‘All right, but there’s one other thing I must stress. This is strictly voluntary. Everyone has an opt-out clause, including you. If, once you’ve slept on it, you decide you want no part of it, then it won’t reflect on your record.’
Jane hid a smile behind her hand. She could almost smell the bullshit. Officially it might not affect her record, but forevermore she would be compromised by the case she’d decided not to take. Crozier could use it against her like a lever and it would make her future with the Department very uncomfortable. Calling it a voluntary operation assuaged his conscience should anything go wrong, nothing more. ‘I’ll make that clear to them,’ she said.
‘Very well then. Gather your team and brief them, then go out to the island and take the place apart — stone by stone if necessary. Call me in a day or so, once you’ve spoken with Carter.’
Jane took the elevator down to street level. In her mind she was already rehearsing how she would break the news to David.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As she let herself into her house she knew immediately that something was wrong. There was an atmosphere of melancholy that was almost palpable. It insinuated itself under her skin, making her shiver. She dropped her bag on the hall table, took one step towards the lounge, and saw the small suitcase left casually at the bottom of the stairs. This was not a good sign.
She found David in the lounge, sitting in front of the television, his jacket on, a glass of whisky in his hand. He looked up at her as she entered, then his gaze reverted to the ten o’clock news playing out the day’s events on the screen.
‘Hi,’ she said, with a lightness she didn’t feel.
‘Hi.’ He didn’t even look at her.
‘How are the girls?’ She was still standing in the doorway to the room, uncertain whether she was waiting for an invitation, or just a sign that she was welcome.
‘At your mother’s.’ The item on the news was about the Pope’s planned visit to the old Eastern Bloc countries in the spring.
‘I thought you might be having them.’
‘You thought wrong. They’d been looking forward to seeing her. I didn’t want to disappoint them.’ A slight hesitation. ‘There have been enough disappointments today.’
She moved to the sideboard and poured herself a scotch. ‘I think we need to talk,’ she said. ‘I saw the suitcase in the hall. Going somewhere?’
He didn’t take his eyes from the screen. The newscaster was now reporting a suicide bomb attack in Israel. The words washed over her. At that moment there were more important issues to deal with — at least in her life.
‘I spoke to Graham Turner earlier. He has a room he wants to rent out. I thought I’d take it for a while.’ He sounded like a petulant schoolboy. He doesn’t want this, Jane thought. I can still keep us together.
‘So it’s not a permanent arrangement?’
He shrugged.
She crashed down into an armchair and took a long pull on her drink, wincing as the neat spirit burned its way down her throat. ‘When did you decide to leave?’ she said.
‘About five minutes after you left this morning.’
‘And you didn’t think to talk it over with me first. We’d arranged to go out today. Talk, relax, sort things out.’
The news had moved on. Football results.
‘Can you turn that bloody thing off?’ she said. His lack of engagement with her was casting doubts on her earlier belief that she could retrieve things.
His hand reached out for the remote and he stroked a button. The screen went black. He looked at her, but the look was dispassionate, staring at her as if she were a total stranger. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t. Think to talk it over with you first, that is. Besides, you weren’t here.’
A wave of despair flooded over her. ‘I’m really sorry. Crozier insisted I attend an all-dayer. You know what my job entails.’ She couldn’t let eight years of marriage end. Not here to night. Not like this. ‘What about Gemma and Amy? They need their father.’
‘They need their mother too, but that fact seems to escape your notice whenever it’s convenient.’ His tone had taken on a cold analytical embrace.
‘That’s not fair,’ she snapped at him. ‘It’s my job. I need to work.’
His voice remained infuriatingly level. ‘No, you don’t. We don’t need your salary. You choose to work, and you choose to neglect the girls.’
Despair gave way to anger. ‘I don’t neglect them!’ She took another sip of her drink, measuring her next words carefully. ‘Is there someone else?’
He laughed, a hard, brittle sound. ‘You know me better than that. Anyway, would you blame me if there were? Our sex life’s not exactly setting the world alight is it?’
She couldn’t answer that. It was true. She couldn’t remember that last time they’d made love. Though that had been on the aborted agenda today, at least in her mind.
He stood up and set his glass down on the sideboard. ‘I’d better be going. Graham’s expecting me.’
‘Stay. Just for to night. We can talk. We need to talk.’ She tried to keep the pleading note out of her voice and failed miserably. ‘I love you, David. You know that.’
Yet here she was, sitting at home, numb with shock, as her husband, a stranger, a dab of shaving foam behind his ear, told her their life together was over. There was no one else involved, but it appeared she had lost control of the marriage; perhaps she had fallen asleep at the wheel for a few seconds, lost her bearings. The occurrence was apparently quite common, according to many of their friends, whose own marriages had needed several air bags for survival.
The hard look in his eyes softened slightly. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I have a bag packed. Pack one for yourself and we’ll drive out to the airport and pick up a flight to Barcelona, or Paris. Your mother can have the kids a few days. She won’t mind. Just the two of us. An anonymous hotel, good food, soft beds, plenty of sex.’
She stared at the glass in her hand, swirling the liquid around. When she spoke it was little more than a whisper. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I have to go up to Scotland for a few days.’
His shoulders dropped, just as the smile dropped from his face. ‘And you know what the sad part is?’ he said. ‘I’m not even surprised.’ They both stood, looking at one another as if for the first time. Jane leaned forwards and wiped the shaving foam away with her finger. He left the room and a few moments later she heard the front door close and his car revving to life.
‘Shit!’ she said and poured herself another drink.
It seemed to take ages for her mother to answer the phone. ‘Hi,’ Jane said. ‘It’s me.’
Her mother sounded cross. ‘Jane, it’s very late. The girls are asleep.’
‘I should hope so,’ Jane said, keeping her voice light. ‘Listen, mum, could you do me a huge favor? I need you to look after Gemma and Amy for a few days. I have to go away.’
‘But what about your nanny, that Annalise girl? That’s her job.’ She could sound annoyed, accusing and pleading all at the same time.
‘Yes, but she doesn’t live in. I’d need you to come here and stay, so you can take care of them after Annalise goes home.’ Jane tried to stay as casual and normal as possible.
‘Can’t you pay her extra to stay on?’ It was obvious her mother was going to fight hard to do what Jane wanted.
‘No, mum, I can’t. She has a life too. It wouldn’t be fair.’ Wouldn’t be fair, and she wouldn’t give the same love and attention the children’s grandmother would.
‘So where are you and David going?’ At last Jane heard a hint of acceptance.
‘It’s work, and David’s not going with me.’
‘But I thought…well, if David’s not going with you, what’s wrong with him taking care of them in the evenings. I’d say yes, Jane, you know I would, I love having the girls, but I’ve got a lot on at the…’
‘David’s left me.’
There was a long pause, then, ‘Oh, Jane!’ her moth
er said in her best, what a disappointment you are tone of voice. She’d heard that same tone so many times in her life it almost didn’t affect her anymore. Almost.
Her mother sniffed. She was crying. ‘But why? When?’ A devout Catholic who didn’t accept divorce, she was already preparing her list of accusations about whose fault it was.
‘Look, mum, I don’t want to go into details now. He’s only just left and I’m feeling a little shell-shocked. Just do this one favor for me and I promise we’ll talk about it for as long as you like when I get back.’
‘Well, I haven’t got a choice, have I?’ her mother said, sniffing back the tears and injecting a little venom into her voice. ‘I don’t have to tell you how disappointed I am, do I?’
‘No, you don’t. But you’re probably not nearly as disappointed as I am.’ Sarcasm would be lost on her but it felt good to give a little anger back.
‘Is there any hope for the marriage?’ The question was coached in an all hope is gone kind of way. What she was saying is will he take you back under any circumstances?
‘Oh yes, there’s always hope,’ Jane said, far more encouragingly than she felt. But she was not sure she believed it. Even though her mother had brought her up to obey the Te n Commandments, sometimes lies were a necessary evil.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The woman who sat across the desk from Simon Crozier was young, in her late twenties, early thirties at the most. She was dressed in a navy business suit, her dark hair cut into a long bob, with heavy fringe. As the morning sun poured through the window of her office in Regent Street, it played on her hair, picking out the auburn highlights and making it shine. Jessica Anderson was Chief Executive Officer of the Kulsay Development Corporation and it was a role she loved, despite the problems of the last two months.
‘So Jane Talbot’s agreed to take the assignment,’ she said in a clipped Boston accent. Her U.S. education had been of the highest quality. Everything her billionaire father could afford.
‘Yes.’ Crozier shifted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable to be seated on the wrong side of the desk in an unfamiliar office. He crossed his legs and then uncrossed them, unable to settle.
Jessica Anderson smiled with satisfaction. ‘Good, that’s good. And Robert Carter?’
‘Jane is going to see him this morning, to persuade him.’
The smile slipped from her face and a concerned frown creased her brow. ‘Yes, good. But will she be successful? I thought you said the Minister would only go ahead with the investigation if Carter’s part of the team.’ Her anxiousness was part of her youthful inexperience but also intrigued Crozier. Why was Carter so important to these American businesspeople? And to the Minister?
Crozier sighed. ‘He wants Carter as part of the team, but I’m sure his position is flexible. He wants an answer to this mystery, as we all do. And, as I’ve told you before, Jane Talbot is the best investigator we have. She’s more than capable of running this assignment. I would have thought that, from your point of view, you need to get this matter sorted out, by what ever means.’ He hadn’t been entirely honest with Jane. Sometimes he wondered if he had forever lost the capacity to be honest with anyone, even himself. The Minister had insisted Carter be part of the team for Kulsay, but he had hinted his hands were being twisted somewhat. Putting everything together in his mind, Crozier had concluded the Andersons were pulling the strings.
‘We do, but we’d also prefer to have Robert Carter on the team. My people put together a dossier on him.’ She tapped the gray folder on the desk in front of her with a perfectly manicured index finger. ‘He really is a remarkable man.’
‘He’s also stubborn, cantankerous and a bloody nuisance,’ Crozier said, a cold smile playing on his lips.
‘You don’t like him, do you, Simon?’ Jessica wasn’t smiling at all.
‘My personal feelings are neither here nor there. Though I’ll admit I don’t much care for his methods. He’s a maverick; insubordinate and reckless. The fiasco that led to Sian Davies’s disappearance was down to him. If he’d followed proper procedure it might never have happened. At least he had the good grace to resign over it.’
‘Resignation would have been good for you, maybe, but for the Department?’ She skewered him with a look. ‘That’s if it had been a resignation. My dossier suggests suspension…’
Crozier shifted in his seat again. ‘The Department can manage without him. John McKinley’s taken over many of Carter’s cases, and made significant progress. He’s really very good. All he needs is a chance to flex his muscles.’
She opened the gray folder and flicked through a few pages, ignoring Crozier for a moment. Finally she said, ‘You may not like Robert Carter’s methods, Simon, but he does get results, which is why we want him on Kulsay.’ Was that an admission? Crozier wondered. Is she going to reveal what’s behind this interest in Carter?
‘You should read McKinley’s file. It’s just as impressive as Carter’s.’ He continued to prod and probe.
‘I’ve read it and I agree, but that’s not the point. We want Carter. Do you think Talbot will be able to persuade him?’
Crozier shrugged. ‘I really can’t say. But if she can’t, given their history, then no one can.’
Jessica Anderson smiled. ‘I see. They have a history. It’s always useful to be aware of these things.’ She snapped the file shut. There was nothing in the dossier she had been shown that mentioned a romance between Talbot and Carter. ‘When will you know?’
‘Jane has promised to call me after their meeting. I’ll let you know then.’
‘Then I’ll wait to hear from you.’ The meeting was over.
Once outside in the street Simon Crozier took a deep lungful of London air. The night was humid. Along Regent Street cars were bumper to bumper, their exhausts blowing out clouds of pollution that gathered in a haze above the city. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow, then waved the handkerchief in the air to hail a taxi. ‘Beaumont Place,’ he said to the driver, took a seat in the back of the cab and opened his briefcase. For the duration of the fifteen-minute ride back to his apartment he read through Martin Impey’s file on Jessica Anderson and the KDC, refamiliarizing himself with the details.
Jessica Anderson seemed to be a very sharp, very confident businesswoman, a woman who appeared to know her own mind and had a very clear idea of what she wanted out of life and what she expected others to provide; but when he dug a little deeper into the file a wider picture of the dynamic within the KDC and within Jessica’s family itself began to emerge.
The money behind the KDC came from Jessica’s father, the financier Carl Anderson. Anderson owned large swathes of land in North America, but had made his fortune as a venture capitalist, financing various companies and creaming off the profits. He was a major player on the New York Stock Exchange, and it was obvious he was grooming his daughter to follow in his footsteps. As far as Crozier could see the KDC was the first of his projects in which Jessica had been involved. Her father had given her sufficient leeway and let her develop it, making her the company’s figurehead, but so far it had been a financial and PR disaster.
Anderson had a reputation for being a ruthless operator, and Crozier couldn’t imagine him letting the Kulsay situation drift for long before instigating some kind of damage limitation plan. He wouldn’t let his family name and his own reputation be tarnished, and if that meant relieving Jessica of her position as CEO, Crozier was in no doubt the man would do it. So Jessica was a woman with a lot to prove and Crozier didn’t envy her.
Which still didn’t explain the interest in Carter, and the insistence on his involvement.
As the taxi pulled up outside the apartment block in Beaumont Place, Crozier snapped the file shut and slipped it back into his briefcase. He paid the cabbie and let himself into the block, taking the elevator up to the fourth floor where his apartment was situated. With its view over the Thames and desirable postcode, the apartment cost him
a small fortune each month, but he wouldn’t choose to live anywhere else. He opened the door onto the balcony and looked out over the water. There were cars on the nearby Tower Bridge, nose to tail, making snail-like progress across the river. A pleasure boat, lit up like a Christmas tree, was meandering its way west, music from an onboard disco wafting up to him on a thermal of torpid air. Further down the river a police launch was cruising past a line of houseboats, a regular patrol to reassure the boats’ inhabitants.
He went back inside and poured himself a large brandy and brought it back to the balcony. He slumped down on a steel-mesh chair and lifted his feet onto the balcony railing. As he took his first sip of Courvoisier the telephone rang.
‘Crozier,’ he said. He hoped it might be one of his regular companions, inviting him out for dinner and afterwards some mutually pleasurable entertainment.
‘Simon? It’s Jane.’ The female voice quashed his rising anticipation.
‘Jane,’ he said, trying to keep the surprise and disappointment out of his voice. She’d never called him at home before. ‘What can I do for you?’ Surely she hadn’t contacted Carter already.
There was a long pause at the other end of the line. Finally she said, ‘I’m very drunk.’
‘That’s nice. Celebrating?’ He looked at his watch. Once this conversation was dealt with he’d call a friend and make the arrangements for the night.
Another pause.
‘Celebrating.…yes…We didn’t, you know…Rob and me…we didn’t…the affair was not like…’
‘Jane, is everything all right?’ Despite his instinct to stay detached he was concerned about such an important person in the Department acting in this way.
‘I know you think we did…everyone thinks we did…but we didn’t.’ Her voice was clear, though palpably slurred.
Black Cathedral (department 18) Page 9
