Take My Breath Away (24 page)

‘Sometimes,’ he said quietly, ‘you have to take innocence on trust. Even if your trust has been betrayed before. That’s where law and logic let you down. Sometimes you need faith. You’re not a murderer, Roxanne. Neither was Cassandra Lee.’

‘Okay, you win.’ Suddenly she laughed, and he realised he’d never heard her laugh before. ‘Had you worried, though, didn’t I?’

A humid morning, the sun masked by cloud. Thunder forecast and the atmosphere so close that Nic found himself fighting for breath as he walked along the Strand. The pavements were crowded; even on foot, getting anywhere in the city centre was a nightmare. All the main routes from Whitehall to St Paul’s Cathedral were closed to traffic. Thousands of people were demonstrating. The media was full of rumours that terrorists were going to hi-jack the protest and turn it into a riot, maybe even a blood-bath. Here and there, cops on motorcycles muttered into walkie-talkies. Makeshift barriers had been set up along the pavement. As Nic approached Avalon Buildings, an ambulance screamed past, blue lights flashing, heading east towards the danger zone.

Roxanne had pleaded with him not to confront Ben, but he’d said he must. Nobody had done it before. What was the alternative? No one else would believe him. If he talked to anyone, he’d be warned of the cost of defending an action for slander and encouraged to invest in a lengthy course of therapy. He was a blocked writer who had sought to rekindle his career by making up a calumnious story about a
distinguished representative of all that was finest in the legal profession.

‘Easier to believe in abduction by aliens or Elvis shopping for groceries in Canning Town.’ Nic shook his head. ‘I have to confront him, face to face. It’s the only way, to make him understand that he can’t go on. It’s over.’

‘If you’re wrong,’ she said, ‘you’re committing professional suicide. If you’re right, it’s just plain suicide.’

‘What’s he going to do? He’s like a stage illusionist. His magic only works when people don’t keep an eye on what he’s up to.’

‘What about Jazz Delahaye and Dylan Rees? Their knowledge didn’t save them.’

He didn’t say so – didn’t want to tempt fate – but the truth was, he felt invincible. For a while last night he’d thought he was about to die. In the end, he had not only survived, but also learned how Ben had used Chloe Beck to seduce Roxanne. Where Jazz and Dylan had failed, he would succeed. Ben’s luck had run out.

The Stepford Wives told him Ben was in a meeting with Joel, but would be free shortly. Would he like to go up to the boardroom and wait there? As he pressed for the lift, Nic wondered if he should have worked out a script. All good advocates did their preparation in good time. But he’d never claimed to be a star advocate.

On the penthouse floor he turned into the corridor that led to the boardroom. The door to Will Janus’s office was ajar and Nic could hear him talking.

‘Can you hear the shouting?’ Will sounded panicky. ‘They’re getting nearer. Fergus, these people say they believe in civil rights, but it isn’t true. They’re just wreckers.’

‘I told security to let me know at the first sign of trouble.’ Fergus McHugh, calm as ever. ‘Everything’s under control.’

Nic strode into the boardroom, making for the roof garden. The window doors had been pulled back; he could hear the protesters’ cries and the beating of a drum. The air was smoky, made his eyes water. Not far down the Embankment, a van had been set on fire. Alarms shrilled, sirens had begun to wail.

As he stepped outside, he realised he was not alone. Joel Anthony was sitting on the low parapet, his eyes fixed on the big wheel. A shaft of sunlight glinted on the stud in his ear. Nic stared at him. For a few moments he felt robbed of the power of speech. He couldn’t move; it was as if he had been paralysed. One thought screamed across his mind. He voiced it.

‘
I got it wrong
.’

Joel turned and gave an elegant smile. ‘You certainly did, Nic. I won’t ask how things went last night. Obviously not quite the way I’d hoped. Never mind. If at first you don’t succeed, eh?’

Nic whispered, ‘You’re losing it, Joel. It happens with addicts, even murder addicts. And you’ve been addicted ever since Bergen died.’

‘Oh, Darrell wasn’t the first. There was a boy at school. We were friends, but he didn’t want us to become as close as I’d hoped. We used to play the Fainting Game. It’s popular in boarding schools, a fun way for teenagers to pass the time. All about getting kicks from making yourself lose consciousness.’ Joel smiled reminiscently. ‘I discovered I was able to persuade him to go a little too far. Mainly by urging him to be careful, you see. His heart stopped, it was a tragic accident, everyone said so. It’s quite something for a
young person, you know, learning that one possesses such a gift. As time passed, I decided it would be a crime to waste a talent so rare. I chose the law for my career. As a kid I always fancied being a kind of Perry Mason. Seducing the jury, you know.’

‘Dylan talked about advocates as experts in seduction, the night he died.’

‘I owe him a debt of gratitude. We used to talk a lot. Headhunters are incurable gossips, as you know. If he hadn’t opened his mouth once too often, I might never have worked out that Jazz was agonising over whether I was up to my old tricks.’

‘You were her boyfriend, weren’t you?’

Joel nodded. His calm struck Nic as extraordinary. ‘We met at a party. She decided to initiate me, wouldn’t take no for an answer. I thought maybe I’d be better off with an older woman. With girls my own age, things never seemed to work out. Trouble was, when I didn’t enjoy myself, she decided to make me jealous by talking about Bergen. Telling me all the time what a hot-shot lover he was. Poor psychology, when you think about it. Served them both right when he died.’

‘She blamed herself. Years passed before the truth began to dawn on her.’

‘She put two and two together when she heard about the deaths of Matthew and Bradley. Funny thing is, she might have been off her head, but she had more lives than a cat. I just couldn’t finish her off. Yet with Dylan, as soon as I ran across Amy Vinton, I was sure she’d kill him. She hated the guy, she only needed the gentlest nudge.’ He giggled. ‘It’s a power thing, of course. Nothing to touch it, the knowledge that you can decide who lives, who dies. I don’t believe in God, Nic. But I do like impersonating him.’

‘Jazz is dead. Your doing.’

‘Suicide ran in her family, poor thing,’ Joel said, his gaze on Nic. ‘Both her parents topped themselves. I mentioned that when we spoke on the phone. Naturally, I begged her not to do anything rash.’

‘And Roxanne?’

‘I suppose I was guilty of over-elaboration there. But it was so much fun to plant seeds in her mind. I told her that Haycraft was in deep, deep trouble and hey presto! She did the necessary. It was so satisfying, Nic, one needs to stretch one’s talents, don’t you agree? Roxanne truly was the perfect dupe. Ben doing battle with her in the tribunal was a lucky break, so was Hilary Metcalf shooting off her mouth to anyone who would listen. I persuaded Ben that we should offer her the job. Such a luxury, to have an experienced murderer in the team. Ready to fire, like a loaded gun.’

‘You read her wrong,’ Nic said. ‘She has a mind of her own. Not what you wanted at all. So – what do you do about me? You never killed anyone by yourself before.’

Joel smiled. ‘You’ve a sharp brain, Nic, you’d have made your fortune in the law. Pity you didn’t stick to it. Now why don’t we talk? Come and sit here on the wall with me. Be good and I’ll tell you something you don’t know about your mother’s death.’

His tone was coaxing, his manner eminently reasonable. It seemed impertinent not to go along with what he wanted. Nic perched on the low wall, keeping his feet on the ground.

Quietly, Nic said, ‘What about my mother’s death?’

‘Oh, I know all about your interesting family background. Surely you’ve identified the secret of my success by now? I’m a terrific lawyer, Nic, I understand
how people think and behave – and I always do my research. It makes all the difference between success and failure. We have something in common, you and me.’ Joel smirked. ‘I’ve committed murder, so did your father.’

‘He was a storyteller, that’s all,’ Nic said. In the humid atmosphere, he was finding it hard to breathe. ‘He never killed anyone.’

‘Come on, Nic. It’s a blind spot with you, but you ought to face facts. Your mother found out he was having an affair, they quarrelled, he tipped her over the side of the cliff. Then he weighted himself down and jumped after her.’

Far below, someone was blowing a whistle, a police officer with a loudhailer was making a muffled plea for calm. People were chanting.

Burn it, burn it, burn it.

‘You made up that story,’ Nic said. ‘That’s what you do.’

‘I told you before, I’m a good lawyer. The truth is what I want it to be. But seriously, Nic, he did kill himself, you must know that in your heart of hearts. He saw there was nothing left in life for him. You weren’t enough. So he ended it all.”

‘You’re not in control any more,’ Nic murmured. ‘You see, I don’t believe you.’

Joel’s eyes widened. ‘You truly believe your father was innocent?’

‘Yes.’

Joel shook his head. He smoothed down his hair with an ostentatiously casual sweep of the hand. ‘It’s the one thing that has kept you sane, all your life long, isn’t it? This ludicrous credo, that your old man didn’t kill your mother.’

‘You don’t know anything about either of them,’ Nic whispered.

‘I know about you,’ Joel said. His voice was gentle, soothing. ‘Like I say, I’ve done my homework. Do you dare to look over the wall? It’s a long, long way down, but the fall won’t take more than an instant and then there’s peace forever. You’re going to do what he did, that’s what I think. It’s the best way out, no matter what either of us say, we both understand that.
Think the unthinkable
. You’re going to jump, I know it.’

Nic closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked over the wall. The rioters seemed so small, so far away.

He looked back at Joel. ‘You’re lying about my father, and my mother. Someone else killed them, God knows who or why. I’m not Jazz, suicide doesn’t run in my family. So no, I’m not going to jump.’

Joel gave his broadest grin. ‘Hey, that’s not playing the game.’

‘Game over.’

‘Come on, Nic. You know it makes sense.’

‘Uh-uh.’

Another grin, rueful this time. Nic was reminded of the way that Joel had appealed to him on first meeting. The man was so easy to like. ‘You realise, if you don’t take the plunge, I’ll have to? I like to think of myself as a fighter, not a quitter, but I really don’t fancy facing the music. Besides, the truth is rather like that wretched crap we get piped in here, twenty-four hours a day. Uneasy listening.’

‘Go on, then, why don’t you just fucking well jump?’ a woman’s voice asked.

Nic spun round. Chloe Beck had opened the French windows and was looking at them from the
boardroom. Her hair was a mess and tears had caused her make-up to run. Behind her, in the shadows, he could make out a white face. Roxanne.

‘Pissed off with me, darling?’ Joel asked. His tone was jokey. ‘I did make such an effort. Especially since I find shagging women such a bore. Even when I’m not regretting the cost of your implant surgery.’

‘You shit,’ Roxanne said.

‘Ah, Roxanne. Only one thing I need to remind you of. Like I’ve said before,
You can change your name, but you can’t change who you are
. Don’t forget that, will you? Ah well, ladies and gentleman, the dogs bark and the caravan moves on. The thought of cheating justice has always turned me on. I really am a true lawyer, you see. So I won’t detain you any further.’

Joel gave them all a little bow, then swung his legs over the parapet and slipped off the wall into nothingness.

‘Yes, I am afraid,’ Will Janus said. ‘Afraid we’ll never know the truth of what really happened on that dreadful day.’

His voice was hushed, his head bowed. He might have been saying a prayer, invoking the Almighty to explain the death of his junior partner. A few seconds passed in silence. For Will, as for his interviewer, the television studio was a sacred place.

The interviewer cleared his throat. ‘Your firm has relocated into temporary accommodation while salvage crews sift through what is left of Avalon Buildings?’

‘That’s right, Amin.’ Will looked up. His make-up for the camera, applied with a light touch, did not obscure the dark patches under his eyes. No one seeing him could doubt that he had been severely wounded by the shocking turn of events. ‘We’ve been touched by the support we’ve received at this difficult time. Everyone has rallied round.’

The interviewer leaned forward. ‘People are suggesting…’

‘I can’t comment on ill-informed speculation,’ Will snapped. ‘It’s all froth. Froth and bubble.’

‘I was going to say,’ the interviewer persisted, ‘people are suggesting that Joel Anthony must have been watching the riots, the arson attack on your offices, when the accident happened.’

Relief spread over Will’s face like a stain. ‘Who knows, Amin? I mean, who really knows?’

‘Clearly, there must have been an incident of some kind. Perhaps…’

‘It was a cruel twist of fate,’ Will interrupted. ‘A tragedy.’

He took a breath, straightened his shoulders, looked into the camera. ‘And yet, you know, we can’t let the firm be destroyed by the disgraceful antics of a handful of mindless thugs, bent on wrecking everything we hold dear. The work goes on. We must stand shoulder to shoulder, we must keep fighting for justice. That’s what Joel would want, actually.’

Roxanne flicked the remote. Will’s close-up froze on the screen in a rictus of sincerity, then vanished. ‘Excuse me while I go and puke.’

From downstairs came a muffled
Aaaah
, an answering squeal of pleasure. Dee and the new boyfriend she’d brought back from holiday. Happiness research in the old butcher’s shop had taken a practical turn and reached a new pitch of intensity.

Roxanne jabbed him in the ribs. ‘Are we going to let the bastard get away with it?’

‘This is all about getting away with murder.’

‘He’s lying to save his face.’

‘You don’t understand, every word he utters is true, to him. That’s the secret. His special gift.’

‘It takes my breath away.’ She shook her head. ‘You should have told the whole story when you talked to the police.’

‘Like you did?’ Nic asked gently.

She hung her head. ‘I was scared. I was the wise monkey – see no evil, hear no evil. Okay, I was wrong, I ought to have explained about Joel. What he said to me, I suppose it scared me.
You can change your name, but
…’

‘You’re Roxanne Wake,’ he said. ‘Cassandra’s gone for ever.’

‘Even so. We both ought to have said something when we had the chance.’

‘Who would have believed us? Where’s the evidence, now that Chloe’s fled?’

‘She won’t go far. The way she spent, the money Joel gave her won’t last long.’

‘He didn’t tell her anything that mattered about the other deaths. When it came to seducing you into doing what he wanted, she was under his spell. She was crazy about him, she would have killed to please him.’

‘So where does that leave us? Anyone with half a brain is putting two and two together and making Christ knows what.’

‘It only adds up to a nine days wonder. Any moment now the media will find a fresh tale to tell.’

‘Will is giving an exclusive interview, why not follow his example? You know people with influence.’

‘Haven’t you and I had enough of people with influence? Besides, most of them have taken Ali Khan’s shilling and Ali’s standing by his man. He’s invested a lot of money in Creed. If the firm goes belly-up, he writes off a small fortune. On top of which he has to waste time scouting round for another law practice looking to sell its soul.’

‘Are you kidding? He’d get trampled in the rush.’

He laughed. ‘I suppose.’

She seized his wrist, hurting him. ‘So it’s all about money and power, then?’

‘Isn’t it always?’

‘We still ought to do something.’

‘Like what? Remember Conan Doyle’s line about the story for which the world isn’t yet prepared? Even if I wrote it up and sold it to the highest bidder, what would that achieve? Think about it.’ He paused,
choosing his words. ‘You’ve had your life crawled over once before.’

She flinched. He guessed she could see in her mind that bleak press photograph taken when she was under arrest, could almost hear her calculating how many times it would find its way back into print.

‘So we say nothing?’

‘Who else needs to know?’

‘What next, then?’

‘Who for?’

‘Your own mystery.’ She took his hand in hers, squeezed it hard. ‘It still bugs you, doesn’t it, what Joel said about your parents? Forget it. He was playing mind games right to the end. He made it up, he didn’t know a thing. How could he?’

He stared at the floor. ‘Of course you’re right.’

‘But?’

He shrugged. ‘Christ, Roxanne, there’s always a but, isn’t there?’

Back in the green room, Will said, ‘I think that went pretty well, actually.’

Fergus McHugh grunted. ‘Uh-huh?’

Will poured from a carafe of water. ‘Look, you know me. You can read me like a book.’

‘Yes,’ Fergus said, ‘that’s right.’

‘I’m a pretty straight sort of guy and frankly, I don’t like all these ugly rumours.’

‘Relax, relax. You’re still the most popular lawyer in town. No one has better name-awareness and now people want to smother you with sympathy. Don’t fret about malicious gossip, innuendo from a few troublemakers, don’t bother about the likes of Nic Gabriel. Ali Khan is still on board. He wants what we want, so
that’s all fine and dandy. You can leave the worrying to me.’

‘I want you to know,’ Will said, draining his glass, ‘that I’m so grateful for everything you do for me. You’ve earned your stake in the firm, actually.’

‘It’s my pleasure,’ Fergus said, almost to himself. He straightened his shoulders. ‘Hey, this is only a setback. I’m planning already for the future. You think that Creed has influence now, but you ain’t seen nothing yet. There is so much more for us to do.’

Will inclined his head. ‘I still can’t come to terms with what’s happened. The tragedy of Joel’s death.’

‘He could so easily have turned into an embarrassment.’

A sigh. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘At least he kept his sense of timing, right to the end. There couldn’t have been a better day to bury bad news.’ Fergus rubbed his chin. ‘You realise he envied you?’

‘You think so?’ A smile started to tip-toe across Will’s face.

‘I know so. He saw you had everything. He wanted to be like you. Maybe even
become
you.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes. He wanted to be in control, the way you are. But even if he had your style, he didn’t have your substance. I told him, never mind the soundbites. The hand of history really
is
on Will’s shoulder.’

Will savoured the thought. ‘You know, sometimes I think you’re the one who’s really in control.’

‘Oh no.’ Fergus shook his head in modest disclaimer. ‘I’m just a messenger.’

Will cocked his head to one side, contemplating a truth revealed. ‘So you think Joel became jealous – of everything I’ve achieved?’

Fergus’s features twisted. For an odd, foolish moment Will wondered if he trusted his old friend more than was wise. Unworthy thought – he banished it. He was in charge, Fergus was just the hidden persuader. Of course Fergus was on his side. They both believed in the same things. Surely.

‘Joel and I talked a lot, as you know,’ Fergus murmured. ‘He worked on special projects with me, all for the good of the firm. But he had psychological flaws. He became, let’s say, curiously detached. Frankly, I think he was beginning to outlive his usefulness. The poor misguided creature.’

‘Really?’

Fergus smiled. His gaze settled lovingly upon Will. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Poor misguided creature.’