Out of Such Darkness

by Robert Ronsson

  ‘If you like. But we’ll be going home at Christmas, won’t we? It’s only three months away if we leave as soon as Ben’s term ends. Perhaps I should start planning it. It’ll give me something to do.’

  ‘Let’s just see how the meeting with Fothergill goes before you do anything definite.’ He looks at his watch. ‘I’d better get ready.’

  The cross-country road from Burford Lakes to Stamford is spectacular at this time of year. The leaves are turning and it looks as if the foliage is suffused with golden candlelight. Jay tunnels under arches of flaming boughs and the tree-trunks form a guard of honour.

  He’s trying to recall his only meeting with Nathan Fothergill. He remembers him as an unusually small man, barrel-chested and with a twist in his upper back that some might unkindly call a hump. While his torso had seemed to be of normal length, his legs were so short that, if he sat down, it wasn’t that his feet didn’t reach the floor but that, when he sat back, his legs stuck out horizontally. Neither Francois nor Glen had warned Jay about Fothergill’s appearance and he had spent the first half of the meeting trying to ensure that he concealed the ‘sizist’ puns that kept bubbling to the front of his brain. He realises now that this is another reason he can remember so little about the papers. What if he’d signed his rights away? Maybe Rachel is right and they have nothing – not even a salary to take them through to the end of Ben’s term.

  Would you feel any better about your dead colleagues then?

  Even if the other partners had cheated him, he wouldn’t have wanted them dead.

  But this is the point. They are dead. Them and fifteen others. One of them Nancy. Remember her? How you were mesmerised by her cleavage?

  Seventeen! What must the families think? He considers the ordeal they’re facing.

  You have your life. What more should you have?

  He decides he doesn’t deserve anything. Why should he expect? It should be enough that he’s alive.

  He sees the outer suburbs of Stamford through a mist of tears and negotiates the ringway to the eastbound exit. The road here is a strip-mall and passes a Wendy’s burger outlet, an aluminium-clad diner, the red and white of Staples office supplies, followed by the similar colouring of the CVS pharmacy. Jay turns in by a sign for the Borders bookstore (with Starbucks) and on the right is the tawdry office block belonging to Safa-Data Recovery. Grey and disorderly vertical blinds sag behind streaked windows.

  Jay works the automated entry system and stands inside a vestibule carpeted with loose tiles that look as if they’ve seen service underneath a leaky drink-dispensing machine. It isn’t Nathan who approaches but a woman. She’s strikingly tall and dark-skinned, possibly mixed race. Her hair is black and cropped boyishly so it fits close to her head. The fringe has been left long and is pressed flat across her forehead. This, together with her height and her conservative dress, gives her the look of a catwalk model presenting a for-the-office range. Jay’s pulse quickens. Her handshake is dry, firm – satisfying.

  ‘It’s good to meet you, Mr Halprin. My name is Teri Herbold. I work for Baxter, Fothergill and Fauset as an assistant attorney. Would you like to come through?’

  ‘Yes. Please lead the way, Ms Herbold.’

  She turns to blitz a smile on him. ‘Teri, please. Nathan is through here.’

  This girl – Teri – she is so beautiful. I wonder what instrument she can play – for my orchestra, you understand.

  They step through more sticky carpet tiles, enter double doors and Jay finds himself in an office space that extends across the building. The snaggle-toothed windows are to his left and right. Teri navigates a narrow passage between rows of unoccupied desks and empty chairs. Each desk carries a computer with a flat-screen monitor and the cables coil around like snakes in a viper pit.

  ‘What is this place?’ Jay asks.

  Teri stops, turns and straightens the waisted jacket that shows off her slim build. ‘Yes, this is probably new to you. The Safa-Data servers are in the basement. That’s where the Safa-Data people do the day-to-day work. This is a disaster recovery floor. If one of their client’s buildings was to be destroyed – in a fire, say – this accommodation would fit enough people to get the company re-started. They’d use it for a week or so until new temporary accommodation is found. It doesn’t have to be pretty – as you can see – just functional.’ She turns and continues walking. ‘They’ve given us a small office at the end here.’

  She leads Jay towards a cubicle that has been excised out of the main space, presumably to be taken by a supervisor for the recovery team in a disaster scenario. It’s glazed from the waist up and the top of Nathan’s head is progressing towards the doorway. He’s waiting there when they arrive.

  ‘Jay!’ Good to see you.’ He clasps his left hand over the handshake, a thick identity bracelet rattles on his wrist. ‘Coffee?’ he shakes his head. ‘It’s machine but it’s recognisably coffee.’ He goes back to the desk and points to his own empty cup. ‘Teri, please?’

  Jay turns to her and licks his lips.

  Did you really do that?

  ‘I’m feeling thirsty. Cold water would be good.’

  She nods and turns out of the office and through the adjacent swing doors.

  Jay is still looking at the space Teri occupied when Nathan speaks. ‘She won’t be long. Sit, Jay. Look, I have to start this by saying I’m so sorry. You were so lucky.’

  You think so? He doesn’t have the dreams, does he, Jay?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re probably wondering what this is all about.’ Nathan hops himself up into his chair and shuffles his posterior back. The toes of his panther-sheened shoes point to the ceiling. The soles are leather and not unduly worn.

  Stop worrying about the shoes. There are weighty matters to be discussed. Pay attention.

  ‘Jay?’

  Jay snaps back into the room as Teri enters with two plastic cups. She gives him the one with water. She places the other on the desk before smoothing her skirt, sitting in the chair alongside Jay’s and crossing her legs. He recognises her perfume as it settles around him but can’t put a name to it.

  Nathan lifts the cup, raises it – ‘Thank you, Teri’ – and sips. Jay is thinking about the way the age in Nathan’s face contrasts with his boy’s body.

  This man’s appearance is not the problem. What he has for you – this is your problem. Now, achtung!

  Jay straightens his back and focuses on Nathan’s eyes.

  The lawyer uses the next ten minutes to repeat his telephone conversation with Jay giving the layman’s explanation of the company’s legal position now that the two main partners are dead. In each case the partnership passes into their estates and is dealt with as an asset under the terms of the wills. In the case of Straub, DuCheyne these wills work in concert with the partnership agreement that, he reads from a paper in front of him: ‘obligates the surviving partner or partners to purchase the partnership or partnerships from the deceased partner’s or partners’ beneficiaries under their wills’.

  When Nathan mentions that he has an obligation to Francois and Glen, Jay reaches for the water. His fingers tremble; his skin is clammy.

  ‘Do you remember the terms of the partnership agreement, Jay? Have you brought your copy?’ Nathan peers over the desk expectantly but sees that Jay doesn’t carry a briefcase.

  ‘Uh! I kept all that stuff in the office.’ Jay hears Teri clicking a ballpoint pen into action.

  ‘Too bad. Nothing to worry about, though. Teri can provide you with copies.’

  She reaches down into her briefcase for a yellow legal pad. She makes a note and re-crosses her legs.

  Stop thinking about her and consider the matter in the hand.

  Nathan steeples his fingers in front of his face and crinkles his eyes. This draws up the corners of his mouth. It resembles a smile. ‘All it means is this. Francois and Glen have family members who, until you buy them out under the terms of the agreement, own the majority stake in th
e company. I’ve met with these family members and their instinct is that, with Francois and Glen gone, the business should not continue. However, they’ll respect your wishes if you want to carry on. Do you have a view at this moment in time?’

  Jay is reeling from the words, ‘buy them out under the terms of the agreement’. How much is this going to cost?

  ‘Jay? Do you want to continue the business alone? Have you decided?’

  You on your own? With Rachel wanting to go home as soon as possible?

  Jay shakes his head. ‘No.’

  Nathan raises his eyebrow. ‘No?’

  ‘No – I mean I don’t want to keep the business going. I think we’re going back to the UK as soon as it’s practicable.’ Waves of distress threaten to overwhelm him as he wonders whether they will be able to go back to England once the terms of the agreement he so foolishly signed have been satisfied.

  Nathan lowers his hands into his lap. Jay sees him only as a child in an outsize chair. ‘Good. Good.’ The lawyer nods towards Teri. ‘Perhaps you can apprise Mr Halprin as to the current state of the company.’

  The words ‘current state’ stimulate Jay’s sweat glands.

  She nods, says, ‘Surely,’ and, uncrossing her legs, turns to Jay. ‘Nathan delegated me to look into the company on the day after the tragedy. I contacted Safa-Data and we have set up Straub, DuCheyne in this room.’ She points to her closed laptop. ‘This computer has been configured with Mr DuCheyne’s access codes. As far as the data is concerned, I am Mr DuCheyne, if you will.’

  There’s a pause and Jay is the first to break. ‘And what does it tell you?’

  ‘The company’s in a healthy position.’

  His temperature stabilises; the pressure drains away.

  ‘It appears that the managing partners have always kept a healthy cash reserve, equivalent to six-month’s trading. But you’ll know this from your due diligence.’

  ‘Due diligence?’ Jay says.

  ‘The investigations you carried out when you joined the company?’

  ‘I just went with assurances from Francois and Glen that the company was sound.’

  Teri raises a dark eyebrow and studies the back of her left hand. The only ring is on her second finger. ‘Surely. In this case your trust was well-founded. There’s very little debt – mostly small invoices that we can settle. Given the circumstances, some companies may have written them off already so we’ll wait for them to chase us. Payroll is the biggest obligation. Under our advisement the families of Messrs DuCheyne and Straub have instructed us to pay the employees in full this month and make a further ex-gratia payment in October. I assume you’ll concur.’ She raises an eyebrow.

  Jay brings both hands up in front of him to signal his agreement.

  ‘The in-service death benefits are insured and the insurers are looking at how to handle claims now. It seems certain that they’ll waive normal proof requirements and work on the basis that as long as a Trade Center employee left for work that morning and hasn’t been seen since the dependants have a valid claim.’

  Jay is dizzy from information. His view of the room is fading; it feels as if the ground is sliding under his feet.

  Teri continues, ‘There’s business continuity insurance in place and we’re trying to find out the terms of settlement given the extraordinary circumstances here. It’s likely there’ll be compensation from one body or another. All in all, the current value of the business, even though it’s not a going concern, is substantial. Over a million dollars.’

  Jay’s not sure whether this is good news or bad. Does he have to find this figure and pay it to Glen and Francois’s dependants? ‘What does this mean?’ he says.

  Teri looks at Nathan who nods for her to answer. ‘Briefly, Mr Halprin – Jay – it means that, even before the partnership assurance, your share of the business is a conservative $200,000.’

  Look at that. Everybody dies and you win the lottery!

  ‘Sorry, I need to understand clearly. That’s without any obligations. I won’t owe the managing partners’ families anything.’ Jay turns to the small man in the big chair. The corner office in the dingy building. The sting of perfume pervading the atmosphere. Everything is surreal.

  ‘Remember what we said, Jay,’ Nathan says, ‘the managing partners’ families think it best to end the partnership. This means that on their say-so – which is the majority, remember – Teri is winding up the company. When she’s completed this job – probably in the New Year she’ll send you your share of the proceeds. Are you clear now?’

  Jay does a quick calculation. He visualises their most recent bank statement. He knows what Rachel will ask when he gets home. ‘And between then and now?’

  Nathan steeples his stubby fingers again. ‘Like the other employees you’ll receive this full month’s salary and an ex-gratia payment for October.’

  That should be adequate to the end of the year, Jay thinks. ‘Is there anything else?’ This sounds mercenary. ‘I mean, have we covered everything?’

  Nathan’s face is grim. ‘You have forgotten all the forms you signed when you were in my office.’

  ‘Jet-lag!’ He attempts a lame grin.

  ‘Teri? Over to you again, I think.’ He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you remember going for the insurance medical?’

  Jay recalls a modern clinic facility in Burford Station where he underwent tests. He was passed fit enough for the company’s death benefit scheme. ‘I don’t get paid death-in-service; I’m still alive.’

  ‘You are indeed but there’s the small matter of the life assurance you took out to underpin the partnership agreement. Teri?’

  Jay’s questioning why Nathan can’t give him the news himself. Is it so bad?

  Teri reaches into her briefcase. Her manner is business-like, deliberate.

  ‘The necessity for you to pay the managing partners’ families under the partnership agreements will be lost when the company dissolves,’ Teri says. ‘But the policies of life insurance that you took out on each of the managing partners under the reciprocal agreements are still valid. There was insurable interest at the time the policies were taken out and this is all that counts.’ She shuffles through a sheaf of papers. ‘Ah! Here it is. Sums assured of $1.5 million on each life, Mr DuCheyne and Mr Straub. I have the claim forms for you to sign today. I’m sure New York Life will expedite things. I imagine you’ll receive a check for the $3million sometime next month.’ She neither smiles nor scowls. She’s keeping her manner neutral.

  Jay throws himself back into his chair. A surge of laughter rises in his throat and he swallows it down.

  Because nobody in this dusty cubicle can allow themselves to treat this as good news.

  Chapter 16

  As the days shortened, so we Wednesday men met ever earlier, catching the end of the daylight before the dark hid our furtive assignations. Soon it would be too cold and my activities would be confined only to the clubs around the Nolli where it was poor form to arrive or leave as a couple.

  It was late September, destined to be one of my last nights at Rosa’s Bridge, when I met Wolf. I had arrived a little early. The bats were not yet in the air and there was too much light for cigarette smoking so I went farther west along the canal towpath than was my custom. The trees of the Tiergarten, the ones bordering the Neuen See, were on my right as I walked along the path. After say fifteen minutes following the canal around the long bend, I was ready to turn back so I would be at the meeting point at the right time.

  That’s when I saw him, shoulders hunched, hands in trench-coat pockets, scurrying towards me. At first, I perceived him as a youth who had put on his father’s coat and hat, wearing them more for concealment than for warmth or style. As we passed each other he looked up at me and I saw fear in his eyes. He seemed to be about to say something but hesitated.

  I stopped and turned. Had I let him down by not showing some recognition of the needy look he gave me? I spoke in German. “Are you looking for somethin
g? Can I help you, please?”

  He took a step back, his head down, presenting me only with a side-view of the brim of his hat. “Is there a footbridge further down where I may cross the canal?”

  “Yes. If you walk on for about ten minutes you will find it.”

  “Is it by the Zoo?”

  “Yes, by the Zoo.”

  He looked up. He was awfully young. Did I recognise him then? His face was flushed. There was a down of blond hair on his upper lip. “Thank you,” he said.

  I was concerned for his safety. He was an attractive boy and there was an element of ‘rough trade’ who met by the bridge. Did he know where he was going? “Are you looking for a special place?”

  He put his hands into the pockets of the raincoat and shrugged. “Not particularly.” He looked up into my face but only briefly before studying his shoes once again. Perhaps he noticed the small amount of kohl I had applied to my eyelids. He seemed to be on the point of making a decision that required all his willpower. “Is the bridge we are talking about sometimes called Rosa’s Bridge?” he asked.

  “Not by everybody,” I said. “Are you looking for Rosa’s Bridge?”

  There were tears in his eyes. “Yes.”

  “And you know what happens there?”

  He stepped away from me as if I was about to strike him. His head moved urgently to one side like a startled fawn that has heard a twig snap in the undergrowth.

  “Can you not tell from my accent – I am British? I am not likely to be a policeman, am I? You should not be scared of me.”

  He relaxed but he seemed to be on the point of turning away.

  I reached out my right hand and touched his forearm. “It is getting dark. You look very young to me. I am not sure you are old enough to look after yourself if you go to Rosa’s Bridge.”

  “But, I am!” His bottom lip was jutting out and trembling.

  I smiled, trying to look like a kindly older brother and I swear that at this first meeting my thoughts were only for this youth’s wellbeing. Was he making the right choices when he was so young? “Why don’t we go for a coffee and we shall talk about it. If you still want to go the bridge afterwards there will still be time.”