Jigsaw Lovers (5 page)

‘Good morning, Diana.’ he looked her up and down. ‘You look absolutely stunning. Quiet beautiful.’

‘Why thank you, James. You’re very kind.’ she twirled round, one arm raised and gave him a little bow. ‘I’m glad you like it. You don’t look too bad yourself, if I may say so.’ She brushed a speck of dust from his lapel.

They went down to the street and he held the door for her as she climbed into his car.

‘I love leather seats. They always remind me of the South of France, when I was a student.’ she said wistfully.

‘Really, why’s that?’ he asked glancing at her with a grin.

‘Maybe I’ll tell you when I get to know you better.’ It didn’t occur to her that James already knew about the incident she was referring to.

‘Its such a nice day, can we put the roof down?’ she asked.

‘Sure, but won’t the wind mess up your hair?’

‘A quick brush and it will all be back in place.’ He pushed a button and the sunroof folded itself neatly away.

It took half an hour to weave their way across London to the start of the M4 motorway. During the trip James noticed that many pedestrians and other motorists were often looking in his direction. It was a combination of the car and the beautiful carefree-looking woman next to him. It must have seemed as though it was a scene straight from the advertisements for this particular masterpiece of German engineering.

An hour later they arrived at the race course and proceeded through the members enclosure to the Amalgamated Magazines marquee. It was one of the larger ones with blue and white stripes on the canvas, Amalgamated’s corporate colours, and their company flags were fluttering in the breeze.

Everywhere that they went James was conscious of the looks that Diana was attracting. Both men and woman would look up at her or turn their heads as she passed by. If she was aware of it, she gave no indication of having noticed. He liked her sense of modesty, and he enjoyed seeing the envious looks on the faces of men all around. It gave him a good feeling to be with her.

He introduced her as a cousin, visiting from working abroad, on a short holiday.

Having had a few drinks James suggested they walk over to the paddock to view the horses before the third race. As they watched the horses being lead around by their grooms, and the jockeys having a final word with their trainers and owners in the centre of the ring, James caught sight of Peter
Knight.

‘You see the man almost opposite us, slightly to the left, talking to the woman in the red coat,’ he said to Diana.

‘I recognise him from the photographs you showed me.’

‘That’s our reason for being here today. Mr
Knight and his fiancée.’

The jockeys began to mount and she watched as
Knight consulted his race card, said something to the woman in the red coat and walked off in the direction of the Tote.

‘What do you fancy, James?’ she asked playfully.

‘Well …’ he laughed as he quickly looked her up and down.

‘I mean with four legs.’ she smiled.

‘The second favourite, number twelve.’

‘Me too. Come let’s go and have a bet.’ She took him by the arm and lead him in the direction of the Tote. She chose the queue for the window that was next to the one in which
Knight was. After he placed his bet he had to walk back past her. As he did so, she glanced up from her race card and looked him straight in the eye, with a hint of a smile and then turned to James. In that brief second there was no doubt that Knight had noticed her, which was exactly what she had intended.

They placed their bets and returned to the marquee for lunch.

Diana saw him walking in her direction, talking to another man. She half turned her back on him and when she judged that he must be almost behind her took a step backwards. He bumped into her and she dropped her glass of champagne.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he said. ‘How clumsy of me.’

‘No, my fault, I wasn’t looking.’

The first thing he noticed was how blue and sparkling her eyes were, and the way the breeze from outside gently sent ripples through her blonde curls. Then he realised it was the woman from the Tote queue who had given him such a momentary but piercing look earlier.

‘Please let me fetch you another drink.’ He gestured to a waiter. ‘Two glasses of champagne. I’ll catch up with you later,’ he dismissed his companion.

‘May I introduce myself. Peter
Knight.’ She was very beautiful.

‘Diana.’ She said looking him up and down. He was quite handsome in a rugged sort of way, dark curly hair, very self-assured, which evidenced itself in his appreciative stare, bordering on the lecherous, which he was laying upon her.

‘Did you win?’ he asked.

‘Yes. My horse came in first. Didn’t make very much though. He was joint favourite by the time they started. And you?’

‘No, mine came last. So much for hot tips.’

‘I’m sorry.’ she said. ‘Maybe your luck will change.’ The drinks arrived. ‘Thank you for the drink.’ She began to turn, as if about to leave.

‘Are you with Amalgamated Magazines?’ he asked quickly, trying to keep her attention, his eyes lingering on her lace top.

‘No, I’m a guest of one of their public relations clients.’ Taking a sip and looking over the top of her glass she asked, ‘And you, Peter, are you a newspaper man?’ There was something in the way she said his name and the way in which she looked at him, that gave him cause to think that maybe he should have one last fling before he married.

‘No, I do market research for them.’ He saw his fiancée enter the marquee and catch his eye. He waved to her in acknowledgement. ‘I’m sorry, I have to leave.’

Diana looked across at the woman. ‘Your wife?’ She asked with her head tilted slightly on one side and a knowing cheeky little half-smile on her face.

Knight was taken aback. ‘No. I’m not married,’ he mumbled truthfully. ‘She’s one of our clients,’ he lied.

‘Oh, that’s all right then. I’m not sure that I would approve of being bumped,’ she stressed the word with pursed lips, ‘into by a married man.’

He didn’t know what to think. She was definitely interested in him. The look she gave him at the Tote and the subtle innuendoes of this conversation. She was far too beautiful, and he was far too fascinated to just let her go without even the slightest effort on his part to see her again.

‘Will you have dinner with me?’ he asked on an impulse. He could see that his fiancée was coming over.

‘I’m busy tonight.’ She noticed his growing anxiety as his wife-to-be approached. ‘But maybe next week would be nice. Why don’t you give me your number and I might call you?’

He pulled out a business card from a leather holder and handed it to her. ‘And your number, Diana. What did you say your other name was?’

‘I didn’t. And I don’t give my number to strange men. Maybe if I get to know you better, you’ll get to know my number.’

With that she turned, and walked off to rejoin the group of people she had been with before he bumped into her.

His fiancée arrived and took him by the arm. ‘Who was that pretty woman you were talking to, that you gave your card to?’ She asked in a seemingly innocent fashion, although he detected an edge to her voice.

So she had noticed. ‘Oh, no one in particular. A guest of one of the clients, who might want some research done.’ He hoped he sounded sufficiently casual and off-hand.

Diana looked back at him as she left the tent, made eye contact, and left him in no doubt that she had noticed the woman on his arm. She shook her head once, and laughing, left.

On the way home from the races Diana had told James about her encounter with
Knight and that in her opinion he was hers for the taking. How did he want her to proceed? she had asked.

The company permanently maintained a small suite in an hotel in Knightsbridge, where it would accommodate out-of-town business associates and visitors. Their technicians had placed voice-activated microphones connected to remote recorders in all the rooms, and in the bedroom whatever went on was viewed by two hidden cameras. Useful insights had been gained by knowing what a potential client was thinking about the company, any problems they may have, and about rival bids and competition. It gave Ackermanns an edge in subsequent negotiations. Occasionally one or two indiscretions in the bedroom were captured which were filed away for later use.

‘Phone him during the week. Tell him you’re staying at the Ennismore Hotel and would he like to take you out to dinner,’ James suggested, then added. ‘I’m sure you can make it sound a bit more appealing than that.’ They both laughed.

‘I think I might just be able to manage that.’

‘We’ll book a room for you and you can take it from there. Make up your own cover story and have some fun.’

He dropped her at home and as the lift took her up to the fourth floor, she considered that her first day’s work for James had been rather pleasant.

As James drove back to his house he reflected on the day’s events and in particular Diana. It had been a long time since he had cared especially about anyone and he was surprised at what was going through his mind now.

He found that he was deeply attracted to Diana and was very tempted to break his self-imposed code of behaviour. It would be most unprofessional and Ackermann would probably never forgive him. If he were to become involved with her it would mean the end of her as a company asset, and his own prospects would dwindle.

From what he had seen at the races, she was a natural, by far the best they had ever recruited. She had the potential to be far too valuable to be wasted in such a way. Better he find his amusements elsewhere.

Hamilton first had his doubts as to Annabel’s abilities when he queried a memory allocation in one of the PC’s he was working on. Her response was not what he’d expected. It was almost as if she had no idea what he was talking about. He mentioned this in passing to his colleagues, who whilst not openly agreeing did admit that there were areas where her knowledge was a little thin. As time went on he realised that this was invariably the case. Somehow she had manoeuvred herself into a position for which she was eminently unqualified.

At their regular weekly progress meetings he witnessed more evidence of general ineptitude in his supposed superiors. These were presided over by Roger, the department head, a vague academic-type man, who had some decidedly odd habits, which he was not averse to discussing with his staff, such as his predilection for rubbing a mixture of garlic and live yogurt onto his head in an attempt to arrest the premature baldness which was creeping over his scalp. It didn’t seem to have much effect judging by how little hair remained. He seemed happy to delegate the day-to-day running of the department to Annabel, and for some reason had confidence in her abilities. It was in fact an example of how the mediocre maintain a position of authority by mutual support for each others’ actions, whilst contriving to have others below them do their real work, for which they then take the credit from their own superiors.

At first Hamilton resented this but when he sat back and considered his situation he realised he could be a lot worse off, and might as well exploit their weaknesses to his advantage.

An opportunity to do just that presented itself after he had been with the company for nearly three months and his probationary period was just about to end. Up until that point he could leave or be fired with just twenty-four hours’ notice on either side. After then it was a case of the statutory working month.

Recently, he had been approached discreetly, over a few drinks, by another company who had offered him a position with them. On the last day of his third month he walked into the office feeling in an exceptionally good mood. It was the feeling of satisfaction he had when he had wagered a large sum on a horse and seen it win comfortably by twenty lengths, or at that moment when he knew the woman he had been lavishing his attentions on was finally going to succumb to his desires.

He was sitting in his office doing nothing in particular except smoking his sixth cigarette of the morning, and contemplating the good position he was in, when Annabel knocked on the open door frame.

‘Can I have a word?’ she asked with a supercilious smile on her face, which she found difficult to maintain, as she saw his relaxed attitude.

‘Sure. Come in. I’m not too busy at the moment.’ He grinned and took his feet off the desk and swivelled round in his chair to face her.

Today her usual muddy-brown attire was supplemented by a dull green scarf.

‘Its the last day of your three month probationary period’, she announced. ‘You remember about that part of your contract?’

‘
Yes I do. Quite clearly.’ He grinned.

‘Generally we’re happy with your work and we think you fit in here, so, I’m pleased to say that we’ve decided to keep you.’ She was trying very hard to make it sound like a joke.

‘Is that so?’ he asked still grinning and lighting another cigarette.

She wasn’t quite sure how to react. Normally people had been overjoyed when she had made her little joke about deciding to keep them, but Ian didn’t seem to care at all.

‘If you go up to personnel they’ve got some forms for you to sign, and that’s that.’ She forced a smile again. ‘We’re all very pleased that you’ll be joining the department permanently.’ She rose to leave.