Chapter 10
‘Is someone watching Jake’s house?’ she said incredulously. Just how far did the Ross Corporation’s tentacles reach into Jake’s life?
Marcus was now giving her the silent treatment.
‘Do you know there’s a law against stalking? I could report you and your mysterious friend out there, which might not turn out to be good news if one of you had an illegal substance on your person.’ Faye studied him intently. Was that sweat breaking out on his forehead?
‘I need to use the bathroom,’ Marcus said suddenly, rising from his chair.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ She wasn’t about to let him flush it down the toilet. ‘Now, answer the question – is that man in the black car watching Jake’s house?’
‘Yes … well, only when Jake’s in.’
‘And when he’s not?’
‘Then maybe he’ll watch him when he’s somewhere else.’ Marcus was being cagey.
‘You mean you’re having him followed?’
‘It wasn’t my idea.’
‘Then who?’ Faye demanded.
Marcus shot a worried look towards the kitchen door.
Faye didn’t care if Jake heard, because he was going to find out one way or another. ‘Who?’ she demanded again.
‘Alright, alright,’ said Marcus, waving his hand in the air in a futile attempt to get her to lower her voice. ‘It was my father’s idea. He’s already lost one child, and he said I’m damn well not losing another . Those were his exact words.’
Faye got the picture. Jake was no longer living and working in his ivory tower. This was the real world. He was not being chauffeured to work and flown around in private jets. Working in an inner-city neighbourhood wasn’t without its risks. That morning was a case in point, when his bike had been stolen. Even so, Mr Ross had no right to go behind his back and do something like this. ‘I thought your father was decent, honourable – at least, that’s how Jake speaks of him.’
‘He is, Faye, but when I found out what he was doing …’
‘You didn’t know?’
‘No.’ Marcus got up and walked over to join Faye beside the front door. ‘When I found out about it, I confronted my father, and you know what he said?’
Faye shook her head.
‘He said, Marcus, family is everything to me .’
Faye’s thoughts turned to her own father. Where had it all gone so wrong?
‘How could I argue with that? God knows, I don’t want anything to happen to Jake either.’ Marcus brushed the net curtain and glanced out of the window. ‘ No babysitters. That’s what Jake said.’ Marcus turned to face Faye. ‘He said, I don’t want anybody on my tail .’
Marcus sighed. ‘Jake knew my father was concerned, and it was a real possibility that he would hire some … protection. Jake didn’t want some company-employed jackass following him around.’
Faye shook her head – she wouldn’t want that either, someone following her around, watching her every move. Something altogether more disturbing occurred to her. Occasionally, she’d been on a course lasting all day, so Jake’s babysitting duties had extended beyond simply looking after Natty during an evening when Faye was out at a class. When Natty had been with Jake, going to his house, to the park, to the shops, had there been somebody following their every move?
She turned to the front door. ‘What’s his name?’
Marcus returned to his seat without a word.
Faye stormed over to him. ‘What’s his name?’
Marcus stood up. ‘Whatever you’re thinking of doing, a word of advice – don’t.’
Faye ignored him. She marched up to the front door, opened it and took a step back, surprised to find a man standing on the front porch with his back to her.
He turned around and lifted his trilby from his head.
She looked past him to the large black car – it was empty. She turned her attention back to the man standing on the porch. ‘Is that your car?’
He turned. ‘Do you mean the Mercedes-Benz?’
Faye didn’t know what make of car it was. ‘It’s the black car.’
‘Why, yes – that’s my car,’ he said in a clipped accent. He turned to look at her. ‘Is there a problem?’
Faye looked at him, confused. If this was the guy following Jake, he wasn’t at all what she had imagined when Marcus had mentioned his father hiring some protection.
‘Do you want to come in?’ She presumed he had been about to ring the doorbell. Faye stepped aside and glanced at Marcus.
He shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was out of his hands, and with a sigh, sat back down.
The man hovered in the doorway. He appeared unsure whether to enter or not.
‘Well?’ she said impatiently.
The sound of her voice seemed to snap him out of his indecision; he took three quick steps inside.
Faye closed the door behind him and looked him up and down. He was tall, slim, and immaculately turned out – from his polished black leather shoes to the crisply folded kerchief in the left breast pocket of his black suit. Gold cufflinks peeped out from the starched white shirt beneath his suit. And he was older than she’d expected; she guessed he was in his sixties, around her father’s age.
He clutched a brown leather briefcase to his chest, and when she spoke, he quickly side-stepped away from her like a frightened hen. Faye had to do her best to keep a straight face. She’d definitely had some preconceptions over whom the Rosses might have employed to follow Jake around. How exactly would this older man protect Jake? Her eyes roved to his briefcase. She wondered what was inside.
He looked more like a door-to-door bible salesman. You’re in the wrong job, mate , she felt like saying. Instead, Faye pointed at his precious briefcase and blurted, ‘Have you got bibles in there?’ Of course, she wasn’t being serious. She didn’t expect him to take her question literally.
He took a step back and hesitated. ‘No – not at all. Just some papers. Here …’ he stuttered, ‘Ta-ta-take a look.’ He hastily started to unclip the briefcase, as though she was being serious. He seemed to be having trouble with the clips – his hands were shaking badly.
Faye stared at this so-called bodyguard who didn’t look as though he could protect himself, let alone someone else. Faye turned to Marcus and said, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! Are you serious?’
Marcus smiled and replied, ‘You have no idea.’ He looked past her, and she turned to see something small and black, something that looked like a toy gun, in the old man’s hand.
‘Deadly serious,’ the old man answered. No stutter.
Faye froze. The briefcase in his hand was open and empty.
‘You did ask what was in my briefcase. The answer is protection.’
Faye swallowed. ‘Is that real?’ Apart from visits to museums exhibiting old military items, like guns and rifles, she’d never seen what she assumed was a handgun in real life. Was it even legal?
‘Would I carry it around if it wasn’t?’
Faye pursed her lips and gave Marcus a sideways glance. The look on his face said, I told you not to interfere.
The old man stowed the gun away in his briefcase, closing the lid and flicking the catches in one deft movement. He walked towards Faye, who jumped out of his way, and hung his trilby on a hook by Jake’s front door. ‘Now,’ he said, placing the briefcase on the floor, by the chair that Faye had vacated. ‘I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m Aubrey Jones.’
Faye reluctantly moved forward to take the proffered hand. She reluctantly told him her name, although she imagined he knew it already. He probably knew everything about her. ‘I’m Ms Ames.’
‘No hard feelings?’ Aubrey said, clasping her hand before taking a seat.
She wasn’t so sure – she still hadn’t recovered from the shock of seeing the gun. Aubrey hadn’t pointed it at her – thank god. He hadn’t even been holding the handle. He’d just picked it out of his briefcase. But he was clearly making a point – don’t make quick judgements, and don’t underestimate me.
He had obviously intended to teach her a lesson; appearances can be deceptive. He had known exactly what he was doing from the moment Faye had opened the front door. He had seen her at the window, looking his way. He had anticipated her next move by making his own move first and surprising and confusing her at the front door. It didn’t make her feel any better to discover it wasn’t some bumbling fool following Jake around; strangely, it made her feel uneasy. She didn’t trust the man at all.
‘You’re a very good actor, Mr Jones.’
‘Acutely observed.’
Yeah, but a little late , thought Faye. Her eyes roved to his briefcase. She nodded.
‘I used to act,’ Aubrey said. ‘A long time ago – on the stage.’ He was smiling.
Faye believed it. She stared at the man, who had acted so convincingly that she had mistaken him for something as innocent as a door-to-door bible salesman.
Aubrey pointed at Marcus. ‘Be a gentleman.’ He motioned at Faye to come and join him.
Marcus got out of his seat.
Aubrey rose as Faye came over to take the vacated seat. When she sat down, he took his seat on the other side of the small table.
From the corner of the hall, Marcus gave a snort of derision.
‘There’s no harm in some manners, Marcus. I’m sure Lydia would appreciate seeing a few more from you.’
Faye drew in a surprised breath – that was not how an employee spoke to his boss’s son, especially when that son was running one of the most powerful companies in England.
Faye stared at Marcus, waiting for his reaction, for him to give Aubrey his marching orders and fire him on the spot.
‘I know.’ Marcus dropped his eyes and scuffed his foot on Jake’s rug. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I should think so.’
Faye stared at Mr Jones. Who on earth is this guy? she wondered. Whoever he was, he was an enigma, holding a gun in one breath, and then waiting for her to take a seat, like an absolute gentleman, in the next. Faye was even more confused than she had been before.
‘Now, Ms Ames, where were we?’
‘On the stage, I think.’ Faye stole a glance at Marcus, who was still looking at the floor like a scolded child.
‘Ah, yes. But there’s no money on the stage. I tried to get into moving pictures, but I wasn’t exactly the Marlon Brando or James Dean of my generation.’ Aubrey looked down at his wiry frame.
‘More the James Stewart type,’ Faye suggested, warming to his obvious charm, but still keeping a wary eye on this deceptive man.
‘Why, yes!’ Aubrey seemed pleased with the remark. ‘I suppose I am. I was born in the wrong era, you see; too mannered. I was never the rebel, more the gentleman.’ He sighed. ‘My name up in lights was never to be.’ He brightened. ‘So, I decided to use my talents in a more lucrative line of work.’
‘Being a bodyguard?’ Faye couldn’t imagine there being a whole lot of money in that.
‘A bodyguard,’ Aubrey repeated, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think the term does anything for me, do you?’
‘No. Not at all,’ Faye readily agreed, but not entirely for reasons of his physique. He was too old, certainly, but that wasn’t it. He seemed too educated for that line of work; more suited to the boardroom than the streets. But then, as Aubrey had already cleverly demonstrated, appearances could be deceptive.
‘I like to keep up with the times,’ said Aubrey. ‘In fact, I like to think of myself as being in the information business.’
‘Information?’ Faye couldn’t see what that had to do with tailing Jake all day.
‘Yes. I rather enjoy using my acting ability to gather information.’ He glanced at his briefcase. ‘Far more than other methods of persuasion.’
‘Persuasion?’ Faye didn’t like the inference.
‘Have you heard the old adage, sticks and stones may break your bones?’
Faye nodded, adding, ‘But names will never hurt you.’
‘Well, it doesn’t work in the playground,’ he said cheerfully. He leaned across the table and spoke in a hushed voice. ‘And the truth is, in my experience, names hurt very much indeed. They can damage a reputation. And with some – no, most – things, reputation is everything.’
Faye was interested to know just what experience he was referring to. Her mind began to throw up some distinctly unsavoury possibilities – like blackmail.
Aubrey elaborated. ‘You don’t need guns to protect and defend. If the police were in the information business, then maybe they’d have some real power out there on the streets.’
Faye looked at him, perplexed.
‘Sticks and stones,’ he said. ‘Sticks and stones. What I do know is that by staying ahead of the game, it’s surprising what resources you can have at your disposal – if and when the time comes.’
It sounded ominous.
Faye sat back in her chair and regarded the old gentleman sitting opposite her. For a moment, she decided she had him sussed. He was an old, retired family friend with an overactive imagination and nothing to do all day but mope around the house until someone had had a bright idea. Why don’t we give him something to do? Make him feel useful. Let him keep an eye on Jake – at a discreet distance of course – taking notes, keeping logs, even carrying a gun. What harm could it do?
But she didn’t feel convinced by this more than plausible, if rather stupid, scenario. Aubrey Jones was clearly no fool, and he didn’t give the impression he needed somebody else to tell him what to do with his time. In fact, he appeared very much in control. Faye glanced over at Marcus, who was standing by the door, avoiding Aubrey, still waiting for his cab.
‘Nice wood.’ Aubrey ran his fingers down the smooth dark wood panelling behind his chair. ‘I wonder if this was already here when Jake moved in?’
Marcus looked at the wood. ‘Who cares?’
Aubrey gave Marcus a disapproving glare and turned his attention on Faye. ‘Speaking of which, where is the master of the house?’
Master of the house; it sounded like a phrase straight out of an old black-and-white British movie. Was this another one of his acts?
Marcus rolled his eyes in the direction of the kitchen door. ‘Jake’s in the kitchen.’
The more she listened to his accent, the more she thought she could detect some inflections that hinted at other origins.
‘So, why are we all sitting in the hallway?’
‘I’m waiting for a cab.’ Marcus looked at his watch.
‘What’s wrong with the kitchen?’
Marcus bit his lip and stared at the floor.
Aubrey nodded knowingly. ‘Was it something you said?’ he said sarcastically, ‘or was it merely your presence here that precipitated this current predicament?’ Aubrey looked at the two outcasts, waiting in the hall. ‘Because I must admit, I am a bit surprised to find you here, Marcus.’
Marcus glared at him. ‘Don’t worry; I wasn’t invited, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Well, isn’t it nice to hear that some things in life don’t change, is it not, Ms Ames?’
She had absolutely no idea what had just passed between Aubrey and Marcus, but she was going to put the record straight; Jake had good reason to be angry with Marcus.
‘Jake cut his hands on some glass.’
Aubrey rose slowly from his chair with a look of concern. ‘What happened?’ He caught sight of the broken glass on the floor.
Faye turned her attention to Marcus.
So did Aubrey. ‘Marcus, what happened here?’
‘I screwed up again, that’s what happened.’ Marcus walked over to the table and snatched up his bag. ‘I’m waiting outside.’ He started towards the door.
Aubrey unexpectedly jumped up and crossed the hall so quickly that he reached the front door ahead of Marcus, barring his way.
They stood in silence, facing each other.
Faye watched the confrontation uneasily. Her hand brushed the cricket bat in the umbrella stand. She was ready to break up a fight, something she’d unfortunately grown accustomed to in her years in a classroom.
She watched as Aubrey reached out a hand. Faye’s body tensed as she anticipated the first blow, then relaxed as Aubrey rested his hand on Marcus’s shoulder and started to speak; his voice barely above a whisper. She caught snatches, a word here and there, meaningless out of context. Then Aubrey paused, drew back and finished with, ‘You’ll see. Just give him time.’
Marcus nodded.
Aubrey patted his arm affectionately and returned to his seat. Marcus turned around and looked straight at Faye, who was trying to look for all the world like she hadn’t seen or heard a thing. But she’d witnessed how Marcus listened to this man. She’d seen what influence Mr Jones seemed to hold over his employer’s son, and wondered whether the same held true for Jake. Faye wanted to know more. Who was this guy?