“Shall do.”
“Good girl. Keep the pressure on, then. If anything happens, or you get any sense that anyone’s watching, anything at all, I want to know about it.”
“Of course.”
“Oh, and what’s this nonsense about a homeless shelter?”
“Just that. It’s a front. Pretty sure of it.”
“Okay. Well, keep up the good work. It’s hugely appreciated.”
“Shall do. My pleasure. I’ll do whatever it takes, you know that.”
He terminated the call, turned left into Horse Guards Avenue and made a loop back to his office via Whitehall. There was some serious thinking to do. He was adept at dealing with pressure, but this time there was no room for even the smallest error. The rewards were there, but failure would be cataclysmic.
The time was getting closer, and the stakes were increasing with every tick of the clock.
* * *
I think I’m getting the hang of all this technology. Obviously, like most people, I mainly use the PC to play Minesweeper and Solitaire, but since Danny set us both up with CompuServe accounts I’ve been spending a bit of time online and - of course - discovering the joys of instant communication via email.
I was just re-reading his final message from yesterday when I heard the sound of his key in the door. Uniform indeed. I’ll have to keep an eye on that. Or alternatively borrow a uniform from someone.
“Anna?” he called out.
I stood to greet him when he came into the room, wheeling a suitcase disproportionately large for the length of his latest absence. It was good to see him, and, as usual, it’s any excuse for a hug.
“Good trip?” I asked, as he left my embrace in order to remove his jacket.
“I think so, but then the weirdest thing happened,” he said.
“Sounds intriguing. Cup of tea?” I didn’t really need to ask. I headed to the kitchen as I waited for him to reply.
“You’ll never guess who I bumped into last night.”
“Let me think. You were in Germany. The cast of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet, having a reunion?”
“I wish, but no. Weirder still.”
I started to fill the kettle.
“A clue then?”
“A mutual friend.”
“Really?” I tried to think. We didn’t have many mutual friends. Mine are all decent upstanding people from the world of fashion while Danny seems to spend increasing amounts of time with shady journalists. It was futile.
“No idea,” I said eventually. “Tell me.”
Danny had a curious expression. Part smirk, part shifty.
“Clare,” he said.
“What?”
“Clare,” he repeated.
“What?” I repeated also. “Dead Clare? Clare your former boss, last seen in the obituary column?”
“The very same.”
“And not, in fact, dead then, after all?”
“Very much not, it seems.”
“And neither, by even the loosest of definitions, any friend of mine.”
“No, but she was asking after you.”
And so, Danny told me all about it. The summary of his latest enquiries into Graham March, who’d been suspended by the police under investigation for corruption, but seemed to be spending the days since then straying ever further. Then Clare’s mysterious arrival. I wasn’t very happy about it. I used to have a sneaking respect for Clare, back in the day, but that was before I discovered her darker side, and got held up at gunpoint in the process. So now my opinion could best be summed up as “good riddance”. No, not happy at all.
“And then she just left?” That, I suppose, was something.
“Indeed. She gave me a hug and then disappeared into the night.”
I was even less happy about the hug.
“Danny, this is not good news,” I said.
“Well, it is. It means she’s alive, at least. And she said she’d help me.”
“And you trust her?”
“No, not really.”
“Not really? Danny, she’s evil.”
“Evil’s a bit strong.”
“It isn’t! She masterminded a fraud and then killed her colleagues, never mind the trouble she caused us. She even pointed a gun at you, Danny. A fucking great big gun. How much more evil do you want? If she’s offering to help you I’d be very, very careful.”
“I will. Anyway, I doubt I’ll see her again.”
“You doubt?”
“She’ll disappear again. You know what she’s like.”
“But you’d entertain it if she doesn’t? Jesus.”
“Oh, come on. I thought you’d be pleased.”
“What?”
I gave him a look somewhere between incredulity and contempt.
“Anyway, what was this secret night out you’ve arranged?”
“Oh, that. I’m not sure I’m in the mood now.”
“Don’t be like that.”
I couldn’t help it. Despite Clare’s disappearance I’d still not managed to move the relationship between me and Danny up a gear. And knowing his infatuation with the woman, it seemed even less likely if she was suddenly back on the scene.
“I’ll tell you over lunch,” I said, “assuming the invitation’s still open. And assuming I still want to accept it. I’m going for a lie down while you get unpacked.” I had some thinking to do.
* * *
An hour and a half later we were being shown to a table in Cafe Delancey, just off Camden High Street. My mood had marginally improved. Despite everything, it was lovely to be back together.
“Do you remember Colette?” I asked him, once the waiter had left us to look at the menus.
“Colette? The name rings a bell.”
“Colette Baca. She was a model back in the early days. Helped me put my portfolio together when I was setting up the studio.”
“Ah yes, I remember. Amazing cheekbones.”
I gave him a look.
“Yes. Anyway, I had a call yesterday. Her brother’s in a band and they asked if I’d be happy to do some pictures for them. It’s quiet at the moment so I said yes. Very happy to help.”
“That’s good.”
“They’re playing live tonight and we’ve been invited to go to see them, with a backstage pass, so we can go along after and meet them.”
“Excellent, sounds like fun. What sort of music?”
“Ah, well, here’s the thing. It’s just Steve the singer, that’s her brother, and two keyboard players. So, you’ll be able to talk synthesisers and samplers and relive the glory days of Flag Day.”
Danny looked embarrassed. He didn’t like talking about his youthful aspirations to be a pop star, and the band he’d played in at home in Sunderland, before moving to London to be a student. That said, I could tell he was interested.
“Where are they playing?”
“God knows. Somewhere in Covent Garden. I’ve got it all written down back at the flat.”
“Rock Garden?”
“That sounds like it. Anyway, are you up for it?”
“Definitely. Sounds good. What time?”
“Eight-ish I think. We can go for a drink first if you fancy it.”
“Perfect.” And then he gave me that look I find so adorable: crystal clear eyes beneath a floppy fringe. I had a moment of letting my imagination get the better of me but I still didn’t feel quite my usual self.
Maybe it was a premonition of the horror that was about to unfold.
5
I’M not one to hold a grudge, normally. Actually, scratch that, maybe I am. I’ve never pretended to be perfect. And I certainly had a lingering resentment as far as Danny’s old boss was concerned.
Now she’d annoyed me again, simply by not being as dead as she’d pretended, even though it was far from a surprise. Worse, though, I’d really been looking forward to a night out with Danny. I thought it would be fun and exciting, and a happy memory for the two of us. But the spectre of her reappearan
ce hovered between us like a wasp at a summer picnic, and it was just so frustrating. I wanted the evening to be perfect. I really don’t know why I bother sometimes. Maybe I shouldn’t.
Still, it was brave face time. I didn’t know much about the band apart from their name - Lumière Rouge - and obviously the identity of the singer. I knew there were two keyboard players, but had never heard any of their music. Colette described it as a kind of electro-goth crossover, which sounded vaguely terrifying. That said, I’d had a goth phase in my youth, albeit mainly with fishnets and eyeshadow. My big, backcombed ‘80s hair rather confused the issue. I’m a natural brunette and never really felt the urge to go black, or indeed purple, which seemed de rigueur at the time.
I think Danny was quite shocked by my appearance when we left the flat. Normally I try to make an effort, but it just wasn’t happening, so I went for a simple uniform of jeans, Dr Martens boots and a black shirt, albeit with darker lipstick than normal. In fairness, he was in much the same (sans lipstick), although the black leather Belstaff jacket was a nice touch. He’d pissed me off, but I still couldn’t stop myself from fancying him, as irritating as that was given his recent behaviour.
We took the tube to Covent Garden, despite my misgivings about that particular form of transport. It may be a nascent claustrophobia and the fear of being stuck in a tunnel with all manner of strangers, but most likely it’s just the thought of relinquishing control to someone who grew up wanting to be a train driver, but now settles for burrowing through subterranean London like some sort of high-speed, uniformed mole.
Once back in the open air we sailed to the front of the Rock Garden queue by simple virtue of being on the guest list. That cheered me up a touch, especially as the rain was pelting down. Inside, I looked for Colette but couldn’t see her among the crush. Danny did his best to lighten the mood by providing a succession of drinks, bless him. They started to have the desired effect. And by the time Lumière Rouge took to the stage I was in the mood for dancing.
It didn’t last long.
The first shock was the band itself. Maybe it’s latent prejudice, but I’d imagined them all to be young men, dressed in black, looking moody and magnificent. But the two keyboard players were girls, and they both looked amazing. One had flowing auburn hair, the other a shorter blonde cut. Both were in theatrical, monochromatic outfits that they’d clearly worked hard to prepare. That, in itself, should have perked me up because it would give me a lot to work with, photographically, but it was soon evident the men in the audience were fixated - Danny included. And stupidly I’d arranged for him to meet them afterwards. What is the point?
I remember being the centre of attention when I was a student, but now - as a supposed follower of fashion - I felt immediately and hopelessly underdressed.
The second shock was that they were actually bloody good, but the area in front of the stage became a heaving mass of bodies and I’m just too small for that kind of shenanigans. So, I moved back, towards the bar. Danny followed me.
“Are you okay?” he asked in the pause after the second song. I nodded.
“Are you sure?” he asked again. I just shrugged. But then the band started playing again, thumping out a chest-pounding drum track before the synthesisers cut in. I could feel Danny looking at me. He put his arm around me, but I didn’t respond with my usual enthusiasm. I was beginning to think it was time to put my life in order. And that maybe I should have taken Ben from Harpers up on his offer while I had the chance.
Music, though, has a curious power to uplift, and as it continued I was genuinely impressed. I didn’t know any of the songs but it really didn’t matter. As they left the stage amid raucous calls for more, Danny tried again.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“Truthfully?” I asked. “They were amazing. What about you?”
“Fantastic,” he said. But I didn’t catch the rest of the sentence because a huge cheer announced the re-emergence of the band for the start of their encore.
When it was all over, and the crowd began to disperse, we moved to the front of the stage and I tried to attract the attention of one of the roadies, with minimal success. Thankfully I caught a glimpse of Colette at the side of the stage and waved. She waved back and a moment later she was heading our way.
“What did you think?” she asked, once the obligatory hugs were dealt with.
“Really genuinely impressed,” I said, with Danny nodding beside me.
“Come on, I’ll take you through and introduce you.” She led the way, past a security man who looked like he could have crushed me by simply curling a finger.
Backstage was busy with various hangers-on drinking cans of beer and smoking. Steve was on a sofa looking particularly hot in more ways than one, his baggy white shirt drenched with sweat. Colette beckoned and he stood up to greet us. She did the introductions, telling him how impressed we’d been.
“So, you’re the photographer?” he asked in a slightly croaky voice. “I’ve heard exceptional things.”
“I try,” I said, with a smile, “but good models help.” I gave Colette a squeeze. Her own career had gone from strength to strength since we’d worked together all those years ago.
Colette looked at her watch.
“Sorry to leave the party early, but I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’ve been offered a lift. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
I nodded and we did the hug thing again. She left us with Steve. There was a momentary awkward pause, but then he filled it by offering to introduce us to the keyboard players. Obviously, I was hoping they’d be tongue-deep with their respective boyfriends, so that Danny got the off-limits message, but instead they were just together in an adjacent dressing room. Both had changed out of their stage attire and looked, frankly, a little bit spaced out.
“Holly, Leah, meet Anna, our new photographer,” said Steve. “And, er...”
“Danny,” said Danny. “I’m Anna’s friend.”
The girls shook hands but neither seemed particularly friendly, much to my relief. And yet stupidly I still managed to cause myself unnecessary trauma.
“He’s a keyboard player too,” I said, and immediately regretted it. Danny looked a bit embarrassed.
“Ah, we’ll leave them to talk synthesisers,” Steve continued. “I’ve got a few ideas for the shoot to run past you. Can I get you a drink?”
“More the merrier,” I said. And then hastily added “Ideas” in case he thought I was some sort of alcoholic. But then I accepted a drink too, and next thing I knew I was being passed a cold can of Red Stripe lager. It’s not my usual but I’m not one to complain when on the receiving end of hospitality.
“Your voice sounds tired,” I said, raising the can.
“It is a bit. It was hard work out there.”
“I know. I saw. It seemed to go down well, though.”
“It did, thankfully. There were A&R people out there somewhere, so hopefully they were impressed, but it’s a lottery really.”
“How’s it all going?”
He paused for a moment. It looked as if he was unsure how to answer.
“It’s going okay. It’s just hard keeping the momentum, you know? Keeping everyone happy.”
“The audience?”
He frowned. He seemed on edge, as though something was bothering him, but it could have just been the comedown from the adrenaline-rush of being on stage.
“Well, them, yes, but band members too.” His eyes flicked to the girls. One - Holly I decided (my memory is appalling and I get easily confused after mixing my drinks) - was sitting back down, seemingly in a world of her own. I say sitting but it was more of a sprawl. She seemed completely out of it. Leah, I assume, by process of elimination, tried nudging her but just got a couple of fingers in return. Holly’s eyes remained firmly closed. Leah was talking to Danny, but even she seemed quite keen to get away. I heard words like “Jupiter 8”, “Emulator” and “Prophet VS” but she kept looking past him and af
ter a few minutes she came over to whisper something to Steve, and then disappeared. Up close she didn’t seem anywhere near as glamorous. Her skin betrayed what I suspected was a far-from-healthy lifestyle. Danny came back to join us. There was definitely an undercurrent of something, but I wasn’t quite sure what.
“So, the pictures?” I said once we’d watched this play out.
“Yes, sorry. Look, are you still on for tomorrow? Can we discuss it then? I’m going to have to shoot off and sort a few things.”
“Yes, of course. Is everything all right?”
He nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.
“Yeah, just the usual,” he said. “I’d better dash. Great to meet you though. Looking forward to tomorrow.”
We shook hands and then he left in the same direction as Leah. Holly remained on the sofa, largely motionless.
“Well, then,” I said to Danny, in the absence of anything more constructive. I shrugged.
“Should we get going?” he asked.
I nodded. I called out goodbye to Holly but didn’t get a response. Maybe she was just asleep. I don’t know. Danny linked arms and we headed outside to hail a taxi. I wasn’t sure what to make of it all.
* * *
“Mikołaj you old rascal, I don’t mind if I do.”
From behind his desk, the man gave a signal, and a moment later two glasses appeared in front of Graham March, followed closely by a bottle of Talisker single malt. A generous measure was poured in each.
“Thank you, Tomasz,” said Mikołaj in heavily accented English. “You can leave us now.”
As Tomasz turned, March couldn’t fail to see the shoulder holster appear from under his jacket. Or the gun it contained.
“A toast, Mr March,” Mikołaj said once they were alone. “To new arrivals.”
March swallowed. It wasn’t his usual brand but it was good, tarnished only by the overriding taste of menace in every drop.
6
Sunday, April 3rd, 1994
Out Of The Red Page 3