One hundred and three

Patricia Ross was waiting in the cavernous glass-fronted lobby of Globalcom, the morning light streaming in through a stained glass frieze. She was dressed in a navy blue suit, twinset and pearls, her hair tied up on the back of her head.

In the seven years she had worked for Hicham Omary, she had experienced a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs, but never anything as turbulent as this.

At nine forty-five Ghita came in through the revolving door.

She took a deep breath as she stepped inside, as though the air was somehow thinner. Before she had reached the reception desk, the American PA cut her off.

‘Ghita, how are you?’ she said, her voice tinged with fear.

‘I’ve been better,’ Ghita said, offering her hand.

‘Believe me, we all have. These are treacherous times.’

Patricia Ross led the way over to a quiet alcove where they could sit and speak.

‘I’d take you up to my office,’ she said, ‘but it’s bugged. The whole place is, except for this one little corner.’ She struggled to smile. ‘Your father used to tell me that if you want privacy the best spot is the middle of Grand Central Station at rush hour.’

‘I saw him,’ Ghita said, sitting down, her back to the lobby.

Ross missed a breath.

‘Where is he?’

‘Incarcerated, up in the mountains.’

‘How is he?’

‘Alive. Barely so.’ She touched a fingertip to her eye and wiped away a tear. ‘We will get our revenge,’ she said caustically.

‘As I said on the phone, time is against us. We have our backs up against the wall and there’s no one we can trust.’

‘It’s like the assassination of Caesar,’ Ghita said.

‘All those regarded as loyal betraying the man they once swore to protect.’

‘Precisely,’ Ghita replied.

‘The important thing is for us to stall the board. They’re angling to dismember Globalcom, to sell it off a chunk at a time.’

‘It’s my father’s life’s work...’

‘I know it is, and for that reason you and I have to do everything we can to throw a spanner in the works. I’m ready to do anything – whatever it takes.’

Ghita looked at her father’s PA hard, taking in the soft skin around her eyes. Until then she had never quite trusted her.

Patricia Ross held up a document. It was fastened together in a legal binding, with a wax seal and red ribbon on the front.

‘The Globalcom company code,’ she said. ‘Article 72 states that, as the sole issue of Hicham Omary, you have the inalienable right to adjudicate on his behalf.’

Ghita grinned.

‘I can’t wait to see their faces,’ she said.