Page 58 of The Cut
‘Karine Mickelsen entertains Shiv Banerjee and her husband, Mukash Das, at Claridge’s for the after-party ofThe Hoax.’
Ben froze. Mukash Das was an Indian billionaire and one of the major backers of the IF Group.
‘I knew it.’ Ben’s hands swept sweat from his brow as his heart raced.
Das was one of the financiers currently threatening IF with a major lawsuit. He zoomed in closer on the face. They’d never met but the name was etched into his brain. In the background of the shot was a bar; and sitting on a stool, facing away from the camera in profile, was a face Ben thought he recognised. He zoomed in closer still until the frame pixelated.
‘It can’t be,’ Ben muttered to himself. ‘What the hell?’
He couldn’t be certain, but the profile was familiar. Ben strained to read the copy at the bottom of the picture. Akshata Patel and her husband, Sandeep. Ben’s stomach dropped. Mukash Das, the Patels and Karine Mickelsen were all at the same party.222
‘Knock knock?’ Karine was standing at the open door to his office.
Ben’s hand whipped out like a shot and slammed the laptop closed.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.’ In her hands she held two heavy crystal glasses. ‘Whisky rocks, peace offering … Looks like you could use a drink.’
‘What are you doing here?’ He looked absolutely terrible.
‘I thought you and I needed to have a little chat … to break the ice.’ The cubes chinked in the glass as she held one out to him.
He pressed his fingers into his tired eye sockets and pushed back in his chair. ‘I have some business I need to deal with … in private. Work stuff.’
Karine glanced at his laptop and smiled. ‘Come on. It’s five o’clock somewhere.’ Ben took the glass obediently.
‘Dårligt er aldrig godt, før værre sker.’ She smiled at Ben.
‘Sorry?’ Ben’s glass hovered by his mouth.
‘It’s a Danish proverb … bad is never good until worse happens.’
Ben inclined his head. He inhaled through his nose.
‘Are you having work problems?’ Karine leant in closer.
Ben eyeballed her. What the hell did she know?
‘This is cosy.’ Dani’s voice cut through the tension. She was standing at the top of the stairs with her arms folded. ‘Cocktail hour?’ Her eyes drifted to Ben and she pursed her lips.
‘It’s my fault. I’m corrupting him, Dani.’ Karine laughed, brushing it off, and placed her glass down on the desk. ‘But I do have an ulterior motive.’
‘I’m sure you do.’ Dani cut her dead. ‘Ben, can I have a word?’ She whipped around as best she could on four-inch heels and moved off into the kitchen. He set down the glass and wearily223hauled himself out of his chair, following behind her. Karine shrugged apologetically but didn’t move. Her eyes returned to Ben’s laptop.
She downed her drink in one, then picked up Ben’s glass and knocked that back too. She needed some Dutch courage. Karine slid an expensive-looking business card from a marble holder on the desk and studied it. He’d really made something of himself. A CEO no less; it was impressive how high he had risen. Just like her, he was at the top of his game. She pondered for a second; it was such a shame to have to do this. But Ben was the last piece of the puzzle; he was the most important element of all. She studied the phone number on the card. It was all just a game, a bit of artistic fun; a text from the director with a set of instructions – what could be simpler than that? Karine sensed that Ben would need a little more encouragement, a little more prising open than she had anticipated.
She had them all in her sights; the cat was among the pigeons, exactly as she had planned.224
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40
JUNE 1994
The endless weeks of revision and the stress of their GCSEs have taken their toll. Hours cooped up in sweltering classrooms, desks lined up facing the wall, inky fingers and aching necks from the head-down, frantic splurge of knowledge: from brain to paper. And now it’s the calm before the storm, the no man’s land before the exam results come in. Ben knows his grades will be shit, one more reason for Farmer John to keep him away from his daughter. Dave’s dad has ridiculous expectations for his son. Annie has it for nothing; she’s got a photographic memory, so her exams are always a breeze, except when she’s distracted. The Davis twins would most likely suffer the most, having done zero work, fancying their chances to just wing it on the day. It hadn’t gone well.
From the top of the chimney, high up in the Crow’s Nest, Mark Cherry has Catherine Maddock in his sights. She’s as tiny as an ant, by the edge of the brook in the distance below. Wrapping her legs tightly around the tyre swing dangling from the old willow, she braces herself for take-off. Annie stands behind, holding on to her sister’s waist as she pulls back the rope swing and pushes her out over the water. Cat is suddenly flying out high into the sky, arms windmilling and skinny legs bicycling in mid-air. Her squeal of delight makes Mark smile as he watches his best friend splash down into the deep water of the mill pond at the top of the weir before rising up like a champion diver. She clambers on to the top ledge of the concrete slope and skids down towards the shallower brook below, splatting, bottom first, on to the surface.226
Mark is just about to descend from the top of the chimney stack when he notices Dave Patel and Chris Davis on the wall of the reservoir by the water wheel. The sluice running from the brook is little more than damp mud. The wheel is still intact after all this time, half of it preserved in silt, half of it bolted together with a makeshift scaffold. A shopping trolley, old cans of paint, car tyres and pieces of timber have blocked up the tail race and the whole stinking soup is an absolute death trap. Chris has a rope around the branches of a tree that has sprouted in the walls of the old covered tunnel and Dave has a crowbar and tent mallet. He’s hacking at the bricks around the roots while Chris hauls on the rope, gradually dislodging the tree as the crumbling ancient masonry loosens and a section of wall gives way. The smallest trickle of water begins to fill the sluice as Patel sets to work with his mallet.
