The Grey Woman: You never know who's watching

by M J Hardy

  At first, I don’t even register it’s her, until the glint of the sun off her necklace draws my attention. As I take in the gleaming dark hair, immaculate clothes and supermodel looks, my heart beats a little faster as I see Cressida Landon standing across the road talking into her phone.

  She turns and faces the other direction, and it’s as if she’s waiting for someone. Quickly, I leave my coffee and head outside, not even returning Calvin’s cheery goodbye.

  Keeping my head down, I head towards her, making sure to blend in with the crowds littering the pavement as they rush from one place to another, conscious of time.

  I hide behind a nearby pillar and pretend to be texting someone and strain to listen as she speaks angrily. “Honestly, Oscar, I’m freezing my tits off out here. How much longer? Julian could come out at any minute.”

  She is obviously unhappy and stamps her feet on the rain-soaked ground. “Hurry up, because if he sees us together, he will know everything. Mind you, I’m coming dangerously close to telling him myself because you are not shaping up at all.”

  I watch with interest as a large, black Range Rover screeches to a stop and she rolls her eyes. “Finally! Well, open the door you idiot, do I have to do everything?”

  I think I hold my breath as the driver jumps out and reaches for the door, and she steps inside without even a look or a smile. Luckily for me, I decided to photograph this encounter because I get a good shot of the number plate and make and model as it screeches away. I wonder who was in that car and why would they take such a chance in broad daylight in full view of the office her husband works at?

  Quickly, I head back inside and straight to security. Julian replaced the previous guard with one from a reputable agency after learning that Mr Slater had installed his own particular spy and Jack the current one is extremely personable and I like him a lot. There is nothing shady about Jack and I say innocently, “Jack, darling, I don’t suppose you know who this car belongs to, do you? It almost ran over a cyclist out there.”

  He looks angry, which I knew would be the case because Jack is a keen cyclist himself and cycles all around London, so he frowns and looks at the picture on my phone.

  Quickly he taps the registration into his computer and whistles. “Man - typical.”

  “What?”

  “Mr Slater. It would be, wouldn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of the fucking untouchables, isn’t he? He gets away with everything the rest of us would be prosecuted for. I bet he didn’t even care that he almost killed someone.”

  “I don’t think he was driving, Jack, you can’t heap the blame on him.”

  He shakes his head. “Maybe not, but I’m guessing he instructed his driver to move off that quickly. I can’t stand the man, never have liked him, never will.”

  “Why not?” I’m curious as to why Jack would dislike Mr Slater so obviously and he sneers. “It’s best you don’t know. Your delicate ears shouldn’t hear stuff like that.”

  “Like what?” I can feel my eyes are bright and the curiosity is burning me up inside and Jack laughs and leans forward, whispering, “Women visit that man after hours. It’s common knowledge with the security staff. Sometimes as late as midnight and sometimes during the working day. He has many visitors that aren’t the usual type, if you know what I mean”

  He laughs at my expression and whispers, “Escorts, young girls, prostitutes or some poor smuck who actually believes his lies. He’s had them all and we have watched.”

  “Watched?”

  He grins. “Yes, the idiot obviously forgot we film 24/7. He’s not completely stupid though and conducts his business inside his executive bathroom, but we know. We see the girls come out looking worse the wear for his attentions and we see the disgust on their faces as they grab their stuff and go. Word is, he’s a kinky sod, which just about goes with the territory.”

  “What do you mean?” My voice sounds weak even to my own ears as he says roughly, “They’re all at it. All the big wigs upstairs always want to push the boundaries just a little bit further. They have all the money they can spend and it’s still not enough. They use that money to buy excitement and danger and get off on the ones that are riskier and a little extreme.”

  He obviously remembers his place and stands back, saying loudly, “Anyway, you didn’t hear that from me.” Tapping his nose, he says with a wink. “Discretion is a key part of any security’s man’s job and if it ain’t illegal, it’s allowed.”

  I nod and walk away with the conversation buzzing in my ears. I must get my hands on that footage because I’m guessing there are a lot of answers on that recoding that I badly need right now.

  22

  A few days later Julian calls me into his office and by the look in his eyes it’s not to give me a pay rise.

  “Sit.”

  As usual, I do as I say, having learned early on this is the smallest battle in a long painful war that is best left.

  I can tell he’s irritated and dig my nails into the palm of my hand as I wait for the telling off I usually get.

  “Is there any progress on that project I set you?”

  “A little.”

  He exhales sharply. “I don’t want a little, I don’t expect a little, I demand a lot.”

  Counting to ten in my mind, I wait for him to speak rather than answer him.

  He leans back in his chair and fixes his entire attention on me, and it’s a lot to deal with. When he does this, the walls close in on me and I struggle to breathe. It’s as if he sees inside my soul and takes the information he needs and discovers it’s not useful to him. Then he looks at me with disgust, leaving me eager to replace that look with one of admiration. How have I fallen so far as to crave any form of praise from a tyrant?

  He says angrily, “Well?”

  My voice sounds weak as I stutter, “Your wife met with Mr Slater on Tuesday at 12pm.”

  I see a spark of interest in his eyes and he leans forward. “And?”

  Reaching for my phone, I show him the photograph and say quickly, “I discovered this car was Mr Slaters when I questioned the security guard on duty. He let slip that Mr Slater likes to entertain women in his office, both late at night and through the day.”

  Julian snorts. “Dirty old sod, I wonder what his wife Miriam would think of that?”

  I smile slightly. “Not a lot I’m guessing.”

  Tapping his fingers on the desk, he says thoughtfully. “And Cressida went off with him in this car, I wonder why?”

  “I think they’re working together.”

  His eyes fall on me sharply and I say quickly, “I heard her say she couldn’t risk you seeing her waiting for him. That if you did, you would know what they were up to immediately. She also told him he wasn’t shaping up and she was of half a mind to tell you herself.”

  “Did she now?”

  Julian looks animated and I can only wonder what is going through his mind and then he looks at his Rolex and smiles thinly. “Call my driver, we’re going on a road trip.”

  “What?”

  My voice is shaky and he says briskly, “Don’t ask me questions, just deal with it. Call my driver and grab your coat. Do you understand that simple request, or do I need to put it in a power point presentation?”

  “But your appointment?”

  He shrugs. “Email them from the car and cancel. We have important work to do.”

  I jump up and leave him to sort himself out and quickly shut my computer down and grab my iPad. Then, by the time I’ve grabbed my coat and handbag, he is striding from the office as I have become accustomed to.

  I follow him like an Arab’s wife, ten paces behind as he sweeps into the elevator and presses the button for the ground floor with an irritation that accompanies him everywhere.

  I daren’t speak as I can tell he is deep in thought and as I follow him out to the street, I wonder where we are going in such a hurry.

  His driver is waiting and as usu
al, he arranges himself in his seat without caring how I join him. He barks at the driver, “Home.”

  Then he raises the glass partition that separates us and I sit shaking as he says in his sexy deep voice. “This is our chance, Emma. By the sounds of it, Cressida is up to no good with Slater and we can use this time to our advantage.”

  “But what if she’s home, with Mr Slater?”

  Julian laughs. “Then all the better. I hope they are because it would make this easier but knowing Cressida, they are hidden away somewhere no one will ever find them while they plot against me.”

  “What makes you think they’re plotting against you?”

  He turns to face me and his eyes flash dangerously. “Don’t be obtuse, Emma. Everyone is against me. When you hold the position I do, there’s only way and it’s down. Don’t you think I know the next one is crawling up the ladder to topple me. They all want this - the power, the fame of being top man, and they don’t care how they get it either. Slater’s been after my job for years and thinks he can get it through my wife.”

  He laughs softly. “He’s welcome to try. I mean, he wouldn’t be the first and definitely won’t be the last. No, I intend on protecting myself the only way I know how.”

  I daren’t ask but somehow my voice has other ideas because it says shakily, “How?”

  He laughs and faces me with a look that shows the power of the man as he hisses, “I’ll destroy them both as only I can.”

  I feel weak and settle back against the upholstered leather, and Julian smiles in a sinister way. “Do you like power, Emma?”

  My breath hitches. “Yes.” My voice sounds small and weak, nothing like it should when talking about power. He inches closer and I feel his leg hard against mine as he whispers, “Does it turn you on?”

  Oh, if only he knew. My breath is ragged as I gasp, “Yes.”

  I watch as his hand reaches down and lingers over my knee. I watch with my breath hitched as it hovers over the hem of my skirt and I lick my lips, willing it to make contact with my skin.

  His face is closer now and he whispers in my ear, “Do you want me, Emma?”

  I sense the victory already in his eyes rather than see it for myself as I say softly, “Yes.”

  He sits back against the chair and says coolly, “Yes, they all do. It can become a little tiresome after a while. You see, nobody likes a sure thing, Emma. They like a challenge and someone who resists their charms. Someone who fights to get away and someone who doesn’t fall for their bullshit. You’re just like the rest of them - easy. You disappoint me.”

  He turns to his phone, leaving me broken inside. How can he be so cruel? At this moment I hate Julian Landon with a passion and it must be steaming off me in waves because he laughs softly, “Harness your anger and your passion, we will need it later.”

  Taking deep breaths, I stare at the blurred landscape through the window of the speeding car and decide in that moment that I really, really hate and detest Julian Landon.

  23

  Wow. I thought it would be impressive, but this place – Julian’s home, is absolutely stunning. On the outskirts of London lies a sweeping estate that has his name on it. We pass through an impressive set of electric gates and along a driveway that is flanked by ornamental trees. I am pretty sure they even clean the stones that make a pleasing crunch as we drive over them because there is not even a blade of grass out of place in this immaculate palace.

  As I stare at perfection, he says with amusement. “Do you like it?”

  My earlier anger towards him evaporates as I say with excitement, “Of course, who wouldn’t?”

  Like a kid in the sweetshop, I devour the view before me, taking everything in and refrain from clapping my hands like an excited child.

  The car appears to take forever to stop outside an impressive portico and the large wooden door that stands proudly waiting wouldn’t look out of place on a castle.

  As soon as the car stops, Julian is out and I quickly follow, almost running to see inside a place I never thought I’d visit.

  The door is not even locked and when we head inside, I see why because a woman heads over to greet us dressed in a black skirt and white blouse. “Good morning, Mr Landon, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  He says tersely, “Coffee, Nicola, and we’ll have it in my study.”

  Feeling her pain, I follow him across a beautiful marble tiled hallway, that is bigger than my entire house and I don’t even have time to enjoy the opulent surroundings before I find myself in his study. I almost can’t breathe. He is everywhere.

  The scent of his aftershave lingers in the air, mixed with wood smoke and the evidence of a cigar or two. The polished wood gleams and the window looks out on an ornamental garden that could be opened to the public, it’s that amazing.

  His huge desk dominates the room and set around it is comfortable seating and a massive television that is set into the word panelling. A shelf containing decanters filled with wicked looking liquid sparkle for attention and I am blown away.

  Pointing to an upright chair in the corner of the room, he barks, “Sit!”

  Once again, I do as he says, hating myself just a little more because I don’t stand up for myself as my self-worth and pride slip dangerously away.

  He flicks on his computer and appears to be searching for something as Nicola heads into the room, balancing a tray precariously. I jump up to help and he says firmly, “I said, sit.”

  Raising her eyes, she sets the tray down on a small table near an impressive fireplace and says courteously, “Would you like me to serve you?”

  “No, my assistant will do the honours, you may go.”

  He says it without even looking at her, and she throws me a pitying glance as she heads outside the room. Unsure what to do next, I say a little on edge, “Shall I be mother?”

  I say it brightly in the vain hope it may inject a little humour into a tense situation and am rewarded by a sharp look and a terse, “Just pour the god-damned coffee and keep your smart remarks for your spare time.”

  Once again, his attention switches to the screen and feeling like a battered punching bag, I do as he says – as usual.

  I must sit for thirty minutes in silence as I sip my coffee and take in the glorious view. I’m not even talking about the one through the large picture window, but the man who sits before it. Yes, Julian Landon could make me watch him all day because he is that perfect.

  Finally, he shouts triumphantly, “Ok, I’m in and now you need to step up and do some work for a change.”

  Feeling the bitterness return, I look at him with pure hatred flashing from my eyes as he laughs softly. “Cressida’s password-protected file. It’s taken me thirty bloody minutes to crack the code, but it’s done and I’ll leave you to discover what you can. Don’t change anything, just photograph the evidence. I’ll be back later.”

  “What, you’re leaving me here, what if...?”

  “She comes back, so what? Say you’re under orders away from the office. She won’t ask, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not unusual. Nearly all of my assistants come here and work at some time or another. Nothing new here.”

  I feel a little miffed that this is nothing unusual and he laughs softly. “You are nothing special, Emma. Deal with it.”

  As he heads outside, he says over his shoulder. “I’ll be about two hours and then I’ll take you to dinner. Make sure you earn it.”

  The door slams, leaving me feeling bruised, battered and emotional. How can I hate him so much I can actually taste it like a rancid poison inflicting a long, slow, painful death on me and love him just as hard? I hate myself more than him at this moment in time, and yet I push any feelings I have aside and get on with the job in hand.

  Soon I discover that Cressida Landon likes to spend money. Details of her credit card make interesting reading, and I can only imagine what it must feel like to be able to afford absolutely anything you want, even f
rom the most expensive shops.

  Along with clothing, jewellery and accessories are details of restaurant reservations and mini breaks. Her airline bill is eye watering and I can’t even pronounce some of the places she has gone to.

  She spends just as much money on her home and her children and as I see fees for private schools and extra-curricular activities, I feel a knot of jealously forming inside me. How can two disgusting, horrible people have so much beauty surrounding them? It’s not fair that life is so generous to the wickedest people of society, when the good have so little. They have no manners and no idea of how to talk to any unfortunate person who crosses their path. If it wasn’t for their money, I doubt they would be surrounded by so many people and I couldn’t hate them anymore than I do as I sit in their magnificent home and wish it were mine.

  Around an hour after Julian left, Nicola pokes her head around the door and says kindly, “I brought you something to eat.”

  My stomach growls, reminding it that I skipped lunch and I stare at her gratefully. “You are so kind, thank you.”

  She beams happily, probably because she never gets thanks, and heads into the room with a silver platter of dainty little sandwiches and delicious looking pastries. “I’ll bring the tea in just a second, is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “A new job.” I groan out loud as the screen swims before my eyes and she laughs.

  “Well, if you find one, remember me.”

  “I will, Nicola, don’t you worry about that.”

  She turns to leave and I say quickly, “How long have you worked here?”

  She looks surprised. “Four years I think.”

  “Wow, you deserve a medal. Have they always been this, well, uptight, really?”

  Nicola laughs. “Sadly, yes, although they were a lot more loving towards each other when I first arrived. Now though, well, let’s just say they’re better when they live here at different times.”

  “It must be hell.”

  “It is.” She sighs and looks so upset I feel bad for raising the subject.