14. GIRL’S EYE VIEW
ANNABELLE SQUEEZED the last drops of water from her hair and rubbed the damp strands vigorously with her towel. There was always an endless supply of towels in the manor’s changing rooms. It was one weird thing about the place that she’d gotten used to very quickly. Actually, the whole way in which the Bakers lived was easy to get used to. Little things like the towels, and the butter pats. Only the seriously rich had a housekeeper who would cut up their butter with nice crinkly edges before arranging it neatly on a silver dish. For every meal, including snacks.
“So spill it for Saturday then,” Sophie said. She was standing at Annabelle’s shoulder, her eyes alight with playful anticipation. Annabelle was very aware of the proximity. It was something she had noticed a lot since that night at the Langleys’ house.
THERE WERE ONLY FIVE of the Chinese sticks left. Annabelle just knew they’d collapse as she pulled hers out. They did. Only her panties remained now.
Simon was asleep and snoring on the floor. Annabelle hadn’t noticed before. She didn’t know how long he’d been like that.
Derek sprawled opposite her in his shirt, shorts, and one sock. His expression was as rapt as some beast of prey as he stared at her. Louise simply lounged back in her bra and tight jeans, as languid and aloof as she’d been all night.
“You lose,” Derek said.
Annabelle didn’t hesitate; she wriggled out of her panties. It was exciting seeing his reaction, the craving in his eyes.
He turned and spoke quietly to Louise. Annabelle couldn’t make out what was said. Her head was all warm and cloudy. Louise listened without comment, her gaze lingering on Annabelle’s naked body. Annabelle was surprised by how erotic she found the other girl’s scrutiny.
“Enjoy yourself,” Louise told Derek; she picked up her blouse and sauntered out of the room.
Derek took a quilt off the end of the bed, and carefully draped it over his comatose little brother. Then he stripped off the last of his clothes.
Now, with Sophie right beside her all eager for details, Annabelle couldn’t help drawing the mild parallel. As she took her bikini halter off she could feel the blonde girl’s eyes on her. It was quite a thrill, the way people were attracted to her. “Nothing much to tell,” she said as she toweled herself down.
“Nothing did happen, or nothing that you want us to know about?” Rachel shouted out challengingly. Danielle and Lorraine both started giggling. “I know I wouldn’t want too much of my Saturday evenings leaking out.”
“But we all know about them already,” Sophie said. “You can’t get Simon to shut up about what the two of you do with each other.”
Rachel just tossed her head and gave the rest of the changing room a superior grin. Annabelle experienced a brief flash of sympathy for the girl. When it came to bragging, Simon was in a class of his own.
“So how about it?” Sophie persisted.
“It was okay. Okay? A night out in Peterborough, that’s all.” She held the towel across herself as she fished through her pile of clothes for her bra.
“Did you dance the night away?” Sophie inquired in a mock tease.
“Go shrivel,” Annabelle told her. “We just toured the clubs, then came home.” Which was short on detail, but encapsulated the evening. It was a shame, really; she’d been looking forward to it for the whole week they’d spent planning, sending each other a hundred avtxts. Then, when the night came around it hadn’t lived up to her expectations. Not that there was much in the world that did right now. All that happened was a trudge around a few clubs, trying to find a DJ who played some decent tracks. Tim had gotten himself seriously stoned, which she didn’t much like. When he was that way he danced like someone was giving him electric shock treatment. He was too close and thudded into her the whole time. In turn, his condition made her dose up more than she normally would.
They’d stumbled home together. Given the state of them, it was a small miracle they’d managed to find the right train. She didn’t really blame Tim. Her problem was how much she’d transferred onto him, thinking his name and money might make him special. Which was unreasonable of her, she knew. Tim wasn’t going to give her a route out of her crappy life, any more than Derek was. The only good thing about her age was the way she looked. There were times when she felt like a butterfly trapped by its dead pupa case looking up at the sky and longing to fly.
“Sounds mediocre,” Sophie said. “So are you going to dump him?”
Annabelle took her time pulling on her jeans before facing her friend. The other girls were all trying to appear casual as they waited for an answer. “No way. He is so much my boyfriend now.” Not that she was sure she wanted him, though it might turn out to be fun if he just learned to perk up a bit.
15. HIGH FINANCE
THE CHECKUP at Peterborough University hospital had gone well. Jeff was shown into the gene therapy department, where a couple of Norwegian technicians took tiny samples of blood and tissue. He also participated in a few simple physical calibrations, jogging on a treadmill while his heart and lungs and muscles were monitored. The department’s equipment was linked to the Brussels university, where the rejuvenation team studied the results as they came through. He even spent a couple of mildly awkward minutes chatting with Dr. Sperber over a teleconference channel.
Once he’d been given the all clear he drove his Merc EI8000 out of the city along the A47. Lieutenant Krober sat in the big car’s passenger seat, quiet and respectful as always. The rest of the Europol team followed in their dark BMW sedan.
“I wanted to say thank you for easing off Tim at the weekend,” Jeff said. Tim had done a lot of pleading about his Saturday evening date, which put plenty of pressure on Jeff. Negotiating with the Europol officers about clubbing in Peterborough actually made him feel as if he was doing a proper job as a father.
“It was good to avoid conflict with the boy,” Krober said.
“I don’t think he saw any of the surveillance team,” Jeff said. “At least he never said so to me. And I’m sure he would.” As far as Tim was concerned, he’d been given the whole night off, free and clear from the bodyguards. The actual deal Jeff worked out was slightly different.
“They are most adept at discretion; it is what they are trained for. Neither your son nor Ms. Goddard showed any awareness of our officers.”
Krober couldn’t have been there himself, Jeff thought. The idea of the eternally formal German trying to blend into some Peterborough lowlife dive was ludicrous. A brief image of Arnold Schwarzenegger walking into Tech Noir played across Jeff’s mind.
Though he hated the subterfuge, Jeff was quietly pleased about the arrangement. Judging by the way Tim had babbled on about the date after he got back on Sunday evening he’d had the time of his life. Yet with the Europol team there to watch over him he’d been perfectly safe the whole time. A perfect solution to the parent’s problem of how much slack to cut your kids.
So far Jeff had resisted asking Krober for details, like did Tim actually smoke joints, or were he and Annabelle sleeping together. He thought he knew the answer to that one, even though Tim swore he’d just stayed over at her house. It made him obscurely proud that his son had a girlfriend that attractive.
Jeff grinned as he turned off the A47 into Wansford. Now Dad was hoping for the same kind of lecherous encounter his son was getting.
The cocktail bar in the Wharf Inn possessed the kind of aspirant grandeur that was the province of four-star hotels everywhere. Its hidden lighting was gold-tinged, deepening the hue of the somber wood paneling. A waiter in
