A Very Corporate Affair Book 2 (The Corporate Series) (21 page)

     "Well I've been spending fourteen hours a day in suits and high heels, so two weeks of flip flops and a bikini sounds like heaven to me, and I've missed you too. Sunday nights just aren't the same without you snoring on the sofa."

 
    "I don't snore."

 
    "I think you'll find you do. I'll record it next time for you," I teased.

 
   "Everything alright with you?"

 
   "Yeah, Ivan's away right now, and I have to face mum's funeral Friday, but I'm coping ok."

 
   "Good. I'll cook us both a huge roast when I get back. I've been dreaming about it for weeks."

 
   "Mmm, I do miss your roasts. I feel like I've lived on ready meals and sandwiches for months."

 
   "Naughty girl. You're too thin as it is. Anyway, I'd better go get on with some work. I'll call you next week when I know a firm time yeah?"

 
   "Great. See you soon." We said our goodbyes, and I headed off to bed. 

  
    The following day seemed to drag on forever. My work was tedious, and rather mundane contract stuff, which required intense concentration, mainly because it was so boring, and monotonous. The office itself seemed a little quiet, as we were in holiday season, and people had begun to take their leave. Most companies put merger plans on hold through July and August, so with the exception of a few other projects, there wasn't much else to do. I left at six, nipping down to the arcade to buy some food at the deli, some milk, and a few pairs of new stockings. I walked back to the flat, and was just about to put my code in the pad to open the door to the lobby, when a woman approached me.

 
     "Excuse me, do you live here?"

 
     "Yes, why?" I looked closely at her. She was small and pretty, with fair hair, piercing blue eyes, and a deep, golden tan. She didn't look like a nutter.

 
    "I'm looking for a James Harrison, he used to live in the penthouse. Do you know if he's moved?"

 
    "I'm his flatmate, Elle, and no he hasn't moved, but he's away working in the states at the moment. I can give him a message for you."

 
     "Would you mind? I did write to him a few weeks ago, and didn't hear from him, and that explains why." She got a pen and piece of paper out of her handbag, and scribbled down a phone number. "Can you tell him that Janine needs to speak to him, and it's rather urgent please." I stared at her, wondering if she was his ex.

 
    "Sure, I'll pass it on." I took the number from her, and watched as she wandered away, before tapping in my code, and heading in. I called James straight away, and gave him the message, and the phone number. He seemed stunned, asking what she looked like. I described her. He confirmed that it was indeed his ex, and he would give her a call to find out what she wanted.

 
    With my good deed for the day done, I heated up my ready meal, and made a latte, before checking my outfit for the funeral, and finally sinking into a deep bath. I was dreading facing the final reality of mum's death, but would be relieved to see Ivan safely home.

 
     Next morning, I hit the gym at my usual time, using a punishing workout to relieve some of the tension I felt at facing the day. I got back to the flat by eight, and pottered around, before dressing in my black Mouret dress, with black stockings and black Jimmy Choos, putting them on like a suit of armour. With my black Prada bag at the ready, all I had to do was wait for Ivan. I made a coffee, and sat playing with my phone. When it rang, I nearly dropped the damn thing. I answered, and it was Roger, telling me that Ivan's plane had been delayed, and I should go on ahead without him. Less than five minutes later, Roger buzzed me to tell me he was downstairs. I grabbed my things, and headed down.

 
       In the car, I got the distinct feeling that something was 'off'. "Ivan is alright, isn't he?" I asked.

 
       "Yes, of course, his flight was delayed, and he's currently in the air. He sends his apologies."

 
       I wanted to scream LIAR at him, and a pernicious, prickling fear crept over my body. I knew full well that Roger wouldn't tell me the truth if he'd been instructed to lie, so all I could do was wait. I tried to call Ivan, but his phone went straight to voicemail.

 
       I watched Roger carefully as we drove to Welling. He was giving nothing away, his face was an impenetrable mask. We pulled up outside the flat, and I left Roger in the car, and rang the bell of Mum's old flat. Ray answered looking dishevelled, and invited me in. The flat looked like Beirut, with pizza boxes and mouldy coffee cups laying around, and a collection of empty beer cans growing in a corner. "Let me brush my teeth, and I'm ready. Would you make us a cuppa while you wait?" He mumbled, "only I got a bit wankered down at the Green man last night, so until I can get another beer, my mouth feels like dust."

 
     "You're going to my mum’s funeral with a hangover? What the fuck is the matter with you? At least have a shave and a shower for fucks sake. Show some sodding respect." I felt ashamed at falling back down to his level, and swearing at him, but it was the only language he understood. He shuffled off into the bathroom, and I went to see if I could make a cup of tea.

 
       For a start, the milk was so off, it was practically cheese, so I sent Roger down to the corner shop for milk, tea bags, and some washing up liquid and sponges. When he came back, I washed up two cups, and made a drink. I looked around the wreck of my old home, marvelling at how quickly it had got into such a terrible state. When Ray appeared, he at least looked a little cleaner, and had put on his least dirty shirt. He explained that he didn't have a black tie to wear, and hadn't wanted to waste benefit money on something that he'd only wear once.
Loser.

 
      At half eleven, the hearses arrived, with the arrangement of lilies I'd ordered, the only flowers present. My heart broke again for her. I was glad that I'd bought a nice big arrangement to decorate her coffin, as no other bastard had bothered. The neighbours began to come out of their houses to line the street, which I found strangely comforting. Ray and I climbed in the only car, and set off behind the hearse. Roger allowed mum's downstairs neighbours to hitch a lift in the Mercedes while he followed behind me. The rest of the cortège was made up of old Fords and some rusty Fiats, as we slowly made our way out of Lovell Avenue for the last time.

 
     The crematorium at Eltham was a lovely place, with pretty gardens of remembrance, and plenty of tranquil spaces for reflection. The undertakers lifted Mum's coffin in, and I was struck by how tiny it looked, and how effortlessly they carried it. They placed it on a plinth in front of a pair of curtains, and retreated as we all filed in to the strains of 'Bridge over troubled water', her favourite song.

 
      I couldn't tell you much about the service, or the reading, as I felt as though I was in a dream world. It was the most surreal experience of my life, saying the final goodbye to the woman who had tried so hard for me, and who had sacrificed so much to help me escape the life she had endured. She hadn't had dreams of her own, but she'd helped me with mine, even when she hadn't understood them, or even agreed with them. My tears began to fall. A tissue appeared by my shoulder, held out by a neighbour who was sitting in the row behind. I took it gratefully, and dabbed my eyes. At the end of the service, the curtains opened, and the coffin slid away. I said a silent goodbye, before standing to leave.

      It was then that I noticed that the chapel was packed. Friends and neighbours had all turned out to pay their respects, and say their goodbyes to a woman who had been a good friend, and a popular person in the street. I managed a wan smile, and nodded at a few of the people who had been close friends of hers, and headed back to the car.

  
     The landlord of the pub did us proud. He had laid on a lovely spread, and roped off part of the lounge bar for our exclusive use. We packed the place out, and once the initial scrum at the bar was dealt with, it all went very smoothly. I moved around the room, thanking people for coming, and listening to their stories about mum. It was nice, hearing how popular she was, and how well liked she'd been. If she'd been there, she would have loved it.

  
     I stayed for at least two hours, before saying my goodbyes, and leaving them to it. Ray was taking advantage of all the sympathetic free drinks he was being bought, and I really didn't want to be lumbered with getting him home.

 
      I slid into the Mercedes, and asked Roger to take me home. "Did everything go alright?" He asked. I didn't answer, as I was looking at forty two missed calls on my mobile, all from various numbers. "Elle, I said was everything alright?" Roger asked again.

 
     "Before I call all these numbers, perhaps you can tell me?"

 
     He sighed, "I was under strict instructions that you shouldn't be told until your mother's funeral was over. Ivan and his guards went missing last night just before they were about to take off. They were intercepted before they got on the plane. It's being reported on the news now." I quickly scrolled through my iPhone to sky news, and read that Ivan's group had been overpowered and kidnapped just before getting on his private jet to leave Russia, and it was believed they were being held hostage somewhere in the Urals mountains. I went cold, and felt sick.

 
      Shaking, I worked my way through the missed calls, speaking to Ms Pearson, Mr Ranenkiov, Lewis and finally Oscar.

 
      "Is there anything you can do? Any contacts that could help?" I asked, after sliding up the privacy screen in the car.

 
      "Until there's a demand, not a huge amount, but I know someone who can, and he owes you."

 
      "Who?"

 
      "Darius. Works for the intelligence services. He'll know what to do. I may get him to call you. If you need ransom money, Elle, you can come to me."

 
      "Thank you. I'm on my way to my company head office to see Ms Pearson. She called to say she needed to see me immediately."

 
     "Keep your phone switched on, and answer all calls straightaway."

 
     "Will do."

 
     We were driving over London Bridge when Darius called. "Elle, Oscar contacted me. It seems you need some assistance?"

 
    "Yes, I take it you know about Ivan going missing?"

 
    "Yes, we've already had some contact with the KGB over the matter. The good news is that he is still alive."

 
    "But?"

 
    "A ransom demand has been given to the Russian equivalent of our foreign secretary. They want fifty million dollars."

 
    "Oscar said he would pay it. I'm sure Ivan will pay it back. So how do we do this?"

 
     "I need to make some calls, it’s not as simple as just paying the ransom. The Russian government can't be seen to capitulate to hostage demands, so we have to be sneaky. Usually what happens is that the money is paid, and the hostage released alongside the illusion of a rescue attempt which is triumphant. That way, nobody loses face."

 
     "How long will it take?"

 
     "I don't know. Our diplomats are with the Russian government at the moment, working on this. I'll speak to Oscar about a secret money transfer, and we'll do our best to get him out as fast as we can. I do know that I owe you, you know."

 
     "Darius, please do this for me because I'm a nice girl, in love with a man who's been kidnapped, not because of an imaginary debt. I gave you both my word, and it will stand until I die."

 
    "Ivan is one lucky man to have you. I'll do my very best to get him out alive, and twist every arm that I can." We said our goodbyes, and he cut the call. Shortly afterwards, we pulled up at the Pearson Hardwick head office. I was immediately whisked up to Ms Pearson's office, and shown straight in. We shook hands, and sat down.

 
     "So, how are you bearing up? And have you heard any news yet?"

 
     "There's been a ransom demand made. People are trying their best to get him out alive, but I don't know yet if it will happen, or when."

 
     Ms Pearson looked grave. "As you possibly know, I met with Mr Porenski to put in place plans should this scenario happen. As of now, you are acting as managing director of all his companies. We're you aware of that plan being in place?"

 
     "Yes I was, although I did suggest I didn't have the experience or knowledge to do it."

 
     "Just caretake it. Don't let the other directors make any important decisions. Aim for keeping things on an even a keel as you can, given the circumstances. You're a clever woman Elle, and Ivan knows you can be trusted more than any man in his company. There’s one more thing he asked me to alert you of in a scenario such as this."

 
     I looked Ms Pearson in the eye. "First I need to ask, what do I do if he doesn't come back?"

 
    She paused. "You get on with running your companies, because he left everything to you. That’s what he asked me to tell you."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

D
A Latham is a salon owner, mother of Persian cats, a dog called Ted, and devoted partner to the wonderful Allan.