Page 1 of Close Protection

1Daphne

‘Blue or grey?’

‘Huh?’

‘Blue or grey, your tie for tonight. I need to know so I can plan the rest of your outfit,’ I explain as I close the door and go to sit down on the chair facing my father’s desk.

‘Daddy, are you listening to me?’ I continue when he doesn’t respond.

The rising annoyance in my voice prompts him to lift his head and focus on me instead of whatever on his screen was causing him to frown.

‘I’m sorry, Daphne, I wasn’t listening. What were you saying?’ He exhales, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

‘It’s fine, Daddy,’ I soften, placing the tie options on the mahogany desk in front of me. ‘But I need you to listento me, please.’ I pause until his eyes come to meet mine. ‘Tonight we have Camilla’s engagement party and I don’t trust you to pick out your own outfit.’ I gesture to his current ensemble – navy trousers and a blue house shirt underneath a camel knitted cardigan.

‘When Amelia told me you wanted to see me in your study before breakfast, I assumed we’d be going over what I picked out for you, hence the ties.’ I pick them back up and watch him patiently as he stares down blankly at the material.

‘So… blue or grey?’ I encourage, giving the ties in my hand a little jiggle.

As if a lightbulb turns on, my father’s eyes illuminate with understanding, only to dim with confusion seconds later.

‘Camilla’s engagement party is tonight? I’m sorry, darling, I completely forgot.’ He sighs.

My father is a brilliant man. As CEO of Greenway Discoveries, he has to be. But even with all that intellect he somehow always fails to be organized.

Amelia, our house manager, takes care of the staff, their routine and the general running of the house but her role has never extended to keeping my father’s diary. Thanks to Julie, his assistant, he normally remembers all my extracurricular competition dates and kept up with our scheduled phonecalls when I was at school in Switzerland, but when it comes to social events, his lack of organization is obvious. I mean. Julie can only prompt him so many times.

But ever since I returned home from school he’s been different.

Scattered.

Quiet and distracted. Even more so than usual.

‘Daphne, I’m sorry I’ve left it till the eleventh hour to tell you this, but we can’t go to Camilla’s party.’

‘What do you mean we can’t go?’ I ask as I rise from the chair, unbidden irritation crawling across my skin. ‘We RSVP’d “yes” months ago. It would be improper to just not turn up.’

In the last two weeks since I’ve been back, my father has been constantly locked away in his study, only resurfacing to eat or sleep. Yes, we’ve been having dinner together each night, but his attention has been elsewhere, most accurately on his laptop that he seems to be glued to.

The man who’s a stickler for etiquette has his laptop at the table. Ironic, isn’t it?

Amelia said his work has been stressful recently, but it’s been stressful before and he always made time for me then. So what’s so different about now?

‘Yes, it will be rude of us to cancel, but things have changed, Daphne, which is actually why I asked Ameliato call you in.’ He’s clearly nervous, which is not at all like him. Letting out a long sigh, he turns off his computer monitor, offering me his full attention. ‘There’s something I need to discuss with you. Come, sit back down, please.’

I move away from the door and settle into the uninviting leather chair, the air trapped in the cushion slowly dispersing as I sink into it.

‘Is everything okay, Daddy?’

‘Daphne, darling, you may have noticed that I’ve been a little preoccupied since you came back from school. You’ve been nothing but patient with me, so I thank you for that.’ I give him a small smile as he places his hand over mine from across the mahogany desk. ‘The reason I called you in is because there has been a security breach at work. Someone tried to break into my office – and the lab – a couple of weeks ago now. He got away before the security team could stop or ID him but the issue was dropped when they realized he wasn’t able to get in. However, two nights ago he tried again. Only this time he succeeded.’ I feel my father’s hand tense over mine for a moment before he swiftly releases it, turning his monitor back on and angling the screen towards me.

It illuminates with CCTV footage, the image grainy and distorted. ‘He didn’t take anything, thank goodness, but he was clearly looking for something specific. And evidentlyhe has experience doing this, as he knew how to avoid the cameras completely.’ I can’t tear my eyes off the screen as I watch the man move. He is tall and well built, with his broad shoulders straining against his black hoodie, but Daddy is right, it’s impossible to make out his face.

We both watch silently for a moment as the man closes the door behind him with a gloved hand, moving through the office with ease as if the layout is already familiar to him. Opening and closing drawers swiftly and decisively.

‘What is he looking for?’ I ask, looking up.

‘We’re not sure, but clearly he doesn’t find it,’ Daddy responds, shifting his weight, not taking his eyes off the footage.

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