Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake (27 page)

‘Yes, but I can’t really go into detail.’

‘I understand.’ 

‘You’ve really helped me,’ said Minnie. ‘In more ways than one.’

‘Well, we’d already touched on stars in the galaxies; this seemed like a natural progression.’

‘You can’t give up,’ blurted Minnie, suddenly deadly serious. ‘You’re too good.’

‘I could say the same about you.’

‘I always seem to launch an avalanche of error,’ said Minnie quietly.

‘Then repeat the procedure using different permutations until error is eliminated. It is hard work but never impossible.’ 

Minnie nodded emphatically. ‘I’m going to finish the job. Promise me you’ll do the same.’

Dotti smiled. ‘I’m going for a swim first.’

He jumped to his feet. 

Minnie looked alarmed.

‘Come with me,’ he urged. ‘Now. Let’s do it.’

Minnie immediately tried to burrow herself deeper into the shingle. She said hastily: ‘I don’t have a swimsuit. Or a towel. The sun hasn’t warmed up. I’ll catch a cold.’

‘Keep your clothes on then. I’m wearing my underpants.’ He had already stripped down to black boxer shorts and was striding down the beach where the stones gave way to smooth sand.

Minnie shuddered as she pictured her wet chiffon sticking to her like seaweed. She was about to remind him of the recklessness and impracticalities of wet clothing not to mention how uncomfortable it would feel but Dotti was now off at a sprint.

‘Come on, Minnie Chase,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Seize the moment.’

‘No thank you,’ Minnie shouted back.

He cantered across the sand towards the water’s edge and continued at speed until the water was deep enough to throw himself into a wave. Minnie stood up but she couldn’t see him – the dawn light was silvery bright now but it lacked the sharpness she needed to see a head bobbing about in a vast expanse of water. She could hear the waves smash onto the beach and the swish of stones moving under water. 

She thought she saw a slicked-back shape like a seal’s head but it dipped under the waves. Minnie walked down to the water’s edge.  

‘Be careful, Mr Dotti!’ she shouted. ‘Please don’t get eaten by sharks!’ 

Then Dotti’s arm came up to reassure her.

Bob Dotti seemed invigorated after his swim. He quickly pulled his dry clothes over his dripping, shivering body. Minnie watched, astounded, it just didn’t seem to bother him. She knew how much it would have upset her, made her squirm.

They stood facing each other on the sand.

‘I hope Bubble Man knows a good algorithm when he sees one,’ said Dotti, lacing up his shoes.

‘Me too,’ said Minnie. ‘Thank you.’

‘No need. You had it nailed.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Minnie.

‘Work out my own problems, I guess. Do it again. Until I get it right.’

‘Do you have a contact number? I might not remember the algorithm.’

‘Believe in yourself,’ chastised Dotti. 

‘Please.’

‘I no longer own a business card. Do you have a pen?’

Minnie shook her head. ‘No, but it’s okay, I’m really good at remembering numbers.’

It was almost 7am and the sun had burned off the early morning mist that had threatened to drape itself over the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Minnie didn’t feel tired. She needed coffee though. Dotti looked as though he could use some too. ‘Please let me buy you breakfast.’

Dotti smiled appreciatively but graciously declined the offer. ‘My life is approximately three months behind schedule. Do you mind if I take a raincheck?’

‘Of course not,’ said Minnie.

‘Do you want me to walk you back to your motel?’

‘No thank you. 

 Bob Dotti extended a hand. ‘Goodbye, Minnie Chase.’

Minnie smiled and shook his hand. ‘Good luck, Bob Dotti.’

Then he ran up the beach towards the roadside where commuter traffic and birdsong was starting to build. Before he disappeared, though, he turned back and waved at Minnie. ‘Don’t get eaten by sharks!’ he shouted. 

Minnie grinned and waved back. She took one last look at the ocean where Dotti had come to life after an early-morning swim. Then she headed up to the roadside. The walk back to the motel seemed quicker in reverse. Minnie felt braver and more confident of the direction she should take.

She planned to grab a quick shower back at her motel. Then she would work out how to get a highly confidential algorithm to Greene without the risk of it getting hacked. It would mean nothing to him out of context but at least he would have the missing piece to his billion dollar deal. He could pick up the conversation with her in London and talk through the numbers if he wanted to. Before then, though, she needed to say hello to Sid Zane and goodbye to Jackson. Then she would arrange her flight home.

This all seemed relatively straightforward until Minnie saw Bachmann’s long, luxurious car waiting outside Minnie’s motel.

A blacked-out rear window slid down and Parker Bachmann’s handsome face stared at Minnie as she approached the car.

‘Miranda, I need you to speak to Ashton,’ she said. There was a controlled but anxious edge to her voice. ‘It’s urgent. He’s not in a good place.’

19

Nothing but the truth

Minnie showered at breakneck speed because Bachmann was ‘on a schedule’, apparently. She told Minnie that she had already waited over half an hour at Minnie’s motel this morning while Minnie was absent without leave. She didn’t use these words exactly but this was the impression she gave. Minnie told Bachmann that she was capable of making her own way over to Greene’s house but Bachmann seemed to think it was her moral obligation to deliver Minnie to the front door.
A guilty conscience works in mysterious ways
, thought Minnie.

Minnie was irritated because this meant that once again she had to cancel meeting up with Jackson and Sid Zane. She had managed to exchange a couple of texts with them while she showered, towelled and changed, reassuring them that she was fine. She didn’t go into more detail. 

Greene was taking precedence once more. Apparently Minnie was expected to run to him when he was in a ‘bad place’; while she was supposed to shrug off being half-throttled by the insidious Dr Levchin.

But Bachmann was insistent that Minnie reach out to Greene, without delay.

‘Why don’t
you
talk to him?’ asked Minnie snappishly. They were now in the car. Bachmann handed Minnie a coffee.

‘He doesn’t want to see me,’ sighed Bachmann.

‘How do you know?’

‘Because you’re the last person he talked to. I saw you both leave the campaign bus yesterday afternoon. If he’d wanted to speak with
me
, he would have waited around.’

Minnie suddenly had no desire to finish her coffee even though she needed a caffeine fix. Neither did she want her mind returning to what had happened in the campaign bus.

‘I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,’ said Minnie, ‘however, I do have a work-related document to hand over to him. It is much better that I give it to him in person.’

Bachmann raised an enquiring eyebrow.

‘It eliminates a security risk.’ 

‘Where is this document?’ asked Bachmann eyeing up Minnie’s miniature bag. It was big enough to hold her motel key and not much more.

‘I’ll write it down when I get to his house.’

‘I don’t think Ashton has his “work head” on at the moment,’ explained Bachmann carefully.

‘He’ll want to see this, trust me,’ said Minnie.

‘I’m not so sure.’

‘It’s the missing piece in the natural gas deal – nine months ahead of schedule,’ explained Minnie exasperated. ‘That should get his work head on.’

There was a pause. The driver slowly negotiated the morning rush-hour traffic.

‘He’s been drinking all night,’ explained Bachmann quietly.

Minnie cast an incredulous glance at Bachmann. ‘You rush me over to his house because Greene’s
drunk
?’

‘Like I said, he’s in a bad place. I tried to speak to him on the phone… he was making no sense. It’s completely out of character.’ Bachmann’s lips tightened around her teeth. She looked worried.

Minnie raised her styrofoam cup. ‘I think you’ll find black coffee will be more effective than me.’

‘He mentioned you on the phone.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Well, I couldn’t make out what he was saying but I definitely heard your name.’

‘Yes, well, that’s not necessarily a good thing. I’m not exactly his favourite person, remember? And I didn’t exactly deliver the speech he wanted,’ snapped Minnie.

‘Please, just check that he’s okay,’ said Bachmann. ‘You could give him the work stuff, turn his head back to business and then leave. It would really mean a lot to me if you would do this. I’ll send a car to collect you when you’re ready – here’s my driver’s number.’

Minnie sighed. Bachmann, fabulously bright as she was, seemed to lack the fundamental concept of the word ‘no’.

There is a lot you can learn about a man if you stare at him continuously for 25 minutes, as Minnie discovered. She had been shown into a dark and airless library in Greene’s house. She then had to sit and wait until Greene was ready to see her. There was a Dragonet stationed opposite her, presumably to make sure that she didn’t go walkabout or fashion a lethal weapon out of the pages of a book. 

Minnie studied the Dragonet because she had nothing better to do. He wore black cotton trousers with elasticated cuffs at the ankles – a practical design that Minnie should probably consider. His tee-shirt was also black as were his lace-up boots. It was the perfect camouflage outfit to wear next to Greene’s matt black walls. Minnie observed short nails and no wedding band, which was hardly surprising. Guarding Greene around the clock didn’t seem like a family friendly job. Minnie’s gaze returned to his hands; his knuckles seemed oversized and misshapen – Minnie suspected collateral damage from punching walls and people. Around his thick, rigid neck, the man wore military-style dogtags – two tags on a stainless steel chain. They looked tough and non-corrodible, just like their owner. There was black padding around each tag, presumably silicone silencers, to stop them clinking together. Minnie squinted. She could see that the tags were embossed with a message but it was impossible to make out the characters.

‘What does it say?’ asked Minnie pointing to the tags.

The Dragonet ignored her. 

Prerequisite to working with Greene, Minnie wondered idly if Dragonets had their vocal chords removed so as not to disturb the boss; an extreme form of confidentiality agreement. She didn’t hear them speak much. 

Minnie was now getting bored and hungry. Breakfast had been an unfinished coffee in Bachmann’s town car. She wondered how long Greene was going to keep her waiting. She stood up. The Dragonet stared at her but he didn’t tell her to sit back down. Feeling braver, Minnie took a few steps towards him and stuck out her neck. She still couldn’t read the message. Then she ventured further; he didn’t stop her. She obviously wasn’t a threatening presence. The first tag read:

WILSON JF

54478 9876 64

ALLERGIC TO ASPIRIN

Minnie read the next one and looked at Wilson. He returned her gaze. She was just about to speak when someone entered the library carrying an elaborate crystalline decanter of
amber-coloured liquid and a whisky glass. The person walked right up to one of the library walls, tapped twice, then pushed what looked like a row of books but in fact was a concealed door. 

Minnie rolled her eyes elaborately for Wilson’s benefit. ‘He’s in
there
? Secret escape tunnels under the house, too?’ 

She didn’t hang around for an answer. She just waited for the person to reappear into the library and then she marched over to the wall and barged through the door without hesitation.

The Dragonet, quick off the mark, entered the room alongside her. 

‘Sir?’ he barked, to announce their presence. Minnie jumped. The man’s vocal chords were not just active – they were in great shape. The Dragonet waited for Greene’s permission to forcibly eject Minnie but Greene waved them further into the room. He was lying on a leather sofa, shirt creased and minus a tie. He had kicked his shoes off. Minnie thought this made him look strangely vulnerable, his stockinged feet minus the protection of luxurious leather. He wasn’t exactly dishevelled looking, but it was a sartorial step down for an habitually immaculate man. 

‘I’ve been waiting outside,’ said Minnie pointedly. She looked at her watch. ‘For a while.’

‘Miranda, join me for a drink,’ said Greene. His words were surprisingly unslurred but his red-rimmed eyes were a marker of how much alcohol he had consumed.

‘Cup of tea, please,’ requested Minnie. ‘For two. Or three, depending if Wilson wants one or not.’

Greene looked momentarily surprised and glanced at Wilson who promptly declined the offer by shaking his head abruptly, once to the left and once to the right.

‘Tea for two it is,’ confirmed Minnie. ‘Or might I suggest coffee?’

Greene didn’t make any attempt to sit up or straighten out. For a man who did not like to show his vulnerable side this seemed to be strangely unguarded. Minnie took the nearest armchair and awkwardly waited for her tea to arrive. The room was much smaller than the library and no brighter. Considering Greene’s present state, though, not much light was probably a good thing. 

‘I drank to drown my sorrows, but the damn things learned to swim. Isn’t that how it goes?’ He pointed at the wall.  ‘And here we have, “Self-portrait With Monkey.” Millions maketh the man – I’ve got the artwork to prove it,’ he announced bitterly.

Minnie studied the painting of a woman with a monkey on her shoulder. The monkey looked friendlier than the unfriendly woman. The woman looked friendlier than Greene.

Greene turned his attention away from the painting back to Minnie. He didn’t look particularly pleased to see Minnie even though he had offered her a drink. No wonder Bachmann had sent Minnie into the lion’s den.