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Two days later, Cassandra and I stood in the Mayor’s office, attending the Annual Business Forum. Hosted by the Mayor, it showcased innovation and entrepreneurship in the city. Cassandra sipped champagne and took another canape from the plate offered by the 12-year-old-looking waiter.
The Mayor approached us and, in a hushed voice, said, “Can you believe what happened to Charles?”
Cassandra looked at her. “What’s happened?”
“The Department for Work has suspended him and he’s under arrest for apparently downloading indecent images on his work laptop,” she said, with the air of someone who loved the gossip. “You’d never expect it from such a quiet man, but it shows you never really know people.”
“I guess you don’t,” I said.
The Mayor shook her head. “Honestly, who’d be stupid enough to use their work computer for anything like that?” It was a rhetorical question. “Anyway, he’s on enforced leave while they investigate.”
One of the Mayor’s aides approached us. He whispered something into her ear. She turned to me and smiled endearingly.
“Peter, can I ask you a personal favour? One of our presenters has taken ill and won’t attend. Could you talk about your experiences of the Reboot Employment programme? From everything I hear, DataFeed is going from strength to strength because of it. How many have they recruited so far?”
“Oh, it’s about four thousand,” I explained uneasily.
“And more to come, I believe. Look, I know you’re only an investor and I’m springing this on you, but I think your ambition would inspire the audience. It’s good for the city.”
“I don’t really feel–” I started.
“Oh, Peter, please say yes. It would be such a help.”
Cassandra spoke for me. “Of course he will, won’t you, Peter?”
***
Cassandra and I walked back to the car.
“How’s your self-confidence now then, Peter?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, 48-hours ago, you hit the bottle and wanted to throw in the towel. Now look at you. Adam is out of the picture and Charles is no longer a threat. Tonight, you gave an impromptu ten-minute presentation on Janus Angelica and DataFeed. You blew those people away with your enthusiasm and knowledge about the benefits of Reboot Employment.”
“I’ve just been lucky,” I said, looking away from her. “I couldn’t predict that Adam would get himself killed.”
“It’s more than luck, Peter.” She linked her arm through mine as we walked along the cobbled street to my car. “You have an innate talent for this work. Your brother spent a decade balancing the two faces of Janus Angelica. You’ve stepped into his shoes and preserved that image.”
I shrugged.
“Don’t be so modest. Tell me, how on earth did you plant those images on Charles’ laptop?”
I smiled at Cassandra. “I spoke to your old friend Lexi Baryshev.” Even at the sound of her name, Cassandra’s face went paler in the mid-winter sunset. “Don’t worry, she didn’t ask after you,” I lied.
She laughed and squeezed my arm with hers. “You know, I worried initially that you’d screw everything up at Janus Angelica, but you’re solid. You’ve more strings to your bow than your brother did. He was a cunning, calculating manipulator, but he was heavy handed too often and too quickly. His cold-bloodied actions were hard for Odell and me to clear up. Instead, you look for intelligent solutions before suspending someone from a meat hook!”
“It’s not the life I expected, but I guess I’m muddling through.”
She stopped and turned to me, forcing me to a halt. “You’re more than just muddling through. You’ve convinced everyone so far. There’s no doubt you are shrewd enough for the scams we need to pull.” Her oversized dark brown eyes stared at me. “You are completely capable of continuing this role. You’ve become Saint Peter.”
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THE END
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