Dark Service Page 4

  “Morning, Jan.” He didn’t need or want to say more. So he didn’t expand.

  “Deadline’s eleven am. I trust you’ll be on time?”

  “It’s ready to go,” he said, patting the laptop he was unpacking from his satchel.

  I’ve never missed a deadline yet. It’s not what I do, remember?

  “Glad to hear it. And I’ve pushed your review session back until next week. Hope you don’t mind. I’ll send you a calendar date when I’ve decided on when exactly.” Then she was gone as quickly as she’d appeared, the faint odour of stale cigarette smoke overlaid with her vile perfume lingering where she’d stood.

  That’s not good. Why do you need to change it? What’s more important than a person’s performance review – my performance review? I like order. Remember?

  Griffin stood to make his way to the break room, scraping his chair back noisily on the wooden floor. Anxiety started to boil in his chest. He’d spent time on his performance review and treated it with the importance it deserved, and that would all be wasted now. He’d have to do it all again. And wait for a time that was suitable to her. He stalked towards the small kitchen area and thrust a tea bag into his mug, covering it with boiling water from the heater on the wall. He stood seething as it steeped. It wouldn’t last long, this feeling. He’d taught himself how to handle change over recent years. At fourteen years old, he’d found a coping mechanism that worked for him, allowing him to get through his teen years largely unscathed. And that was where his fifteen-minute segments came in. It helped him to get through the anxiety, knowing it would pass soon, within those fifteen minutes. He stirred his tea and waited it out in the calm of the small room. Shortly, all would be well again in Griffin’s world. He just had to stand and wait it out.

  “There you are.” It was Rob, a features writer at the paper and probably the only person on the team who took much notice of him. “Been looking all over.”

  “Just catching ten before the mayhem starts and Jan starts flapping like a mad woman. I hate deadline day.”

  “Know what you mean, bro. Me too. You’re all ready, though, aren’t you, Mr. Organized? I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Not like me, eh? Always on the last minute. I’d be late for my mother’s funeral I’m sure, never mind my own.”

  Griffin poured the last tea dregs down the sink and rinsed his mug. “And look at the stress it causes you by being late. You’re the same every month. Don’t quite know how you manage it, or why. I couldn’t cope.” Griffin slapped Rob on the shoulder affectionately as he made his way back to his desk, his clean mug in hand. “If you really are stuck, let me know. I might be able to help you. I’m not submitting mine in until eleven am on the dot, just to bug her.”

  “That’s not like you. What gives?”

  “She’s postponed my review until next week, so if she thinks I’m not important enough, then I feel the same about her lousy paper. Stuff her.”

  Rob watched with his mouth open as Griffin left the room. His friend was never one for outbursts, though Rob knew he sometimes struggled to contain things inside. And he usually managed to keep them concealed. Rob busied himself making coffee and headed back to his own desk a few moments later. As he passed Griffin, he noted that his colleague’s head was already buried in his laptop. Rob tossed a Kit Kat to him, payment for his help that he would undoubtedly need if he was to submit on time. Griffin looked up, startled, as it clattered down by his elbow.

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Rob. You eat it. Too much sugar for me. Can’t eat it.”

  “Ah – sorry, mate. Forgot about that,” Rob said, and swept in to claim it back. “May as well have it myself then.” He ripped into the red wrapper; small flakes of chocolate and biscuit scattered to the floor beside Griffin’s desk. “Damn, half of it is broken. Look at that lot – half of it’s missing!”

  “Well, it’s on the floor if you want to get on your hands and knees and clean it up. If you don’t, I’ll have to.”

  “Nah, you’re all right. Cleaners will get it later,” said Rob, his mouth full. And off he went, unaware of just how Griffin was fizzing inside at the new problem around his feet. Try as he might, he knew he couldn’t leave it there: the chocolate crumbs would grind under his feet. It would play on his mind too much. Stepping carefully around the mess, he made his way back to the kitchen for a damp paper towel to wipe it up with. Mess just never sat well, and that included around his workspace. It was better than the anxiety-riddled alternative. Jan’s voice interrupted him while he was on his hands and knees.

  “Listen up, folks. Deadline has changed. Ten am, please. And no buts! So if you’re still working on it, get your own butt moving, pronto!”

  Rob glanced at Griffin under his desk on the floor and rolled his eyes at Jan’s announcement. While it didn’t pose a problem for Griffin, he smiled as his friend mouthed ‘Butt out’ to her retreating back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Griffin walked from Green Park to Victoria station that night after work. It really wasn’t very far, and although normally he took the tube to the station as part of his routine, tonight he felt like the walk. The air was still lukewarm, the remaining sun in the sky weakening as summer moved on to pastures new and autumn moved in in its place. He picked up the pace and headed in the direction of the station like he was on a mission. He was, kind of: to get home.

  He’d been a sports reporter for a couple of years, though he’d only been into sports at all for a little over three. He had been diagnosed with type two diabetes at age twenty-two; his doctor had been worried about his general state of health, and ultimately told him that, weighing in at close to twenty-five stone, he had been on a fast track to organ failure. Luckily for Griffin, he’d made the right decision and got himself on the right track. How he’d ever got to twenty-five stone he had no clue. There was no abusive story lurking in his background, no family breakup to blame, no bullying to speak of save for the usual teasing he and others in his class had endured. Yes, his anxiety issues had played a part, but in general, the simple answer to his weight gain had been gaming. He just hadn’t moved enough to compensate for the calories he consumed daily. And so his weight had ballooned until his doctor had told him to get moving and change his bad habits. So he had: the doctor had told him to do it, and that’s all he’d needed. Direction was his friend. Now, although he was still a little heavy at thirteen stone, he’d lost almost twelve, with just another stone to go. And that’s when he’d got his ‘issue.’ Yes, it bothered him, what he kept secret under the hood of his own engine, but he’d get it rectified just as soon as he had the funds to do so. And found the right person to do the job.

  The train was packed like a tin of sardines, and at the end of a hot day, and was just as pungent. But Griffin didn’t care. In thirty minutes he’d be back home, changed into his training gear and headed for the park and all the fresh air he needed as he walked ten laps around it to complete his ten thousand daily steps. He had a goal to aim for, and sitting as his desk for most of the day didn’t use up enough calories to move the final stone that he still carried. And walking was now a part of his routine. Routine, routine, routine. It kept him sane. Sitting in his seat on the packed train, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to think about having a special someone in his life. One day, he’d have one. What would she look like? How would they meet? What would her friends be like? Would she fancy him? Would she be the one?

  He felt the train slow down and pull into a station, so he opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure where they were, exactly. That’s when he saw her. He briefly caught the eye of a young woman sitting almost opposite him. Briefly, but long enough to note she was pretty, with short, shiny brown hair cut into a smart bob style, thick-rimmed glasses very similar to his own, and a scattering of freckles across her nose. She looked almost like Velma Dinkley from the Scooby Doo comic strip, but without the pleated skirt. And she was pretty. After his brief analysis, he chanced a small smile, expecting her to turn away; they usually
did. Nothing came back; no smile, no nothing. Just a fixed expression as their eyes caught. Perhaps she was looking past him, not at him at all, or maybe she wondered who the hell was looking at her.

  He was just about to turn away himself, before the rejection pricked him in his chest, when her petite mouth lifted slightly at the corners and formed the smallest of smiles. Had he imagined it? Was he daydreaming? He tilted his head slightly as if that would give him a better view, to confirm that she had in fact smiled at him. Or had not. But to his astonishment, it was there, and he chanced another smile back in return. It felt awkward, but the nice thing to do. What would happen now? Would she stop smiling, get off at the next stop and never be seen again? Or would she look away and that would be the end of it?

  The train slowed to a complete standstill and people shuffled out, distracting him, making his thoughts scatter inside his head. When the carriage had almost emptied, he chanced a look back to see if she had left with everyone else, but she hadn’t. She was still sat there. Not knowing what else to do, he simply nodded in her direction, which she seemed to enjoy, and even though she turned her head away from him, he could see her smile had widened via the reflection in the window. Perhaps she was shy, embarrassed even? There wasn’t anything else he felt able to do. He wasn’t like other men in the confidence department. No, he’d see where she got off, he decided, and if it was before his stop that would be the end of it. He rested his head back and closed his eyes once more for the remainder of the journey, not daring to look her way again.

  As he felt the train finally pull into his station, he gathered his belongings and edged his way to the door, keeping his eyes averted. But there are too many windows on a train not to see a reflection.

  That was how he saw her getting off at the same stop as his.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Taylor finally stopped panicking and stood rigid in the centre of the room. Stolen her hair? How could that even be? And who would want it? And what did the card mean – ‘settled’? So many questions she hadn’t answers for fizzed in her head like freshly poured Fanta, though without the zing. Her hands tentatively touched her scalp again for confirmation of what she already knew, hoping she’d been wrong when she’d looked in the mirror. But mirrors never lie, and neither did her hands. The stump that was left was still secured neatly there. The rest of her hair was gone. She wiped away a tear, which was quickly followed by another. Transfixed, she watched them fall through the air and splash onto the thick carpet. Picking the notelet back up, feeling the cool, crisp card in her fingers, she re-read the message again out loud.

  Your debt has been settled. I’d advise you to tell no one. It wouldn’t be wise.

  “My debt?” Those damn questions with no answers.

  She glanced at the curled-up sandwiches and the silver pot, which she assumed contained tea, although it was probably cold. While she had no intention of sampling anything, the silver pot reminded her of one thing – her tea appointment who had never shown up. Could he be linked to this, perhaps? Her mind conjured up possibilities that made no sense. Why would he be involved? She hadn’t seen him in person, but she had met his assistant. And there was yet another question – had the man indeed been his assistant? And the driver in the fancy Mercedes –had he been real too? What the hell was going on? Deflated, she sat down heavily on the sofa where she had woken up only minutes ago. The simple fact of the matter was that, while her hair had been stolen, she was otherwise unharmed. She picked up the empty cup and took it to the bathroom to fill with water. Her mouth was parched, and if she had been drugged at some point, she wasn’t about to risk what might be in the pot. The cold water felt refreshing as it slid down her throat, and she refilled the cup again, sipping it more slowly now that her initial thirst had been quenched, and returned to the sofa.

  “Drugged? Me? But why?”

  Daring herself, she ran her fingers through the little stump of hair, pulling the hair tie out as they forced their way through the clump that was left. The hair tie pinged off to the side and landed on the carpet. She stared at it. It was black and gold. Her little topknot fanned forward as she bent to look at the tie more closely. She didn’t recognize it as one of her own, which raised another question. Had it been bought solely for the purpose of restraining her hair before it had been cut? Had this all been planned, premeditated? Was she part of some sort of vile game, herself the victim? Definitely not the winner if she was.

  She pulled the woollen blanket around her shoulders, suddenly feeling chilled, and wondered what to do. The card had said it wouldn’t be wise to tell anyone, but she needed to tell. How could she not? If she’d been taken against her will, drugged and robbed, the person or persons involved needed to be caught before they did it to someone else. But what would happen to her if she did tell and go the police? The card had been specific in it being ‘unwise.’ Was she prepared to find out? Resting her head on the sofa back, she closed her eyes and tried to make sense of what she should do. Stay and call her mother and the police, or go, forget all about it and not risk any possible repercussions? If it had been an elaborate set-up, preplanned, there would be no evidence of any wrongdoing in the room, she was sure. And that would make her look like a madwoman who had lost her hair, the victim of a prank and nothing more. And whoever was responsible clearly had had no intention of harming her physically or restraining her; the blanket and food along with the unlocked door told her so.

  On steadier legs, she stood, put her feet in her shoes, grabbed her bag and let herself out of the hotel room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The light outside was almost completely faded and a cool chill clung to her thin cardigan as she stood in the hotel doorway. She shivered involuntarily, not all together sure which direction to turn in. Back inside and report it? Or towards home and forget about it? A male voice at her side made her jump. Turning in the direction of the voice, she relaxed a little when she saw it was the doorman from earlier in the day.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked if you were alright, Miss. You’re shivering.” His smile was warm, but not enough to warm her right through. And he was looking at her a little oddly, like he recognized her but something troubled him. She remembered her hair.

  Pausing a moment before she spoke, she replied, “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” Should she ask him a question about earlier? Would he know anything? As she stood in the doorway, still undecided on her direction, she figured if the doorman had been a part of whatever it was she was involved in, he’d have been long gone by now. Maybe he’d remember something. Turning towards the older man again, she asked, “Do you remember me arriving earlier, by any chance?”

  “Yes, Miss. I do. I let you out of the car.”

  Right – that memory returned to her, at least. “Yes, you did. Thank you. Do you know the driver of that car? Have you ever seen it or him before?”

  “No, Miss, can’t say that I do, but then we have a lot of black Mercedes dropping guests off. Is everything alright?” The corners of his eyes were crinkly with age, the irises a comforting hazel colour. She knew she could trust him.

  “You didn’t happen to see a tall grey-haired man, probably in his seventies, come in here by chance, did you? Quite a distinguished-looking man, very stylish?”

  The doorman thought for a moment and shook his head. “No, Miss, but he may have come while I was on my break. I’ve been back about an hour. Are you sure you’re all right? You seem a little nervous, upset even. Can I get you a taxi somewhere, perhaps?”

  Ignoring his question and concern, she asked, “Is there another entrance to the hotel?”

  “Not for guests. Only the rear entrance, but that’s mainly for staff. You know, for deliveries and the like. He wouldn’t have entered that way.” The doorman scratched his chin as he thought. “Though he could have if he’d wanted to, I suppose. Highly unusual, though. Why would anyone enter that way?”

  Why indeed.

  Taylor still had no ans
wers to the fizzing questions, but as exhaustion settled into her bones, she knew what she was going to do next.

  “I think I’d like that taxi home, please.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Miss,” the doorman said, and she watched as the kindly man hailed her a cab.

  When the taxi had pulled away from the curb, he stood and watched the vehicle disappear off into the distance, the taillights eventually fading to the size of red pinheads. The big question that hung on his heart surfaced again. What had happened to her beautiful hair? It had been the same woman for sure; he wasn’t such an old fool to have forgotten it so easily – the colour was glorious. But it was none of his business. Another car pulled up and he greeted its occupants in his usual way.

  Back to work, and back to normal.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Steam from the bathtub filled her small bathroom and she added a dash of lavender bubble bath; the white bubbles foamed up on contact with the water gushing in. Somehow, she’d given the taxi driver her address and unlocked the door to her flat, though she didn’t remember any of it. Maybe her brain was still addled from whatever she’d been given earlier. She climbed into the tub and the warm water got to work on warming and soothing her aching limbs. Stress can do odd things to a person, show itself in odd ways, and Taylor started to shiver uncontrollably as she lowered herself further in. Slipping down so her shoulders were completely submerged, she let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. The lavender smelled good, the warm water felt good, but she didn’t feel good.