All Fun and Games Until Somebody Loses an Eye

by Christopher Brookmyre

  ‘Love is just something people say, Dad,’ he stated regretfully. ‘When to mean anything, it should be something people do. You and Mum have been drifting apart for years. It’s nobody’s fault, but please don’t tell me you love each other. You hardly know each other.’

  ‘I do love her,’ Dad protested, and Ross could see tears in his eyes, making him feel that bit closer to a dysentery-bearing amoeba. He did love who she’d been, love his kids, love all that they’d come through, the family they were. Ross could see that. But neither Mum nor Dad had any time for the people each other were now. And through his dad’s tears Ross could see he knew that too.

  ‘If she’d come around,’ he stumbled, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know, we don’t have much in common any more apart from you and Michelle and the kids.’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying. If Mum’s taking taxi jobs to stay out of the house half the night, then it doesn’t sound like she enjoys being around there very much. And that would make me concerned she might not be around there much longer.’

  Dad smiled sadly, with a faraway look. ‘No, no. If I get out of this mess, we’ll be together for life. Don’t you worry.’

  ‘Why, because Catholics don’t get divorced? It takes two people to stay married, Dad.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘You don’t understand. It’s not about that. That would never even be an issue, believe me. She needs me, Ross. That’s why we’ll be together. As long as she needs me, I’ll be there. And that’s what’s got me awake at night as much as your situation, to be honest. She’s always had me to look out for her, and I really fear for how she’d get along if I wasn’t there.’

  Decent, normal, sensible girls

  Lex glanced up from her monitors to have a look at the video feeds. Bett sat a few feet to her left, glued to the screens, toggling between cams in an unusually fidgety manner. His attention was focused mainly on two: the moving view from Jane’s pendant and a fixed angle across a smoky bar where, now out of shot, Parrier had recently entered with another man, identified by Bett as Lucien Dirlos. They’d got a good look at him via the sucker-mounted cameras outside the OSE suite, where he had arrived a couple of hours back. Lex had been relieved not to recognise him, but her relief was tempered by the corollary knowledge that she still didn’t know who her duplicitous contact was.

  Jane and Nuno had been in a holding pattern, driving around the outskirts of town while they waited – and hoped – for Parrier to leave his suite. He and Dirlos had seemed frustratingly settled there, making calls and sending emails, but eventually Parrier announced his intention to go downstairs for a drink. Dirlos had mentioned jokingly that they had plenty of booze in the suite, but he clearly knew what Parrier meant, even before he pointed out that ‘there’s nothing to fuck in the suite apart from you’.

  The pendant view swept through the building towards the piano bar where the light-switch camera had spotted the OSE pair. Nuno was instructed by Jane to wait outside in the lobby, his presence not being conducive to intimacy, then she pressed on into the lions’ den.

  Lex watched Bett swallow, his eyes fixed upon the monitors. She’d never seen him so nervous; in fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really seen him nervous at all. It was little wonder, however. They were sending in a barely trained operative with a fragile cover story that was not designed for longevity, but truth was they had no choice. Jane did have this connection with Parrier, everyone had seen it. There’d been an energy between them, even if only one side knew it was the crackling static of hatred.

  ‘She’s going to give me a heart attack before this is over,’ Bett said, his finger muting the microphone so that Jane wouldn’t hear. ‘Whose idea was it to bring her into this?’

  ‘That would be yours, sir,’ Som informed him.

  ‘Remind me to fire myself when we’re finished.’

  Jane had barely sat down at the bar before Parrier made his move, inviting her to his table where she was briefly introduced to his enforcer, Dirlos. Dirlos smiled politely as he shook her hand, but his eyes were cold, evaluative. She detected a twitch about his brow as he surveyed her, reminiscent of the moment when she had first presented her face to Parrier. However, they weren’t given time to make any further impressions upon each other, as Dirlos understood the introduction to also contain his marching orders now that his boss had female company.

  Parrier ordered them drinks and made small talk, idle flimflam about the exhibition, stuff both of them knew to be meaningless preamble. The chatter was stemmed by the arrival of their drinks, and did not resume. They each sipped, glancing across the table, sizing the other up like combatants. A knowing, flirtatious grin shaped Parrier’s lips, heralding the start of the bout.

  ‘Am I to take it that you are not so troubled by my reputation any more?’ he asked. ‘I mean, here you are, drinking with the roué, in full public view.’

  ‘I believe I said rogue.’

  ‘I have more than one bad reputation.’

  ‘Perhaps I have decided I might learn from you, Monsieur Parrier.’

  ‘Call me Pascal.’

  ‘Pascal, then. I’m a rich woman. But if I had the nous to get away with half as much as you’ve done, I’d be a lot richer still.’

  ‘What have I gotten away with?’ he asked, feigning hurt but bursting with smug pride.

  ‘Officially nothing. Barely a blemish on your copybook. That’s what’s most impressive.’

  She played with an olive on her cocktail stick, letting him bask.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Who do you work for?’

  ‘I represent a collection of interests, whose identities it is not in their interests to disclose.’

  ‘You represent?’

  ‘A polite term. You could say I work in acquisitions, in as much as I get them what they want.’

  ‘And what do they want here this week?’

  Jane looked him in the eye and smiled.

  ‘Nothing I’ve seen on the market floor.’

  He mugged back, responding to the signal.

  ‘And do you think I might be able to offer you anything of interest?’

  ‘Possibly. Not merchandise. Underhand business skulduggery consultation services, perhaps.’

  ‘He’s loving it,’ Rebekah commented. The sound feed from Jane’s earrings was being routed through the speakers, nobody scanning any of the other channels. Tonight, this was the only show in town. ‘She’ll have him on a leash barking like a dog before she’s through.’

  ‘Never make assumptions about who’s playing whom in this game,’ Bett grumbled. ‘Parrier’s an experienced womaniser, and there’s girls half his age in there, easily impressed by a Platinum Amex and the key to the penthouse. What’s he really after?’

  ‘Perhaps he’s really after a woman who isn’t half his age and isn’t impressed by a Platinum Amex,’ Rebekah countered.

  Ouch, Lex thought, and the thunderous look on Bett’s face confirmed the strike. Lucky for Reb he had other shit to worry about right then.

  ‘So I’m wondering,’ Parrier said. ‘Is it only my business reputation you find yourself less troubled by?’

  Jane said nothing, hitting him with a blank look that demanded elaboration on his part.

  ‘I mean, would you make certain assumptions if I was to suggest we continue our conversation somewhere a little more private? Somewhere with a better view, perhaps.’

  ‘I wouldn’t make assumptions if you didn’t,’ she replied.

  Parrier grinned and reached for his drink.

  Bett’s voice immediately sounded in Jane’s ears. ‘Don’t do this,’ he commanded flatly.

  ‘I believe I would be a fool to make any assumptions of you, Miss Bell.’

  ‘Then you may suggest a change of view.’

  ‘D’accord.’

  ‘Do not do this,’ Bett repeated, as Jane downed the last of her G&T. ‘We can’t control this environment. He’s got a security guard outside his door up there,
he’s got Dirlos prowling downstairs, God knows who else in tow. And he is making every assumption you can think of.’

  She got to her feet and let him lead her out of the bar towards the lifts.

  ‘Jane,’ Bett appealed, voice low. It was the first time he’d called her anything other than Mrs Fleming. ‘Nobody’s asking you to do this.’

  Jane let out a laugh inside the elevator as she watched Parrier swipe his keycard to access the penthouse level.

  ‘What’s funny?’ he asked as the lift lurched into movement.

  ‘The people I work for. I was thinking they might not be best pleased if they knew I was heading to a penthouse suite with you. They can work themselves into such a tizz about some of the things I get up to.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Parrier replied, understandably assuming it was him she was talking to. ‘But in my experience they’re not so concerned once they see the bottom line.’

  ‘Just salving their consciences, I think. None of us are under any illusions about the nature of the game. The reason they took me on is because I told them I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want.’

  ‘And what do you want tonight?’ Parrier asked.

  She put a hand around his neck, pulled him closer and kissed him.

  The monitor displaying the pendant-camera feed went all but blank, showing only a blurred view of Parrier’s jacket. There was a deadly silence around the room, other than the occasional amplified slap of mouth on mouth. Lex barely dared to breathe.

  Bett looked frozen in time, unmoving, his finger muting the microphone lest the tiny speakers in Jane’s ears give themselves away.

  The kiss broke off as a chime sounded to announce that the lift had reached the top floor. Parrier let Jane step out first, then gestured left along the corridor.

  Nuno’s voice broke the silence, coming through the speakers.

  ‘Sir, it’s Dirlos. I tailed him when he left the bar. He had a drink in one of the lounges, but he did not look like he was about to undo his tie and start crooning. Very, very unrelaxed. Anyway, he made a call on his mobile and now he’s hovering around the front desk like a kid needing to pee, keeps going up and bothering the receptionists. Gut feeling, sir: I don’t like it.’

  Bett didn’t respond for a long couple of seconds. When he did, his voice was low and throaty, like he’d had to delve deep to find it.

  ‘I don’t either,’ he said. ‘Rebekah?’

  ‘You got it.’

  ‘Champagne?’ Parrier asked.

  ‘Why not,’ Jane answered, staring out through the full-height, full-width windows that lined the suite on two sides. An L-shaped open area curled around the enclosed bedroom and bathroom in the centre. She stood close to the bureau, upon which sat two laptops, a sheaf of faxes and hard-copy emails fanned untidily between them next to a portable printer. The laptops were both blank and silent, impossible to know whether in sleep mode or fully closed down.

  Parrier stood behind the breakfast bar of the kitchen area, having removed the wine from a quite unnecessarily large fridge, just one of many monuments to self-importance incorporated into the suite’s extravagant design. There was even a singularly hideous piece of free-standing modern sculpture next to one wall, or so Jane thought until she spotted the letters OSE etched upon it at regular vertical intervals, at which point she belatedly realised it was actually a stack of heavily insulated black fibreglass cases.

  Parrier poured two flutes of champagne and walked slowly across the floor to hand her one.

  ‘Salut,’ he said. They clinked their glasses. Jane had a tiny sip, Parrier a more lusty gulp. He put his flute down on the bureau and placed his hand on the stem of hers, running a finger along the glass, along the back of her palm and slowly up her arm.

  ‘It has been said of me,’ he said softly, looking at his hand as it made its progress along her sleeve, ‘that I am an arrogant man. That I have a very high opinion of myself.’ He looked into her eyes, his hand reaching her shoulder, the skin of his fingertips then brushing her neck. ‘I am an arrogant man. And I do have a high opinion of myself. But not so high an opinion as to remain unsuspicious when what I want comes too easily.’

  His hand spanned her throat, gripping but not quite squeezing.

  ‘You see, it’s been troubling me that I can’t place you, and yet you know so much about me and my … reputation.’

  Jane didn’t react other than to look towards the door. Parrier noted it.

  ‘He won’t help you,’ he told her. ‘Denis is here to protect me, in whatever way I deem necessary. So maybe it’s time for you to get something off your chest. Such as a wire.’

  Jane’s gaze never left his, nor had her hands moved to protect herself. Still staring into his eyes, she transferred the champagne to her left hand and with her right undid two buttons on her jacket.

  His hand relaxed, left her neck and drifted down, the backs of his fingers brushing across her chest. Parrier slipped two digits beneath her bra-strap and delicately tugged it down her arm, exposing her left breast. Then he reached to cup it with his palm, but she intercepted him, gripping his wrist tightly with her right hand.

  They stared into each other’s eyes at point-blank.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘You’ll understand that in this business it pays to be paranoid.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ she told him coldly. ‘But now that we’re that bit more intimate, perhaps we can cut the flirting shit and talk about why we’re both here.’

  She took a step away and stood against the back of a settee, doing up her buttons. Parrier remained where he was next to the bureau and had another drink of champagne.

  ‘Why are we both here?’ he asked.

  She stared at him, letting what was unsaid hang in the air between them a moment. Then she sighed deeply.

  ‘I don’t know, Pascal, maybe it’s because I just had my tit hanging out a minute ago, but I’m suddenly all through being coy. I’m talking about what you’re here to buy. I’m talking about the auction. And I think we might be able to help each other.’

  He put the glass down and folded his arms. Now they were talking. ‘How?’ he asked, intrigued.

  ‘I believe we could improve our chances by combining our bargaining power. In fact, I’m not sure you’re in with any chance otherwise. I know for a fact that Gieselcorp and Arutech are both ready to break twenty million.’

  ‘How can you possibly know—’

  ‘It’s my business to know. The people I represent can go higher, but a combined bid would cost both of us a lot less. If our interests can be demonstrated to be compatible. How much were you planning to offer him?’

  Parrier bit his lip for a second, then coughed up.

  ‘We can go as high as anybody, but above twenty it’s not worth our while.’

  ‘All the more reason to consider a joint bid. He wouldn’t need to know, either: we’d be a silent partner. We both understand what the greedy bastard’s like: if he found out you had a bigger reserve to draw from, he’d raise the auction floor.’

  ‘So what’s your end?’ Parrier asked. ‘How would this partnership work?’

  ‘I’m not sure it would, yet. That’s what I’m here to ascertain. I’m guessing, unlike the other bidders, you’re not particularly interested in acquiring the technology. OSE doesn’t have the investment or the infrastructure to spend twenty years and hundreds of millions on development. I think you’re interested in stopping it.’

  Parrier said nothing, just grabbed his glass and took another gulp. He sat himself up on the bureau, scattering some print-outs.

  ‘Clearly that would be in your interest,’ Jane went on, ‘but it would also be in the interests of a great many people in this industry. Now, I know you’re not averse to a bit of unilateral action, but your previous attempt only cost you a couple of men.’

  Parrier’s eyes widened. He just about managed to stifle a response, understanding that she wasn’t going to tell him how she knew this. Ho
pefully his busy little mind would now be making few assumptions about what else she did or didn’t know.

  ‘Shelling out twenty million, however, strikes me as a very generous piece of unilateral action to be taking. So I’m guessing there’s something else.’

  She folded her arms and offered him a smile, intended to suggest she knew what it was but that she wanted to hear it from him.

  ‘Stopping the technology is not our only motivation,’ he confirmed. ‘It’s Deimos we’re after. More specifically, Marledoq.’

  ‘Shit, she’s good,’ Lex whispered, now sitting between Bett and Armand as they watched the two-hander unfold. Jane was bullshitting with aplomb, dangling a nebulous temptation before someone as greedy as he was curious, just to keep him talking. ‘She’s real good.’

  Bett nodded sincerely, his finger still muting the mike.

  ‘I’ll be more impressed if he ever mentions the name,’ said Armand.

  ‘She’s not just after the name,’ Bett told him. ‘The name might save her son today, but she wants to keep him safe tomorrow too.’

  ‘She’s going after the leak,’ Lex realised with a gasp. She hoped it merely sounded like she was impressed, as opposed to suddenly terrified.

  Parrier’s voice resumed from the speakers.

  ‘We wanted an underground facility for our own research and testing, and we were preparing to table a bid for Deimos, lock, stock and barrel, in order to get Marledoq. Deimos was idling, costing Phobos too much money. I knew Nicholas Willis’s patience with the non-lethal research was running out. He’s a tired and disillusioned old man, and I knew he was ready to sell up. We’d done some sounding out, estimated he’d accept a bid of forty million euros just to be rid of it. Comparable facilities elsewhere would cost us twice that.’

  ‘By sounding out …’

  ‘We put out feelers, found ourselves a willing contact inside.’

  ‘Poker being easier if you can get a look at the other guy’s hand.’

  ‘Indeed. But not all of the cards had been dealt. Segnier—’