Signal Point Page 7

  Jennifer snuck out of the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. The kettle hissed as it boiled so Jennifer opened the triangular door to the cupboard under the stairs and knelt into the darkened void. Jennifer got her mobile out again, the screen lit up her face with its white glow; Winstanley answered. The kettle noise masked her voice. If discovered, Jennifer would just pretend she had been looking for something to clean her desk with. The conversation ended. Jennifer dunked a teabag in a cup, splashed some milk into it, and hurried back upstairs with the mug. She placed her mobile back in her handbag, sat back at the computer, and began to type.

  Maybury picked up his phone and dialed a number.

  ‘It’s Maybury, put me straight through,’ Maybury said. He cleared his throat and waited for Atmore’s voice. Maybury put his hand to his mouth and rubbed his lips again and again until he heard a voice. ‘There have been unforeseen developments, but your men are handling it,’ Maybury said. His palms were clammy in dread of Atmore’s response. The plan had been ambitious and now Maybury doubted whether he could do it himself. Maybury loosened his tie to ease the suffocated grip he felt. ‘We will of course—.’ Atmore interrupted and, when Maybury spoke again, he stuttered. ‘Have no, no, doubt about that. I assure you,’ Maybury said as he creased his forehead. Jennifer crept over and eavesdropped behind the open door. ‘It’s just a minor delay I assure you,’ Maybury said.

  Maybury put the phone down. The tension that had built up inside him erupted. He hit the green lamp from his desk; it smashed on the floor. Jennifer tried not to make a sound as she ran back to her desk. Maybury searched his drawers, but Dan’s file wasn’t there. It was then that Maybury remembered he had hidden the file at home so even Jennifer would not know of its contents.

  ‘Jennifer!’ Maybury shouted. Jennifer walked in to Maybury’s office and saw the broken lamp on the floor, but she acted as if nothing had happened. ‘I’m going home to work,’ Maybury said.

  ‘Is there anything I can help with?’ Jennifer said as she held an open diary.

  ‘Get an update from Atmore’s men, and cancel my dinner reservation for tonight,’ Maybury said.

  * * * *

  Tall trees hung over the garden walls of the private road. The navy-blue saloon eased into the driveway and passed through the gates. Maybury could see a yellow sports car parked in front of his large red brick house. The house had white panelled shutters that decorated the façade and a circular lawn and driveway which swept round the space in front. To most people, it would be a dream house that they could never have, but Maybury had got used to it. The house was no longer exciting or luxurious; it was normal.

  The unapologetic yellow sports car was parked next to his wife’s 4x4. Maybury’s eyes flared at the gaudy and ostentatious vehicle that hogged the space where he usually parked his car. Maybury was aware that the empty woman who filled her days with luxurious shopping sprees and spa treatments had had a string of affairs, but he had no wish to see them. Maybury thought his wife was still useful at functions to show off to business partners, but she had no hold on his emotions. There was no need for anniversaries, calling late to check on each other, or for empty romantic gestures. Much like a business arrangement, they had decided years back that she would maintain the house in return for an allowance. The solicitor considered himself married to his work; the woman that co-habited his house had nothing to do with that.

  Maybury stopped the car inches away from the front of his wife’s 4x4. As Maybury got his briefcase he saw his wife walk from the garden; she was arm in arm with a man dressed in tennis wear.

  ‘Oh darling, I didn’t know you were here. This is Drew that new tennis coach I was telling you about; he’s helping me to improve my serve,’ Maybury’s wife said.

  ‘Well trying to at least,’ Drew said with a knowing tone. The tennis coach smiled at her.

  ‘Next time, park over there,’ Maybury said. He stormed towards the porch without making eye contact. Maybury’s wife hovered around the yellow car and talked to Drew through the window. She waved goodbye as Drew sped off down the drive and churned up the stones. Maybury’s wife followed him into the house and shut the door.

  Maybury stood in the elegant hall and flicked through the post. The long hallway was painted pale duck egg blue and had an oak floor. The hall was furnished with a gold mirror, a narrow table flanked with lamps, and a chair that was draped with a silk throw. The glass chandelier clinked in a slight breeze as the door shut.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you darling, is everything alright?’ Maybury’s wife said. Maybury grunted as he looked through his letters. Maybury knew the word darling was a mere habit. ‘I’m getting changed then I’m going to the club; Clarissa has invited me out this evening. She and Julian have got some writer friend staying; apparently he’s quite famous,’ Maybury’s wife said.

  ‘Hmm,’ Maybury said. He took his post and walked off down the hall to his study.

  Maybury’s study had a large bay window that reached the ceiling and burgundy-coloured paneled walls. At the end of the room stood a stone fireplace with carved lions and an enormous fire grate. Opposite the fireplace were tall bookcases with cupboards underneath that were the shade of burnt tobacco. Maybury’s large desk faced the window and was strewn with papers and curios. In the bay of the window were a soft leather armchair and a round marble-topped table.

  Maybury dumped his bag and coat down on the chair and went to get a whiskey from the drinks cabinet. Maybury leaned on the fireplace; the walnut mantle clock ticked. The room felt cold, Maybury thought, so he pressed the bell next to the fireplace for Angela, the housekeeper.

  ‘Make a fire up will you, then get out,’ Maybury said.

  ‘Yes of course, and would you like a cup of tea?’ The short woman asked. Maybury murmured a yes. Angela lit the fire and left the room. Maybury stared out of the window at the birds as he drank his whiskey and the fire crackled. Angela returned with a tray: on it a cup and saucer, a blue and white teapot, and a sugar bowl. Beside the teapot was a plate of delicate biscuits arranged in a circle. Angela set the tray down on the marble table and left without saying a word.

  Maybury got up and went to the bookcases. He pulled forward a set of chunky leather-bound books and stacked them on a shelf nearby. In the void, pushed flat against the back of the dark mahogany bookcase, was a slim portfolio folder; Maybury’s hands reached for it. Maybury sifted through the sheets for ideas of how he could tackle the situation. The chances of getting alongside Dan were narrow, but still possible he thought. Maybury threw the portfolio onto the desk and walked to the tea tray. He poured himself a hot cup of tea and dropped a lump of sugar into the teacup. Maybury took the tray and set it aside on his desk.

  Maybury sat back in his deep leather chair and opened the portfolio again. He sipped his tea. Maybury decided a new strategy was needed; if he could win Dan’s trust back somehow, he would still be able to achieve his goal. He would fabricate a story, but it would need to be compelling: loan sharks, lost relatives, and the reuniting of his family. Maybury thought it was a pitiful idea as he looked through the folder. If he added something about Dan’s birth parents being alive and the proviso of arranging a reunion if Dan signed the papers perhaps it might work. Maybury hadn’t ruled out the option of hiring fake parents either; a couple of actors who could play the roles would be easy enough to find. The stakes demanded that he do whatever was needed to achieve the result; Atmore would not stand failure. As Maybury’s most powerful client Atmore would have no hesitation in ruining him. Maybury’s finances rested on successful completion of this job. Atmore’s deal would ensure his early retirement and establish a new life far away from paperwork and ringing phones. Maybury had once thrived on his job, but it had become sallow like his wrinkled skin.

  * * * *

  Jennifer sat back at the desk and opened Dan’s file. She did what Maybury asked her to do to keep up the illusion that she was just there to work. Maybury was just another job, though this on
e had far more benefits than some of her previous ones working for MI5. Maybury had bought her a white sports car as he had been so pleased with her and, months later, the buttery leather still smelled fresh. Jennifer also rented a beautiful furnished three-storey house in St James Terrace and was able to keep regular office hours. Unlike the last job in Prague where the heating clattered and the neighbours screamed at each other.

  Jennifer paused to think of her current situation after she read her own name written on a form. Jennifer scoffed at the irrelevance of the title. With each new city she had lived a different life with a new identity and cover story. Jennifer knew whatever she was she wasn't a clerical assistant.

  Jennifer swept up the broken green glass and removed the lamp. It was rare for Maybury not to be in the office, Jennifer thought, so she took the opportunity to search it. Jennifer started with the desk; the surface papers were all things she had dealt with. Jennifer opened the drawers and flicked through the sheets, but there were no details on Atmore, Dan, or the inheritance; she searched the next drawer. The file in her office covered the basics, but she knew there was more information Maybury had hidden.

  Jennifer checked the cupboards. Inside one of them was a small safe bolted to the floor. Jennifer attempted to open it, but she didn’t know the combination. She slammed the cupboard door shut and, as she did, heard a clang as something fell inside. Jennifer re-opened the doors and crouched down; a key had fallen from inside. She picked it up and felt a small ridge where it had fallen from. Jennifer unlocked the safe. Inside were wodges of fifty-pound notes banded in sets of a thousand. Next to them was a red leather address book and underneath it was a brown envelope. Jennifer removed the address book and envelope and left the cash stacked up. The address book had a list of Maybury’s prestigious contacts in it. Jennifer had seen him use it before, but she had never been able to read it herself. She thumbed through it. The list could be invaluable in the right hands, she thought. Jennifer held onto it while she opened the envelope; she poured out the contents onto the floor.

  On the first sheet of paper was a profile of Robert Atmore; something Jennifer had wanted to find since she started work for Maybury. She had never met or spoken to Robert Atmore; he was just as elusive to her as he was to everyone else. At the top right-hand corner where a profile photo should have been was a blank box with a silhouette of a man. Underneath were his office’s contact details and his personal numbers. Jennifer slipped the papers back into the envelope and took them with the address book. She left the safe door open a fraction and shut the cupboard door.

  Jennifer looked over her shoulder as she photocopied the address book page by page. The sheets floated out into the tray. Soon she had copied the entire book and the sheets on Atmore too. Jennifer locked the items back in the safe and replaced the key on the hidden shelf. Jennifer stood at the fax machine with the photocopies and thought how pleased Winstanley and the team in London would be with her. It was the most information she had gleaned in such a short amount of time. Jennifer had gained Maybury’s trust easy enough, but had found it hard to find paper trails as he wrote little down of his activity. Jennifer fed the photocopied sheets one by one into the fax machine.

  The sound of the front door slammed. Jennifer froze. A page was midway through scanning and couldn’t be stopped. Jennifer grabbed the other sheets and creased them in half. She heard footsteps on the stairs; she looked back to the fax machine’s green light.

  ‘Hurry up you stupid thing,’ Jennifer said. She could feel the panic rise inside her. Jennifer looked to the door and then back to the fax machine. The paper was centimetres away from completion. The door opened back. Jennifer felt her heartbeat race in her chest; she turned. A man stood in the doorway. Jennifer jumped.

  ‘I called out but nobody answered. I’m here to fix the tap,’ the plumber said.

  ‘You scared me walking in like that. You were supposed to be here two days ago,’ Jennifer said. Her nerves forced her to speak again without waiting for an answer. ‘Yes alright, it’s in the kitchen downstairs,’ Jennifer said. She started to calm down. The plumber left the room and Jennifer breathed out a sigh of relief. She removed the last sheet from the fax machine and put it with the others.

  ‘Who uses fax machines these days anyway?’ Jennifer said to herself. She composed herself and left the room.

  Chapter 9

  Sarah slept across the seats of the carriage with her head rested against the window. The acquired shirt wrapped around her body and cocooned her in its gentle warmth. Dan sat on the opposite side of the aisle and dozed. Each time his eyes had shut the train would jolt and wake him. Dan’s mind wandered in and out of its dream-like state. The train shunted again which caused Dan to wake up; the light pierced his eyes as he tried to rub the fatigue out of them. His pulse ached in his head like a thumping rhythm of a nightclub heard from a distance. Dan rubbed his eyes again and blinked a few times to refresh them; he was awake and might as well accept it.

  Dan looked at Sarah’s state of relaxation. She seemed unhindered by the noise or movement of the train and slept through the disturbances in peace. Dan was jealous of people that could do that, it was a skill he had never been able to master. Dan stared out of the window and looked beyond his pale reflection. The sun had faded and left a cool glow that silhouetted the trees against the skyline. It was weather like this, Dan thought, that inspired sorrowful poems or people to comfort eat. Birds flew in the sky; their black frames swooped down and then they were away again. The stillness of twilight would soon give way to the black of night. Lights inset into the landscape twinkled like jewels. Dan noticed the lights as they vanished one by one only to be replaced with more. The train passed over a bridge as car headlights swept underneath it.

  Dan got up to stretch his legs and left Sarah to rest. He walked through the carriages in search of the snack bar. Other passengers seemed to be pacified by the train, but their stillness made Dan feel even more restless. There was still no sight of any food. Dan’s eyes glazed over as he walked past the empty faces of strangers. Dan saw packets of crisps through the next door; he pressed the glowing button. Much like a weary traveller would find an oasis amongst miles of desert, Dan stepped up to the snack bar relieved that civilisation existed. The steward looked on at Dan’s enthusiasms for the regular items with bewilderment. Dan ordered as much as he could carry: hot chocolate, crisps, a couple of chocolate bars and a packet of sandwiches. It wasn’t until Dan paid that he noticed a newspaper rack behind the steward. He added one to his order and tucked it under his arm. Dan stacked up his goodies and clutched them close to his body on the way back through the carriages. His head still thumped, but at least he had a distraction.

  Dan walked back to their carriage. He found a seat at a table and spread out his purchases. He took a sip of hot chocolate but thought it resembled tea that had been made for three cups from one teabag. Dan took a bite from the sandwich. The sandwich was entitled Italian Supreme but to Dan it just looked like cheese and salad. At least it filled the hole in his belly, he thought. Dan laid the newspaper out flat; some dross about a cabinet minister filled the front page. Dan took another sip of the watery chocolate drink.

  Sarah slept a few rows back; she still hadn’t stirred from before. Dan read the paper with disinterested amusement. He liked to pick and choose the news and ignore articles he wasn’t interested in. As Dan read he felt his eyes droop, but this time they stayed shut.

  Dan woke to the sound of rustling. He had slept against the window with his hand against his cheek and it had left an inflamed impression. Dan opened his eyes; sat opposite him at the table was Sarah. She sat cross-legged on the seats and nibbled on a chocolate bar.

  ‘Hey, that’s mine,’ Dan said in a sleepy voice.

  ‘Finders keepers,’ Sarah said. She took another bite of the chocolate. Sarah chucked Dan the other chocolate bar and he caught it. ‘So, had a good sleep?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Hmm, yeah I did,’ Dan said as he stretche
d out. ‘I see you like the goodies I got.’

  ‘You’re lucky you woke up now; I might have finished it all,’ Sarah said.

  ‘You ate all the crisps too?’ Dan said as he noticed the trail of empty packets.

  ‘Yeah,’ Sarah said and rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry about that, I was kind of hungry.’

  ‘You were sleeping pretty well back there; you’ve been out for hours,’ Dan said.

  ‘Really? I can usually sleep well, even with noise. Did I miss anything?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Hardly, apart from the riveting trip to the snack bar; this train is driving me nuts,’ Dan said. They both looked out of the window at the blackness of night. The train was near Edinburgh and, like when a child goes to the seaside, the laborious journey became interesting again. The train slowed into Waverley station; the pacified passengers stood up to await their release from the metal capsule. The train stopped and, with relief, Dan and Sarah made their way out of the carriage. It was 11:03pm.

  There was no sign of the thugs so Dan and Sarah walked up the steep path that led to Princes Street. The lights of the city bathed the dark stone in a soft ruddiness. Taxis waited, suitcases rolled, and the passengers spread out in a myriad of directions. Other people walked on the wide pavements in front of the shops. Dan looked up at the clock of the Balmoral Hotel; its face glowed like a second moon. Such luxury was out of reach. They walked away and found they were alone underneath the Scott monument; its blackened spire towered over them. Dan had half expected to be chased out of the station, but everything was calm; just the stillness of the night and the movement of the city. Illuminated shop windows with their large glassy surfaces and creative displays cast a spectrum of pale light onto the pavement. The castle was lit up high on the rock and the flags of a green-domed bank rippled in the breeze.