Panic Room

by Robert Goddard

  The pub’s on a corner, with chairs and tables arranged out front. I sit down at one while Gareth goes in to get the drinks. I’m on sparkling water. I can’t guess what he’ll be on. The answer turns out to be lager. But there’s a whiff of the hard stuff as well. I reckon he’s downed a Scotch at the bar.

  He sits down awkwardly, lowering his shoulder-bag to the ground. He buys some time by slurping his lager and lighting another cigarette. He still doesn’t know how much – or how little – to tell me.

  I try to help him out. ‘Jane’s mother died a few years ago, Gareth,’ I say, calmingly, soothingly. ‘And her father’s in poor health. I’m fond of him. I don’t want him to die as well without knowing the truth.’

  Gareth gives me a wintry little smile. Life’s not worked out how he hoped, to judge by the dullness in his eyes. Divorce, maybe. A weekend daddy. Career stalled. Prospects flaky. And part of him blames Jane’s disappearance for a lot of that. ‘If I knew the truth,’ he says in an undertone, ‘I’d tell the old man what it is. But I don’t.’

  ‘You know something, though.’

  ‘So do you. My name for a start. I’d be surprised if Glasson remembers it. We only met briefly, in Jane’s room at Newnham. He and his wife weren’t taking a lot in at the time. They were too upset. There was nothing I could tell them anyway. So, how’d you find out about me?’

  ‘Holly Walsh.’

  ‘The best friend. Of course. She always wanted to be more than just a friend to Jane.’

  ‘She’s not well. Multiple sclerosis.’

  ‘Christ. Sorry … to hear that.’

  ‘She’s better than she was, apparently, thanks to a revolutionary new drug.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Fantastically expensive. Holly couldn’t afford to pay for it … without an anonymous benefactor.’

  Gareth leans across the table towards me. ‘Anonymous?’

  ‘It made me think. Who’d want to help Holly without revealing their identity?’

  ‘Which company makes the fantastically expensive drug?’

  It should sound like an odd question. But it doesn’t. And we both know why. ‘Harkness Pharmaceuticals.’

  Gareth nods thoughtfully. He’s putting two and two together. ‘How’d you come to work for Andrew Glasson and Jack Harkness?’

  ‘I worked for several other people in the area as well.’

  ‘OK. But why’d you leave those two jobs?’

  ‘Jane’s sister took against me. As for Harkness, he’s selling the Cornwall house. Or his wife is. She owns it. Either way, I’m out.’

  ‘And you’ve decided to chase after Jane instead?’

  ‘Is she alive, Gareth?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Dunno. But I get the feeling you do.’

  He looks at me for a long time. Then: ‘I don’t know if I can trust you.’

  ‘I guess you don’t.’ Why should he? I don’t trust him either. I hold his gaze. ‘But I guess you’ll have to.’ I want him to understand he has to take a chance with me. Otherwise, we’re out of business.

  ‘What did you want with Ingrid Denner?’

  ‘What did you want with her?’

  ‘All right.’ He’s got it. He’s going to take the chance. He pushes his fingers underneath his glasses to rub his eyes, then has to adjust them on his nose. ‘All right. I’ll tell you what there is. A couple of months ago, at Paddington station, I, er … saw her.’

  ‘You saw Jane?’

  ‘Yes.’ He means it. He means he knows for a fact she’s alive. ‘I suppose I’ve always looked for her, subconsciously, over the years, always hoped I’ll see her again. That she’ll re-enter my life. She’s not an easy person to forget, though there was a time when I thought I would forget her. But it didn’t work out. A lot of things didn’t work out. You’re too young to understand how that happens, how this thing called middle age closes on you like a vice that traps you tight and … keeps on squeezing.’ He smiles awkwardly. ‘Sorry. Too much self-pity there. Way too much.’

  ‘What happened at Paddington, Gareth?’

  ‘Oh, I was waiting for a train to Cardiff. A business trip. I was sitting in one of the seats out on the concourse, under the departures board. There was this woman sitting in the row in front of me, working on an iPad. It was a wet day. She was wearing a shiny black raincoat and a Hermès scarf. There was a small wheelie suitcase next to her, with a bag looped over the handle. She had fair hair, with some darker tones, shaped to her neck. I don’t know what it was exactly. The neck, maybe. You know how you see someone from behind and they look like someone you know, but when they turn round you realize you don’t know them after all – not in the slightest?’

  I nod. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, that’s what I thought was going to happen when I stood up and walked round the end of the row to get a look at her face. I thought there was no way it could actually, really, truly be her – Jane.’

  ‘But it was?’

  Gareth wipes his hand across his mouth. He’s still caught between belief and disbelief. But he knows what – who – he saw. ‘I knew it was her as soon as I looked her in the face. She was older, of course, but basically exactly the same. She certainly hadn’t altered as much as I have. She was … my beautiful Jane.’

  ‘You spoke to her?’

  ‘Yes. But she saw me looking at her before I had a chance to say anything. She recognized me. I’m sure of it. There was a split second in which her eyes met mine. And in that split second I knew what was going to happen. I saw it in her gaze. She was going to deny she was Jane. I just … knew it.’

  ‘And she did?’

  ‘I walked along the row to her. She didn’t get up. She closed down the iPad and frowned up at me, as if wondering what I wanted. It was an act, but it was a good one. It would’ve convinced me if I was a bystander. I said her name. I said, “It’s me. Gareth.” I said her name again. It didn’t make any impression. “I’m sorry,” she said. And it was her voice. It was Jane’s voice. “I’m afraid you’re making a mistake. I don’t know you.” “Come on,” I said. “Don’t try to blank me. For God’s sake, Jane.” She stood up, gathering her things. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “But I’m not who you think I am. We’ve never met before. And I have to go now.” She started to walk away. I stepped into her path. “What happened to you?” I asked. “What the hell’s going on?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “Would you mind getting out of my way?”’

  Gareth pauses. He takes a drag on his cigarette and a swig of lager. He swirls the rest of the lager in his glass and stares into it for a moment. Then he goes on. ‘She stepped round me and headed off across the concourse towards the platforms. I went after her, calling her name as I went. Then some bloke who’d overheard us – big, looked like a soldier – got out of his seat and intercepted me. “The lady doesn’t know you, pal. Why don’t you leave her alone?” He wasn’t the kind of bloke you said no to, so I walked away towards the shops. But I watched Jane over my shoulder. She went on to the Heathrow Express platform. I waited until the army type had lost interest and sat down again, then went after her.

  ‘The train was due to leave in a few minutes. That didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t thinking about my trip to Cardiff any more. Jane was all I was thinking about. Where she’d been for the past twenty-two years. Why she was pretending not to know me. And yeah, I have to admit, whether it was possible I really was mistaken and it wasn’t actually her.

  ‘I got on and started walking through the carriages, looking for her. I’d gone through three or four without spotting her when the beeper went and the doors closed just prior to departure. I stayed on. It seemed the only thing to do. She had to be on the train. But I still couldn’t see her. Then we started moving. And that’s when I saw her.’

  ‘She was still on the platform, right?’ It’s a guess. But it feels like how it must have ended.

  Gareth nods miserably. ‘Yeah. She was
walking back towards the concourse. Maybe she’d got on the train, then got off just before it left. Maybe she’d never got on at all. I don’t know. She was looking straight ahead. She never once glanced towards the train. I banged on the door, but she just went on walking and the train accelerated. And she was gone.’

  ‘You think she lured you on to the train?’

  He nods again. ‘Yeah. That’s what I think. I had to go all the way to Heathrow once the train had started. I waited out there for the next train from Paddington, thinking she might be on it. But she wasn’t. In the end, I went back to Paddington, but there was nothing I could do to find her by then. I only had one chance. And I blew it.’

  ‘Sounds like she’d have managed to give you the slip whatever you did.’

  ‘Probably. At least the trick she pulled convinced me it was her. Otherwise I might’ve come to doubt it.’

  ‘It was definitely her?’

  ‘I go over what happened in my head several times a day. I’ve told a couple of friends about it and they think I’m nuts. But I’m a hundred per cent certain it was her. Jane’s alive.’ He lets out a slow breath. ‘But she doesn’t want anyone to know it.’ Then he spreads his hands. ‘Christ knows why.’

  ‘I can’t tell her father she’s alive without proof, Gareth.’

  ‘Good luck with finding that. I haven’t got any to give you.’

  ‘What took you to Ingrid Denner?’

  ‘The only clue I had to follow. I racked my brains after I got back to Paddington and remembered I’d seen a company logo on the screen Jane was working on before she knew I was there. I recognized it, but I wasn’t sure from where. It drove me crazy, until eventually I saw it on a TV news report of Jack Harkness’s extradition hearing. The logo belonged to Harkness Pharmaceuticals.’

  Harkness Pharmaceuticals. Here we go again. There is something between Jane and Harkness. ‘And you knew Jane had lived close to Harkness in Cornwall?’

  ‘No. She never mentioned it that I can recall. As far as the pharmaceuticals industry was concerned she was certainly no fan. She always maintained it was wrecking the environment. Jane was very eco-conscious, worried about global warming even before it was fashionable.’

  ‘That’s what Holly said. Which means the idea she wound up working for Harkness is crazy, right?’

  ‘Right. Except, judging by a glimpse of her iPad, that’s what I’d have said the woman I saw at Paddington was: a Harkness employee. Maybe she really was heading for Heathrow, to catch a flight back to Harkness HQ in Switzerland.’

  ‘Did Jane ever go to Switzerland that you know of? Like, before she disappeared, I mean.’

  Gareth frowns. ‘I’ve thought about that. Jane and I went to Italy that Easter. Rome, Florence, Venice. We had such a great time. They were probably the happiest few weeks of my life. We travelled by train. On the way back, she said she had to stop in Switzerland to visit a friend from school. She’d never mentioned this friend before. She’d never mentioned we wouldn’t be going the whole way home together either. I was in the middle of suggesting we stop in Paris for a couple of days – I basically didn’t want the trip to end – when she broke the news, making it very clear I wasn’t included in the diversion. She could be like that sometimes. Hard just when you expected her to be soft. And the other way round. Anyhow, she got off the train in Lausanne and I carried on without her. So, yeah, she went to Switzerland, just a couple of months before she disappeared. Harkness Pharmaceuticals were still headquartered in Basel then. And what’s Basel from Lausanne? A couple of hours by train. I didn’t make the connection at the time, but since I saw her at Paddington, well … I’ve wondered about that. I’ve wondered a lot.’

  ‘Holly said you broke up with Jane after that trip.’

  Gareth winces. ‘She ditched me halfway through the following term. We didn’t have a row or anything. It was weird. She just announced we were finished, in a note she left in my college pigeonhole. No reason. Just, it’s over. I tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t having any. I don’t know why I bothered. You could never talk her out of anything once she’d made her mind up. Then … she disappeared.’ He takes a thoughtful last drag on his cigarette, stubs it out and lights another. ‘Since I learnt she was alive, since I realized she must have staged her disappearance, I’ve wondered if breaking up with me was a way of letting me down lightly. It didn’t work. But … maybe she thought it was the kindest way to do it.’

  ‘Why do it at all, Gareth? Why disappear like that?’

  ‘That’s what I keep asking myself. What the hell’s it all about?’

  ‘You think Ingrid Denner can tell you?’

  ‘I contacted Harkness Pharmaceuticals to see if Jane really was working for them, or if somebody who might be her was working for them – I never expected she’d be using her real name. It was hard to get their attention in the middle of Harkness’s legal problems. I had to make a serious nuisance of myself. Then, out of the blue, I get a call from Ingrid Denner. She wants to meet me. So, we get together for coffee. She’s friendly but … edgy, if you know what I mean. No, Jane Glasson doesn’t work for the company. Nor does anyone who arguably could be Jane with a fake identity. Absolutely not. Rigorous background checks on all staff rule the possibility out conclusively. But, purely as a gesture of goodwill and considering the genuineness of my concern, is there perhaps something they can do for me, some way they can help me focus on other matters? Yeah. That’s actually how she put it. It seemed to me she was trying to buy my silence.’

  ‘She does that quite a lot, according to Harkness. He recommended I take her up on it.’

  ‘Well, you could do worse, I suppose, if money’s what you’re after.’

  I look him in the eye. ‘It isn’t.’

  He nods, accepting the assurance. ‘OK.’

  ‘You turned Ingrid down?’

  ‘Yeah. Of course I did. Although she reacted as if there’d never been anything to turn down in the first place. A pleasure talking to you, sorry, I can’t help, we won’t be expecting to hear from you again, so goodbye and kiss my arse. Ass, I should say. She’s very American.’

  ‘What were you planning to do at the Dorchester?’

  ‘What were you planning to do, if a pay-off wasn’t your motive for going to see Ingrid?’

  I drink some of my water and look at him openly. I have to tell him something. But it’s not going to be much. ‘I’m not sure. See what I could get out of her, I s’pose.’

  ‘About Jane?’

  ‘Amongst other things.’

  ‘Oh?’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘There are other things, are there?’

  I’m not ready to tell Gareth any more. Right now he doesn’t need to know the Nightingale account connects Jane to Harkness Pharmaceuticals even without his glimpse of their logo on her iPad. Assuming it really was her. Which is what I absolutely am assuming. Gareth wouldn’t have done as much as he has without being certain the woman at Paddington was Jane, living and breathing. That’s why he can’t stop now. That’s why I can’t stop either. Fifty thousand pounds to walk away? Sorry, Jack. I don’t think so. ‘Listen, Gareth. I’ll help you if you’ll help me. We’re both after the same thing. The truth about Jane.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He looks searchingly at me through a cloud of cigarette smoke. ‘I guess we are.’

  ‘But how do we get it?’

  ‘There may be a way.’ He nods thoughtfully. ‘And maybe you can help me pull it off.’

  Don had filled the rest of his day with mindless but essential chores. He tried not to wonder when – or even if – Blake would return to the flat. She was not his responsibility, nor was he hers. She could do as she pleased and probably would. And he would have no grounds for complaint.

  Evening set in and there was still no sign of Blake. Exasperated with his own anxiety about her, Don left a Post-it note stuck to the front door and adjourned to his local for a calming pint or three.

  An hour or so later, Blake arrived to interrupt Don
’s aimless football chat with another bar-propper. She was not alone.

  Gareth Lawler was a surprise package, dull dog though he seemed to Don. He had some kind of proposal to make which Blake had already agreed to. But she wanted Don on board as well. The details, however, needed to be discussed in the privacy of his flat. Gareth looked around the bar twitchily, as if it was a nest of spies. Don polished off his pint and they headed back to the flat.

  More surprises followed: Blake’s account of her visit to Harkness’s house; his suggestion that Ingrid Denner would be willing to buy her off; Blake’s encounter with Gareth at the Dorchester; Gareth’s claim to have seen Jane Glasson at Paddington station. There was a lot to take in.

  What seemed clear, as Don felt forced to admit, was that Jane really was alive and somehow mixed up with Harkness Pharmaceuticals. The question was what they could or should do about it. All the other questions Don had – notably whether more had transpired from Blake’s meeting with Harkness than she was willing to admit in Gareth’s presence – were going to have to wait.

  Gareth looked to Don like a man who was ever so slightly out of his depth – and the strain of standing on tiptoe to keep his head above water was beginning to get to him. He asked to use the bathroom before unveiling his plan.

  ‘You know friend Gareth is bottling up a lot of stress, don’t you?’ Don whispered while he was absent. ‘Reminds me of someone I used to work with. Got a lot of good sales. But it took too much out of him.’

  ‘How did that end?’

  ‘Tilbury Marshes. He was washed up there after abandoning his car on the QE2 Bridge at Dartford and jumping off.’

  ‘I’m like so glad you told me that. Gareth’s our big chance and you know it.’

  ‘Or we’re his.’

  ‘Same difference.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘Don’t fuck this up, Don. Please.’

  ‘All right, all right. I won’t.’

  Gareth was notably calmer when he returned from the bathroom. He spoke more slowly and blinked less. Don harboured the suspicion he had taken something while he was away.