False Impression (10 page)

She paused.
Well, not for the moment.’

Anna thumped the
table in anger, sending up a small cloud of dust. I’m so dumb,’ she said. ‘I
should have seen it coming, and now there’s nothing I can do about it.’

‘I’m not so sure
about that,’ said Tina. We don’t know for certain that Ruth Parish has picked
up the painting from Went worth Hall. If she hasn’t, you’ll still have enough
time to call Victoria and advise her to hold onto the picture until you’ve had
a chance to get in touch with Mr Nakamura – that way she could still clear her
debt with Fenston and he couldn’t do anything about it,’ added Tina, as her
cellphone began ringing, ‘California Here I Come’. She checked its caller ID:
boss flashed up. She put a finger to her lips. ‘It’s Fenston,’ she warned. ‘He
probably wants to find out if you’ve been in touch with me,’ she added,
flipping open the phone.

‘Do you realize
who got left behind in the rubble?’ Fenston asked before Tina could speak.

‘Anna?’

‘No,’ said
Fenston. Tetrescu is dead.’

‘Dead?’ repeated
Tina as she stared across the table at her friend. ‘But...’

‘Yes. When Barry
reported in, he confirmed that the last time he saw her she was lying on the
floor, so she can’t possibly have survived.’

‘I think you’ll
find...’

‘Don’t worry about
Petrescu,’ said Fenston. ‘I already had plans to replace her, but what I can’t
replace is my Monet.’

Tina was shocked
into a moment’s silence, and was about to tell him just how wrong he was, when
she suddenly realized that she just might be able to turn Fenston’s crassness
to Anna’s advantage.

‘Does that also
mean we’ve lost the Van Gogh?’

‘No,’ said
Fenston. ‘Ruth Parish has already confirmed that the painting is on its way
from London. It should arrive at JFK this evening, when Leapman is going to pick
it up.’

Tina sank down
into the chair, feeling deflated.

‘And make sure
you’re in by six tomorrow morning.’

‘Six am?’

‘Yes,’ said
Fenston. ‘And don’t complain. After all, you’ve had the whole of today off.’

‘So where do I
report?’ asked Tina, not bothering to argue.

‘I’ve taken over
offices on the thirty-second floor of the Trump Building at 40 Wall Street, so
at least for us it will be business as usual.’ The line went dead.

‘He thinks
you’re dead,’ said Tina, ‘but he’s more fussed about losing his Monet,’ she
added as she snapped her cellphone shut.

‘He’ll find out
soon enough that I’m not,’ said Anna.

‘Only if you
want him to,’ said Tina. ‘Has anyone else seen you since you got out of the
tower?’

‘Only looking
like this,’ said Anna.

‘Then let’s keep
it that way, while we try and work out what needs to be done. Fenston says the
Van Gogh is already on its way to New York and Leapman will pick it up as soon
as it lands.’

‘Then what can
we do?’

‘I could try and
delay Leapman somehow, while you pick up the painting.’

‘But what would
I do with it,’ asked Anna, ‘when Fenston would be certain to come looking for
me?’

‘You could get
yourself on the first plane back to London, and return the picture to Wentworth
Hall.’

‘I couldn’t do
that without Victoria’s permission,’ said Anna.

‘Good
God, Anna, when will you grow up?
You’ve got to stop thinking like a
school prefect, and start imagining what Fenston would do if he were in your
position.’

‘He’d find out
what time the plane was landing,’ said Anna. ‘So the first thing I need to
do...’

‘The first thing
you need to do is have a shower, while I find out what time the plane lands,
and also what Leapman’s up to,’ said Tina as she stood up. ‘Because one thing’s
for sure, they won’t let you pick up anything from the airport looking like
that.’

Anna drained her
coffee and followed Tina out into the corridor.

Tina opened the
bathroom door and looked closely at her friend.

‘See you in
about –
‘ she
hesitated – ‘an hour.’

Anna laughed for
the first time that day.

Anna slowly
peeled off her clothes and dropped them in a heap on the floor. She glanced in
the mirror, to see a reflection of someone she had never met before. She
removed the silver chain from round her neck and placed it on the side of the
bath, next to the model of a yacht. She finally took off her watch. It had
stopped at eight forty-six. A few seconds later, and she would have been in the
elevator.

As Anna stepped
into the shower, she began to consider Tina’s audacious plan. She turned on
both taps and allowed the water to cascade down on her for some time before she
even thought about washing. She watched the water turn from black to grey, but
however hard she scrubbed, the water still remained grey. Anna continued
scrubbing until her skin was red and sore, before turning her attention to a
bottle of shampoo. She didn’t emerge from the shower until she’d washed her
hair three times, but it was going to be days before anyone realized that she
was a natural blonde. Anna didn’t bother to dry herself; she bent down, put the
plug in the bath and turned on the taps. As she lay soaking, her mind revisited
all that had taken place that day.

She thought
about how many friends and colleagues she must have lost, and realized just how
lucky she was to be alive. But mourning would have to wait, if she was to have
any chance of rescuing Victoria from a slower death.

A
nna’s thoughts
were interrupted by Tina knocking on the door. She walked in and sat on the end
of the bath. ‘A definite improvement,’ she said with a smile, as she looked at
Anna’s newly scrubbed body.

‘I’ve been
thinking about your idea,’ said Anna, ‘and if I could...’

‘Change of
plan,’ said Tina. ‘It’s just been announced by the FAA that all aircraft across
America have been grounded until further notice and no incoming flights will be
allowed to land, so by now the Van Gogh will be on its way back to Heathrow.’

‘Then I’ll need
to call Victoria immediately,’ said Anna, ‘and tell her to instruct Ruth Parish
to return the painting to Wentworth Hall.’

‘Agreed,’ said
Tina, ‘but I’ve just realized that Fenston has lost something even more
important than the Monet.’

‘What could be
more important to him than the Monet?’ asked Anna.

‘His contract
with Victoria, and all the other paperwork that proves he owns the Van Gogh,
along with the rest of the Wentworth estate should she
fail
to clear the debt.’

‘But didn’t you
keep back-ups?’ asked Anna.

Tina hesitated.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘in a safe in Fenston’s office.’

‘But don’t
forget that Victoria will also be in possession of all the relevant documents.’

Tina paused
again. ‘Not if she was willing to destroy them.’

‘Victoria would
never agree to that,’ said Anna.

“Why don’t you
phone her and find out? If she did feel able to, it would give you more than enough
time to sell the Van Gogh and clear the debt with Fenston, before he could do
anything about it.’

‘There’s only
one problem.’

‘What’s that?’
asked Tina.

‘I don’t have
her number. Her file is in my office, and I’ve lost everything, including my
cellphone and palm pilot, even my wallet.’

‘I’m sure
international directories can solve that problem,’ suggested Tina. Why don’t
you dry yourself and put on a bathrobe?

We can sort out
some clothes later.’

‘Thank you,’
said Anna, gripping her by the hand.

‘You might not
thank me when you find out what you’re having for lunch. Mind you, I wasn’t
expecting a guest, so you’ll have to make do with leftover Chinese.’

‘Sounds great,’
said Anna, as she stepped out of the bath and grabbed a towel, wrapping it
tightly round her.

‘See you in a
couple of minutes,’ said Tina, ‘by which time the microwave should have
completely finished off my gourmet offering.’

She turned to
leave.

‘Tina, can I ask
you something?’

‘Anything.’

“Why do you
continue to work for Fenston, when you obviously detest the man as much as I
do?’

Tina hesitated.
‘Anything but that,’ she eventually replied. She closed the door quietly behind
her.

R
uth Parish
picked up her outside line.

‘Hi, Ruth,’ said
a familiar voice, about to deliver an unfamiliar message. ‘It’s Ken Lane over
at United, just to let you know that our flight 107, bound for New York, has
been ordered to turn back, and we’re expecting it to touch down at Heathrow in
about an hour.’

‘But why?’ asked
Ruth.

‘Details are a
bit sketchy at the moment,’ Ken admitted, ‘but reports coming out of JFK
suggest there’s been a terrorist attack on the Twin Towers. All US airports
have been ordered to ground their planes, and won’t be allowing any incoming
flights until further notice.’

When did all this
happen?’

‘Around one
thirty our time, you must have been at lunch. You can get an update on any news
station. They’re all carrying it.’

Ruth picked up
the remote control from her desk and pointed it towards the TV screen.

Will you be
putting the Van Gogh in storage?’ asked Ken, ‘or do you want us to return it to
Wentworth Hall?’

‘It certainly
won’t be going back to Wentworth,’ said Ruth. ‘I’ll lock the painting up in one
of our customs-free zones overnight, and then put it on the first available
flight to New York once JFK lifts the restrictions.’ Ruth paused. Will you
confirm an ETA about thirty minutes before your plane is due to touch down, so
I can have one of my trucks standing by?’

Will do,’ said
Ken.

R
uth replaced the
receiver and glanced up at the TV. She tapped out the number 501 on her remote
control. The first image she saw was a plane flying into the South Tower.

Now she
understood why Anna hadn’t returned her call.

As Anna dried
herself, she began to speculate on what possible reason Tina could have to go
on working for Fenston. She found herself shaking her head. After all, Tina was
bright enough to pick up a far better job.

She pulled on
her friend’s bathrobe and slippers, placed the key on its chain back round her
neck and put on her one-time watch.

She looked at
herself in the mirror; the outward facade had considerably improved, but Anna
still felt queasy whenever she thought about what she had been through only a
few hours before.

She wondered for
how many days, months, years it would be a recurring nightmare.

She opened the
bathroom door and manoeuvred her way down the corridor, avoiding the ashy
footprints she’d left on the carpet.

When she walked
into the kitchen, Tina stopped laying the table and handed over her cellphone.

Time to call
Victoria and warn
her what
you’re up to.’

‘What am I up
to?’ asked Anna.

Tor starters,
ask her if she knows where the Van Gogh is.’

‘Locked up in a
customs-free zone at Heathrow would be my bet, but there’s only one way to find
out.’ Anna dialled 00.

International
operator.’

‘I need a number
in England,’ said Anna.

‘Business
or residential?’

‘Residential.’

‘Name?’

‘Wentworth,
Victoria.’

‘Address?’

‘Wentworth
Hall, Wentworth, Surrey.’

There was a long
silence before Anna was informed, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, that number is
ex-directory.’

What does that
mean?’ asked Anna.

‘
I can’t give out
the number.’

‘But this is an
emergency,’ insisted Anna.

I’m
sorry,
ma’am, but I still can’t release that number.’

‘But I’m a close
personal friend.’

‘I don’t care if
you’re the Queen of England, I
repeat,
I’m unable to
give out that number.’ The line went dead. Anna frowned.

‘So what’s plan
B?’ asked Tina.

‘No choice but
to get myself to England somehow and try to see Victoria so I can warn her what
Fenston’s up to.’

‘Good. Then the
next thing to decide is which border you’re going to cross.’

‘What chance
have I got of crossing any border, when I can’t even go back to my apartment
and pick up my things – unless I want the whole world to know I’m alive and
kicking?’