The Escort (22 page)

Robin wasn't home. This made things easier for Max, she went to her bedroom and changed out of her casual clothes, into one of her business suits. Then she grabbed her coat, a long one that would cover her clothes, so when she got back she wouldn't have to tell Robin where she had been. The last thing she needed was a lecture on overdoing things from Robin.

Back out on the street she got into her car, and sat for a moment, getting things straight in her head. She would go to her office, if no one questioned why she was there, she would have a look around the burned out parts of the building, trying to locate the office where the fire had started. She guessed the inspectors would have already taken away everything they needed for the investigation, and the offices would be empty. Alternatively she may get there and find the whole building a crime scene, or crawling with investigators, in which case she would simply come home and try to forget about the whole thing.

The drive there was slow, she usually arrived at work very early in the morning, before rush hour started. At this time of day the city was more congested with shoppers, and delivery drivers. But then she was in no real hurry, Robin wouldn't be home until five, and Dan was working till late that evening, they had agreed she would have an early night, and they would meet up in the morning. It gave her plenty of time to thoroughly search for clues, if the coast was clear.

Parking her car, in her usual space, she glanced around, the normally packed underground parking was practically empty. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had sat here, with Robin at the wheel, ready to drive her home. Yet it was only yesterday. She told herself she should still be at home resting, this had nothing to do with her. However she still found herself opening the car door, getting out and walking to the elevator. Thankfully it was working, the stairs would have been her downfall, there was no way she had the energy to climb them all. She took it as an omen.

Max pressed the number of the floor three below hers, if all looked clear she would walk up the last three flights of stairs, checking each one on the way for signs of activity. As the elevator began to move, she leaned against the wall, and wondered why she couldn't mind her own business. The rise of the elevator mirrored the rise of her blood pressure. Her heart beat was racing, a mixture of guilt, and fear of what she might find. Because if she did find something, it might put her in danger. If someone was willing to set fire to the offices to cover their tracks, what else might they be capable of. She hoped she wouldn't find out.

Taking off her coat, she straightened her clothes ready for when the doors opened. She didn't know if people would be at work on this floor or not, and she didn't want anyone thinking she looked suspicious. The elevator pinged, and she waited for the doors to pull back, a disinterested look on her face. In the end it wasn't needed, there was nobody there. They must have been told to stay home too. She wasn't surprised, the smell of smoke was still strong. She would need to shower again when she got home.

Stepping out, she took a left turn and went to the stairwell. Looking up she stood perfectly still and listened, no sounds came down to her, so she figured it was probably empty. Slowly, walking on the edge of the steps so her heels didn't click on the floor, she made her way up.

Stopping occasionally, and still hearing nothing, she kept going, knowing if she did hear anyone above her she would lose her nerve.

Holding her breath she looked through the door into the floor where she had spent so many hours of her life. It was hard to piece it all together, the fire had done quite some damage, and then the fire crew had made it look worse by taking down anything deemed dangerous. Holding her nerve she pushed the door open, and slipped in, careful not to catch her panty hose on the scrap metal neatly stacked along the corridor.

There were no signs telling her to keep out, no police crime scene tape. Nothing to stop her going about her business. However, her heart still battered the inside of her chest, trying to make a bid for freedom, her anxiety at the possibility of getting caught making it hard to breathe. But she hadn't come all this way for nothing. One foot in front of the other, she walked upright and confident. Nothing screamed guilty like a woman prowling through the office, peering around corners. One thing her business career had taught her was if you looked like you belonged, then people believed you belonged.

Her office was across the hall. She made for there first, opening the door quietly, and slipping inside. She pushed the door too behind her, but left it slightly ajar so she could hear if there was anyone outside. Then she made for her desk, visions of Dan bending her over it that night, when he had told her who he really was, coming back to her. She found the thought of him made her feel calmer, it also made her feel guilty. If she got caught, she would have to make sure not to mention anything about their conversation yesterday, no matter how hard pressed.

Sitting down in her familiar chair, she surveyed the damage. Most of it was smoke, rather than fire, damage. Her important papers, namely the files she had been working on were on her desk. She leafed through them, finding everything in order. No one had been in here as far as she could tell, and once more she tried to think of what Bob might have been after, he didn't deal directly with clients any more, keeping mainly in the shadows of any contracts, offering advice, but not dealing with people face to face. Except to drum up business and shake hands with important clients.

Absently she drummed her fingers on her desk. Where had he been heading when he came back? To his own office? Perhaps that was the best place to start, and on the way she could try to figure out where the fire started, and in which office.

Back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her, she stood listening before heading to Bob's big corner office. The fire damage was worse this way, it radiated out from the staff lounge by the looks of it, a place where no one should really have been at the time the fire started. Although a good firm to work for, employees knew they were expected to work at their desks, not chat in the lounge unless it was their lunch hour, which was staggered through the hours of twelve and two. The fire started before that.

When she came to the door of the lounge, or at least where the door should have been, it became apparent this was where the fire had started, or close to it. She didn't go in, but the whole place was burnt out, chairs and sofas blackened heaps of material. Luckily they were flame retardant, or else the fumes and the fire would have been intense, and the likelihood of casualties higher. Whoever had started the must have known it would be empty, it also left no finger pointed at a particular person. Not in the same way a burned out office would have. With a strict no smoking policy, there was no way this was started by accident, it must have been deliberate, or negligent.

Not wanting to stay here longer, she turned and headed straight to Bob's office. Her hand on the door when she heard voices. A split second decision, and she slipped inside, putting her ear to the door to listen to who was out there.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Reynolds. How are things, quiet?"

"Yes sir, no visitors at all."

"Good. You will let me know if anyone tries to access their office."

"Yes sir, I have the security cameras back online now."

"Good. You don't know what happened to them?"

"No sir, it could have been the fire. The sprinklers were activated, and damaged some of the electrics, could have been a short circuit."

Max cursed herself for not thinking about the cameras. Mr Reynolds, the security guard, must have missed her coming in, but if he played the tape back he would see her. She could explain about going to her own office, and even looking into the staff lounge, but standing here in Bob's office made her look as guilty as hell. But guilty of what?

Looking around she was shocked to see someone had already gone through the office. Maybe it was the police, but she doubted it. What should she do? Not have interfered, the little voice in her head told her in the most unhelpful fashion.

She stepped back from the door. Footsteps were approaching, Bob was heading in here. She would either have to hide, or front it out. Quickly looking around told her there was nowhere, apart from behind the desk, for her to hide. That was no good, Bob would come in and see the mess and check the whole room to see if the culprit was still here. She would have to stand up to him and bluff it out.

Going to stand in front of his desk, she wanted to be the first thing he saw when he walked in so he would be in no doubt she hadn't been hiding from him. To Max that was very important, but still as the door handle turned, and then moved to open, she wished she could simply disappear. Her whole life, let alone her career, might be depending on this and the way it played out. Something was happening in the bank that she had no part in, or any real idea of. But she knew the instant Bob saw her it was going to become her business, there was no going back.

In any other circumstance his reaction would have been funny. Talk about a double take, but he recovered himself quickly, although his expression was barely concealed surprise.

"Sir," she said acknowledging him, and then leaving the opening conversation up to him. She had learned long ago from working with clients that the best method to get the truth was to allow them to talk, fill in the uncomfortable silences that cropped up in conversations. Max knew every trick, but Bob had probably written the handbook.

"Maxine." He paused, and she thought he was going to leave it there, force her to blabber about something, anything to fill the gap, instead he glanced at her, scrutinizing her in a less than obvious way. Then he spoke again. "I'm surprised to see you here today."

"Not as surprised as I am to be here."

"And why are you here?" Straight to the point, thank goodness there were to be no polite discussions about the weather, or the stock market, they both knew things weren't right.

"I am led to believe the fire was arson." That sounded a bit strong. “Or at least the fire was started deliberately, not perhaps to burn the building down, but to conceal evidence."

"Wild accusations."

"But accurate I would say, Sir?"

"What makes you think that? Or has your boyfriend been talking. You know pillow talk can get you into so much trouble."

"So I am led to believe. But that's not what this is about. So shall we stop playing games, I have always been a loyal employee, and you have always been a fair employer, Sir."

He laughed. "Apart from lying about your boyfriend."

"A misunderstanding. Something I am sure this is not. Unless you rifled through your own office." She glanced at the mess that was strewn across his desk.

He sighed, and went to the chair behind his desk, lifting the pile of papers that were covering it, and heaped them on his desk. Bob sat down heavily, rubbing his tired eyes, suddenly looking all of his years, as if they had been hiding and suddenly jumped out to claim their place on his face.

"I have worked hard to make this bank what it is. And now, at the end of my very long career it seems someone is trying to embezzle money from me. Or the bank at least, but in my mind they are one and the same. I spent years, good years of my life, years which I should have spent at home watching my children at plays and recitals, building this up to be one of the most respected, trusted business. Now some fool is threatening to rip it apart."

She didn't speak. This was worse than she thought. "It's not me," she blurted out, suddenly aware of how bad this could look, sneaking about the place, looking for evidence. She looked at the papers again, and understood now why they had been pulled out and discarded. Whoever had come here knew they had a very short space of time to come in and search for what they wanted. They must have strong suspicions Bob knew abut them.

“I know Max.”

"Was the fire a diversion?" That sounded much more plausible. Light a fire, the place would get evacuated, then come in when no one else was around and get what you needed, uninterrupted. With the cameras offline it would be easy.

"I think so. The police, or at least the fire inspectors know that it started in a waste paper basket. They haven’t figured out if it was accidental or malicious. I personally think the ruse was to get everyone to believe the fire had one purpose, to destroy the papers that went up in flames.”

“But you know differently? Why not report all this to the authorities?”

Bob shook his head. “I can't tell the police the rest without destroying our clients’ faith in the bank."

"Do you know who it is?" She was trying to follow what he was saying, but couldn't believe there was a traitor, an embezzler in their ranks. It had to be someone high up, someone who authorised loans and money transfers. But who?

He shook his head. "There’s little proof, but I've narrowed it down to three people. It was four, but one of those was in the conference room when the fire broke out."

She looked aghast. "You suspected me up until then?"

"No. Phil. But he was with you all the time, right?"

She sat down on the edge of the desk, trying to recall exactly the events of yesterday. As much as she would like it to be Phil, it wasn’t. “Yes. He was.”

“Then he is ruled out.” Bob slumped forward a little more, then lifted his eyes to Max. “I need help, Max. Since you are the only other person who knows the truth, I’m asking you to drop everything else and help me. I’ll tell the rest of the staff you’re at home resting, but what I want you to do is systematically go through the old files and find me what I need to put a stop to this. I believe the culprit thinks they’ve got away with it. So we have a small window of time to catch them.”

“Yes. I see.”

“So, Max. Will you help me?”

It was Saturday, and Max had said she felt well enough to go through with the tea party they had planned for Laura and Jess. Although looking forward to it, he was also worried. For the last couple of days Max had been preoccupied, and she wouldn’t say why. Maybe it was simply part of who she was, after all they hadn't known each other that long, and having a sister, he understood women sometimes experienced mood swings. However, he believed it went deeper than that, much deeper, and it hurt that she didn't want to share her problems with him.