Ross had always made a point of being civil to Veritable’s HR director, Carolina Tait. Carolina’s minions were a different matter. They were part of the vast majority of individuals at the company whose existence he barely acknowledged. Unless they were well-established in Veritable’s hierarchy, he would blank them at the coffee machine, in meetings, at the Christmas party and at the glass gates where he swiped his smartcard to gain access to the office. It was here that his plight really hit home. His card simply refused to work.
The uniformed security man’s badge gave his name as Conrad. Ross wasn’t sure if Conrad was new to the company or had been there for ten years. Like many of his colleagues, the man was little more than wallpaper to the high-flying actuary. “You, Conrad – can you help?” Ross asked impatiently.
Conrad tried swiping the card. “It’s out of date,” he told Ross.
“They’re supposed to last forever,” Ross complained.
“Not if you’ve left the company’s employment, Sir,” Conrad said.
“Of course I haven’t,” Ross spluttered. “Ask Joanne Tonks. I’m supposed to be having a meeting with her.”
“What’s the name, Sir?”
“Ross Pritchard. Can’t you tell from the card?”
“Very good, Sir.”
Conrad ambled slowly to the reception desk. Ross saw him pick up the phone and speak for a while.
“I’ve left a message for her, Sir,” Conrad said.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” Ross asked.
Conrad stood still by the gate, sturdy and immovable. “Please sign in at reception and we’ll give you a visitor’s pass, Sir.”
Ross did as he was bid, and was directed to sit on one of the uncomfortable black leather sofas reserved for visitors. A pristine copy of the Financial Times, obviously unread, lay on a coffee table in front of him. Ross flicked through its pages.
A trio of chatty blondes, about Amy’s age, clattered through the revolving door in noisy stilettos. They made their way past Ross to Conrad’s gate.
“Late lunch was it, girls?” Conrad said, leering at the most buxom of the three.
“Poets Day, Conrad,” she replied, and they all laughed.
“You’ve got a visitor, Jo,” Conrad said, jerking his thumb at Ross.
“I’ll call him when I’m ready. Got to find Cari Harrison first,” she told him. Without a backward glance, the three girls slipped through the glass gates.