Ten Million Pounds

The boardroom was on the fourth floor. It had a glass wall overlooking the atrium and a table long enough to land a plane on. A pen had been laid out for me, a heavy black one with the bank’s crest, set exactly parallel to the document, like a fork at a formal dinner.

The bank manager, Mr Okonkwo, rose to shake my hand. He was a careful, silver-haired man who had been kind to me since the day I first applied for a loan. Beside him sat a lawyer from Preston’s firm, and beside the lawyer sat Preston, who had arranged his face into the expression of a proud man watching his partner do something clever.

‘Ms Lane,’ said Mr Okonkwo. ‘Shall we begin?’

The blue clock said 00:07:12.

I sat down. I picked up the pen. I looked at the first page, turned it over, and then read the second. I had never in my life read a guarantee so slowly. I was aware of Preston shifting in his chair.

‘Dess,’ he said gently. ‘It’s the same paperwork as last time.’

‘Then it won’t take long to read.’

I read to the end.

The document confirmed what I remembered. Lane Logistics would stand behind an additional forty million pounds of Vance Energy’s borrowing. If Preston could not repay it, I would be responsible for the debt.

My company. My assets. My name.

I put down the pen.

‘I’m not signing today,’ I said.

Nobody moved.

Mr Okonkwo’s eyebrows climbed slowly towards his hairline. The lawyer looked at Preston. Preston, who had not stopped smiling, said in a tone of affectionate puzzlement, ‘Babe, we talked about this.’

‘I’d like my own solicitor to review it.’

‘You’ve had two weeks.’

‘And I’d like to ask a question.’ I turned to the bank manager. ‘Mr Okonkwo, the first tranche. The ten million drawn last month. Where did it go?’

‘Dess.’ A thin line appeared between Preston’s eyebrows. ‘That’s not necessary.’

‘It’s my credit,’ I said pleasantly. ‘I think it’s quite necessary.’

Mr Okonkwo glanced at Preston before tapping at his keyboard.

‘The first tranche was released on the third, Ms Lane. Ten million pounds. One payee.’

He frowned at the screen.

‘Pike and Company Consulting.’

Pike.

The name had been on the System’s panel an hour ago, the first thing it had told me, and I had been too busy being horrified to hold on to it.

Aldous Pike. Minister of Energy.

‘Consulting,’ I repeated.

‘Planning consultants,’ Preston said quickly and smoothly. ‘Environmental surveys. Standard expenditure for a project of this size.’

‘The Minister of Energy’s company,’ I said. ‘Planning for a tower in a city he governs.’

The room went very quiet.

I watched it happen on Preston’s face. It was not a large change. The warmth simply drained out of it, quickly, like water from a basin, and what was left underneath was something I had seen once through glass.

‘Odessa,’ he said very softly. ‘Sign the paper.’

It was the voice he had used on the steps. The voice that said somebody had to be practical.

I stood. My legs were steady.

‘No.’

I gathered my handbag and walked towards the door.

‘This is a mistake,’ Preston said behind me.

I kept walking.

‘Dess, wait.’

His voice rose just enough for the people in the room to hear the irritation beneath it.

I did not turn.

In the corner of my eye, the clock reached 00:00:00. A line of white type flickered across the blue panel.

TASK 1 COMPLETE.

REWARD: £50,000.

The money was credited to my designated account.

In the car park, beneath the bright ordinary sunshine, I put both hands against a lamp post and breathed.

Ten million pounds.

My company’s credit had helped put that money into the pocket of the man who would switch off the sky. I had not merely been robbed by Preston. I had helped pay for the end of the world.

I was still trying to steady my breathing when a voice came from behind me.

‘You walked out of a forty-million-pound signing.’

Rafe Maddox was leaning against a black truck on the far side of the car park, his arms crossed. He had not left. I did not know how long he had been waiting.

‘I’ve never seen anyone do that,’ he said.

I had planned a hundred first sentences for the day I met him, and I used none of them.

‘Pike and Company Consulting,’ I said. ‘Ten million pounds. Paid on the third, out of the first tranche.’

His expression did not change, but he went very still.

He pushed off the truck and walked over until he stood a yard away.

‘Where did you hear that name?’

‘The bank manager confirmed it.’

‘And you know who owns the company?’

‘Minister Aldous Pike.’

Rafe studied me.

‘That’s a serious accusation.’

‘It’s a serious payment.’

‘Payments can be disguised. Companies can share names. I need evidence, not a name you overheard in a boardroom.’

‘Then investigate the transaction. The bank has the payment record.’

His jaw tightened.

‘I’ve spent four years trying to prove that man takes money. I’ve had accountants and lawyers on it. I had a source in his office, and he died in a car crash eleven months ago.’

He rubbed a hand over his jaw.

‘And now you’ve walked out of a bank and handed me a payment trail. Why?’

‘Because I don’t want him to get the remaining money.’

‘And why should I believe you care what happens to him?’

I held his gaze.

‘Because if that money reaches him, people will die.’

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

He looked at me as though he were trying to decide whether I was frightened, foolish or dangerous.

‘Who are you, Ms Lane?’

‘Someone who can give you what you’ve been looking for.’

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘It’s the only one I can give you today.’

Something moved in his face. Wariness, curiosity, and beneath both something I could not name, which made my heart do something stupid.

He reached into his jacket and took out a card. It was black, with a spark inside a circle.

MADDOX GROUP, it said. Beneath it, in smaller print: Twelve depots.

‘My office is at the docks,’ he said. ‘Thursday. Two o’clock.’

He took a pen from his jacket and wrote the appointment and address on the back.

‘Bring proof. The actual transaction record, not another accusation.’

‘And if I bring it?’

‘Then I’ll listen.’

He paused.

‘And Ms Lane, if you’re lying to me, I’ll know.’

I took the card.

‘I’m not.’

He gave me a look that suggested he hadn’t asked for reassurance.

Then he turned towards his truck.

‘One more thing,’ he said without looking back. ‘Don’t sign anything else for Vance until you’ve had it reviewed independently.’

‘I won’t.’

He got into the truck. The engine caught, and a moment later he was pulling out of the car park.

I stood in the sunshine with his card in my hand.

My phone vibrated.

PRESTON: Get back in the car. We need to talk.

A second message followed.

PRESTON: Don’t make this ugly, Dess.

I stared at the screen until it went dark.

Ninety days from the end of the world, and I had just refused to finance the man who would lock me outside.

Rafe Maddox did not know me yet.

But he had given me a meeting, and Preston had finally realised I was no longer going to do as I was told.

For the first time since I woke up, I was not afraid.