They ate in silence, the smell and taste of the food awakening her suppressed appetite. She stole glances at him across the counter, as if he were an attractive stranger she was on a date with and deciding whether to go home with him or not. Except she was home with him. Except he’d given her name to his KGB contact Boris so they could check up on her. Except she was mentally leafing through all the times she’d thought he was out on business when he might have been handing over military secrets. Except he was a good lover. Except he’d left his promising career at British Aerospace, citing his unwillingness to continue working to develop weapons. Except maybe that wasn’t the real reason.
‘God, I was hungry,’ he said, pushing his plate aside and pouring himself more coffee. Then it just came out of her:
‘I want you to leave,’ she said, sitting up straight. He put the coffee pot down while looking at her and she couldn’t bring herself to say anything more. She wanted to explain that she needed time to process all the things he had told her.
‘You need time to think,’ he said at last, to her relief. ‘I understand. You’ve had a shitty twenty-four hours, and all’ – he gesticulated – ‘this has come as a shock.’
She wished he’d just stop talking.
He got off the kitchen stool. ‘I’ll shower and get some things together. I have to go to the office.’
She wanted to ask him where he would stay, what he would do. She didn’t want to exhibit any concern because she might crumble had he expressed any emotion. He looked so … broken. She managed a nod and stopped him as he passed by, putting her hand on his forearm. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
He leant forward and kissed the top of her head and moved on. She was not going to cry.
FORTY-EIGHT
‘I’m dissolving the partnership,’ Julian said to Rami. They were sitting in the greasy spoon near Hadfish over mugs of powerful tea.
Rami was stirring sugar into his, looking into the swirling brew. ‘Why do the English have milk in their tea? I mean, where does it come from?’ Rami asked.
‘I think it was the Portuguese, or maybe the French,’ Julian said, indulging Rami, giving him time to assimilate what he was telling him. The stirring went on longer than necessary.
‘What about your guys, your coders?’ Rami asked.
‘They can see out the existing contracts if they want, then they’ll have to find new work. It won’t be difficult for them, even in this climate.’
Rami nodded. What Julian didn’t tell him was that he might use the best of them in whatever venture he might set up next, but then Rami was no doubt thinking exactly the same thing.
‘And Naomi?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’m sure between us we can find something for her.’
Rami nodded and looked over Julian’s shoulder as the door opened. ‘Here they come now, your lads. Maybe we should talk about something else rather than making people redundant.’
Julian looked round to see Nizar come in with two of his non-Hadfish mates, ones he’d seen in here before. Nizar nodded at him, ignoring Rami, he noticed, and they went over to the table furthest away from theirs. Julian turned back to Rami. ‘You understand why I’m doing this, don’t you?’
Rami grinned unpleasantly, for no reason Julian could decipher. He leaned forward and spoke in a hush. ‘Because of Sheila, I presume? Isn’t that why we’re here?’
‘Sheila?’
‘Yes. I assume you’ve had a heart-to-heart.’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘And she told you the truth. And now you feel the need to punish me.’
He wasn’t sure what Rami was talking about. Did he know about Sheila’s kidnapping? Cassie had been at the Onslow Square house – had she known Sheila was a prisoner there and told Rami? Had they been complicit in arranging it? He shook that thought from his head.
‘It’s not a matter of punishment, Rami, it’s a matter of trust. You lied to me about this fucking drone job. You kept Boris informed of my progress behind my back.’ He wanted to mention the missing money but he really didn’t have proof of that. Some emotion Julian couldn’t recognize distorted Rami’s face for a second.
‘So it’s not because I slept with Sheila, then?’
Julian felt his face burn and his hearing muffle, then gradually it returned and he could hear the clicking of laptops from the other side of the café, the hissing of the coffee machine behind the counter, a lorry going by outside. Rami’s face reappeared, his eyes looking for the hurt in Julian’s face. Julian tried to make connections between what he’d just heard and what Sheila’d said, where she’d been, when. When is what he wanted to ask Rami, but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that Rami was seeking, his expectancy obvious as he waited for Julian to demand details. Julian was determined not to ask for details. He didn’t want details.
‘No, that’s nothing to do with it. I didn’t know about that,’ he managed to say. Rami’s shoulders fell. He looked down at his tea.
‘It was just the once, a couple of years ago,’ he said, flattened.
Julian forced himself to say nothing, knowing Rami would fill the silence himself.
Rami looked up and to Julian’s surprise his eyes had welled up. ‘I loved her, you see. I still do.’ His voice was cracking. ‘But what you two had, have got, it just seems beyond my bloody capability. Do you understand? I think I just wanted a taste of it.’
Julian wanted to tell him that not everything was rosy in the garden of Julian and Sheila but he was happy not to disabuse Rami of his impression – he needed to feel superior at this point. Rami’s real intention may well have been to destroy what he couldn’t have, but then why wait until now to tell him? And this extraordinary business of pretending Cassie was his girlfriend – it didn’t seem possible that he didn’t even know that she was an escort. He wanted to ask him, to use it as a way of getting the upper hand, but tears were slowly running down Rami’s cheeks. Most likely he and Sheila were the result of a drunken night that had no real meaning to either of them and Rami was indulging in the post-event rationalization that intelligent people excel at when they don’t want to admit to being driven by their more primal urges. Julian passed him a napkin.
‘Not in front of the staff, Rami.’
Rami attempted a smile and dabbed at his face. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry I told you.’
Julian laughed despite himself. ‘Sorry that you told me, not that it happened.’
‘I mean I don’t want it to become an issue between you two. She regretted it straight away, I could see that, even though she’s too nice to say so. It was completely my doing, really. I seduced her, wore her down. You know what I’m like.’
‘You didn’t force her, presumably?’
‘Well, of course not, it—’
‘I think you’re claiming too much credit, despite your “seduction” tecniques. It’s not completely your doing, is it?’ Julian, oddly mindful of his own self-control and calm – which seemed to have settled on him since unburdening himself that night in Onslow Square – drew on it to make himself even calmer. ‘I’m sure she had good reason to respond to you.’ It occurred to Julian that Rami was perhaps trying to make him feel better by telling him it was all his doing, but Sheila was not a passive participant in anything. The point was he didn’t really care. It didn’t matter any more. Time to change the subject.
‘The circuit board, the UAV control unit, are they happy with it?’ Julian had dropped it off at Hadfish the morning he’d left home. He’d since taken a few days off and found somewhere to stay. Naomi had been at the office and tried to speak to him, but he’d avoided her.
‘Yes,’ Rami said, ‘they were quite impressed with your risk assessment. It went back to Israel. I’ve submitted a hefty invoice given … everything that happened.’
‘Good. I’d like to see the paperwork if you don’t mind, given the circumstances.’
Rami looked up. ‘We could capitalize on this, Julian. The work that comes thr
ough as a result—’
‘You don’t give up, do you?’
He smiled, shaking his head.
‘Since we’re no longer touting for new business,’ Julian said, matter-of-factly, ‘there’s not much point in you coming in to the office any more. Just email me a list of the outstanding contracts and deliverables. Once all the jobs are completed we’ll formalize the dissolution of the partnership.’
Rami looked like he was going to cry again but then stood up. ‘OK. I’ll sort it out today. You can reach me at home if there are any issues.’ Rami stuck out his hand and Julian, seeing no reason not to, took it.
Once Rami had gone, Julian sat and drank his now cold tea. He was wondering whether what he had just learnt put things between him and Sheila on a more equal footing, or whether it was a form of poetic justice inflicted on him. A karmic reckoning: one night’s infidelity for years of lying. He’d come off lightly in that case. Someone was standing beside him, clearing his throat: Nizar.
‘Sorry, I can see you’re deep in thought. Is everything all right?’
Julian nodded.
Nizar pointed to Rami’s empty chair. ‘May I?’
‘If this is a work thing, do you mind if we pick it up at the office? I’ll be in later.’
‘It has nothing to do with Hadfish,’ Nizar said. Julian forced a polite smile and pushed the chair out with his foot. Nizar sat down and moved Rami’s crockery to one side before placing his elbows on the table. ‘You remember you asked me what we were doing in here?’
Julian nodded.
‘You remember how I said we were trying to make the world a better place?’
‘Yes. I assumed you were working on a game or something.’
Nizar smiled, shook his head and pushed his hair from his face. ‘No, we’re trying to do something much more serious and we need your help.’
FORTY-NINE
At Hadfish, Naomi, looking more miserable than he’d ever seen her, came in to his office with an envelope, closing the door behind her. She stood before his desk like an errant schoolgirl who’d been summoned by the headmaster and was waiting to hear a lecture. Julian didn’t oblige, wanting her to speak first, but she just placed the envelope on his desk and folded her hands before her as if in prayer. The envelope had his name written on the front.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, guessing it was her resignation letter.
‘Money.’
‘Money?’
‘Three thousand pounds.’
Not understanding, he looked at her expectantly.
‘It’s the money that woman paid me to take my place here.’
‘You took money from her.’
‘I was in debt.’
‘Fucking hell, Naomi,’ he said, pushing himself out of his chair. It was the first time he’d sworn in front of her. ‘Why are you giving it to me?’
She shifted on her feet a bit, her fingers trying to work some unseen stuff off her hands. ‘I’m the one who took the money from the expense account. The London withdrawals, anyway. I saw that Rami had taken some out in Leeds and when he gave his card to me to top up the petty cash for the office …’
‘You were that desperate?’
‘I’ve racked up credit card bills,’ she said quickly.
He looked out of the window, realizing what she’d actually done. He turned to her. ‘The worst thing is that you tried to pin it on Rami.’
‘I know. I’m really, really sorry, Julian. I know I’ve been … horribly deceitful. I’m not excusing what I did. That money should cover most of what I took using his card. I used some of it to pay for the hotel, I didn’t feel that … It was like a godsend, that woman coming and offering me money. It seemed like the perfect way to repay it without anyone knowing.’
‘And what about the clinical depression – was that another deceit?’
She tightened her lips and looked at the desk. He thought about them in that hotel room, them lying on the bed, her in the crook of his arm, her hand on his chest, and felt shame that he’d tried to be a comfort to her. He couldn’t look at her so turned to look out at the arched roof of King’s Cross in the distance.
‘Are you going to call the police?’ he heard her say, struggling to keep her voice level.
It hadn’t occurred to him. ‘No,’ he said to the window, ‘you’ve returned the money. But you should look for another job as soon as possible. We’re winding Hadfish down. Ask Rami to do you a reference – you might have to email him as he won’t be in the office. And for God’s sake don’t mention this to him.’
He heard the buzz of the office rise and recede as she opened and closed his door. He turned to look out at the coders. He’d been seeing them one by one to explain the situation, telling them the recession had hit them hard. Nizar was intent on his screen. His proposal had sounded very interesting, full of potential. Very interesting indeed.
FIFTY
Three weeks had been a long time for Julian to reflect on what had happened to him and long enough, he believed, for Sheila to come to terms with it. He’d naively thought that when Sheila had asked him to leave in order to give herself time to think, she’d need three or four days max, so he’d gone to stay in a hotel nearby. Then, when it became apparent that she’d need longer, he’d rented a furnished studio flat, which, given the prices in their area, had meant moving south of the river, to Clapham. He gave her space, but it had slowly dawned on him that this was not how he’d envisaged his coming out as a former spy would be received. Yes, there’d be initial shock, but eventually, surely, a new blossoming of their relationship would begin. She would come to see how being free of his past had made him a more pleasant person to be around. But, since deciding it best not to push her and waiting for her to ask him to come home, which she hadn’t yet done, he realized that he was letting her slip away from him and that the longer they were apart the more normal it would become. So he decided to go round to the house to give her a firm ultimatum, to say, yes, he’d kept things from her, but it didn’t really change who he was, and that her knowing about it should be a good thing, assuming, of course, that she was happy with the new Julian, Julian the traitor and spy.
The truth was that he hadn’t really thought through what he was going to say when he rang the door bell (using the key unannounced was probably a step too far); he just knew that he had to see her, to let her see him before he became a distant memory. He’d given her twenty minutes’ notice, telling her he was on his way to pick up some things, and at first she’d been reluctant, saying she was busy with something, but then relented and became quite keen that he did come round.
‘I’ve got something to give you anyway,’ she’d said.
A woman, with a foreign look to her, answered the door and for a horrible moment he thought she was a compatriot of Salma and that things weren’t resolved. But she took his hand in a firm handshake and introduced herself as Gulnar. She seemed to know who he was and explained that Sheila was on the phone in the office. All these papers strewn over the dining-room table, Gulnar told him, related to the charity they’d set up. The room had essentially been turned into a launch centre for Standing Together, and this was what had kept Sheila from him. Indeed, she had kept this from him. He’d imagined, rather stupidly he now realized, that she would be sitting around moping about him, reflecting on his absence, when in fact she’d been incredibly busy and, according to Gulnar, ‘done six weeks’ work in just three’.
When Sheila appeared she was in one of his favourite summer dresses of hers, a sartorial contrast to Gulnar’s jeans and checked shirt, and instead of the half-formed heart-to-heart he’d planned to have, he ended up revamping their website, which they’d tried to do themselves but had gone about the wrong way. Gulnar eventually left, and Julian stood in the hall, not really wanting to leave, with Sheila standing in the kitchen doorframe, her arms behind behind her, an enigmatic smile on her face.
‘You’ve lost weight,’ she said, giving him an appraising look, a slig
ht, almost mocking smile on her face. She shifted her body under the dress and reminded him why he liked it. He was getting familiar vibes telling him to go over and remove it, just like old times. But he could have been misreading the signals, which were highly attuned to any perception of the promise of sex (he’d been thinking of her in that way a lot), and worried about the consequences of doing the wrong thing. She moved from the door and the moment passed.
‘I’ve started running,’ he said lamely.
She nodded her approval. ‘You said you had to pick some stuff up?’
‘Erm, yes, but I can’t remember what it was now. Didn’t you say you had something to give me?’
‘Maybe it was some of this.’ She pulled the thin straps off her shoulders and shrugged her dress to the ground before stepping out of it and walking upstairs, while he remained rooted to the spot, watching her ascend to the top of the landing, where she turned.
‘Are you coming or what?’
The next morning, drowsy and content, he asked her about Gulnar.
‘She’s great; she’s opened my eyes to a few things.’
‘Is she a lesbian?’
She laughed. ‘That’s not what I meant. Trust you to focus on that. Do you think we’ve done it, me and her?’ she teased, climbing on top of him. ‘Maybe you’d like her to join us.’ Five frenzied minutes later they lay on their bed, nuzzling and basking. He ran his finger over a familiar scar on her neck, the result of a childhood accident. It was small enough that you couldn’t see it if you didn’t know it was there.
‘I miss this,’ he said, stroking her damp belly. ‘I don’t just mean the sex, I mean you, your physical presence, our bed. You make me laugh.’
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