Lizzy seemed to read Emma’s mind. ‘No word from your dad?’
Emma shook her head. ‘Nothing. Miranda called again last night, checking whether he’d been in touch.’
‘And no news from David Sherborn?’
‘No.’
They were due to meet with him later that day, to see whether he had managed to identify anyone who was following her. Emma doubted whether he would come up with anything. ‘To be honest, I’m starting to wonder whether he’s actually been doing what he promised.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, I haven’t heard or seen him at all since our meeting on Monday. He’s never replied to the texts I sent, letting him know where I was.’
‘I guess he didn’t really need to reply. He just needed to read your text and go to that location.’
Emma shrugged. ‘I would have thought I’d see him, maybe not a lot, but occasionally. For instance, yesterday in Windsor, I looked around quite a bit, but there was no sign of him.’
‘Maybe he’s got better at staying out of sight.’
‘Yeah, maybe I’m underestimating him.’
***
Emma and Lizzy got off the tube at Piccadilly Circus, glad to be out into the relatively fresher air at street level – the underground network was a great resource, but it could really do with air-conditioning, especially during warmer spells. The agency was situated just a few minutes from the station, in the heart of the capital. This was prime real-estate territory, and rent on the two-storey, glass-fronted building that housed the EXCEL-ENT media agency must have been astronomical. The agency was just a few years old, having been set up by a breakaway group of agents from a traditional agency, following a fall-out over company direction in the new digital age. It had a reputation of pushing the boundaries in maximising opportunities and income for their clients (and in turn, the agents themselves), and it covered all fields of media, including publishing, television, film, music, and digital. The agency now represented some of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry.
That’s why it had seemed such an honour to receive the unsolicited invite from Diana Saunders. She was a company director, and one of the founding members. She was also leading new developments with the company. From what Emma had heard, most of Diana’s working week was now spent flying between the UK and the United States, where the agency had just set up a New York office. So the fact she was prepared to take time to meet with Emma was a huge compliment.
‘Well,’ Lizzy said, looking up at the building. ‘Good luck. Just give me a call when you’re finished. I’ll be in the swanky clothes shops, just around the corner.’
‘Thanks.’ Emma felt nervous as she reported to reception. She was led into the waiting lift, and emerged into an open-plan office.
A girl, smiling broadly, approached and proffered a hand. ‘Emma, pleased to meet you. I’m Cathy, Diana’s assistant. She’ll be with you in a minute. She’s just finishing a call. Please, just take a seat through there.’ She gestured towards an office to the left. ‘Can I get you a tea, coffee?’
‘Just water would be great.’
Emma perched on the edge of the chair, sipping the water, as Diana breezed in to the room.
‘Diana Saunders. Sorry for that,’ she said, flipping her trademark dark-rimmed glasses up into her hairline. She was wearing a dark 1980s-style power suit, and her jet-black hair was pulled tightly back. ‘Important call.’
‘It’s really nice to meet you,’ Emma said, feeling somewhat in awe of this woman whom she’d heard so much about.
‘And you, and you.’ Diana seemed distracted. She had pulled out her mobile phone, and was scrolling through the display. ‘I have an email here, somewhere. Somewhere here… yes, here it is.’ She placed the phone on the desk without any explanation And finally looked at Emma properly. ‘Yes, really nice to meet you, Emma.’
Emma smiled back, not quite knowing what to say next. ‘I was surprised when you got in touch.’
‘Good, good. I like to surprise people. Tell me, Emma, what’s the most captivating plot you’ve been involved in so far?’ She replaced her glasses and sat back.
‘Well, erm…’ This was an unexpected first question. Emma tried to think through some of the many plots that had occurred during her time on the soap opera Up My Street. Okay, they were often outlandish, but they were nearly always captivating. Some people viewed soaps as a low form of entertainment, but in fact they were one of the highest forms, knowing just how to draw people in and keep their attention on what happened next – which was why millions of viewers tuned in to every episode. ‘Maybe the episode with the fire in the nightclub,’ she said. That had been one of the most expensive episodes in the show’s history, and Emma had played a starring role. She was very proud of that one.
‘Wrong!’ Diana said. ‘Absolutely, totally wrong.’
Emma flushed red. ‘I don‘t under...’.
‘Your real life,’ Diana said, ‘that’s the most captivating plot.’
‘But… I thought you meant…’
‘Fiction?’ she smiled. ‘Fact, fiction, it’s all the same to me.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
Diana picked up the mobile phone. ‘Have you heard of Firework Films?’
Emma shook her head.
‘They’re a relatively new production company. Ambitious, boundary-pushers – the kind of people I like to work with. You might have seen some of their work – The Shortest Girl on Earth, Married to my Pet, Life of a Junkie, Skidrow Rehab.’
Warning bells sounded. Emma had certainly heard of these programmes; every one of them had made headlines because of their controversial topics and the voyeuristic (some argued, exploitative) approach taken by the makers. To Emma, it was reality TV at its very worst.
‘I’ve heard of them, yes.’
‘Good. Well, they have an offer for you. An offer I’m sure you’ll agree represents a fantastic opportunity. They would like to produce a dramatization of what happened to you, Emma. The programme would feature actors playing the parts of you, your family, and others. But they would also want to feature cut-away mini-interviews with the real players in the plot. As such, it would be a complementary mix of approaches, giving the viewer a real insight into what happened. I think it would be dynamite.’
‘No,’ Emma said. ‘I’m not interested.’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. So this is why the great Diana Saunders had called her in – because she thought there was a done deal she could persuade Emma to take.
Diana looked unmoved, as if she hadn’t even computed Emma’s response. ‘And depending on the ratings, they would then like to make another show, focussing on your return to acting. They would accompany you on your journey as you seek to make it back to the top.’
Emma nearly laughed with disbelief, but actually she felt incredibly angry. Her life and the lives of her friends and family were being touted as cheap, throwaway entertainment. All that pain and anguish, the deaths, the fear – that was to be served up to satisfy viewers? No way would she ever be a part of it. ‘What would you say if I turned this down? Would you still be interested in taking me on as a client?’
Diana’s hesitation confirmed what Emma already thought. ‘I think you’d be crazy to turn down this opportunity.’
Emma stood up. ‘I think I’d better go.’
Now Diana did look shocked. Clearly she wasn’t used to rejection. ‘Do you really think you’ve got a future in acting?’
Her sudden, abrasive tone stopped Emma dead.
Diana smiled cruelly. ‘You turned down the biggest opportunity in your life a few weeks ago. And by pulling out you caused a lot of problems for the people making that film. Everyone in the business knows now that you can’t rely on Emma Holden. She may just walk away, decide that she doesn’t want to do it anymore, and to hell with the consequences. Do you really think there will be people queuing up to employ you?’
‘If it means not having to w
ork with people like you, then I really don’t care,’ Emma replied, exiting the office.
Emma leant back on the wall of the neighbouring building, trying to control her breathing. That had been one of the worst experiences of her career. But at least she had stood up to that woman, and it felt good. She called Lizzy, who arrived within minutes. Just as Emma was in the middle of explaining the situation, her mobile rang.
‘Emma, it’s David Sherborn.’
‘Oh, hi, are you still okay for meeting later?’
‘Sure am. In fact, we can meet earlier if you like.’
‘Fine by me, I’m out with Lizzy at the moment, we’re…’
‘In a side street just off Piccadilly Circus.’
Emma looked around. She spotted him off towards their left, next to a post box. He held up a hand. ‘Now, then?’
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something really interesting to show you.’
PART THREE
11
‘Let me get those,’ David said, as they ordered their coffees. Emma and Lizzy took their drinks to a free table in the quiet coffee shop and David joined them shortly afterwards, pulling a brown envelope from his jacket pocket.
‘I’ve got to admit, I was obviously really hesitant about doing this when you first asked me,’ he began. ‘But to be honest, I’ve really enjoyed the past few days. Maybe I should look to change career, and go into surveillance full time.’
Emma and Lizzy smiled politely, but wanted to find out what he knew. Having convinced herself that he wouldn’t come up with anything, Emma’s hopes had now risen dramatically.
He seemed to read their impatience, and pulled out a photograph from the envelope, laying it on the table. He placed a finger on the image. ‘This guy I spotted pretty much straight away. Monday, in fact, shortly after I started to follow you – he was pretty obvious.’
Emma was disappointed. ‘Adrian Spencer.’
David was surprised. ‘You know him?’
‘He’s a reporter for the Daily Post,’ Lizzy explained. ‘He’s been pestering us for quotes about what happened to us for the past few weeks.’
‘Right. Well, this guy was definitely following you for quite some time on Monday. I also saw him taking photographs, and making notes.’
Photographs? Emma wanted to speak to Adrian Spencer about that. What was he intending to do with them – use them with his feature story? That just wasn’t on. ‘Was he following me in Windsor yesterday?’
‘No,’ David Sherborn replied. ‘I didn’t see him at all yesterday.’
‘So you were in Windsor?’
He smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I had a lovely time. The security services are probably investigating me as I speak, given that I was waiting outside the castle for two hours with a telescopic lens while you were on your guided tour.’
‘I guess you had a quiet day then,’ Lizzy said, ‘if Adrian Spencer wasn’t around.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’
Emma was intrigued. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I didn’t see Adrian Spencer, but I did spot this guy.’ He placed a second photograph over the first. ‘I noticed him first of all at Waterloo Station. He was hanging back, but I spotted him. He caught the same train as you. Do you recognise him?’
Emma and Lizzy scrutinised the image. The man, probably in his mid-twenties, was quite good-looking, tallish, sandy brown hair. ‘No,’ they said in unison.
David brought out a third photograph. ‘He also followed you into the castle, and around the town. He ate in the same restaurant as you.’
Emma shuddered at the thought.
‘He then tailed you down to Eton College, but didn’t go in. That’s when he stopped following you. He caught the next train back to Waterloo.’
Emma was surprised. ‘You followed him to London?’
‘I know you said I only had to follow you, but I guess I got caught up in it all, so I thought I might as well see where he was going.’
Lizzy leant forward. ‘So where did he go?’
David Sherborn smiled. ‘That’s where it gets really interesting.’ He brought out a final photograph.
Emma couldn’t believe it. ‘Guy Roberts? He went to meet with Guy Roberts?’ The casting director who had caused so much trouble for them – how was he involved in all of this?
David nodded. ‘The mystery man went straight around to his house.’
***
‘So are we going to see him?’ Lizzy said, as David Sherborn left the café.
‘Sorry?’ Emma was lost in thought.
What did all this have to do with Guy Roberts?
‘Guy Roberts,’ Lizzy said. ‘I vote we go straight around to his house, and have it out with him.’
‘I’m not sure. I think we need to think about this, before rushing in making accusations.’
Lizzy looked unconvinced, and disappointed. ‘So, ’ she said, after a few moments of silence, ‘if we aren’t going to do that, then what should we do?’
‘First of all, I want to speak with Adrian Spencer’s bosses.’
Lizzy sparked to life. ‘The Daily Post?’
Emma nodded. ‘They’ve got to be told what he’s doing. It’s not right, following us around like that, taking photographs. If we get him off our backs, it will be one less thing to worry about.’
‘They might know about what he’s doing. They might have sanctioned it.’
‘Maybe. But whatever the case, I want to let them know that we’re not putting up with it any longer.’
***
The Daily Post headquarters was based in Stratford, East London. Emma and Lizzy took the Docklands Light Railway, which glided out of the city, past the towering, shimmering structures of Canary Wharf, and into London’s outskirts. Once a derelict, industrial wasteland, Stratford had in recent years been transformed by a massive regeneration programme in advance of the London Olympics.
As they were en route, both Will and Dan called to see how they were. Emma updated them about the revelations from David Sherborn. Dan made her promise they wouldn’t do anything that day regarding Guy Roberts; like Emma herself, he felt it was too risky to tackle Guy without careful thought. Plus, Dan wanted to be there. He wasn’t particularly happy about them taking issue with Adrian Spencer’s employers, although Emma persuaded him that they weren’t going to do anything risky – just go there and report what he had been doing.
‘So how are we going to play this?’ Lizzy said, as they neared the offices. ‘What if they call Adrian Spencer downstairs? He’ll probably be angry, don’t you think?’
‘I hadn’t thought that far,’ Emma admitted. ‘Maybe we should have just called the office to report it.’
‘Nah, it’ll be okay. It’s better to get there in person. At least we can make sure our complaint gets heard.’
They reached the building, a rather unimpressive concrete structure straight from the 1970s.
They waited for the receptionist to complete a telephone conversation. ‘Can I help you?’ she said, finally looking up at them.
‘We’re here to make a complaint,’ Emma began. ‘About one of your reporters – he’s been bothering me and my friends for the past few weeks, and we’ve just found out he’s also been taking photographs.’
‘Okay.’ The woman didn’t look surprised. She picked up the telephone again. ‘Just one moment, please, I’ll see if Dominic is here.’
‘Dominic?’
‘Our public relations manager. Oh, hello, Dominic? It’s Elizabeth here on reception. I was wondering if you’re free now. We’ve got two ladies down here who would like to make a complaint against one of our reporters… no, I didn’t ask that… okay, great, thanks.’ She replaced the handset and smiled. ‘If you could just wait over there, Dominic will be with you shortly.’ She gestured at the row of comfy chairs in the corner.
‘Public relations manager,’ Lizzy whispered, raising a mischievous eyebrow as they sat down.
Emma was glad that they
hadn’t yet said whom they were complaining about; at least Adrian wouldn’t be tipped off. She didn’t really want to come face to face with him at this point.
A couple of minutes later a man appeared. He was in his early thirties, very smartly dressed in a dark suit and an open-collar pastel-blue shirt. He held out a hand. ‘Hi, I’m Dominic Carter, public relations manager for the Daily Post. I hear you’ve got a complaint?’
Emma nodded. ‘It’s about…’
He held up a hand. ‘If you don’t mind, we can continue in the side office. It’s best to maintain some privacy with these things, I find.’
They followed him into the nearby office and took a seat.
‘Would you like a drink?
‘We’re okay,’ Emma replied, not wanting to prolong the meeting any more than they had to.
‘So how can I help you?’
Emma glanced at Lizzy for support, then back at Dominic. Suddenly this all seemed very serious, and part of her now regretted taking this step. Even though Adrian Spencer had been very troublesome, and had refused to take no for an answer, she didn’t want him to lose his job over this. And by doing what they were doing, it was possible that he could be fired – especially with all the recent controversy about standards in journalism, and the need to demonstrate to the public that the press worked to an ethical code. Once they had made their complaint and left the building, who knew what might happen to Adrian. But still, something did need to be done; hopefully Adrian’s superiors would just warn him about his behaviour and that would be the end of it. ‘One of your journalists has been bothering us,’ she said.
‘Pestering us,’ Lizzy emphasised. ‘For weeks. Refusing to leave us alone when we said we didn’t want to talk to him.’ She looked at Emma by way of an apology for her impromptu interjection.
Emma Holden Mystery 03-The One You Fear Page 7