Mr Geoffrey hesitated. ‘I must consult others.’
‘Of course.’
‘Someone will contact you.’
‘OK. And now – if you don’t mind – I’m famished.’
‘Allow us to offer you lunch here.’
‘That would be delightful, but I think we’re going on somewhere else. Thank you, anyway.’
Until he stood up, Luke had been unaware of his own tension. His shirt was sticking to the small of his back and for a moment he felt almost light-headed.
Mr Geoffrey, seemingly aware that a little of him went a long way, shook hands and escorted him to the door. On legs of rubber, Luke went off to find Jane.
She shot him one sharp look as he appeared. Without a word, she picked up her bag and the two of them walked slowly down to the river and their waiting taxi.
Once on board, he seated himself, leaned back and closed his eyes.
Jane said nothing, just squeezed his cold hand and spent the rest of the return journey looking out of the window.
They disembarked and paid off the driver.
‘Let’s not go inside,’ said Luke and so they went for a walk, strolling slowly along the embankment in the sunshine, watching the boats go by.
Jane waited for him to open the conversation. Luke’s warning about constantly listening ears was always with her. They walked very slowly but it was nearly half an hour before he finally spoke.
Guiding her to an empty bench, he said, ‘Jane, I’ve just received the most extraordinary offer.’
She turned to face him. ‘Really – how exciting. What is it?’
Luke detailed the conversation.
‘Wow – Luke – I can hardly believe it. A job, at last. Will you say yes?’
‘Well, I think I will. It’s a fantastic opportunity – don’t you think?’
Jane was watching an elderly council worker make a bit of a business about emptying a nearby bin and said carefully, ‘I do – but – isn’t it against the law?’
‘Yes, it is, at the moment. But Geoffrey seems to think that’s all about to change and if it is, then I’d be right in on the ground floor, Jane.’ He paused. ‘If they’ll have me.’
‘Why wouldn’t they? Surely they just made you an offer.’
‘Yes, but I said I wanted your opinion. They’re going to arrange what Geoffrey refers to as a little taster and I told him I wanted you along as well.’
‘Oh, my goodness, Luke. What did he say?’
‘They’ll let us know.’
The elderly man was now struggling to get his bin bag knotted. ‘Well, I’m flattered, of course, but if they say no, then I don’t think you should let it stand in your way.’
‘Well,’ he said, standing up, and she was pleased to see a little more colour in his cheeks. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Luke,’ she said, suddenly. ‘You are on board with all this, aren’t you? You know – your rehabilitation? You are aware of the . . . the pitfalls awaiting you?’
He took her hand and smiled. ‘Yes, Jane. I promise you – I am completely on board with my rehabilitation. You don’t need to fear for me.’
They set off homewards. As far as she could see, the elderly man took no notice of their departure at all.
26
Jane’s private opinion, given as they enjoyed dinner in the penthouse restaurant, was that they would never hear anything again. While she appreciated Luke’s attempts to include her, she was convinced her presence would be a step too far for an organisation which must, for its own survival, remain as invisible as possible.
Luke, on the other hand, maintained that something like that would be expected of him. ‘I’m rich, Jane,’ he explained, gesturing around them in case she had failed to notice the luxury of their surroundings. ‘I’m spoiled. I’m accustomed to getting what I want and it’s entirely likely I’d want my own way on this. And besides, what good would you be stuck here while I’m encountering peril and danger out there? I need you with me. As my sober counsellor.’
‘Gratifying,’ she said, ‘but taking me along might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and we’ll never hear from them again.’
‘No,’ he said smugly. ‘You’re wrong. They won’t let me go now. I’m a catch. Trust me – I used to play cards a lot and I watch people’s faces.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to jeopardise . . .’
‘I am very sure. And just think – if you’re not with me and anything happens, then you’ll never know anything about it until it’s too late and you’ll spend the remainder of your life in a downward spiral of regret and alcohol until you die young and alone.’
‘Still not too late to kill him,’ said Bolshy Jane. ‘Shove him off the balcony and swear it was an accident.’
Jane sighed. He is very irritating, isn’t he?
He was even more irritating when, two days later, and far more quickly than they had anticipated, they received a simple message. Just a date, a time and a location, together with what Jane maintained was the extremely sinister phrase ‘Admits Two’.
‘Hand-delivered,’ reported the concierge when Luke queried its origin. ‘Sorry, Mr Parrish, we were busy and I just looked up and there it was. I brought it straight up.’
‘Well, thanks anyway,’ said Luke, crossing his palm with plastic. Turning to Jane, he announced he’d been right.
‘I know,’ said Jane. ‘Who’d have thought? Where and when?’
‘This afternoon. Somewhere in Shoreditch.’
‘Presumably, the short notice is so we don’t have time to notify the authorities.’
‘Jane, I’ve never notified an authority in my life and I’m not going to start now. Grab your coat – we’ve pulled.’
‘Just a tiny shove,’ pleaded Bolshy Jane. ‘It wouldn’t take much.’
The address turned out to be a light industrial estate within walking distance of Shoreditch Park.
‘Easy to get to,’ said Luke. ‘Along the Haggerston stretch of Regent’s Canal, somewhere between the mosque and the site of the old Hackney Brewery, I think.’
He was right.
‘I was right,’ he announced, bouncing from the public clipper.
‘Again,’ said Jane sourly.