‘And no paperwork,’ Ben said with a smile.
Jeff rolled his eyes. ‘Can’t bloody wait.’
‘It’s been a busy time. You deserve a holiday.’
‘So do you. The place is closing down for that week anyway.’
Ben laughed. ‘Only so that I can catch up on all the other things that need doing around here.’
They watched through the window as the Porsche parked up across the yard, near the small bungalow that Ben had built for Jeff next to the trainee accommodation block. The early evening sunlight glittered off the car’s sleek bodywork and tinted windows. The driver’s door swung open and Rupert Shannon climbed out wearing aviator shades, a shiny black leather jacket and a wide grin. The breeze ruffled his sandy hair and he quickly patted it back into place as he glanced around him.
Jeff shook his head in disgust. ‘Will you take a look at this guy? If the fucker was made of chocolate, he’d eat himself.’
Ben was about to head for the door to greet their new arrival, when the Porsche’s passenger door opened.
‘Shit,’ Jeff muttered. ‘I had a feeling she’d be with him.’
Ben followed Jeff’s gaze and saw Brooke Marcel get out and walk around the side of the car. Her thick auburn hair was tied loosely back from her face, and she was wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt that hugged her slim figure. She looked as good as she always did, but today Ben thought he could see a frown on her face, a certain self-consciousness in her body language. She looked down at her feet a couple of times as she followed Shannon across the yard towards the office building. Seemed to be trailing behind, holding back. It wasn’t like her.
‘Why is Brooke here?’ Ben murmured. ‘She’s not needed for this course. This is purely practical. Shannon doesn’t need lectures in hostage psychology.’
Jeff didn’t say anything.
‘And what’s she doing with him?’ Ben added.
Jeff gave a derisory snort. ‘Can’t you tell?’
‘They’re—’
‘Yup. Looks like it. They’re an item.’
‘Since when?’
‘Not sure. Since the last course, I think. I’d noticed they were spending a lot of time together. I was going to tell you. Must have slipped my mind. Or maybe I just didn’t want it to happen. Denial, or something.’
Ben watched her approach. Dr Brooke Marcel. Expert in hostage psychology, with an alphabet of letters after her name. Based in London, she’d spent years as a consultant to specialised police and military units, but was recently spending more and more time lecturing at Le Val. She was thirty-five, maybe thirty-six. He suddenly realised that maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought.
‘No reaction?’ Jeff asked, watching him closely.
‘Not my business,’ Ben said.
‘Come on. There’s always been something between you two. All those nights sitting together in the kitchen, drinking wine, listening to music. Going for walks. Don’t act like you don’t care.’
‘There’s never been anything going on between me and Brooke. Only in your head.’
‘I don’t know what she sees in that pumped-up twit, anyway. You’re more her type.’
Ben ignored that. ‘He is what he is, but he’s paying a lot of money for this course.’
‘I get it. You want me to be nice to the bastard.’
‘Too much to ask?’
Jeff kept his eyes on Shannon as he chewed it over. ‘It just might be, yeah.’
‘Remember what we agreed, Jeff,’ Ben said. ‘At Le Val we always respect our clients, no matter what. OK?’ But he didn’t like the lecturing way it came out.
‘Even the arseholes.’
Shannon’s grin broadened as he greeted them. He was a big guy. At six-three he was four inches taller than Ben, probably fifty pounds heavier, about five years younger. He raised his hand to his face and whipped off the shades.
‘Ciao, Jeff, ciao, Benjamin,’ he brayed at them. ‘How’s it going, boys?’
‘It’s Benedict, not Benjamin. And you can call me Ben.’ Not a great start, he thought.
Shannon grunted with a dismissive gesture. ‘Whatever. Benedict, Benjamin, Ben, it’s all the same to me.’
Ben could feel Jeff bristling beside him. He threw him a quick warning glance.
Brooke came up behind Shannon. ‘Hello, Ben,’ she said softly, and smiled.
‘Hi, Brooke.’ Ben patted her arm affectionately, like he always did. Shannon noticed it, and cleared his throat.
‘The rest of the guys should be arriving soon,’ he said.
‘Fine. The accommodation’s ready for you all.’ Ben pointed over at the trainees’ block, across the yard from the main farmhouse.
‘I won’t be kipping here,’ Shannon said. He put a big arm around Brooke’s shoulders and pulled her tightly against his side. ‘Us two are booked into the Cour du Chateau. This little lady deserves a bit more luxury than this old place has to offer.’
‘That’s miles away,’ Ben said.
Shannon grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be here bright and early in the morning. Always punctual.’
‘Nice wheels, Rupert,’ Jeff said dryly, motioning towards the Porsche.
Shannon’s eyes twinkled. ‘Oh yes. I’ve hit the fucking jackpot this time.’
‘So this would be the contract you were telling me about,’ Ben said.
Shannon nodded. ‘You don’t know the half of it, Benjamin. Steiner Industries. Protecting the head honcho himself, Maximilian Steiner.’
‘Kidnap threat?’
‘One attempt so far,’ Shannon said. ‘Failed, but only just. What d’you expect? The guy’s a billionaire, for Christ’s sakes. Have I hit paydirt, or what? He’s paying one point two million for this gig. And there’s a shitload more to come. You should see the place we’re going.’
‘Congratulations, Rupert,’ Ben said. ‘Looks like this new business venture of yours is really taking off.’
‘You bet your arse it is. And this is just the beginning, pal. I’ve been looking at new offices. Docklands, right on the river, three floors. PA, receptionists, you name it, the works.’
‘Here’s my advice, though,’ Ben said. ‘I know you’re flush from getting this Steiner contract. That’s great. I’m pleased for you. But take it easy. Don’t go mad with it. This is a tough business, and you never know what’s round the corner.’
Shannon reddened. ‘Listen to this guy. Are you for real, Hope?’
‘I just meant, be careful, that’s all. Don’t go spending it all at once, before you’ve even earned it.’
Shannon laughed and slapped him on the arm. ‘You sound like my fucking nanny. You know what your problem is? You’re getting old and slow.’
‘Forty next birthday,’ Ben said. ‘Be dead soon.’
‘Fucking forty,’ Shannon guffawed. ‘Five years from now you’ll be just another flabby-arsed, ulcer-ridden businessman sitting behind a desk.’
‘You might be right,’ Ben said. Now he could sense indignation radiating from Jeff in waves. Couldn’t say he blamed him.
Shannon grinned down at Brooke and squeezed her to his side. ‘Now why don’t we see about heading back to the hotel and grab some nosh?’
‘Any plans for tomorrow?’ Ben asked her.
She shrugged. ‘Not really.’
‘We’ll be doing kidnap simulation exercises in the morning. How d’you feel about coming along and playing the principal?’
