The Dark Side of the Road

by Simon Green

  Walter took me by the arm again and led me away. None of us had said anything to the young man who’d been hovering sullenly at Penny’s side all the while. No doubt we’d get around to him, in time.

  ‘Now this, is Alexander Khan,’ said Walter, as we stopped before a slender, dapper Indian gentleman in his fifties. He wore a sharp business suit, complete with a snazzy waistcoat and shoes so brightly shined that you could see their maker’s face in them. I said hi, and Khan bid me welcome in the clipped English tones of someone who’d learned the tongue as a second language. Sleek dark hair, dark skin, and a round face with deeply-pouched eyes. He looked hard-used and overworked, and not at all interested in partaking of the Christmas spirit.

  ‘My business partner,’ said Walter. ‘Helped me rebuild the company, many years ago, and make it what it is today. I’m semi-retired now, but I still take a healthy interest in what’s going on.’

  ‘Not quite as retired as some of us would wish, alas,’ said Khan, looking at me rather than Walter. ‘If you will insist on still being a part of the decision-making process, Walter, you must shoulder your responsibilities. Important decisions will not wait, just because it is an official holiday.’

  ‘You don’t approve of taking Christmas off?’ I said.

  Khan smiled frostily. ‘I am a Hindu, Mister Jones. I do not celebrate Christmas.’

  ‘That’s Alex for you,’ said Walter, chuckling loudly in an only slightly forced way. ‘This man has a hell of a lot of the old-fashioned Protestant Work Ethic in him, for a Hindu. Always weighed down by responsibilities and worrying where we’re going next. I keep telling him: slow down and learn to smell the coffee, or you’ll be dead of a heart attack long before you reach retirement age.’

  Khan nodded absently. He was staring into my face and regarding me oddly. ‘Pardon me, Ishmael, but … It does seem to me you look remarkably like someone I used to work with, back in the eighties …’

  Walter let out a sharp bark of laughter. ‘Well, it could hardly be the same man, could it, Alex? That was thirty years ago! Ishmael wouldn’t even have been born, back then!’

  ‘Perhaps you knew my father, Mister Khan,’ I said. ‘Which puts you one up on me, because I never met the man.’

  ‘Yes … Of course,’ said Khan. ‘That would have to be it, wouldn’t it …’ He gave me one last curious glance and then turned away, dismissing me so that he could give all his attention to Walter. ‘You and I need to talk, Walter. It is very important! You can’t keep putting it off!’

  ‘I think you’ll find I can, Alex,’ Walter said cheerfully. ‘I will do whatever I damn well please, in my own home.’

  He moved away, and Khan immediately set off in pursuit, still trying to talk business while Walter talked loudly about anything but. I looked after Khan, remembering. He’d been perfectly correct, of course. I had known him in the eighties, back when we both worked for Black Heir. He left years before I did; one step ahead of being fired with extreme prejudice. He’d smuggled out a particular piece of alien technology, when he thought no one was looking, and used it to buy his way into one of the big communication companies. I hadn’t known it was the Colonel’s father’s company.

  Khan covered his tracks with all his usual thoroughness, but I knew what he was going to do before he did. I could see it in his face, hear it in the things he carefully didn’t talk about. I could have stopped him, but I didn’t see why I should. I was already starting to lose faith in Black Heir, and his more obvious actions helped draw attention away from my own less noticeable sidelines. It wasn’t as though Khan had taken anything dangerous, or disturbing. Just some basic alien comm tech; sufficiently advanced to give any Earthly company a head start over its rivals. But not anything that might be … noticed. If it had been anything dangerous, or disturbing, I would have made it dis-appear, along with Khan. There is a line I will not cross.

  Alexander Khan and I worked in the same department for several years, but I can’t say I ever felt close to the man. We were colleagues, not friends. Khan had a lot of colleagues. And he was always a bit too ready to endorse terminating a stranded alien, instead of kicking its arse and sending it home. Still; it did seem I had made an impression on the man, that he could recognize me so quickly after thirty years.

  While I was considering that, another of Walter’s guests came forward to smile at me. A woman in her late sixties, grey-haired, with a wrinkled face that still held the remains of what had once been great beauty. She wore stylish but understated clothes that spoke quietly but persuasively of the virtues of another era. When people wore clothes to make them feel good about themselves, rather than just show off the latest labels. She wore a hell of a lot of jewellery, in all shapes and sizes, as though to say: See? I was lovely, once. Men gave me all this, because I was so lovely. She extended a slender veined hand for me to shake, and I did so carefully because she seemed fragile.

  ‘Hello, Ishmael Jones,’ she said, in a warm and still quietly thrilling voice. ‘I’m Diana Belcourt. First wife to Walter. Welcome, to what used to be my home before Walter gave me up for the more obvious charms of Melanie. I do miss this place … Just one of the many things I had taken from me in the divorce. Because Walter controlled all our finances, he could afford better lawyers than me. I suppose I could have fought more, but in the end I just wanted out. Everything I gave up was worth it, to earn my freedom. It was hard work, being Mrs Walter Belcourt. There’s nothing like being married to a Great Man of Business to force you into the shadows.’

  I was saved from having to respond to any of that by Walter’s return. He nodded easily to Diana.

  ‘Still living in the past, my dear? You can’t expect to move forward if you’re always looking back over your shoulder.’

  ‘You’ve redecorated again, Walter,’ said Diana. ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘Mel does,’ said Walter.

  ‘She never did have any taste,’ said Diana. ‘But then, that’s why you married her. You know, you never used to give in to me that easily, when we were married.’

  ‘Well, one of us had to mellow over the years,’ said Walter. ‘And it wasn’t going to be you, now, was it?’

  ‘Are you sure the two of you aren’t still married?’ I said. ‘You talk like you are.’

  They both smiled. ‘We’re all on good terms,’ said Walter. ‘None of us are the type to bear grudges.’

  ‘As long as the alimony cheques keep coming,’ Diana said sweetly. And then she paused and fixed me with a thoughtful look. ‘James is my son. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone before who worked for him. He’s always kept himself to himself. I’m glad I’ve finally got to meet someone from that side of his life. He emails regularly, and phones when he can, as a good son should, but I haven’t seen him for years. He does like to keep himself a mystery.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I would have to agree with that.’

  Another woman came forward to join us; a remarkably good-looking woman in her thirties. Walter and Diana both smiled on her, in their different ways.

  ‘Allow me to present my good friend and companion, Sylvia Heron,’ said Diana. ‘She makes sure I’m where I’m supposed to be and doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Don’t know what I’d do without her.’

  Sylvia gave me a wide smile, as though I was really only there to meet her. A warm, suggestive smile, backed up by a steady gaze, as though we were the only people present in the room. Having Sylvia bestow her full attention on you was like staring into a spotlight. She shook my hand heartily, and her fingertips brushed against mine as she released her grip. I felt a definite spark, just for a moment. Which wasn’t something that happened to me very often. Sylvia was the kind of woman who could make a man feel like a man, and make him feel special, just by recognizing his existence. She looked me over, quite openly, and without saying anything made it very clear she liked what she saw.

  Which was all very pleasant, but I couldn’t escape a strong suspicion that she treated everyon
e that way.

  ‘Stop it, Sylvia,’ said Diana; amused, but with just a hint of warning in her voice. ‘You can’t have them all, or there won’t be enough to go round.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Sylvia, grinning. She didn’t sound sorry. ‘My eyes always were bigger than my stomach.’

  ‘Well, don’t eat the boy alive; at least, not until he’s found his feet.’

  ‘Why waste time, that’s what I say,’ Sylvia said artlessly.

  She dressed glamorously in rich colours and clashing shades, and got away with it because her presence filled the room like a naked flame. Her face was just that little bit too long and horsey to be a classic beauty, but she could still take your breath away every time she turned her gaze on you. With a face like that, and one hell of a body to back it up, Sylvia could get away with anything where men were concerned, and she knew it. She dressed a lot younger than her age, like Melanie; but unlike Melanie, Sylvia could carry it off.

  So I just smiled back at her, making a point of being entirely unmoved by her spectacular presence. Because I’m not easy. I can’t afford to be.

  Sylvia blinked, just a little taken aback. ‘How lovely to have you with us, Ishmael,’ she said. ‘I only agreed to come to this draughty old heap to keep Diana company. I was expecting a dreary old-fashioned Christmas, but now it seems things are looking up. Always good to have new blood at an old gathering.’ She took a healthy drink from her champagne glass, made a moue when she realized she’d emptied it, and just stuck the glass out in mid air for someone to refill. Walter was quickly there, to do that little thing for her. Sylvia didn’t even notice. She was busy looking at me, thoughtfully. ‘Diana’s told me a lot about James. Your Colonel. I never expected to meet him here this weekend, or any of the mysterious people who work for him. Don’t worry if you can’t tell me any of your secrets; just make up some fascinating lies. That’s what I always do.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said.

  There was general laughter from everyone listening; which was … everyone. They’d all been drawn forward by Sylvia’s performance, like moths to a flame. She might only be there as Diana’s friend and companion, but she knew she was expected to be part of the entertainment, and she had no problem with that.

  The group broke up as Diana led Sylvia away for a few private words, and general conversation resumed. Without being too blatant about it, I watched Sylvia work the room with ruthless efficiency, moving from person to person and group to group, charming and sparkling and flirting outrageously with everyone, while making it look effortless. The lady was a professional. I made a mental note to keep my distance from her, because I knew a predator when I saw one. I’d met Sylvia’s kind before, at all sorts of gatherings. The professional friend and the perfect guest. The kind who’s always ready to latch on to the right people, to be a friend and companion to those in need, so she could always be sure of being invited to the right places and the right parties … where she could attach herself to someone better. That was Sylvia. Always moving on, always moving up, until she finally allowed someone big enough to pursue and catch her, and persuade her to settle down; in sufficient luxury, of course.

  Question was: what was Sylvia doing here at Belcourt Manor? She couldn’t be after Walter, surely? Maybe she was just looking to make connections. Or maybe … she had her professional eye on something more solid. If I’d had any valuables, I’d have locked them up somewhere very secure while Sylvia was on the prowl.

  I seemed to have made a complete circle of all the guests present, because I ended up back with Penny, who seemed happy enough to see me again. She might not be as glamorous as Sylvia, but she was a lot easier to be around. If only because she seemed to mean it when she smiled. The young man was still standing stubbornly at her side and made a point of stepping forward abruptly – ostensibly to introduce himself, but more noticeably to place himself between me and Penny.

  ‘Roger Levine,’ he said shortly. ‘And I don’t want you bothering Penny.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ I said. ‘The young man who’s always at Penny’s side, even when it’s obvious she’s forgotten you’re there.’

  ‘What?’ he said, bristling immediately.

  ‘I’m afraid you rather walked into that one, Roger darling,’ said Penny. ‘You can’t act like a brute and a bully and not expect to be called on it, eventually. Now behave yourself, and be nice to our new guest, or I swear I won’t say a single word to you all weekend.’

  Roger started to say something, and then fell silent under the force of her glare. It was clear he wanted to stand up to her and equally clear he didn’t know how. Self-confident and self-contained women were always going to be a mystery to a man like him. So he just shrugged quickly, turned back to me and thrust out his hand. I shook it carefully, and then let him have it back again. I did my best to look at him understandingly, and he nodded briefly, as if to say, What can you do? Thus love makes fools of us all. Love, or something like it.

  Roger was in his early twenties, tall and gangling, in an expensively tailored suit that hung badly about him because he couldn’t be bothered to stand up straight. Slouching and sulking were obviously full-time occupations for him, because he didn’t understand why wealth and position couldn’t get him the things he really wanted. Like Penny. It was also clear he was only here for the Christmas gathering under protest, to be with Penny. And even more clear that she didn’t want him there. You only had to look at their body language. Roger did his best to project confidence, or at least arrogance, but was undermined by a weak smile and shifting eyes.

  ‘So,’ I said. ‘What brings you here, Roger? You’re not family …’

  ‘I nearly was,’ said Roger, deliberately. ‘And I might still be.’

  ‘Oh, Roger!’ Penny said sharply. ‘Don’t go on. I told you; it’s over.’ She shot me a look that begged for understanding. ‘Roger and I were engaged to be married, but that is very definitely in the past. We’re just good friends, now.’

  But all I had to do was look at the way Roger looked at Penny, to know that as far as he was concerned, it would never be over until he said it was over.

  We chatted a while, about this and that. Penny filled the air with bon mots, while Roger mostly just grunted. It was actually a relief when Diana arrived, to take me aside for a quiet word. She studied my face for a long moment.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ishmael; I know I’m staring, but … You remind me so much of someone I used to know. Back in Paris, in the late sixties.’

  ‘That would have had to be Ishmael’s grandfather!’ said Walter, passing by.

  ‘It might have been,’ I said gently to Diana. ‘I believe he was in France, about that time.’

  And I moved away, ostensibly to get myself a glass of mulled wine. I really hadn’t recognized Diana until we’d spoken. She’d changed so much, since she and I were lovers in Paris, in 1969.

  I took a sip of the mulled wine, decided one sip was enough, and put the glass down again. There had to be something here worth drinking. I stood alone, doing my best to look lost in my own thoughts, and listened to what everyone else was saying. I can follow any number of conversations, even when several people are speaking at once. It’s a good way to pick up on things you need to know, that other people don’t want you to know.

  Alex Khan still wanted to talk business with Walter, who didn’t. Walter avoided Khan by attaching himself to every group as it formed. Talking cheerfully and loudly, he made sure he was never left alone with Khan. Fuming quietly, and sometimes not so quietly, Khan ended up talking with Roger, who’d been left alone because Penny wasn’t talking to him just then and nobody else wanted to. The young man looked sullenly at the floor while Khan spoke to him, quietly but forcefully.

  ‘I have been a good friend of your father for many years, Roger,’ said Khan. ‘And while he may be gone now, I know he would want you to do the right thing. You promised me you would invest a substantial sum of money in my company, and I am holding you to your word.�
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  ‘That was when I was engaged to Penny,’ said Roger. He still couldn’t bring himself to meet Khan’s burning gaze, but his voice was firm enough. ‘The investment was to be my wedding present to her. Well; now the engagement is off, you and your company can whistle for the money.’

  ‘You can afford it,’ said Khan.

  ‘That’s not the point!’ Roger raised his eyes from the carpet to glare at Khan, his cheeks flushed. ‘You want the money? Then make Penny like me again!’

  ‘Be reasonable, Roger …’

  ‘No!’ said Roger, rather more loudly than Khan was comfortable with. ‘I’m tired of being reasonable. It doesn’t get you anywhere. It just means you get taken advantage of and people walk all over you. I’m tired of doing what everyone else wants. Penny led me on and then dropped me, like I was nothing. As though what I wanted didn’t matter. I don’t like feeling like this. I want Penny back; I want things to be the way they were, when I was happy. So; you want the money, Khan? Then you know what you have to do to get it.’ He turned his back on Khan and walked away.

  Khan seemed actually startled that Roger was capable of such strong-minded behaviour. He looked around for Walter and caught him in an unguarded moment, alone at the drinks cabinet. Khan hurried over to back Walter up against the cabinet, blocking his escape. Walter scowled at him, but short of shouldering Khan bodily aside, there wasn’t any way out.

  ‘I told you,’ Walter said stubbornly. ‘I won’t discuss business over Christmas!’

  ‘You have to!’ said Khan. ‘The whole company is in danger of going under!’

  ‘You’re exaggerating.’

  ‘It is my company; I know what is going on.’

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s still my company, Alex,’ Walter said calmly. ‘Been in my family for generations …’

  ‘It isn’t your company, Walter, and hasn’t been for some years now. We only keep you on as Chairman of the Board because your name still has some value in the City. But it is the Board who make all the decisions now, and they look to me to take the lead.’