Chapter 17
Jake took his bag and vacated the lift, refusing Derrick’s offer to carry the bag to his door. But the instant he saw the door to his apartment, the door he had not walked through in almost six months, he regretted his decision to stay there. He turned back to the lift, intending to leave, but the door was already closed, the lift gone.
He realised that he should have stayed overnight at an airport hotel, but Marcus was on his mind, along with the possibility, however remote, that he might have followed him to the airport. It was a ridiculous thought that Marcus might knock on his hotel room door, but Jake just didn’t want to risk it.
Booking a hotel in London at the last minute had just seemed too much effort. He was exhausted. This had seemed the easiest option – until now. The only thing keeping his finger from the lift button was the thought of Derrick and what he intended to do in the morning before he left. And besides, he had to get things in perspective; there were certainly worse places he could be spending the night.
An unexpected pang of guilt struck Jake for leaving Marcus behind. It was not helped by the fact that quite inexplicably, and despite everything, a miniscule part of him wished Marcus was there with him. Just then, Jake didn’t relish the idea of spending the night in the apartment alone.
Jake opened his wallet to take out the small electronic key card. Why he had kept it all this time, he didn’t know. He didn’t think he’d use the apartment again.
As Jake slipped the electronic card out of his wallet, another piece of paper came out with it and floated to the floor. Jake bent down and picked it up. He stared at the eight-digit number on the dog-eared, plain white card; a number he knew off by heart. It was Aubrey’s phone number. Although Jake had no choice but to spend the night in the apartment alone, the little card had reminded him that at least there was somebody he could talk to. Or could he?
Jake had thought that Aubrey would be sympathetic, would show some understanding for what he was going through and his reasons for leaving the company. But it seemed not. Jake had to accept the fact that Aubrey’s loyalty was to William first and foremost. Jake was hugely disappointed to learn that because of his decision to leave the company, he appeared to have lost his mentor and friend. That was an unexpected blow that Jake had not foreseen. Aubrey hadn’t been in contact with him these last few months. That wasn’t like him. They had always chatted often. The first he’d seen of him was when Aubrey had turned up at his house unexpectedly after he’d cut his hands. But then Jake realised he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to stay in contact either.
He tucked the small white card back into his wallet. Even though he desperately missed Aubrey, he knew it was probably best he didn’t phone him, didn’t tell him where he was at this very moment – it might just give him completely the wrong idea.
Jake swiped the plastic key card through the lock and the door clicked open. The apartment was spotless, and there were even fresh flowers in the vase on the sideboard. Jake stood motionless in the hall. He had mixed emotions about being there; on the one hand, it felt like he could almost be returning from a day’s work at the office, but on the other hand, it felt like he’d just stepped into a stranger’s apartment. The life that he had led there, with Eleanor, seemed but a distant memory.
Besides the cleaners, nobody had probably stepped into this apartment since he had closed the door on Christmas Eve. His apartment, like his job at the Ross Corporation, was still vacant, still waiting for his return.
‘Well, it’s going to be a long wait,’ said Jake to the empty hallway.
Jake chose the bedroom furthest from the one he and Eleanor had shared. The room felt as impersonal as a hotel – almost. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about his journey the next day to see Arnold Wright. He was catching the flight at twenty past one in the afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to get to the airport, have a bite to eat, and wait in the departure lounge. His car was parked outside, ready to roll in the morning. It occurred to him that he could ask Harry to organise a taxi so that he wouldn’t even have the hassle of airport parking.
He knew he should be feeling relaxed, he should be feeling calm, he should be looking forward to a trip away.
He slept badly.
At some point in the early hours, Jake had resigned himself to the fact that he would not be sleeping that night, so he had hauled himself out of bed and made his way to the lounge, where he had found a bottle of scotch.
He woke late, on the sofa, a feeling of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t remember getting out of bed. There was blood on the sofa. Jake looked at the blood stain, then at his hands. The bandages were pink, and his hands felt raw.
Jake sat up from the sofa and accidentally kicked over the bottle, which was now empty. He watched it roll under the coffee table, wondering what it was doing down there. Then he remembered the previous night. He groaned. This was not a good start to his holiday. He had a motorway drive ahead of him to the airport, and he was probably still over the limit. He realised that driving there himself was out of the question.
He stood up, very slowly this time, and took a good look at the sofa. There were smears of blood all over the place, suggesting he must have been thrashing about in the night. He made a mental note to ask the concierge to dispose of the sofa and replace it with a brand new one. First, though, he had to find the first aid kit.