been much help.’
‘Why not?’
A dismissive gesture. He was about to protest when his phone buzzed. Thinking of Alice, he quickly checked it and found he had three texts from Sam, the last of which said: Where r u, mate!? Transat meeting at 2!
Harry swore under his breath. Ruth was studying her own phone, as if to make the point that he wasn’t the only one in demand.
‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘But I can’t leave it like this. At least tell me who those men were.’
At first she seemed to ignore him, stepping back to avoid a group of bored-looking teenagers on a school trip.
‘All I can say is that they’re career criminals, and they’re every bit as unpleasant as your experience would suggest.’
‘And Renshaw?’
‘The obvious conclusion is that he crossed them in some way. Or he’s got something they want.’
‘Right.’ Harry felt a peculiar sense of relief. None of this was good news, but at least the bigger picture was slowly being revealed.
They reached the wheel. Ruth started moving towards the crossing by the aquarium. There was no farewell, no glance back to see if he was following.
‘Hold on,’ he called. ‘Are we going to meet up again?’
‘Depends what happens next.’
‘Hopefully nothing, from our point of view.’
She gave him a quick, bitter smile. ‘In that case, you won’t need to contact me. But I can leave you a number, in case they come back.’
He was horrified. ‘Do you think they will?’
‘Unlikely, but you can’t rule it out. Especially if they believe you kept something from them.’
‘We didn’t.’
‘Good. Let’s hope you convinced them of that.’
Eleven
S he read out her mobile number. Harry keyed it into his phone and confirmed it with a text. Then Ruth crossed the road and was soon lost from sight in a crowd at the gates to the aquarium. Harry was reluctant to see her go: there was so much more he needed to know. But he was late for an important meeting.
He ran most of the way back to the office, arriving breathless and perspiring heavily. He longed to clean up but there was no time even for a quick detour to the gents. In the meeting room Sam was already running through the introductions.
Their project manager and a couple of lead animators were sitting along one side of the table, facing a large interactive whiteboard and several monitors used for video conferencing. The screens showed two men and a woman sitting inside another meeting room, this one in Los Angeles. All three were suited and serious and perfectly still: a modern art installation entitled Time is Money .
Sam disguised his genuine relief by beating his chest in mock relief. ‘Phew! And here, by the skin of his teeth, is my partner, Mr Harry French.’
As Harry entered the range of the camera on the table, one of the Americans nodded and said, ‘Glad you could make it, Harry.’
Out of view, Sam was mouthing a question: ‘ Where the fuck were you? ’
‘Sorry about that.’ Harry settled into his seat, then realised his notes were still on his desk. He’d have to wing it. Difficult enough at the best of times, but right now, with his thoughts in turmoil …
But he had no choice. So he smiled broadly, rubbing his hands together to communicate his eagerness to begin, and said, ‘Guys, hello! I can’t tell you how excited we are to have the chance to pitch for this. We’re convinced that LiveFire have exactly the right qualities to make this project a success …’
A nd after the meeting , once he and Sam were back in their office, came the tense exchange that Harry both expected and thoroughly deserved: ‘Jesus, H. If there’s one thing we’ve learned it’s that you do not keep the money men waiting.’
‘I know. I was only thirty seconds late.’
‘And what about a chance to touch base before we went in? You were the one that kept reminding me to get back from London in good time.’
‘It totally slipped my mind. I’m sorry.’
‘Your brain’s
‘Why not?’
A dismissive gesture. He was about to protest when his phone buzzed. Thinking of Alice, he quickly checked it and found he had three texts from Sam, the last of which said: Where r u, mate!? Transat meeting at 2!
Harry swore under his breath. Ruth was studying her own phone, as if to make the point that he wasn’t the only one in demand.
‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘But I can’t leave it like this. At least tell me who those men were.’
At first she seemed to ignore him, stepping back to avoid a group of bored-looking teenagers on a school trip.
‘All I can say is that they’re career criminals, and they’re every bit as unpleasant as your experience would suggest.’
‘And Renshaw?’
‘The obvious conclusion is that he crossed them in some way. Or he’s got something they want.’
‘Right.’ Harry felt a peculiar sense of relief. None of this was good news, but at least the bigger picture was slowly being revealed.
They reached the wheel. Ruth started moving towards the crossing by the aquarium. There was no farewell, no glance back to see if he was following.
‘Hold on,’ he called. ‘Are we going to meet up again?’
‘Depends what happens next.’
‘Hopefully nothing, from our point of view.’
She gave him a quick, bitter smile. ‘In that case, you won’t need to contact me. But I can leave you a number, in case they come back.’
He was horrified. ‘Do you think they will?’
‘Unlikely, but you can’t rule it out. Especially if they believe you kept something from them.’
‘We didn’t.’
‘Good. Let’s hope you convinced them of that.’
Eleven
S he read out her mobile number. Harry keyed it into his phone and confirmed it with a text. Then Ruth crossed the road and was soon lost from sight in a crowd at the gates to the aquarium. Harry was reluctant to see her go: there was so much more he needed to know. But he was late for an important meeting.
He ran most of the way back to the office, arriving breathless and perspiring heavily. He longed to clean up but there was no time even for a quick detour to the gents. In the meeting room Sam was already running through the introductions.
Their project manager and a couple of lead animators were sitting along one side of the table, facing a large interactive whiteboard and several monitors used for video conferencing. The screens showed two men and a woman sitting inside another meeting room, this one in Los Angeles. All three were suited and serious and perfectly still: a modern art installation entitled Time is Money .
Sam disguised his genuine relief by beating his chest in mock relief. ‘Phew! And here, by the skin of his teeth, is my partner, Mr Harry French.’
As Harry entered the range of the camera on the table, one of the Americans nodded and said, ‘Glad you could make it, Harry.’
Out of view, Sam was mouthing a question: ‘ Where the fuck were you? ’
‘Sorry about that.’ Harry settled into his seat, then realised his notes were still on his desk. He’d have to wing it. Difficult enough at the best of times, but right now, with his thoughts in turmoil …
But he had no choice. So he smiled broadly, rubbing his hands together to communicate his eagerness to begin, and said, ‘Guys, hello! I can’t tell you how excited we are to have the chance to pitch for this. We’re convinced that LiveFire have exactly the right qualities to make this project a success …’
A nd after the meeting , once he and Sam were back in their office, came the tense exchange that Harry both expected and thoroughly deserved: ‘Jesus, H. If there’s one thing we’ve learned it’s that you do not keep the money men waiting.’
‘I know. I was only thirty seconds late.’
‘And what about a chance to touch base before we went in? You were the one that kept reminding me to get back from London in good time.’
‘It totally slipped my mind. I’m sorry.’
‘Your brain’s
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