I Stand With You (Gold Streaks Book 1)

by Sylvie Nathan

  Sue turns to Lisa, smiles.

  “Two hours more of meetings, then I'll see you at home?”

  “Yes.”

  They kiss and Lisa leaves, taking a taxi from Sue's work to the law firm on the other side of the city.

  At five, Sue leaves work. By six, she and Lisa are at home.

  “Can you help me with this dress?” Lisa and Sue are in Sue's room, dressing.

  A rack and some shelves in Sue's vast wardrobe contain Lisa's few clothes; a collection that has grown slightly since moving in with Sue and the increased demand of social events.

  Now, Lisa is in a bronze dress; not too fussy, but well-cut and draped. The bronze exactly sets off the ginger warmth of her hair, and glows with her red-brown eyes and freckled skin.

  Sue grins at her, from where she has been putting on foundation in the mirror; her hair just set in its classic style, pale wisps loose at her ears, curling onto her cheek.

  She helps to fasten the zipper; both of them chuckling as it sticks somewhere around the back as it fastens across her bosom. Their warm laughter fills the room; dancing with the pale sunlight that floods the room from the sunset on the hills across the town.

  Half an hour later, and they are in Sue's car. She has asked for a driver, so that they can travel safely home again.

  The restaurant is crowded, even in the middle of the week. Two of the engineers are already at the table reserved; waiting politely with a drink. Lisa and Sue join them. Soon all four are laughing; talking; discussing. Having a good time. Ten minutes later, the CEO from Norton engineering arrives; apologizing for being stuck in traffic. They smile, forgive him graciously.

  Everyone sits and orders dinner.

  Casini's is stylish and modern; the walls deep grey and the décor raspberry and ochre. The lighting is subdued and warm. The room is filled with people talking, laughing; drinking. The air is scented with basil, lemon and the sweet warmth of spice.

  The light glows on Sue's pale skin; offset in the white silk shift that shows her collarbones and the pale soft skin of her chest; stopping discretely just above her cleavage. She has teamed it with discrete pearl earrings and her hair is styled off her face; a stray curl brushing her cheek.

  Dinner arrives; the first of five courses. The champagne is circulating, and Lisa can feel a warmth building up inside her. She smiles at Sue, who smiles back; dazzling.

  “...And I said to him; you can't possibly do a tunnel like that. What about drainage?” The chief engineer is relating some story about a past job.

  “...drainage was a nightmare down there, anyway...” the other engineer adds.

  “Yes, Bert...it was.”

  “So what did you do?” Sue asks it.

  “Well...before anyone could dig for ore; we had to make some kind of channel; divert the water...” the chief engineer has tipped back his chair slightly; contemplating the ceiling as he remembers.

  Sue is smiling; grins across the table at the third man.

  “You've managed digs down across the main ridge?” Sue asks it.

  “Yes. The ground down there is terribly hard...need special drills for that. Imported from Hamburg.”

  “Really?” Lisa asks it. “The ground at Gold Ridge isn't so bad, though, right?” She envisages the expense of having to import drills.

  “No...no. The ground there is great. Beautiful stuff.”

  Lisa smiles back. “Good.”

  The champagne and light and good food combine to soften the atmosphere. Soon they are talking about things further from business: Their careers, their homes, their families. Funny stories from their childhoods, from student days; from their early business experiences.

  The room is warm and fragrant, and the food is exceptional; a five-course tasting menu, cooked by the rising culinary star Sandro Cassini.

  “...and after all that, I found out it wasn't true after all!” The CEO finishes a story from his days studying engineering. Everyone laughs.

  “Well, that's not so bad, actually...I remember a time, when I was resources manager...” Sue starts a story from her early years at the mine, before she had worked her way to CEO. Everyone listens, and soon they are all laughing, smiling, and someone raises their glass in toast, grinning.

  The sound of laughter and clinking glasses slips in with the light and scents and sounds; mingling to create a wonderful atmosphere. Lisa feels completely carefree; smiles warmly at Sue. She grins back, slides her hand across the table and squeezes Lisa's fingers. She returns the clasp. They are both relaxed, enjoying every second. The chief engineer is slightly drunk; but very happy; his colleagues are talking away. One of them is watching Sue with a love-struck mixture of awe and profound tenderness. The other is engaged with Lisa in a complicated discussion about the integrity of construction.

  Everyone is engaged in conversation; smiling; laughing; talking. Sue and Lisa are completely relaxed; having a wonderful time. Any threat seems far distant; forgotten. They are alive, happy; celebrating.

  The party leaves the restaurant at 1 am, laughing and drowsily content.

  Chapter 9

  The day at Naidu and Marsden is as demanding as usual. Lisa feels a little delicate, but does her best to hide it; drinking water and aspirin and keeping cool in the afternoon heat.

  By lunchtime, she is feeling well again. There are minor crises to attend to – Rochelle has come in with a demand from the car-hire firm which needs payment; one of the junior partners is sick and needs replacing; a call comes in with another case from a food-producing corporation. Lisa delegates the case. The afternoon passes; and Lisa is too busy to check if there is anyone watching the carpark.

  Four o' clock, and she is leaning back, considering the route home.

  “Damn!” She swears. “Laura?” The secretary has an office just outside her own.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you check my appointments? I'm supposed to be somewhere tonight, aren't I?”

  'Yes, Ms Marsden. You have a dinner-meeting with Cedric Brinkman?”

  “Don't I just.” Lisa nods at the confirmation. It had almost slipped her mind.

  She groans. Everything about that man makes her uncomfortable. “Oh, well.” She tells herself, once the secretary has gone. “Dinner can't be too bad, right?”

  She sighs; sorts through the papers on her desk again. Two more hours and she should leave.

  At seven-twenty, Lisa drives her Volvo into the carpark; walks the block to the restaurant. She is wearing a pencil skirt and green blouse; her red hair loosely-styled. Her high-heels click on the tarmac.

  “Ms Marsden?” Cedric Brinkman is already at the restaurant, at a table across the room from the door. He rises when he sees her arrive, comes across to shake her hand.

  “Good evening. Please, call me Lisa.”

  He smiles, the openness of it a surprise on his usually-closed features. “Delighted to. Cedric.”

  Lisa smiles. Sits down.

  They order drinks, and when the waiter has gone, Cedric starts the discussion.

  “I wanted to ask you what you think of this case so far. What line you're taking?”

  “Well...” Lisa begins, hesitantly. “It seems straightforward to me. Either there's proof that your factory issued a damaged car, or there isn't. The fault could have occurred at any time. There's no damage to any other vehicles under issue at the same time. They're going to need some expert witnesses to prove the damage was already extant at the time of sale.”

  “Yes!” He sounds enthusiastic. “Yes.” Then, “I like the way you think, Ms Marsden. Lisa.”

  Lisa feels herself blush at the intensity of that. Feels her skin prickle with the discomfort of it.

  “...Well, it is my job.” She counters.

  “Yes. It is.” he sounds lost in thought.

  “Is there any evidence you can offer?” Lisa presses. “Proof that the car was sound when it left the factory?”

  “No.” he shakes his head. “That's just the thing. That's what'
s got me...worried.”

  “How?” Lisa asks it. She is interested now, despite her discomfiture.

  “Well, my QA man, who was working on that batch of cars...he seems to have...disappeared.”

  “What?” Lisa is shocked. She puts a hand over her mouth, continues more softly. “What do you mean?”

  “Well...he hasn't been at work for two weeks now. He doesn't answer the phone. We've had to put out a missing person's call for him. But discreetly, you understand?”

  Lisa nods. “Of course...Of course. The last thing you need right now is media attention. More media attention.”

  He smiles at her. “You understand perfectly.” His gold-brown eyes hold hers.

  Lisa looks down. Her skin prickles with unease.

  “So, the only man who could have said conclusively that the car was sound; has disappeared? Am I right?” Lisa asks again.

  Cedric is silent for a moment, looking into his wineglass at the amber reflected light off the dark surface. “Yes. Yes, you're right.”

  “There's nobody who saw him before he left? Anyone who could prove some kind of attack?” Lisa asks. At least, if they can show the chief witness has been threatened, they could show someone is trying to undermine the case. That would point to sabotage. It already does. They just need proof.

  “Would that there were.” he sounds tense; distressed. “No-one saw him leave work that day.”

  “His family?”

  “He lived alone.”

  Lisa is silent for a moment in thought. “This is hard.”

  “Yes.” His voice is low.

  Lisa thinks for a while longer, then:

  “You have records for the batch of cars? Quality assurance of the ones made at the same time?”

  “Yes. That we have.”

  “Good. I'll be wanting a copy.” She is brisk; crisp. Thinking about the case.

  “I'll have them sent round.” He agrees.

  “Anyone else you could call? The foreman on the floor? The engineer? A technician?”

  “Well, we could call Andy.” Cedric muses. “The head foreman. Not that there's much he can say about it, mind. He can attest that the assembly was carried out the same as all the other cars; that nothing changed. That's pretty much all.”

  “Well, that's something. Anyone else? What we really need is someone who would have seen the car following its assembly, but before sale, who could vouch that it, or at least the rest of the batch was sound.” Lisa's voice is alive with her thinking; driven. Focused.

  “Yes.” He nods. “That's what we need. Someone to replace Pradip, now that he's...missing.”

  “Quite.” Lisa agrees.

  They are silent for a few moments.

  “How about the dealer? The one she bought the car from?” Lisa asks, thinking aloud. “Do they check the vehicles before they sell them?”

  “Your mind marches ahead.” Cedric sounds impressed; his voice low and warm. “I hadn't considered the dealer. Yes. Yes they check them. I could give him a call?”

  “Do that.” Lisa's voice is brisk.

  He smiles at her.

  “What?”

  “Well...has anyone ever told you, you look gorgeous when you're so intense?” His gold-green eyes are level with hers. Earnest. Intense. Asking a different question.

  Lisa feels something tighten in her throat. “...no.” She manages.

  “Well, they should have.” He continues, “It's true.”

  Lisa coughs. Feels the warmth of blood rising in her face, her skin prickling over her shoulders.

  Under the table, his leg nudges hers. She feels bile rise in her throat; fights it down. Smiles at him; her grin tight edged.

  “I suggest...I suggest you call our office tomorrow morning. Send those documents. I will be calling this car-dealer as a witness. If you could wire me the details tomorrow?” She suggests brightly. Swivels her knee out of contact-range. “I think...we're both too tired to deliberate now. I know I am.”

  “Quite. Quite.” he agrees; mildly. “I...I hope I haven't disturbed you, Ms Marsden?”

  “...no.” Lisa begins “Not really.”

  “Well, that means yes.” His voice is grave. “I would hate to do that.”

  “Mmm.” Lisa is noncommittal. Inside, she feels vaguely ill.

  They are silent for a moment.

  “If that is all? I suggest we call for the bill?” Lisa asks it, her voice catching.

  “Yes. Yes, we will.” He raises a hand, gestures to the waiter across the room.

  The bill arrives; he pays it absently. The waiter leaves.

  “Well...I think we have accomplished a lot?” Cedric asks, after the waiter has retreated. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Ms Marsden. I hope to repeat it?”

  “...Uuh...” Lisa is lost for words. “... only if time constraints require us to meet up after work.”

  She shudders. She will be trying her best to make sure they don't.

  They stand; shake hands. Lisa leaves.

  In the car, she rests her head on the steering wheel; exhausted. This case is so far from straightforward. And the hearing is in two day's time.

  Chapter 10

  “...Businessman turned philanthropist finances new gallery...”

  Lisa is reading the newspaper, the words aloud under her breath. Her desk and the screen of her computer are littered with articles, case histories, market reports of sales, car-manufacturing guides, copies of magazines. She will leave no stone unturned in this case. The first hearing is tomorrow, and she must find as much as she can to back her case. Her belief in something underhand has grown, and she needs as much information as she can find before the case. All the resources she can think of are spread out across the desk at once.

  Now, she is reading a newspaper article about the prominent businessman, Raju Patel, who is bringing the case against her client. She is sure, now, that there is sabotage involved. Whether her client is being blamed for damage that was later done on purpose, or whether they were somehow involved in it, she is still not sure. The missing Quality Assurance officer is a growing concern. No-one seems to know a thing about it or him, and, had he been here, he would have been chief witness. It is all very worrying.

  On the page in front of her, Raju Patel smiles out of a gathering of men in suits; declaring open the new downtown gallery that he financed himself for public use. His name as a patron of the arts has added something to him, made people stop circulating the rumors that he has connections to the underworld of drugs. Somehow, people do not connect arts-patrons to shady, dangerous dealings. It has cleared his name and made him rather respectable; though people still mistrust him.

  There are several articles in the same vein as this one. Raju Patel at some charity event. Handing over a prize for arts students that he has financed. Talking at the first opening of the Patel Innovation fund for recognizing young talents in the arts.

  Other articles follow; show him at charity gatherings, at local events. One or two show him relaxing with family. These are in more popular magazines; showcasing the life of the local glitterati. His wife, Chetna, is on some of the pictures; a slender, delicate beauty with the style and flair of a Bollywood star.

  Lisa is looking idly through a magazine article, detailing some aspect of life with the Patel family, when she glances at a photo. Stops. Turns back.

  “It can't be.” She says under her breath. Her heart is thumping, and a cold sweat breaks out on her palms.

  She turns back to the photograph; looks again.

  On the edge of a photograph from a family reunion of the Patel family, Raju in the centre, is a single man. The man from the car-park.

  Lisa bends closer; looks again. She is sure of it. That man has a distinctive face; a scar on one side; flattened nose; high forehead. This man has the same. So. Somehow, the man in the carpark who has been watching her office – and now she is sure he has been – is connected with Raju Patel. She shivers.

  Whatever is happening here, some
one is doing something, and they are not fooling around. A man, the chief witness for her client, has gone missing. Facts are thin on the ground, and those that could help them are hard to come by. The car dealer, when she spoke to him yesterday, was reluctant to come forward. Requested safe custody before he would appear. She had it arranged, but thought it odd. Now, she is not so sure.

  She shivers again. “Pull yourself together, Marsden.” She says to herself under her breath. “You're probably imagining things.” She goes over to the window.

  Outside, in the centre of the carpark, is the same Volkswagen.

  Lisa freezes.

  She stands as still as possible; sways back from the window. Sinks into her chair.

  Her hand finds the receiver. She lifts it; dials Sue's number.

  “S?”

  “Yes, Lisa?” Sue sounds earnest. She asked Lisa to call her if anything suspicious happened. She is instantly alert.

  “Sue, things are making sense. And I don't think I like the sound of what sense they're making.”