FOURTEEN

      The Call

      Exactly two weeks later, at around three o’clock in the afternoon, J.T. walks over to my desk and presses a single sheet of Abnex-headed paper into my hand.

      ‘You seen this?’ he says.

      ‘What is it?’

      I save the file on my computer and turn to him.

      ‘New staff memo. Unbelievable.’

      I begin to read.

      While Abnex Oil fully respects the privacy of employees’ personal affairs, it expects them to discharge fully their obligations of service to the company. It also requires them to be law-abiding, both inside and outside working hours. Remember that any indiscreet and/or antisocial behaviour could not only affect an employee’s performance and position, but also reflect badly on Abnex Oil.

      ‘Jesus,’ I mutter.

      ‘Too right. Fucking nanny state.’

      ‘Next they’ll be telling us what to eat.’

      Cohen’s desk faces mine. We work staring into each other’s eyes. He looks up from his computer terminal and says, ‘What is that?’

      ‘New memo. Just came up from personnel.’ J.T. looks at him. ‘Call it up on your e-mail. They’ve labelled it urgent. Some big-brother piece of shit instructing employees on how to conduct their private lives. Fucking disgrace.’

      ‘Did you manage to get those figures I asked you for at lunch?’ Cohen asks him, ignoring the complaint entirely. He will not tolerate any hint of dissent on the team.

      ‘No. I can’t seem to get hold of the guy in Ankara.’

      ‘Well, will you keep trying, please? They’ll be closing up and going home now.’

      ‘Sure.’

      J.T., suitably rebuked and sheepish, slopes back to his desk and picks up the phone. He leaves the memo beside my computer and I slide it into a drawer.

      All seven members of the team, including Murray and Cohen, share a secretary. Tanya is an anglophone Canadian from Montreal with strong views on Quebec separatism and a boyfriend called Dan. She is big boned, thickset, and straightforward, and has been with the company since it started. Tanya wears a lot of makeup and piles her hair up high in a thick ebony bunch, which she never lets down.

      ‘Only Dan gets to see my hair,’ she says.

      No one has ever met Dan.

      At half past three the telephone rings on my desk.

      ‘Who is it, Tanya?’

      ‘Someone from Andromeda.’

      I think that it may be the Hobbit, but then she says, ‘Katharine Lanchester. You want me to take a message?’

      Cohen looks up, just a half glance, registering the name.

      ‘No. I’ll take it.’

      I was a day away, no more, from calling them myself.

      From his desk nearby, Ben mutters, ‘Play hard to get, Alec. Birds love that.’

      ‘I’m putting her through.’

      ‘Okay.’

      Adrenaline now, my hand in my hair, pushing it out of my face.

      ‘Alec Milius.’

      ‘Alec? It’s Katharine Lanchester at Andromeda. Fortner’s wife.’

      ‘Oh, hello. What can I do for you?’

      ‘How are you?’

      ‘Fine, thanks. It’s good to hear from you.’

      ‘Well, Fort so enjoyed going to the movies with you. Said he had a great time.’

      Her voice is quick and enthused.

      ‘Yes. You missed a good film.’

      ‘Oh, I can’t stand Westerns. Guys in leather standing in the middle of the street twirling six-shooters, seeing who blinks first. I prefer something more contemporary.’

      ‘Sure.’

      ‘Still, I had a nice dinner with Fortner afterwards and he told me all about it. Matter of fact, that’s why I was calling. I was wondering if you and maybe Saul would like to have dinner sometime?’

      ‘Sure, I–‘

      ‘I mean I don’t know if you’re free, but…’

      ‘No, no, not at all, I’d like that very much. I’ll ask him and I’m sure he’d like to.’

      ‘Good. Shall we set a date?’

      ‘Okay.’

      ‘When are you not taken up?’

      ‘Uh, anytime next week except–just let me check my diary.’

      I know that I’m free every night. I just don’t want it to appear that way.

      ‘How about Wednesday?’

      ‘Terrific. Wednesday it is. So long as Saul can make it.’

      ‘I’m sure he’ll be able to.’

      Cohen’s eyes are fixed on the far wall. He is listening in.

      ‘How’s Fortner?’ I ask.

      ‘Oh, he’s good. He’s in Washington right now. I’m just hoping that he’ll be back in time. He’s got a lot of work to get through out there.’

      ‘So where shall we meet?’

      ‘Why don’t we just say the In and Out again? Just at the gate there, eight o’clock?’

      She had that planned.

      ‘Fine.’

      ‘See you there, then.’

      ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

      I hang up and there is a rush of blood in my head.

      ‘What was all that?’ Cohen asks, chewing the end of a pencil.

      ‘Personal call.’