CHAPTER 5 - The Photograph

Isabella realises she has lost her notebook halfway down the staircase.

She stops abruptly causing the man behind her to nearly walk into her.

"Sorry," she murmurs stepping aside.

She looks inside her bag.

Phone. Wallet. Recorder. Keys.

No notebook.

"Oh no."

She retraces her steps checking the conference room and asking the receptionist if anyone has handed it in.

Nothing.

The notebook holds interview notes, contact details and a few questions Isabella hasn't had the chance to investigate yet.

And information about her father.

She can't afford to lose it.

"Miss Reed?"

She turns.

Alexander Hayes stands at the end of the corridor holding a black notebook in one hand.

Relief floods through her.

"My notebook."

He lifts it slightly.

"I assumed you might want this."

She hurries towards him reaching for it.

He doesn't immediately give it to her.

"Do you always carry your entire investigation around in your handbag?"

"Do you always inspect other peoples belongings?"

"I picked it up from the floor."

"And then?"

"And then I brought it to you."

"After reading it?"

His expression changes.

"I didn't read your notes."

She looks at him sceptically.

He sighs.

"I saw your name and the first page. That's all."

"Thank you."

She takes the notebook from him checking the pages.

Everything seems to be there.

"Is there anything in it I should be worried about?" He asks.

"That's none of your business."

"Fair enough."

He moves aside to let her pass.

She has nearly reached the stairs when he speaks again.

"Isabella."

She turns.

It's the first time he has used her first name without hesitation.

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

She folds her arms.

"You've said that before."

"And you ignored me."

"You haven't given me a reason to listen."

Alexander looks as though he wants to say something more.

Instead he shakes his head.

Perhaps I haven't.

She leaves before he can change his mind.

Outside, London is cold and grey as she walks towards the underground station.

She should be thinking about her next interview but instead she keeps remembering Alexander's expression when she accused him of reading her notebook.

He had looked offended.

Not angry.

Offended.

It was an unfamiliar expression on a man who seems to have mastered the art of appearing unaffected.

She pushes the thought away.

He is still a possible witness in an investigation.

Nothing more.

Her phone rings as she reaches the station.

Margaret.

"Have you finished at Westbridge?"

"Yes."

"Good. I need you back at the office. Something has come up."

"What kind of something?"

"Something you'll want to see."

The line goes dead.

Isabella hurries back to the newspaper.

Margaret is waiting in the conference room with Chloe and a laptop open on the table.

On the screen is a photograph.

Isabella feels her stomach drop.

It shows her standing in the corridor at Westbridge, facing Alexander. He is holding her notebook and she is reaching for it.

From the angle of the photograph they appear to be standing much closer together than they actually were.

It has already been posted online by a popular football gossip account.

The caption reads:

'WESTBRIDGE CAPTAIN'S SECRET MEETING WITH MYSTERY WOMAN SPARKS QUESTIONS.'

Below it are hundreds of comments appearing by the second.

'Who is she?'

'That's Isabella Reed from the Chronicle!'

'Is the captain dating a journalist?'

'Explains why she's investigating the club.'

'Corruption and romance. What a story.'

Isabella stares at the screen.

"Where did this come from?"

"We don't know," Margaret says. "It appeared online about twenty minutes ago."

"Someone was taking photographs inside the training complex?"

"Apparently."

Chloe crosses her arms.

"Or someone wanted people to think they were."

Isabella turns to her.

"What does that mean?"

"It means the photograph makes you look suspicious. Someone could be trying to discredit your investigation."

Margaret nods.

"It's possible. But we need to be careful about making assumptions."

Isabella feels anger rise in her chest.

"I was returning from an interview. That's all."

"Then that's what we'll say if anyone asks," Margaret replies. "But I need you to tell me whether there's anything else I should know about your relationship with Alexander Hayes."

"There is no relationship."

"Have you met him outside your professional duties?"

"No."

"Have you communicated privately?"

"No."

Margaret meets her eyes.

"Isabella, I'm asking because I need to protect the newspaper as well as your reputation."

"I understand."

"Good. Because if you become part of the story, your investigation will come under scrutiny."

Isabella looks back at the photograph.

She can already imagine the headlines.

The ambitious journalist.

The famous footballer.

The scandalous secret.

Nobody will care that the photograph shows an entirely ordinary moment. They will see whatever story they want to see.

Her phone vibrates.

Messages from colleagues.

Notifications from social media.

Calls from numbers she doesn't recognise,then one message catches her attention.

It comes from her mother.

'Isabella, please call me. I've seen something online.'

Isabella closes her eyes.

Of course her mother has seen it.

Her family has never been particularly interested in football but the internet has a way of making private matters everyone's business.

She types a brief reply.

'It's nothing. I'll call you later.'

Chloe touches her arm.

"Are you all right?"

"No."

It's the first honest answer she has given all afternoon.

Chloe pulls out a chair.

"Sit down."

Isabella sits.

For several moments they don't speak.

Then Margaret closes the laptop.

"I want you to continue investigating the financial allegations. But I also want you to keep a detailed record of every contact you have with anyone connected to Westbridge."

"Of course."

"And don't meet sources alone."

"I won't."

Margaret studies her.

"If this is an attempt to intimidate you, we need to know. If it's an attempt to discredit your reporting, we need to know that too."

Isabella nods.

She is angry, embarrassed and increasingly uneasy.

Someone has taken a photograph of her at Westbridge.

Someone has posted it online.

And someone has chosen an angle that makes an ordinary conversation look like a secret meeting.

It's too convenient to ignore.

Alexander discovers the photograph while sitting in the players' lounge.

Daniel is the one who shows it to him.

"Captain," he says dropping into the chair beside him. "You have some explaining to do."

Alexander looks up from his phone.

"About what?"

Daniel turns his screen towards him.

The photograph stares back at him.

For several seconds Alexander says nothing.

Then he swears under his breath.

"Who took this?"

"That's the question everyone is asking."

Alexander takes the phone and examines the image.

He recognises the corridor immediately.

He remembers finding Isabella's notebook, handing it back and watching her leave.

There is nothing secret about it. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing worth photographing.

Yet the image has already been shared thousands of times.

"People have too much time," he mutters.

Daniel reclaims his phone.

"People also have very active imaginations. Apparently you're having a secret affair with a journalist."

"I'm not."

"I know."

"Then stop talking about it."

Daniel holds up his hands.

"All right. But the club is going to ask questions."

As if summoned by the words, Alexander's phone rings.

'Victoria Shaw.'

He answers.

"Hello?"

"Come to my office."

"I'm training."

"now, Alexander."

The call ends.

Daniel grimaces.

"Good luck."

Alexander stands.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll make you run laps until your legs fall off."

Daniel grins.

"Love you too, Captain."

Victoria is waiting with Richard Vale when Alexander enters the office.

The photograph is displayed on a large screen.

Alexander looks at it, then at the two people waiting for him.

"Let me guess. I'm a national security threat."

Vale doesn't smile.

"This is a serious situation."

"It's a photograph of me returning someone's notebook."

"It's a photograph that raises questions about your relationship with a journalist investigating the club."

"There is no relationship."

"Then you should have no difficulty explaining that."

Alexander stares at him.

"Are you serious?"

Vale folds his hands.

"The timing is unfortunate."

"The timing is suspicious."

Victoria looks up.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone took a photograph inside a restricted area and released it just as Isabella began asking questions about the company's financial records. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"

Vale's expression remains composed.

"You're suggesting that the photograph was deliberately leaked?"

"I'm suggesting that someone wanted it to look like we were hiding something."

"Perhaps you're overthinking this."

Alexander feels a cold anger settle inside him.

"Perhaps you're underthinking it."

Victoria intervenes before Vale can respond.

"We'll release a short statement confirming that the photograph shows a routine professional interaction. No further comment will be necessary."

"And the person who took it?"

"We'll look into that."

Alexander nods slowly.

"Good."

He turns towards the door.

"Alexander," Vale calls.

He stops.

"Whatever is happening you need to stay focused on football. Your future with this club depends on your ability to remain professional."

Alexander looks back at him.

"My future with this club depends on the truth."

For the first time, Richard Vale's composure slips.

Only for a second. But Alexander sees it.

And he walks out of the office with a growing suspicion that the photograph is not an accident.

That evening, Isabella sits at her kitchen table staring at the notebook she has nearly lost.

She has checked every page twice.

Nothing is missing.

Yet she can't shake the feeling that someone has been watching her.

She opens her laptop and searches for the account that has posted the photograph.

It has been created less than a month earlier.

Its posts are almost exclusively about Westbridge FC.

Several contain rumours about players, management decisions and transfers.

One post mentions a company called Meridian Sports Advisory.

Isabella leans closer to the screen.

The post has been published three days before her first interview.

It reads:

'Everyone wants to know where Westbridge's money is going. Perhaps someone should ask the captain what he knows.'

Her pulse quickens.

Someone has been talking about the allegations before she begins investigating them.

Someone has been waiting for a journalist to ask questions.

And now that she has, someone is trying to make her look compromised.

She copies the account details into her notes and saves the page.

Then she opens her messages.

An unfamiliar number has sent her a photograph.

It's a picture of a document bearing the Westbridge FC logo.

Most of the writing is blurred but one line remains readable.

MERIDIAN SPORTS ADVISORY AUTHORISED PAYMENT

Beneath it is a date from seven years earlier.

And beside the payment is a signature.

'Thomas Reed.'

Isabella's father.

Her fingers go cold.

For a long moment she can only stare.

Then another message appears.

Ask your father why he left Westbridge.

She pushes back from the table.

The chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

Her father has refused to discuss the club.

The financial records link him to a suspicious payment.

And now someone is sending her documents that appear to connect him directly to the scandal.

Isabella looks towards the dark window.

For the first time she wonders whether the person threatening her wants her to stop investigating.

Or whether they want her to discover something.

Something that could destroy her family.

And Alexander Hayes might know more than he is willing to admit.