by Tomson Cobb
‘I’m sure you weren’t that. Do you know a spot called Steamer Lane?’ asked Jago. His mind now diverted from the insoluble problem that enveloped them both. For a while at least.
‘Oh yes. It was another favourite place for me. Akiko lived in Europe then. She came to visit me often so we went there many times with some college friends of mine. We all had such good fun. Life got more serious after that though. We both went back to Japan to start work for Dad in separate businesses within his group to get experience. We each worked in all the companies at some point, so we knew how each one operated. It didn’t take long before he told us about Sir Frank and his network. Once he realised we had the capacity for it, he also told us about his secret work for the Japanese government.’
They both realised again at the same time that their futures were inextricably mixed with the past. Jago decided to change the subject.
‘Let’s go have breakfast. Chob, do you agree? Are you hungry enough now?’
The dog leapt up in the air as Jago encouraged her with gestures and mentions of meat. She’d sensed the changed of mood and had now turned tail away from them at speed, in the direction of the cottage.
Chapter 3
The image in the mirror was now transformed. The long blond wig fell naturally over her tanned shoulders. Although unnecessary, the straps created the impression at least that they supported the tight fitted black dress below, while the polished high-heeled dress shoes complemented the overall look. The Cartier watch, Gucci clasp bag and matching iPad case provided the impression of executive power, while the reading glasses attached to the eighteen-carat gold chain around her neck provided just the right amount of vulnerability.
She breathed in slowly, noticing with appreciation that the material around her waist compressed in unison with her stomach’s contraction. The woman she was about to borrow it from had spent her bonus well. The dress had been expensive although well worth the price. It had probably already given her the return on her investment that she’d envisaged when she’d picked it out by way of promotion in whatever profession or trade she was employed in, or in the acquisition of temporary male partners, she thought. This was no time for analysis of her innocent supplier though. She had work to concentrate on now.
This was often the moment of maximum satisfaction for her. She was ready to perform yet also to be creative. Each new persona was created from the seeds of previous ones, nevertheless all ended as individual entities.
She had spent some time as usual researching names. After all, it was the detail of her preparation that set her apart from the others in her chosen profession. Art rather than science was her mantra. This was a calling not just a career, very well paid though it had become for her. Her name tonight would be Anastasia.
She opened the hotel door to listen. No sound emanated from the corridor. With a caution built from experience, she looked along the passage. There was no one to be seen so she stepped out, closed the door as quietly as she could, and strode towards the elevator.
She felt the usual frisson between her legs. Bisexuality was a unique benefit to her CV when she was compared with her competitors by potential employers. When a male target met her personal criteria, it also gave an additional incentive for some jobs. This was one of those occasions so she looked forward to the challenge ahead.
The bar was half full, populated mostly by groups of middle-aged men in suits, although a few were sat at tables around the room accompanied by female partners. Anastasia was gratified to see that they all turned their attention to her as she entered, so she paused at the door to scan the room with an air of authority. The attention on her was also due to the fact that her looks were a ‘must watch’ magnet to any red-blooded hetero male under the age of eighty. Her eyes smiled as she noticed the reaction from her audience with the knowledge that her long slim legs under the very short skirt had delivered the impression she’d intended. Unachievable lust from most of the men, and unattainable envy by all of the women in the room.
She had already noted her prey at the far end of the bar, though she didn’t let her eyes linger on him. He sat nursing a half-full tulip-shaped glass of beer, his eyes transfixed on the figure of beauty in front of him like all the others in the room. Her walk was deliberately slow as she moved towards a position at the opposite end of the bar where she raised herself onto a high stool, her skirt now close to the top of her bare thigh. She had considered the option of suspenders for the effect it would have but had decided against them on this occasion. It looked like it had been the right decision. Her arrival had achieved her aim, as she could see in the mirror above the spirit bottles that the attention of the man at the other end of the bar was now fixed on her. She often wondered how she would perform her work when her looks faded, but consoled herself that it would be some years yet before she had to resort to less enjoyable ways of the delivery of death.
Anastasia checked her watch then turned her attention to the attentive young barman who had appeared in front of her with a microplate of antipasto, even before she had placed the room key, bag and tablet in front of her.
‘What can I get you, madam?’
She didn’t reply immediately. Instead she tilted her head, then let her eyes roam from his face downwards to the buckle of his belt. She knew that all eyes in the small room would be focused on her performance, so she was determined to make it memorable for all genders.
‘Oh, I don’t know. My husband has just called me to say he’ll be late, so what can you suggest in the meantime?’ she said, her palms now resting on top of his hands, pressed on the bar in front of her.
‘A martini perhaps?’ the now embarrassed barman said as he retreated from her grasp.
‘That would be perfect.’ Anastasia smiled, her eyes sparkling in that unique way that all her clients mentioned before their demise. She practised the effect assiduously of course, though the eyes had a natural ability to project a mixture of warmth with suggestiveness that attracted male and female circumspection alike when confronted by such beauty.
She opened the cover of her tablet as if to read her emails. The impression she wanted to project was of casual confidence tied to impatience. She checked her watch again as the young man approached with her drink. Her face darkened with feigned anger.
‘He won’t be able to meet me now, so it looks like I have a long night ahead,’ she said in a quiet voice, just loud enough for her prey to hear at the other end of the bar. ’What’s your name young man?’
‘William, madam.’
‘Well, William. Is it too late to book a table for dinner in the restaurant?’ She pushed her left palm across the bar towards him as he put down the drink. He took his own away to save further contact. That might have proven difficult for him to explain if the night manager made a sudden appearance.
‘Of course, madam. I’ll call them now for you. Will you want to eat straightaway?’
‘Say half an hour, if that’s okay with them, William. I’m most grateful.’ She decided to tease him a little longer. ‘You must be very tired working such late nights.’
‘Oh I’m used to it, madam.’
‘Well you need to relax as well, William. I always say all work with no play makes men dull boys. Don’t you agree?’ she said, her eyes exploring his with a look that could have had a number of implications, if the game play was thought genuine by her real target.
‘I’m sure you’re right, madam,’ replied the clearly unsettled William. He was grateful to be distracted by another customer who’d started to wave to him from one of the corner tables. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he said as he followed the call.
Her eyes followed him as he walked around from the back of the bar, then went down to her tablet again, as if engrossed in a new piece of digital information. She started to count. Thirty-five seconds later her faux perusals were interrupted by a deep voice to her right.
‘Excuse me. I couldn’t help overhear your conversation just now.’
She looked up. He looked more attractive than the images in the sheaf of photos she’d been provided with. About six foot tall, with navy chinos, a white shirt and a grey cashmere pullover draped in a deliberately casual way around his shoulders. She admired his fresh-shaven, deep-tanned face from a professional perspective. It provided the magnetic qualities that she related to herself, as her own success depended on similar detailed preparation. The game was now in play.
‘Pardon me?’
‘I’m sorry. My name’s Tom. Tom Bryan. We both seem to have the same problem. My wife has just rung me to tell me she can’t make it tonight so, as I’ve already booked a table here, I wonder if you’d like to join me for dinner. On me of course.’
She gave him a cautious look rather than an immediate answer. She’d hoped for a more original approach, so the disappointment was genuine.
‘That’s very kind of you Mr Brown…’
‘It’s Bryan, Tom Bryan with a Y.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry Mr Bryan with a Y.’ She smiled. ‘I’m not sure my husband would appreciate that a stranger might replace him for his long arranged meal with his wife on her birthday.’ She left the suggestion of annoyance hanging, together with the hint of potential reward for the hunter in front of her.
‘Your birthday? Well, that’s another coincidence. It was my birthday a few days ago so tonight was to be a celebration for me as well. As we both have an occasion to celebrate, I can’t let us both eat on our own. You must accept my invitation to dinner. I insist.’
His lies came with an ease based on repetition, she decided. That fitted his profile. In a normal situation another woman would probably realise she was the target of an act of seduction, so would then decide whether she wanted to play along or not. She of course was only too happy to do so. Although not without some verbal equivocation. She didn’t want to be seen as just an easy lay.
‘Well, Mr Bryan. When you put it like that, how can a temporarily single woman refuse such an invitation without offending her white knight?’ She switched the sparkle from her eyes to maximum. It had the desired effect as her client slid onto the adjacent stool without invitation. His anticipation was now obvious by the way his own eyes fixed on hers, while the wide grin showed his expensive veneered and very white teeth. ‘What do you do? Jobwise, I mean,’ she said with a little more suggestive wordplay.
‘I’m the Chief Information Officer of a publishing company based in Gloucestershire. It’s called Chiltern University Press. You may have heard of us. We publish educational and research books in the main.’
‘I can’t say I have, Mr Bryan. Although in my job I suppose I should know of them.’
‘What’s that if I may ask?’ said the deep-voiced hunter.
‘I’m a management consultant in international business relations. I work for large blue-chip organisations. I specialise in change management.’ True in part at least, she thought.
‘May I ask your name, now that we know we have something in common?’ he said.
‘Anna.’
‘Anna what, can I ask?’
‘You can ask Mr Bryan, but a lady must have some secrets. Don’t you agree?’
‘Of course, forgive my rudeness. Is Anna short for Annabelle though?’
‘Anastasia. Nobody uses my full name. Just call me Anna.’
‘That’s a beautiful name. Are you Russian by any chance? You have an imperial look if I may say.’
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘Everyone asks that. My mother was a lecturer in classical history and literature at Berne University. The name means “resurrection” in its Greek origins. She loved the name because it connected her earlier life in Germany with the later one she built in Switzerland, before she arrived here in England.’
‘You didn’t mention your father?’ Bryan replied with a serious look.
‘You’re quite an interrogator, Mr Bryan. He left her just after I was born.’ That much at least was true.
‘Oh, my apologies once again. I’m often accused of that. I can’t help asking questions. And please call me Tom, otherwise tonight is going to be far too formal.’
‘Well, we certainly don’t want that, do we Tom?’ Which was also accurate, she decided.
Chapter 4
Natsuko’s cell phone rang as they were on the motorway south from Edinburgh, just north of Nottingham, on their way towards Cornwall. It was the first time anyone had called her since she’d arrived from Tokyo so Jago knew it must be important.
They had spent an enjoyable week exploring the Scottish east coast after the two-night stopover in York. Jago had introduced her to new cultures that may have been a shock to her system, almost as much as some of the food was. He was determined to show her that life wasn’t all about Michelin starred restaurants or five-star hotels. She had taken them all in her stride while they had stayed in Bed and Breakfast guest houses. The added benefits of lots of brisk walks with an overdue amount of dog exuberance became an additional bonding exercise for all three of them.
The conversation went on for fifteen minutes or so. He could make out a few words and sentences despite his basic understanding of Japanese. Although he knew she was in conversation with her father about business, he couldn’t be sure of the details. He was, though, able to understand enough to know that a big problem had arisen for Hiro Yamada.
‘What was that all about?’ he asked when she’d finished the call. She stared ahead at the road for a moment before she turned to give her answer, with a serious look that creased her beautiful face for the first time in days.
‘They want to ruin my father.’
‘Who do?’ said Jago. The concern showed in his voice. Perhaps too much, as he knew it meant an end to the present happy interlude from each of their responsibilities.
‘A corporation called Zanfo. He’s done business with them for years but they have now launched a legal action against us. They cite breach of contract on some patent rights.’
‘I’m sure your father has nothing to fear from that. He gave me the impression he would never take shortcuts in any of his businesses.’
‘Of course not. He told me that when he refused to join the Keiretsu cartels many years ago, he had to negotiate his first contracts without the patronage of those huge companies. I told you when we were in Japan they were not pleased when he turned them down, so they made his life very difficult then. He was at a crucial stage of building the business so took a lot of risks which he wouldn’t have to do these days.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘One of the contracts was with a computer hardware manufacturer. He supplied the research and development of the software they needed to expand into the US so the deal they pushed him into wasn’t ideal for him, although too big an opportunity to refuse. If he hadn’t signed it, he couldn’t have grown the group so fast.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘The contract rolls over each year. When it was agreed, it involved a call option that could be enacted by them with a long expiration date.’
‘You mean they can take control of the software company?’
‘Exactly. They had never indicated they intended to implement it until now. The revenue from patents via the software licences we have negotiated across the world are the basis of all father’s businesses. If we lose them, the rest of the companies could not survive alone.’
‘Could Chetwynd be involved?’
‘My father thinks so, yes. He wanted to know whether you could ask your contacts in MI6 to do some checks. He knows that might compromise you once again so if you can’t, he told me he will understand.’
‘Of course I will. I’ll call Nik tonight. Do you mind missing out on our trip to Cornwall?’
‘Yes I do. However, it can wait until next time I visit. I’ll have to return to Tokyo tomorrow. I’m so sorry Jago.’
‘So am I. We’ve had a good few days together so we should be grateful for that small holiday at least. I’ll call my travel agent now to book your ticket
. If I stay on this road we can head for London. We should be at the house by about seven and have time for dinner together tonight, then I’ll take you to Heathrow tomorrow myself.’
Chapter 5
The verbal fencing had continued over dinner. The food was good, though as always in these situations she had declined any wine or other alcohol. The work she had to do needed a clear head, although she encouraged her host thinking that such abstinence wasn’t necessary for him. He took the offer up with enthusiasm. He’d already emptied a half bottle of good burgundy and now rolled a brandy glass in his palms as he continued to probe his prey.
‘This work must mean a great deal of travel for you. Does your husband mind?’
‘He doesn’t have to mind. He knew what he’d taken on when he married me.’ She added a feigned tone of annoyance to the reply.
‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to pry,’ said Bryan.
‘Not at all. He’s an eye surgeon with a big international reputation, so just like tonight’s cancellation, he likes to think he can design the agenda for both of us, but I don’t play his game. He doesn’t like that.’
‘What do you mean, play his game? You mean you prefer to live your own life without him?’
‘Now, Tom. You’ve asked an awful lot of very personal questions in a short space of time, yet we’ve never met before. What about your wife? Does she know you proposition vulnerable women in smart hotels by any chance?’
‘Proposition? Whatever do you mean? I just offered my services to a damsel in distress so to speak.’ He smiled as he leant forward across the table.
‘You should never answer a question by posing another. You must know that’s a giveaway when someone lies. Analysis of the opposition is a big part of my job as a management consultant, you know.’ She giggled in what she hoped was a coquettish way.
The flirtation continued through the meal yet she knew that the time available for the night’s work was an imprecise element. She had to complete her assignment before the original resident of the room returned, so she decided to move it on faster. It was a risk to accelerate the process as she didn’t have the time she would normally want for a job like this.
