Page 56 of The Price of Love
In the fusty kitchen, Cal made a huge pot of coffee, still riding that peculiarly tight-focussed energy beam. I sat at the scrubbed table in silence, sipping and occasionally shaking my head. The film of my life had suddenly stopped being a sedate rom-com and switched to hi-tech thriller. The casting directormust be having kittens. ‘All right. I give in. What the hell was that all about?’
Cal refilled his mug. ‘I could tell you,’ he said, watching me over the rim, ‘but then I’d have to kill you.’
I laughed. ‘Oh, come on. Just tell me.’
‘Willow.’ Cal put down his mug. ‘I’m being serious. The stuff you saw in there, what you heard, youmust notrepeat to anyone. Do you understand?’
The laugh died. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Look. It’s work, all right? It’s what I do. And it’s all stuff that . . . I’m covered by the Official Secrets Act. Do you know what that means?’
‘Yes, but, God, Cal, youareserious, aren’t you?’
‘Never more so.’
‘Official Secrets. That means you can’t talk about it, even if you want to?’
Cal stared down at the pitted and worn tabletop. ‘I can, if I trust you.’
‘And do you?’ My heart thumped hard against my ribs.
He looked up and his eyes met mine. ‘I want to.’ His voice was so quiet, so soft, that it seemed to hang in the air. ‘I’ve never trusted anyone before. Not with this, not with anything that mattered.’
‘Cal—’
‘Feels weird. Wanting someone else to be part of what I’ve got going on.’ The words were gently spoken, almost inaudible.
‘Well, I promise not to tell. Anyone. Ever. And I’m good at keeping secrets, just ask Katie. Or, don’t ask her because she won’t tell you because it’s a secret. But I know things about her that evenDandoesn’t.’ I was blabbing, trying to break the suddenly sombre mood.
I was worried that I might have gone too far, been too light-hearted about something that was obviously very important toCal, when he grinned at me. ‘I can tell you some of what I do, but don’t repeat it. I’m part of something called a Tiger Team. Huh, listen to me, Mr False Modesty. I’m team leader. We’re what you’d probably call hackers, if you didn’t know anything about it.’
‘Hackers? You mean, breaking into people’s security systems?’
‘Er, no. We’re what’s known in the trade as “white hats”, the good guys. We check out people’s systems. They pay us to try to break through their security set-ups. Means companies can make sure they’re watertight. If we break in, we get to sell them our security system. All right? Info dump over.’
‘But, why are you telling me? I thought it was all Official Secrets stuff?’
He shrugged, his face hidden for a second by his hair. ‘Too much time on my own?’
‘I thought you were a computer consultant.’
‘Men can multitask, too, you know.’ Cal brought the coffeepot over again, accidentally brushing against my hip as he refilled our mugs. I felt myself shrink into my skin. ‘What I do here. This is what keeps me going. The stuff back at the flat is cover. Yes, I enjoy fixing people’s machines, diagnostic work and troubleshooting and stuff but’ — he looked out of the window over the yard, unconsciously fiddling his hair back into its ponytail — ‘this isme. Fortune and I write the software. The guys all have their own areas of expertise. Together . . . let’s say we’re the best in the business.’
‘And you’re using all that just to help me?’
A ray of sunlight shot into the kitchen, freezing the moment. ‘Any friend of mine is a friend of theirs,’ Cal said easily, ignoring the atmosphere. ‘Besides, I’m the Sandman. They do as they’re told.’
‘No wonder you don’t want to leave here.’
Cal shook his head. ‘I can set up somewhere else. I like it to be away from the flat. Keeps things separate, if you know what I mean. Compartmentalised. But I’d still like you to buy the house. If you’re sure you’re interested. It’ll be nice to know it’s gone to someone who’ll appreciate the place.’
‘Oh yes, Luke’s got lots of plans,’ I said eagerly.
‘Fine,’ Cal snapped, and we drank the rest of the coffee in silence.
‘Why Sandman?’ I asked, when the distraction factor of watching dust motes whirl in the sunbeam had faded, and I hoped that enough time had elapsed since my mention of Luke for Cal not to start nagging me again.
‘Oh. Graphic novels. By Neil Gaiman. Sandman is the name of his character Dream — coolest thing alive. Or, well, not alive, as such, but, ah, you know what I mean.’
