Tenfold

by Mark Hayden

  ‘Numbers? Plural?’

  ‘I know you love history, Conrad, but now’s not the time. I’ll just say that the Constable of the Commonwealth of New England – CCONE – is one of many. Too many. And this is a complication I don’t need. Ruth, keep at it. See if you can find any evidence of any associates or meetings, but keep it off the system for now.’ Ruth nodded and put everything back in the wallet.

  Hannah leaned back and stretched again. ‘Are we all done? Good. I think it’s home time. What are you two up to this weekend? Any trips up north planned?’

  Vicky made a face. ‘Physio on me foot, tonight, then if you want the Watch room finished for Monday, I’m wielding a paint brush tomorrow.’

  I grinned. ‘You know I’d help you if I could, but I have to have get fitted for my new uniform and have dinner with my sister.’

  ‘Thanks, Vicky,’ said Hannah. ‘I won’t forget this. I need a word with Conrad.’

  Ruth stood up. ‘Have a word tonight, Hannah. Conrad, if you’re not busy, would you like to join us for Friday night dinner?’

  Hannah sat bolt upright and stared at her sister. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Why not? There’s going to be a crowd anyway, with Moses’ family there.’ She turned to me. ‘Meet us outside Finchley Reform Synagogue at half past seven when the service finishes. We’ll walk back after that, and don’t drive. You’ll be well over the limit. Probably.’

  ‘I’m honoured,’ I said. Well, I wasn’t going to say no, was I?

  15 — Family Time

  There was an ulterior motive for asking me. I knew there would be, it was just a question of what it was, whom it concerned and when it would be revealed. If it had anything to do with Hannah then any budding friendship with Ruth would be very, very short-lived.

  Apart from one moment in the garden, it was a very enjoyable (if somewhat chaotic) Kaplan family evening, and had nothing to do with magick whatsoever. The ulterior motive was a teenage nephew of Moses Kaplan who was doing an A level history project which required him to garner my first hand experiences of Afghanistan. After twenty minutes, Ruth came along and took me away.

  ‘You’re scaring the boy,’ she said. ‘I could see him going white from across the room. What were you telling him?’

  ‘What it’s like in an Afghan family compound. He did ask, and I hadn’t got to the bit where the Taliban come calling.’

  ‘Let’s give him a break, shall we? You can smoke in the garden.’ She handed me another glass of wine and pointed to a bench under an awning.

  Hannah joined me five minutes later and we took a moment to enjoy the breeze. When she’d emerged from the synagogue, she’d been wearing her explosive red wig. She’d taken it off when we arrived at Ruth and Moses’ very tasteful house, and replaced it with a luxurious Liberty print headscarf, a million miles from the simple prints she wore to work.

  She’d spent the whole evening shepherding Ruth’s girls, by far the youngest of the whole crowd, and I hadn’t seen her for some time.

  ‘I’ve been playing with the girls upstairs,’ she said, staring at where the stars would be if it weren’t for the light pollution.

  ‘They’re very cute. I can see why you spend time with them.’

  ‘You just wait. You’ll see how cute they are. You know the real reason Ruth invited you, don’t you?’

  ‘To talk about Daniel’s project,’ I said.

  She waved that away. ‘A convenient excuse. Daniel’s mother now owes Ruth a favour, but she could have dragged you out here any time for that.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘To make Moshe’s brother jealous. Or scare him off. One or the other.’

  I pondered my next move while she drained half a glass of wine. It was not her first, by any means.

  ‘You haven’t narrowed it down,’ I said. ‘At one point I thought I was one of his brothers, there are so many.’

  She laughed. ‘And they’re not all here. His mother won’t go to the Reform Synagogue, so the other two are at her place, and two of the guys tonight are brothers in law. I meant the one with the weird daughter who sat as far from you as possible.’

  ‘She’s not that weird.’

  ‘Wait till you talk to her. He’s divorced. Her dad. Ruth has been trying to match-make for over a year.’

  This was very dangerous territory. Hannah finished her wine and bent to pick up my glass. With no apology, she tipped half of it into hers. I grabbed what was left and moved it to the other side.

  ‘You’re really happy with Mina, aren’t you?’ she said.

  ‘So far.’

  ‘I’m glad. What the hell is Project Midas, and why am I hearing about it from Francesca Somerton?’

  ‘If I tell you, will you remember it in the morning?’

  ‘Are you saying I’m drunk, squadron leader?’

  ‘No, ma’am. I wouldn’t dare.’

  She gave a hollow laugh. ‘Will it put her in danger?’

  ‘No. Definitely not.’

  ‘Then we’ll forget about it. Does she have a release date?’

  ‘Twenty-second of May. Four weeks today.’

  ‘Good for you. I was going to get our standing orders amended to bar her from applying for the job, you know.’

  ‘And are you still?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not any more. She can put in her CV for the maternity cover with all the rest. I have too many battles to fight.’ She raised her hand to stop me speaking. ‘Don’t thank me. She’ll still be bottom of the pile as far as I’m concerned. Come on, let’s go in. I haven’t suffered enough today, so there may well be dancing.’

  There was dancing. Somewhere, there may even be mobile phone footage of me dancing with several brothers and nephews. Let’s hope not. Ruth’s daughters also showed their dark side, but I’m sure Ribena will come out at the dry cleaners. The hangover was epic.

  I hate to say this, but dinner with my own family was a lot less pleasant than dinner with Hannah’s.

  My sister lives in a very expensive flat in Mayfair. It’s worth more than Elvenham House. ‘Where are we going?’ I said when she let me in.

  She frowned. ‘Nowhere. Maybe later. Did you see him?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Delivery guy. I thought we’d have Chinese, given that you’re no doubt spoilt for Indian now that you’ve got one of your own.’

  That was vicious, below the belt and quite unlike Rachael.

  She wandered into the living area. ‘Drink?’

  I leaned on the wall and folded my arms. ‘Not if it’s as bitter as the welcome.’

  ‘What did you expect?’

  ‘I expected a nice meal with my sister. I even bought a new shirt.’

  She picked up a chunky crystal tumbler full of artisan gin and handmade tonic. If the bottle on the table was new tonight, she would be even drunker than Hannah. I thought young people (she’s twenty-seven) didn’t drink so much any more.

  ‘And a very nice shirt it is, too. I’m sure your little jailbird will appreciate it,’ she said, waving her glass in my general direction. She saw the look on my face, and that fact that I’d stood up and unfolded my arms. ‘Joke, Conrad. Joke. I hear she’s made quite a stir in the village already, to say nothing of the rest of your little harem.’

  ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Rachael. Not one man, not Ben Thewlis, not Old Tom, not even the creepy guy from Water Lane has made a single reference to harems. And you’re supposed to be a feminist.’

  ‘Says the man who’s benefited from male primogeniture all his life, even to owning the family home and stuffing it with other women. For God’s sake, Conrad, you’ve installed some Welsh floozy as your housekeeper. Is she to keep you amused when the other one’s locked up?’

  ‘Take that back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Myfanwy saved Vicky’s life when I couldn’t. Take that back.’

  ‘What’s going on, Conrad?’

  I stood, waiting.

  ‘Okay, okay
. I take it back. You do not have a Welsh tart in our family home. I’m sure she’s a nice person. Carole thinks so, and Carole thinks your Indian … and Carole thinks that Mina is lovely, and as for Vicky, if she didn’t have nice parents of her own, Dad would adopt her tomorrow. Regular hero, apparently. What’s going on?’

  I had absolutely no idea what had brought this on. I was tempted to have a drink, just to numb the pain. The entryphone buzzed loudly into the awkward silence.

  ‘Go and get that, will you? Don’t forget to tip him.’

  When I got back with two carrier bags full of the Luxury Banquet for Two, Rachael had put some plates and chopsticks on the little table in the corner. Her flat may have two bedrooms, but there’s only one other room. She has the smallest kitchen I’ve ever seen, only slightly larger than the Aga in Elvenham House. The only part that’s full-size is the fridge, out of which she took a bottle of craft beer and held it out to me.

  ‘It’s not Inkwell Bitter. Would you prefer wine?’

  ‘Beer’s fine.’

  I spread the containers round the table and found myself a fork. Never could get away with chopsticks.

  ‘How’s work?’ I asked, to give the wounds a chance to stop bleeding.

  ‘Fine. Good. Very good. That’s why I asked you round.’

  Rachael is ten years younger than me. She is apparently a legend in the wealth management industry, if you can call looking after very rich people’s money an industry. She didn’t, however, sound very fine.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You and your associates. You remember that journalist, Juliet Porterhouse, who was sniffing around. She knows people.’

  ‘I would hope so. Wouldn’t be much of a journalist if she didn’t.’

  ‘Stop it. I’m trying to be serious. My firm want to second me to the Financial Conduct Authority for six months to help them with a project on … well, you wouldn’t understand. Mina would. That’s the problem. If I go to the FCA, they have to vet me, my name will crop up in the news feed at the Sunday Examiner, and Juliet Porterhouse will be all over it like a rash. She might not be able to print anything about you, but I’m fair game.’

  I helped myself to another beer. ‘Vicky saw you in that gossip rag, you know. On the arm of the Earl of Morecambe Bay, no less. You weren’t so publicity shy then, were you?’

  It was a good job Rachael was drunk. It slowed her brain down to something like my speed. I am in awe of her, you know. She may be a brat, but she’s an awesome brat. ‘What was she doing reading OK magazine? I thought you were all above that sort of thing.’

  ‘My vice is smoking; Vicky’s is royal gossip. Are you going to eat the rest of those dim sum?’

  ‘Help yourself. You don’t get it, do you? If this Porterhouse woman can’t write about your black ops, she’ll write about me, and about Mina. I can see it now: “FCA adviser’s brother lives with money launderer.” I can’t have that, and the firm desperately want me to do the job, so you can see that I’m between a rock and a hard place. I can’t imagine Mina would be very happy either, not if she wants a quiet life.’

  Rachael had been rude, aggressive, vicious and just about racist. I still love her though, and yes, I had to sympathise. I leaned back from the table, stuffed. They do a mean takeaway in Mayfair. This might need some thought.

  ‘I can tell you one thing,’ I said, making sure to keep a straight face. ‘Mina doesn’t want to be the black sheep of the family. Brown sheep, yes, but…’

  Her eyes flicked round the room as if she were checking for an unseen audience. ‘Did you just…?’

  I stood up. ‘Can I still smoke out of the window?’

  ‘There’s a key by the door with a red fob. Go upstairs, as far as you can. That key lets you on to the roof.’

  Rachael’s flat may be worth more than the family home, but it doesn’t have a view. Even the roof looked on to taller roofs around it. I gave her dilemma some thought. I was inching towards a solution when she joined me with two glasses of Burgundy and asked for a cigarette.

  ‘How about this?’ I said. ‘You’ve never been big on the family motto, have you?’

  ‘We don’t have one.’

  ‘Yes we do. A Clarke’s Word is Binding. I’ve never made a promise I haven’t kept.’

  ‘That’s because you’re a lying, shifty sod, Conrad. You just make people believe you’ve made a promise when you really haven’t.’

  ‘Not all the time, and not to people I care about. Remember the May Ball?’

  ‘I remember. I still see him occasionally. In the distance. He avoids me.’

  ‘Good. Let me know if he doesn’t. I can’t promise anything, Rachael, but I have got a plan. I’m not promising anything because it’s not up to me to make the final decision, but I will do my best, and I need a couple of favours from you.’

  She glanced at her phone before responding. ‘What’s your plan and what are the favours? I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but I don’t.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with Security Liaison. They should let me give Ms Porterhouse an off-the-record interview, and then the plan is that I get Mina a job in our place, so that Juliet can’t write about her. I do have a Plan B as well, but you don’t want to know about that.’

  ‘A job? You want to get an ex-con a job in the security services? Your Plan B had better be good, that’s all I can say. What are the favours?’

  ‘You should come down for the bank holiday next weekend. You can meet them all.’

  She looked upset. Really upset, as in about to cry. ‘Not yet. Too soon. One of them will be in my room, won’t they?’

  I pointed first to the stairhead and then to just west of due south. ‘Your room’s down there in your flat, or over there, in Spain. You’re scared you’ll like them, aren’t you?’

  She smiled. ‘Maybe. It’s still too soon, though. Perhaps for Whitsun. What’s the other favour?’

  ‘I need you to give someone an interview. For a job.’

  She looked genuinely regretful. ‘Sorry. We don’t advertise, we only headhunt. Except for the admin staff, and they all come from a recruitment agency. We’re not a huge company, in terms of staff, you know.’

  ‘It’s for a postgrad student. Just six months, minimum wage. It’s only eight grand. You could afford to pay him yourself. Say you need an assistant to cover some tasks while you do your secondment.’

  ‘It would cost more than that, but money isn’t the problem. What’s he like? And why?’

  ‘Can’t tell you why. He’s sharp, I know that much. Comes from Bordeaux. He’s working at Praed’s Bank at the moment. He’s very keen to work for you.’

  She looked at her phone again, unlocking it and staring for a second. She grunted and returned it to her back pocket. ‘Tell me the truth. Is this anything to do with your job? If I brought a spy into the firm, my career would be ruined. We have a lot of foreign citizens as clients, and we’re always tap dancing around the Foreign Office, MI6, HMRC. If I brought a mole into the firm…’

  ‘No. To my knowledge, he is not connected to any British security service. I promise you that.’

  ‘Is he hot?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

  She pulled her lip, a gesture she has 100% inherited from our mother. ‘No guarantees? Just an interview?’

  ‘Just an interview.’

  ‘If you tell me something, it’s a deal.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What happened at the medal ceremony before Easter? It’s freaked Mother out. I’ve never seen her so distracted as when they came that night, but she made me promise I wouldn’t ask. Dad was oblivious to everything. Usually it’s the other way round.’

  ‘You promised, but you’re asking anyway.’

  ‘As you pointed out, I’ve never been bound by the family motto.’

  I moved round to light a cigarette. There was something different about Rachael’s eyes…
‘Before you came up here, I thought you were clearing up. You’ve done your makeup.’

  ‘Very observant. I’m going out. You can come if you want. Now, tell me what happened at that place.’

  I looked away, trying to make out which buildings I could see in the distance. ‘There was an incident,’ I said. ‘A serious one. Mum saw it, and Dad didn’t. She also saw that my new job is more hands-on than she realised.’

  ‘Thanks, Conrad. You know she won’t admit it, but she does worry about you. She has, ever since I was old enough to know what worrying was.’

  ‘She worries about you, too.’

  I don’t know whether Rachael heard me, because her phone buzzed, and when she saw the message, she said, ‘Come on, I need to get changed.’

  Back in her flat, I was sorting through my jacket when someone called the entryphone. ‘Let them in, will you?’

  I released the street door and took her flat door off the latch. I stood outside her bedroom and said, ‘I’ll be off. I’ll tell Alain to ring your PA, shall I?’

  ‘Alain? Oh, the French guy. Yeah. Whatever. Hang on.’

  She came out with a pair of GHDs on a very long lead in one hand. ‘Kiss. You’ll sort that journalist, won’t you?’

  I was giving her a peck on the cheek (and trying not to get burnt) when the door opened and two young women came in, both dressed in outfits that cost more than my entire wardrobe.

  ‘Wow, he’s taaaall,’ said the blond one, lifting her sunglasses. ‘Where did you get him, Rachael, and why haven’t we seen him before. So delish.’

  ‘So old,’ said the one with black hair.

  ‘And so related,’ said Rachael. ‘This is my big brother.’

  ‘Who is just leaving,’ I said. ‘Thanks, Raitch. Nice to meet you, ladies.’

  The one with black hair pointed to her companion. ‘She’s the Lady, I’m only an Honourable, and Rachael’s no lady at all. Ha ha.’ The laugh at the end was more like Fnaa Fnaa than Ha Ha. As I limped down the stairs, I felt almost sorry for Rachael.

  By Sunday afternoon, the only truly happy person in all this was Alain Dupont. He was over the moon.