with his name flashing up.

  She called the agency, worried for him that the newspapers would have a field day with a story of how a minder working for one of Britain's wealthiest men – and a banker to boot – had beaten up a private detective.

  "Sophie, it's Alex Anderson."

  "Sorry, Alex, I think we got cut off, I did try to call back..."

  "How badly, err, beaten was your guy?"

  "Pretty badly, but not enough for hospital," she replied before explaining more of the circumstances.

  "The bathroom at The Savoy? Jesus, Sophie, I don't want this to escalate. I'll pay the bills but please can we not make this bigger than it is?"

  "Obviously, any publicity wouldn't be good for us or for Mr Hensen, so I'll do my best to keep a lid on things. I'm seeing the operative later. And there won't be any bills. I'm just sorry for what happened. We rather underestimated the abilities of his security people, not to say we aren't very angry with some of their physical methods."

  "I can understand that, but please I'm obviously in a very difficult situation now, and if we can try to placate things?"

  "I'll do my best and I do understand your situation."

  Kerry texted to say she was twenty minutes away and Alex, comforted by the message, began to think there might be a way out of the frightening hole she had dug for herself. She would call Nick after she had spoken to Kerry, offer to meet him and explain everything and what led her to do something so foolish.

  She thought logically for the first time that morning. If he did have true feelings for her he would surely forgive her, but if he was the womaniser playing with people's lives that led her to The Infidelity Agency in the first place then he wouldn't be worth bothering about. She would lose only the love that she never had, and the contract for which she had worked so hard.

  The buzzer to her flat went shortly afterwards and Kerry stood there with coffee in both hands, handing one cup to Alex. "Thanks, Kels, but I think caffeine is the last thing I need now."

  They sat at the kitchen table and Alex didn't know how to tell her. As well as her own feelings for Nick, she felt terribly guilty for endangering the livelihoods of her three employees.

  "I've screwed up big time."

  "You've had a row?"

  "No it's a bit worse than that," she said.

  She began hesitantly. "As you know, I had serious doubts whether Nick was all he seemed even though at the same time I was falling for him because when we were together it was fantastic. So good that I often felt guilty for not thinking twenty-four, seven about events past.

  "Well, I said I was going to go on the offensive because I simply couldn't let infidelity ruin my life again. So...I was listening to the radio one night three or four weeks ago and there was a feature about an agency, you know, one that checks on people's partners...and, foolishly enough, I went to see them the other day."

  Kerry looked at her amazed. "Oh no, Alex, tell me you didn't."

  "I had to know Kels. I guess I do love him – he is just the most perfect, down-to-earth guy I've ever met. I never even think of his wealth – because in the short time we've known each other we've just had fun. And, like I say, I couldn't take the risk again."

  Kerry sipped her coffee to hide her astonishment at what she was telling her. When she got to the part of how one of Nick's security team had rumbled the private detective, she couldn't conceal her expression any longer. It was one of sheer horror.

  She'd liked Alex from the very first time she'd met her when she'd been interviewed for a temporary position. And as they grew closer and she had revealed her past, she had determined that she would do everything and anything to protect her friend from further harm and to help her heal. She was beautiful inside and out, but employing a private detective to check on a man she had met only recently? Even Kerry was doubting her now.

  When she finished her story, tears were streaming from her eyes and Kerry went round the table to hug her. "You are fucking high maintenance,
you are," she said.

  Alex was working on a smile when her phone went and she dreaded looking at the display. Kerry did it for her. "It's Adrian," she said, pressing the accept button and handing her the mobile. She guessed he might have some news, and the more knowledge they had the better would be any clean-up plan.

  "Hi Alex, something's going on with the Hensen people." He expected a question but she said nothing, so he continued. "The files weren't going through...kept getting rejected, like their computers were not speaking to ours..." He wanted her to ask something to make the task of telling her easier, but all she said was "go on."

  "Well, I called them, to speak to their bods in IT and they told me to hold...and then they put me through to their security department. The guy there said they were 'reviewing security practices' in relation to our contract and he wouldn't say anything else.

  "I don't know what it's all about Alex, you need to get on to them. It's nothing I've done."

  "No, it's not you Ade, it's me. I'll call you later."

  After she had hung up, he looked at his phone with a puzzled expression. "Think the Hensen contract might have gone belly up," he said to Suzanne. "Bloody hope not," she replied, working on the spreadsheet of the company's incomings and outgoings for the month.

  "What happens when you mix business with pleasure," Adrian reflected.

  In Mayfair, Nick Hensen sat in a meeting with Katherine, Tavis and Jamie.

  "So tell us exactly what happened, Jamie," Katherine said.

  Jamie told his story again about the stable visit and The Savoy and how he had spotted the same guy at both places behaving suspiciously.

  "I followed him to the toilet and, after some encouragement, when I asked who was paying him he gave the name 'Alex Anderson'.

  "I was about to, err, encourage him some more, you know to find out why, when we were interrupted. I think some speech at the dinner must have finished and about four or five people came in at the same time. The closet door was half open, so I didn't really have much choice but to straighten my clothes and leave as inconspicuously as I could."