Long Gone

by Paul Pilkington

‘Actually I was working from the same list as the one I gave you, so I haven’t actually tried to contact him yet. Would you like me to call him from reception?’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Cullen waved the offer away. ‘You just get me the number and I’ll take it from there. I’m interested to talk to Russell in particular.’

  Again there was something about Tabitha’s reaction that excited him.

  40

  Previous Sunday morning

  ‘YOU LOOK PENSIVE,’ Sir Kenneth noted.

  ‘I’m okay,’ Natalie replied. ‘It’s just all such a lot to take in.’

  ‘I do hope you’re okay.’

  It was as if he could tell what she was thinking, as if those intense eyes could see through her skin, deep into her being. Or maybe her face was betraying her emotions too clearly.

  She forced herself to maintain eye contact. To look away would just bring on more questions from him, raise suspicions as to how she was really feeling.

  But if she were feeling uncomfortable, didn’t she have every right to say so?

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  And yet, she felt unable to move from the table, unable to vocalise her feelings. So the only other option would be to play the longer game, make conversation, finish the breakfast, and then she’d be free.

  ‘So, Natalie, tell me a little about yourself.’

  ‘Well, I’m a student at Bristol City University, studying business and marketing…’

  He put up a hand. ‘No, I mean tell me about yourself.’ When Natalie looked puzzled, he expanded further. ‘Your hopes, your dreams, your inner core that drives you towards your next destination.’

  Again, he looked at her with the same intensity that left Natalie feeling exposed right down to her soul. He was trying to read her, and she looked away, as if it might break the spell.

  ‘I’m not sure how to answer that,’ she said at last, knowing that it was a response that would surely disappoint her host.

  ‘Just try, Natalie,’ he prompted, pressing a finger into the side of his head. ‘Look inside yourself and you’ll find what drives you, your engine.’

  She felt awkward, still not knowing how to answer. ‘I want to make a difference,’ she said at last.

  He smiled sympathetically. ‘Well, that’s a start. Make a difference to what? Your bank balance?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t…’

  ‘World peace?’ he stated. If he were teasing, he was playing it straight.

  ‘I… I want to do something that makes a positive difference to people,’ she said. ‘Makes people’s lives better.’

  ‘And you think branding can do that?’

  ‘I’d like to work for a charity, or a development agency,’ she explained. ‘Help them to connect better with people.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said, sitting back, a glow of satisfaction on his face. ‘Now that is better.’ He nodded. ‘I like that idea, Natalie. But there’s only one problem.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You’ve just chosen to join me and my company. And we’re not a charity or a development agency, are we? It doesn’t seem to tie in with your hopes and dreams.’

  Maybe he’d hit the nail right on the head. But she couldn’t say that here, to his face.

  Fortunately Sir Kenneth filled the space before she had time to think what to say. ‘You know, Natalie. We had some amazing talent here at the house this weekend, which is no surprise, given the intense level of competition to get to this point. And I know that many of those people have already achieved great things in business; they’re already very successful.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed.

  ‘But prior success is not what I was looking for. Not that on its own. I wanted someone with that inner passion. That’s what I saw in you. And don’t worry, you will be able to fulfil your inner desires with us at Brand New.’

  ‘That’s great,’ she said, smiling through her continued discomfort.

  ‘Outsiders may look at us and just see another branding company, albeit one of the most successful ones on the planet. But we’re much more than that. We focus on corporate work, yes, and that’s how we’ve built the business over the years. You’re very familiar with our work, I’m sure.’

  ‘We studied Brand New in our first year.’

  He nodded, as if that is what he had expected. ‘Tell me, did your tutors talk about our philanthropic work?’

  ‘Not really, no.’

  Again he nodded knowingly. ‘I must admit, we haven’t talked about it much externally. But we’re very active in that sphere. We work on social projects across the world, lending our expertise – very much the kind of thing that you are interested in.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘I think it’s tremendously important to do good, Natalie. For me, business, making money, capitalism – whatever you choose to call it – is a means to an end. My great wealth and the resources of Brand New enable me to take action to make the world a better place. Interested?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. It was the first time during their discussion that she’d begun to relax, and to also seriously begin to question whether or not she should be walking away from all this. It was still just the word of Catharine. What if she’d simply been trying to cause trouble on her last days in the office?

  Sir Kenneth smiled, satisfied that he had piqued Natalie’s interest. ‘That’s fantastic. Because I have special plans for you.’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘As I said, we’ve been involved in charitable works now for years. But I want to really ramp it up, make it part of our core purpose. That’s why in the next few months we’ll be launching the Brand New Foundation. It will enable us to dive deeper and broader into those vital social issues that matter to the people of this planet. That includes gender equality issues, which I’m very passionate about. There’s so much that needs to be done to protect and promote the rights of women and girls across the world.’

  Natalie nodded, her wariness for this man draining away with each word.

  ‘I’ve assigned a team of my most trusted colleagues to work on the Foundation, people whom I know well and have complete confidence in. They are the best of the best. The team are working out of our London HQ, liaising closely with me, but we also have small satellite teams based in several of the world’s major cities: New York, Delhi, Sydney, Berlin. Natalie, I want you to be part of the team.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say…’

  ‘Just say “yes”!’

  ‘Yes.’ And she meant it. In those few minutes, Sir Kenneth had captured her again, selling his vision so completely that her past concerns evaporated. ‘I’d really love that.’

  ‘Fantastic!’ he said, clapping his hands together in glee. ‘That is the most wonderful news. Truly wonderful news! Cheers!’ He offered up a toast with the glass of orange juice. She reciprocated, returning his smile. ‘You are going to love working for us, Natalie, I just know you will. And my team will love you. You’ll experience so much.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Natalie said. ‘It sounds like an amazing opportunity.’

  ‘What are your plans for the rest of the day?’ he asked, tearing off some croissant and popping it into his mouth, never taking his attention away from her.

  ‘The rest of the day? I… I’m not sure. I wasn’t sure when the selection centre would end, so my advanced fare ticket is for a later train. And it’s non-transferable.’

  He smiled. ‘We were deliberately vague about the timetable. We wanted to see how the weekend played out. What time is your train?’

  ‘Eight thirty-five.’

  ‘From Paddington?’

  Natalie looked surprised.

  ‘Well, you are studying in Bristol, are you not?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good, good. That means you have got some leisure time available.’

  ‘Well, I did think about contacting one of my friends who lives in London, see if she’s free.’

  ‘No need.’ Sir Kenneth dismissed
the suggestion. ‘I’d like you to spend the day as my guest.’

  ‘Well, that’s very kind…’

  ‘Please, Natalie, please don’t refuse. It would really cause me great pain to know that I could have enjoyed your company for a few more hours, but didn’t.’

  She struggled for a response. ‘I…’

  ‘Have you ever been in a helicopter?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How would you like to see London from the air? My helicopter is stationed at City Airport. We can take a flight over the capital and around the coast, right over the white cliffs of Dover, skirt over Calais. The sights are amazing. You’ll love it. Sound good?’

  ‘It sounds…’

  ‘We can drink champagne in the air, and toast your success.’

  ‘Will there be time?’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Of course. It’s still early. I can give my people a call now and have them make the preparations.’

  Before Natalie could say anything else, Sir Kenneth had leapt up from the table and was half jogging down the corridor. ‘My phone’s in the bedroom,’ he explained. ‘Back in a tick.’

  Natalie looked around, doubts creeping in about Sir Kenneth and his intentions. She could make a run for the door now, rush down to her room, gather her belongings, and…

  ‘Natalie!’ Sir Kenneth called out. ‘Can you come here for a moment. I need to ask you something.’

  Natalie moved past the living room, hesitating as she reached the bedroom door.

  C’mon, she was just being stupid.

  She gathered her composure and entered.

  Sir Kenneth New was lying face down on the bed, in just his underwear.

  41

  Cullen exited New House and put a bit of distance between him and the place before pulling out the sheet of paper from his pocket. Tabitha had duly handed him a revised version of the list of the “residents” that contained the phone number for Russell Cave.

  He dialled the phone number as he walked.

  But the call just rang through to the voice message service. He cut the call, preferring to speak to the guy directly. He would try again in a few minutes. It might be that Russell Cave had nothing to do with Natalie’s disappearance. He had, after all, left the property a day before she vanished. But there were enough questions about Russell to place him at the top of the list of people he wanted to speak to.

  Krishna, with his strange behaviour, might still be worth talking to again. But in the time since he had spoken to him, Cullen had further cooled on the idea that he had something to do with Natalie vanishing.

  He stopped in a quiet back street and scrutinised the others on the list. There were four remaining, excluding Russell. Samantha, Matthew, Susie and Ben.

  He got straight through to Susie, who was back at home up in Edinburgh. She seemed genuinely shocked to hear about Natalie. She confirmed what Penny had said about the raised voices in the middle of the night, prior to Russell’s ejection from the premises. And she was certain that the female voice had been Tabitha’s. But there was nothing else she could add about the events of the weekend over and above what he had already heard. She promised to get in touch if anything else came to mind.

  Matthew also picked up straight away. Cullen wondered just how hard Tabitha had tried to contact these people, given the relative ease with which he was now picking them off. He was at work in the City, but took time away from his desk to tell Cullen what he knew. In truth, it was of little help, but again he promised to get in touch should anything else come to mind. What was becoming clear was that in the short time they had known one another, Natalie had made a good impression with the other residents. It felt less and less likely that one of these people was the explanation for what had happened.

  For the first time that day, Cullen’s thoughts returned to Natalie’s ex-boyfriend, the controlling and manipulative Jack Morton. Maybe he should have pushed the guy further, instead of returning so hastily back to London.

  Certainly if something sinister had happened to Natalie, he was still the prime candidate.

  He pushed that thought away for the moment, and re-focussed on the remaining calls. He got hold of Ben, who was suitably sorry to hear about what had happened, but didn’t really offer anything new. But it wasn’t possible to reach Samantha, who didn’t pick up. He could follow up with her later, but it wouldn’t be a priority, as he strongly suspected she would not be able to add anything over and above what he already knew.

  Cullen continued walking, lost in thought, with no particular destination in mind. It was only as he approached a tube station that he remembered about the newspaper article. A man was handing out copies of the London Post to passers-by. The newspaper had gone free last year, and was now funded by advertising. It meant the circulation was now sky-high, offering huge publicity for Natalie’s disappearance.

  If the article had been published.

  He strode up to the man and took a copy of the paper, his nerves quickly on edge as he brought up the front page into his line of vision.

  And there it was.

  RAIL COP HUNTS FOR MISSING GIRL

  Accompanying the headline was the headshot of Natalie, smiling right at the camera. The story and image dominated the front page. Simon and Zack had been true to their word.

  He read the first few lines.

  The London Post can exclusively reveal that rogue rail cop Detective Chief Inspector Paul Cullen, currently suspended while under police investigation for his role in the death of a young man on Monday morning, has defied orders from bosses to launch an unauthorised investigation in the desperate hunt for missing teenager Natalie Long.

  The inaccurate and hyperbolic language wasn’t a surprise. It was Simon all over. And it had got Cullen the coveted front page.

  Natalie Long, a Bristol-based student, was reported missing on Monday morning, when she failed to return home from a weekend in London’s Mayfair where she was staying at a multi-million-pound mansion owned by Brand New, the international branding company owned by enigmatic billionaire Sir Kenneth New.

  The rest of the article was accurate, reflecting well what he had told Zack. He looked again at Natalie’s photo that adorned half of the front page. He couldn’t have hoped for more. All across London, commuters would be reading the story, scrutinising Natalie’s face. Some would be wondering if that girl they had seen on the tube, or passing on Oxford Street, had been her. Fewer still might be certain that they had seen her, and would respond to the request for information at the end of the article. The newspaper, at Cullen’s request, had asked readers to contact the paper directly with any further information.

  Cullen was just wondering how long it would take for Maggie Ferguson to get in touch, when his phone rang. It was Beswick.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Boss,’ he said, without preamble.

  ‘I gather you’ve seen the paper.’

  ‘Just now. The Super is going to go mental when she sees it, you do know that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Beswick exhaled. ‘Please, just be careful. I like you too much to see you ruin your career.’

  ‘Understood.’

  There was a pause. ‘Great effort, though,’ said Beswick, softening, ‘getting the Post to run a front-page splash. I assume it was your doing?’

  ‘Certainly was.’

  ‘Any developments?’

  ‘Not really. A few irons in the fire, but nothing of note – nothing I could pass over for a formal investigation. But I’m hoping the publicity today might lead to something.’

  ‘Fingers crossed. Let me know if you need any help.’

  ‘Will do.’

  They said their goodbyes.

  Cullen fired off a text message to Amy, letting her know about the newspaper story and promising that he was still on the case.

  He just hoped it wasn’t too late for Natalie.

  42

  Previous Sunday morning

  NATALIE FROZE in horro
r as Sir Kenneth looked across at her from the bed.

  ‘Natalie, it’s my neck,’ he said, grimacing with pain and holding onto the offending area. ‘I was just turning, and felt something pull.’

  She stood there, not knowing what to do.

  ‘Would you like me to call someone? Tabitha, maybe?’ she tried, taking a half step backwards.

  ‘No, no, don’t worry anyone,’ he said. ‘I just need someone to mobilise the area for me. I can show you what to do.’

  Natalie’s mind was buzzing.

  ‘I…’

  Sir Kenneth let out a yelp of pain. ‘Please, Natalie, it’s happened before. I just need a bit of pressure on the area, and it will resolve.’

  She felt in an impossible position. If she didn’t agree, how would that look?

  She took a step forwards.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ he said, shifting a little on the bed in anticipation as Natalie approached slowly. ‘If you can just put your thumb on that point there,’ he directed, ‘right on the back of my neck. It’s a muscle knot. You can squash it, and it will free up the tension.’

  Natalie edged up to the bed, so she was standing alongside the prone Sir Kenneth. ‘I… I’m not sure what to…’

  ‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘Just press here.’

  ‘Okay,’ she replied, against her basic instincts. She leant over and reached out to his neck, placing her thumb on warm, damp skin. ‘Here?’

  ‘Just a little higher.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Now press. Quite firmly.’

  She leant over and pressed down with force.

  ‘Harder,’ he said.

  She applied more pressure.

  ‘Harder, Natalie.’

  Her thumb was actually hurting from the force.

  ‘Yes! That’s perfect. Keep it like that. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! Yes! Thank you!’

  Natalie, nervous sweat beading on her back, relaxed a little as she brought her hand away.

  ‘Ouch!’ Sir Kenneth shouted, thrusting a hand to the base of his back and arching his back up and down like a landed fish. ‘This… sometimes… happens! Referred pain!’