Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake

by Helen MacArthur

  ‘Yes,’ said Minnie, although she didn’t sound entirely convincing.

  ‘Don’t pretend you care,’ Greene said disappointed.

  ‘I would have apologised and done everything to help your company continue with the natural gas deal,’ replied Minnie evenly.

  ‘But would you have caught a flight to San Francisco and pursued me with such absolute determination?’ Greene persisted.

  ‘You’re asking the wrong person,’ said Minnie.

  Greene’s eyes narrowed. His expression said, ‘I’m not in the mood to play games’.

  ‘I mean,’ said Minnie, choosing her words carefully, ‘the person I am now is different to the one you met in London. I’m less afraid of, well, everything.’

  ‘Answer the question,’ demanded Greene.

  ‘You want to hear me – the old Minnie – confess that I should have hidden in London and written you off as a lost cause, another one of my great mistakes. You want me to tell you that you’re not worth the effort.’ Minnie shrugged. ‘I won’t do it. I can’t. That Minnie doesn’t exist anymore. She’s gone.’

  ‘What brought about this great change?’ Greene asked mockingly.

  Minnie closed her eyes, desolate, and pictured James George in bed with someone else. ‘I know more now than I did back then.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I have nothing to lose.’

  ‘I had everything to lose,’ whispered Greene with furious precision. ‘Everything.’ He looked alone and haunted as though he were watching his own shadow desert him.

  Minnie felt helpless. ‘You need your family around you,’ she urged. ‘People you can trust.’

  Greene looked at her, a steeliness behind the bloodshot stare. ‘Great idea. Bring me the Ouija board and we’ll start a seance.’

  Minnie looked startled.

  Greene threw his arms in the air and shouted maniacally. ‘Let’s contact the dead! But, wait, I’m not sure we’ll get much sense out of my mother.’ He laughed hysterically, reaching out for his glass to take another huge gulp. He spoke fiercely, ‘Did you know that she drank herself to death? I was just a kid at the time – and obviously not a good enough son to make her want to hang around.’

  Then the alcohol caught in his throat and he succumbed to a violent coughing fit while Minnie looked down at her shoes, mortified. There was an awful silence except for the sound of the crystal ringing out, clattering against Greene’s teeth as he repeatedly mistimed his drink.

  Miraculously the glass didn’t smash but Minnie could see that the strong, handsome man opposite her was breaking into pieces.

  ‘Ah, the truth,’ Greene spluttered in between coughs. ‘I’m supposed to come clean to the world but you’re allowed to keep secrets?’

  The alcohol was really taking hold of Greene now, his words were dragging and his movements were taking on an exaggerated concentration. Minnie stared at him as he struggled off the sofa and staggered over to his desk. He practically fell onto the computer’s key board as he jabbed his finger around looking for the right command button.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Minnie losing patience. She wanted to leave now.

  Greene hit the return button and Levchin’s voice filled the room.

  20

  The only easy day was yesterday

  Minnie was dumbfounded. She had relived the terror she experienced on the bus a thousand times in her head but she never thought she would have to listen to his words again, not out loud like this.

  Levchin’s threatening voice boomed out from the speakers on the desk. ‘You are “freak radicals” – individuals who cause untold damage when allowed to get out of control.’

  Minnie buried her head in her hands. ‘Stop,’ she gasped. ‘Make it stop.’ She was back on Bachmann’s campaign bus and could practically feel Levchin’s hands closing over her throat.

  ‘I have zero tolerance for stupid people,’ shouted Levchin’s voice.

  ‘STOP!’ screamed Minnie. ‘TURN IT OFF!’

  Greene cut the audio but Minnie could still hear her own screams. She clamped her hands over her ears and rocked back and forth. Her reaction had an immediate effect on Greene. He seemed to sober up fast, aware of the distress he had caused.

  ‘Oh, Miranda, I’m so sorry. I really wasn’t thinking.’ He sounded genuinely appalled.

  Minnie raised her head. Greene was kneeling beside her chair.

  ‘I don’t understand what’s going on,’ whispered Minnie.

  ‘Someone had bugged Bachmann’s bus. Covert listening device – common procedure in politics,’ explained Greene.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I didn’t. I guessed. My team located the transmitter after you’d gone.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I saw Levchin leaving the bus. I found you on the floor. You didn’t want to talk about it but I wanted to find out the truth. You should have told me. He can’t be allowed to get away with something like this.’

  ‘I can’t talk about it.’

  ‘I know the feeling.’

  Minnie slammed her hands down on the arms of the leather chair. This made a surprisingly loud smacking sound. She had never properly lost her temper in her life and it took her as much by surprise as it did Greene.

  ‘You’ve made your point,’ she shouted. ‘Well done. But it doesn’t change the fact that you still have Parkinson’s.’

  Greene quickly stood up and backed off.

  Minnie started pacing the room furiously. ‘Turn the audio back on. I don’t care now. I’m not walking out. I’m going to finish writing this algorithm. You’re going to sober up. Do you understand?’

  ‘I think you should leave,’ said Greene.

  ‘I’m not walking out,’ screamed Minnie. ‘I’m finishing this algorithm and you’re going to use it. You are going to finish this deal.’

  Greene sat down heavily on the sofa. ‘Stop it, Miranda. Go back to your motel.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to stop,’ said Minnie defiantly. ‘You’ll have to throw me out kicking and screaming because I’m not going to walk out that door until it’s time to go.’

  Greene stared at her, astonished. Minnie struggled to control her breathing.

  He went to pour himself another drink. Minnie marched over to him and snatched the glass. ‘You’ve had enough. You need to sober up. Now!’

  ‘I want a drink,’ roared Greene.

  Minnie didn’t flinch. ‘You can’t blame someone else for your mistakes – trust me on that one. Neither can you pretend that someone else’s mistakes are your own.’

  Greene stared at Minnie but she refused to back down. ‘Drink as much as you like but you’ll still have Parkinson’s when you sober up.’

  ‘Leave. Right. Now.’

  ‘No.’

  The Dragonet stepped forward. Minnie spun around to face him and pointed at his dogtags. ‘Tell him,’ she shouted. She reached out and grabbed the tags. ‘Read out the message,’ she instructed, shaking the chain under the man’s nose. ‘Read out your motto, not the other one.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘The message,’ shouted Minnie. Her voice cracked, hoarsely, still suffering the effects of Levchin’s manic grip. She was just about to read it herself when the Dragonet spoke. ‘The only easy day was yesterday, sir!’ he barked, staring straight ahead.

  Minnie turned to Greene. ‘The only easy day was yesterday. Did you hear what he said?’

  Greene stared stonily at her. ‘I’m not deaf. It’s the motto of the USA Navy SEALs. We all know that. Everyone in my security team is an ex-SEAL.’

  ‘Good,’ said Minnie, lowering her voice. ‘Then you’ll also know that your team has gone through the most physically and mentally demanding military training in existence.’

  ‘I do know that,’ came the icy reply.

  ‘It’s not going to get easier,’ said Minnie, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘It’s going to get harder. It’s time to fight back. Your life is goi
ng to become physically and mentally demanding.’

  Greene’s face tightened but he didn’t contradict Minnie. Or ask her to leave.

  Minnie moved closer to him. ‘You can hire the best security in the world. Men who are trained in combat, who have gone to parachute school, who can use any number of weapons. You can surround yourself by warriors who are paid to protect you but this doesn’t mean you’re not going to get hurt. You need to protect yourself.’

  ‘What do you suggest, Miranda? I’m guessing you didn’t have martial arts in mind.’

  His careless tone infuriated Minnie. ‘Fight back,’ she shouted in his face. ‘You can never stop fighting this. Do you hear me?’ At this point, two more Dragonets burst through the door.

  Minnie was unmoved. ‘I don’t care if I get Tasered or arrested or, hell, even throttled at the hands of some insane doctor who thinks it is okay to treat people like a pair of disposable surgical gloves, I’m not the one who is scared any more. I’m going to tell you what you need to hear.’ Her voice cracked. ‘You’re going to get up each day, even when it’s physically and mentally draining. You’re going to take the medication and you are going to control this disease, not the other way round.’

  There was a stunned silence as the Dragonets looked to Greene for instruction.

  Greene didn’t speak, so Minnie had the last word. ‘I’ll leave now,’ she said, composure restored. ‘I haven’t finished writing out this algorithm.’ She handed the piece of paper over to him. ‘Bring this to my motel later or whenever and I’ll talk you through it. You have until tomorrow night. I’ve booked a flight back to London.’

  21

  Goodbye, Jackson

  Bachmann’s driver picked Minnie up at Greene’s house and drove her back to the motel. Bachmann was straight on the phone to find out how it had gone. Minnie had to break the news – Greene was not good. Bachmann brazenly suggested that Minnie might like to turn around and go back to Greene’s house and have another go. This time Minnie made sure Bachmann fully grasped the meaning of the word ‘no’. Furthermore, no means of powerful persuasion was going to make Minnie change her mind. She emphatically told Bachmann: No. Never. Ever. What needed to be said had been said.

  What’s more, Minnie was bone-achingly tired. She had been up half the night and her perception of time was skewed. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had sat underneath the Golden Gate Bridge talking to Bob Dotti and yet it wasn’t even 10 in the morning.

  She went to the diner and stared at her phone while she ate her breakfast. She was downhearted that there was still no contact from James George. There was nothing from Greene either. On the upside, Angie had sent her a delighted Skype message earlier; ecstatic that Minnie was coming home and over the moon that Minnie had delivered a heartfelt speech instead of a blackmailed one. Optimistic Angie was not going to let someone like Levchin get the better of her. Minnie hadn’t breathed a word about what Levchin had done to her on the campaign bus. She almost felt responsible; that she had riled him and deliberately unleashed his rage. Minnie was still concerned that Greene would follow through on the threat to take down Angie’s and James George’s businesses. She suspected, though, that if Greene couldn’t get his head round his own business it was unlikely that he would concern himself with others.

  She checked to make sure her phone was getting a signal. She fiddled about with the volume to make sure she would definitely hear a message coming through in a noisy diner. She looked out of the window onto the busy street, cradling her cup of tea under her chin. It was still only 10:15am and it was shaping up to be the longest day on record.

  Then the phone rang; its piercing tone, now set at maximum volume scared the living daylights out of Minnie and other diners around her. She jumped in her seat tipping lukewarm tea down her front, scattering toast, but she managed to grab the phone before the caller hung up. It was Jackson. He wanted to see her before she returned to London. Sid Zane had already left town but had emailed Minnie to reschedule their dinner on home turf.

  Jackson was calling to let her know that he couldn’t get away from training until later but he promised to come to the diner around 7pm – the last supper, he joked. He’d initially tried to persuade Minnie to hang around for another week but she gently reminded him that she had a husband-to-be and a wedding to plan.

  Dinner plans with Jackson improved Minnie’s mood. He seemed to finally understand that she needed a wingman more than a replacement let’s-get-married man.

  Minnie returned to the motel to pack. She positioned her mobile right next to her suitcase so she could grab it the minute another call came through. So far, though, no one else had got in touch. Her earlier outburst with Greene had obviously had the opposite effect. He had gone to ground instead of seizing the chance to reclaim his reputation as stellar businessman.

  She called motel reception a couple of times to check there were no messages. She looked around for notes pushed under her door. Minnie called her voicemail to be told: you have no new messages. Eventually, Minnie lay down on her bed and dozed on and off throughout the afternoon. The later it got, the more she realised Greene wasn’t going to call. She showered and dressed. It was almost seven and Jackson would be at the diner soon. No doubt ravenous.

  Jackson, however, appeared to be even more hungry than usual because he knocked on Minnie’s motel room door. He must have decided that waiting around in the diner was a waste of good eating time and had come to chase Minnie to the table in person.

  ‘Just a minute,’ she shouted, swooshing around the room in chiffon, looking for keys, purse and phone. ‘Almost there… hold on… yep… ready!’

  She hauled open the door breathless and flustered and… was totally amazed to see Greene, not Jackson, standing there.

  ‘Hello, Miranda,’ he said.

  Greene had cleaned up astonishingly well, not that this greatly surprised Minnie. Well, she was a bit surprised because she had left him in such a drunken, unreachable state. Now he stood before her, elegantly suited and designer booted, shaven and expensively scented in his signature, citrusy smell.

  He held up the paper marked with Minnie’s numbers and scribbles. ‘Unfinished business.’

  Minnie smiled. ‘Follow me.’

  Wilson, JF, Allergic To Aspirin, was waiting outside on the street and accompanied them over the road to the diner. Minnie also spotted two black Mercedes Kompressors parked further up from the motel, the Greene armored entourage forever near.

  ‘There are no chandeliers,’ Minnie forewarned Greene. ‘The lighting’s harsh but the food is good.’ She hastily added, ‘Okay, so we’re not talking “fine-dining” good but the staff and chef wear those blue plasters that show up easily should one fall into your food. I like to think that at least one good hygiene procedure in a restaurant is better than none.’ Minnie knew she was babbling. The less Greene said the more she felt she needed to fill the gaps.

  Greene nodded. His expression was serious but the robotic steeliness had gone. He seemed focused and surprisingly unconcerned about appearing in public since the scandal on the night of The Savoy, not that anyone was paying attention. Greene had obviously long-since mastered the art of blending in – an anonymous man whereas his glamorous fiancée, Parker, had a spotlight permanently trained on her head.

  Greene refused food and ordered black coffee instead. Minnie sensed that, ideally, he would order an ‘algorithm to go’ so he could retreat once more into his private world, but she had to finish writing it out. He had no choice but to wait in a diner surrounded by hungry people while Minnie finished what she had started earlier in the day. She was exact and precise while she worked, offering succinct explanations when needed. Greene was a good listener. She talked him through the formula that would facilitate an easier transition in the transportation of natural gas. He had no trouble following her calculations.

  He asked detailed questions. Minnie answered without missing a beat.

  ‘You’ll receive three se
parate calculations by email. It would be unwise to detail the complete algorithm on paper right now – just a precaution. And it would take me too long to write it out longhand. But can you see what I’ve done?’

  Greene nodded and frowned. ‘This is incredible. We’ve been looking in the wrong place all this time?’

  ‘Well, technically, you knew where the gas was; you just didn’t know how to effectively compress it in order to transport it,’ explained Minnie, secretly thrilled that he recognised the importance of her work.

  ‘Now I do.’

  ‘We need to make it hack-proof before it is uploaded onto a computer,’ she explained. ‘I have friends who will help me code…’ Her sentence skidded to a halt. ‘Ohmydeargod!’ blurted Minnie.

  ‘What is it?’asked Greene with grave precision as though she had clocked a sniper who had a red dot trained on his head.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Minnie politely, pushing her chair back from the table. ‘I have to go outside but I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Minnie darted out of the diner. She had completely forgotten her dinner arrangements with Jackson. He was now standing on the sidewalk across the road from the diner holding an enormous bunch of pink and white balloons above his head.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ said Jackson. ‘Helium balloons and cable cars are not a great combination.’

  ‘Now’s not a good time,’ said Minnie hurriedly. ‘Do you mind?’

  Jackson laughed. ‘Whoa, I’m like 10 minutes late.’

  ‘I’m… something… has come up. I’m at the diner with someone.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jackson. ‘I thought that someone was going to be me. Can I join you?’

  ‘No,’ replied Minnie a touch impatiently. ‘It’s a private matter.’

  Jackson pulled a surprised face. ‘Did the husband-to-be finally work out the time difference?’

  ‘No,’ snapped Minnie. She wasn’t in the mood to be reminded that James George had made no effort whatsoever to win her back.