Hero Duty (8 page)

The traffic crawled and shuddered to a halt as an ambulance blared through. Brodie wound down a window, choked on fumes and wound it back up. ‘Maybe we should have taken a taxi.’ A bus was out of the question, given the number of folders loaded on the back seat. Their first stop of the day was Numbat headquarters.

‘No, a rental car was a good idea.’ So polite. ‘It gives us a base in the city, somewhere to stash stuff. And we don’t have to worry about parking. I have my security pass and we’ll get you one, too.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I’ll be with you.’

No answer.

He looked across at her.

Jessica had gone back to staring out the window. Her blonde hair, pinned tightly to her scalp, gleamed gold in the sunlight.

The traffic revved.

He pressed down on the accelerator, bullied his way into the adjoining lane and made it through the next set of lights before they turned red.

The buildings grew taller and taller until they were technological canyons, smothering the world in shadow and lit by their own artificial dawn.

‘Turn here.’ Jessica directed him to an underground car park beneath a blue-glass monstrosity. She handed across her security pass.

He scanned it and the gate to the car park rattled open.

‘I’ve not parked here before.’ She twisted her head.

The car bays were either filled or clearly labelled. ‘Manager of…’ or ‘Vice President of…’ or ‘CEO’.

Brodie swung the car into the bay marked ‘Chairman’.

Jessica inhaled sharply.

‘First lesson,’ he said as he killed the engine, ‘you take everything that’s yours. Later, you can let go of what you don’t want. For now, it’s about emphasising your power. You’ve been giving yours away.’

‘Right.’ Shaky but determined. She went to unbuckle her seatbelt.

He covered her hand with his. ‘This is war, Jessica. In theory, you own this building and the corporation. In practice, the people who work here have an advantage. Familiarity. Don’t let them make you feel lost or out of place.’

‘But I am.’ She unclicked the seatbelt and withdrew her hand.

‘Hostile territory,’ he muttered. ‘You do that with someone taking your back. That would be me.’

She hesitated and turned back to look at him. ‘Won’t you feel out of place, too?’

‘Nope.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because what’s important to everyone here isn’t important to me. Their games aren’t mine. I’m taking your back, but then I’m walking out of this world. I’ll be going upstairs like someone walking into the zoo. Everyone here is locked in their cage — chained to their desk. It doesn’t matter to me if they hiss, roar or squeak. I’m free to leave.’

‘Huh.’

He relented. ‘It’s different for you. You’re responsible for the zoo.’

The worried frown line between her brows smoothed out. She smiled faintly. ‘I’m Head Zookeeper?’

‘Yes. Let’s go poke some lions.’

***

Jessica wasn’t sure about poking lions, but she did manage to insist that Brodie allow her to carry some of the folders. She wasn’t about to introduce him to Numbat as ‘hired muscle’ — to use Derek’s demeaning phrase.

Brodie allowed her two folders. Skinny ones.

She tucked them under one arm as she hit the
lift call
button. She’d learned to hate the lifts in this building. They were all mirrored, mirrored and brightly lit. Any flaw in her appearance seemed magnified. Resolutely, she studied her feet.

Her sandals were good quality, comfortable. She wore them to teach in and run around campus. The women in the Numbat building would be wearing high heels. Inside the shoes, their toenails would be manicured. Pedicured.
Whatever.

The lift doors opened.

Jessica stayed inside. Brodie was right. She needed to invest in new clothes. Going-to-war clothes. Armour. At the moment, she’d settle for camouflage. Her cotton shirt and black trousers were too casual for an environment where people wore suits even on the hottest days of Sydney’s sultry summer.

It hadn’t always been like this. Pops had run Numbat mainly from his Perth office on the western side of Australia, and the office hadn’t been housed in an imposing skyscraper. He’d converted an old warehouse into a friendly, open-plan and efficient headquarters. He used to catch the train there and back to his home in Cottesloe. She’d ridden with him sometimes in the school holidays.

Brodie lunged past her and caught the lift doors as they started to close again.

She sighed, hugged the folders to her chest, and stepped out.

The floor was polished marble. The wall opposite the bank of lifts was a darker, but matching, grey. Surreal art splashed against it, threatening the viewer that it was about to break free of the gilt-framed canvases. The long corridor herded visitors to the reception area at the end where a scarlet desk made less impact than the stunning harbour vista visible through the massive window.

The receptionist looked up with a professional smile. ‘Good morning, Ms Trove.’

‘Good morning, Ewan, and it’s Jessica, remember?’

He smiled politely, not agreeing. He had an image to maintain and loyalties to uphold.

Jessica sighed. ‘Brodie, meet Ewan Frazer, Executive Liaison Officer.’ She’d learned that the higher the lift climbed, the more ostentatious the occupants’ titles. Ewan was a simple receptionist, but catch him answering to such a low-status title!

The two men shook hands. They were much of an age, but Ewan was sleek to Brodie’s casual strength. The stack of folders Brodie carried barely wobbled as he balanced them, one-handed against his chest. Unlike Ewan, he didn’t need a sharply-tailored suit to look impressive. A white shirt and khaki chinos managed it just fine.

‘Ewan, could you organise a security pass for Brodie, please? We’ve parked downstairs and he’ll need to be able to access the car and this floor.’

Ewan’s gaze darted right, to where the chief executive’s office lay. ‘I’m not sure if…’

‘Never mind.’ The task was his, but the man had no backbone. He’d say yes, but then delay until he could obtain permission, or a refusal of it, from the CEO’s office. Little power plays designed to remind her that she wasn’t truly in charge peppered her visits to Numbat. ‘I’ll ask Vera to arrange it.’

Ewan’s mouth compressed.
Ha.
He hated the Chairman’s Secretary. Vera scared him.

Vera scared Jessica, too; but then, lots of people at Numbat and in her family scared Jessica. At least Vera didn’t huddle in corners with Jessica’s stepbrother, or take orders from the CEO.

Speaking of whom…Jessica decided she’d rather avoid Joe Sabra. The CEO was even better than Derek at making her feel inadequate. Joe was never rude, but the quality of his patience with her unfamiliarity with the corporate world only flustered her more.

‘The Chairman’s office is this way,’ she said to Brodie. ‘Vera is, was, Dad’s secretary. She’ll be in by now.’

‘Vera is always in early,’ Ewan said.

Brodie’s gaze rested on him measuringly, then he nodded and followed Jessica to the adjacent office suite.

It was good to get out of sight of Ewan. Jessica could feel his gaze between her shoulder blades. He’d already be reaching for his phone, informing Derek that she was here and that she’d brought company.

The fog-grey wall ended abruptly in a starkly modern space. A massive twisted sculpture of a yacht stood in front of the large window, and fought the view for the visitor’s attention. Low peppermint-green leather couches made no pretence of offering a welcome or comfort.

The wooden desk to the left of the entrance seemed out of place.

‘Good morning, Jessica.’ Vera put down the tiny watering can with which she’d been tending to a row of three potted African violets.

Vera had always grown plants in the office. Jessica could remember her grandfather joking and putting a much younger Vera in charge of the atrium at the heart of Numbat’s Perth headquarters. Back then, she’d smiled easily. ‘Good morning, Vera. This is Brodie Carlton, a friend of mine.’

The older woman subjected him to a long, thorough assessment. Jessica reminded herself that he’d been inspected by generals. And he was a hero.

Sure enough, there was no knee-wobble visible.

Vera nodded. She was a short, compact woman who wore the unobtrusive clothes of an upmarket chain-store catering to older women. Her hair was a tidy shade of brown, close to the mahogany stain of her desk. Her shoes had a sensible one-inch heel and were highly polished. ‘Good morning, Mr Carlton.’ Courtesies observed, she turned to Jessica. ‘I assume the folders you are carrying are the various papers everyone’s been chasing.’

‘The ones that needed my signature? Yes.’

Vera opened the door to Jessica’s dad’s room, the Chairman’s office.

With no escape, Jessica forced her legs to walk forward. She’d have happily used another space in the building. It didn’t even have to be an office. A converted photocopying room would have done.

Vera had foiled that piece of cowardice. Jessica had the legal status of Chairperson and she’d have the office-floor space status expression of it, too.

Unfortunately, while Jessica wasn’t in the office, Vera kept it locked. That meant that each time Jessica walked into it, the air smelled of her dad’s cologne. The expensive scent clung to the room, blanketing her in the miasma of disapproval, guilt and inadequacy that had characterised her relationship with her father. And now there was grief, as well. Anger that she couldn’t process.

She put her two folders on the ordered expanse of her dad’s desk. Brodie placed his stack beside hers.

‘Did you sign everything?’ Vera asked.

The note of criticism in her voice struck Jessica. ‘I’m sorry. I know that they were important and I should have signed them yesterday.’ Except she’d been in Perth, and that was no one’s business but hers and Brodie’s.

‘If the matter was that urgent, I would have ensured you signed them in a timely fashion,’ Vera reproved her. ‘My question was whether you had any questions before you signed the papers.’

Jessica winced. Signing blind was a bad habit. One she was determined to break. ‘I believe I understood everything I read.’ She looked at Brodie who’d been prowling around the room, investigating the luxurious fittings. He was supposed to be her back up.

He replaced a netsuke carving of a frog onto a metal bookshelf and looked at Vera. ‘Is there something in particular that you’re concerned Jessica hasn’t understood? Perhaps some background issue?’

Jessica blinked.

Vera nodded, slow and thoughtful. ‘One of the bad habits of a corporate career is the tendency to introduce people by their job title. Jessica hasn’t caught the habit.’

She wanted to know who Brodie was and by what right he challenged her.

‘Brodie’s a friend,’ Jessica said, while noting that Vera was astute. She hadn’t assumed that Brodie was a boyfriend. In fact, she was eyeing him as if he were a business challenge; potentially either a threat or an ally.

‘I recently quit the army,’ Brodie contributed. ‘I served as a sergeant. Since I had some time free, I’m here to help Jessica.’

‘A sergeant.’ Vera’s typically severe expression showed a hint of amusement. ‘Well done, Jessica.’

‘Pardon?’ Now she was shocked.

‘Sergeants know everything about everything, and they’re used to manipulating their superiors. Rather like secretaries. I approve of your re-enforcements. About time.’

Jessica edged around the desk and sat
whomp
in her dad’s chair. The well-sprung leather contraption tilted and recovered.

‘You’ve been treading so timidly, I thought Derek might steal the corporation out from under you,’ Vera continued. ‘Now I know you’re going to fight.’

‘I am?’

Vera smiled, revealing white, even teeth.

‘You are,’ Brodie said. ‘And I think we’ve found our general.’

‘I don’t know if I want a fight,’ Jessica said cautiously. All she wanted was to stand her ground.

‘Here isn’t the best place to talk.’ Vera lowered her voice.

Jessica leaned forward. ‘Are there bugs?’

Brodie grinned. He hitched a hip onto the edge of the desk.

‘There could be.’ Vera sounded unconcerned. ‘No, the real problem are the people who wander in. Ewan will have told everyone that you’re here.’

‘So?’

Jessica had her answer before she could finish the question.

The CEO, Joe Sagra, knocked perfunctorily on the doorframe and strode in. He wore the sort of tailored suit Ewan’s knock-off versions attempted to emulate. The elegant lines of it made the best of gym-toned muscles. He stood just under average height, but no one overlooked Joe. Sharp brown eyes took in the gathering around the desk. ‘Am I interrupting?’

Vera snorted in a ladylike fashion. Or, maybe it wasn’t so ladylike.

Jessica made introductions.

‘It’s a difficult weekend.’ Joe ignored the stack of folders, which included the signed papers he’d previously insisted were important.

‘You’ll be coming to dinner?’ Jessica asked.

‘Not tonight. Derek phoned and apologised last night. Portia is struggling and she’s changed her mind. Tomorrow will go ahead as planned, but she wishes tonight to be for family. A private gathering to remember Ian.’

Jessica’s gaze shot to Brodie. This was about making it impossible for her to bring him as back up. Her breathing shallowed. Tonight’s dinner had been intended for twenty-four people, the maximum the dining room could comfortably hold. If Portia truly kept it in the family, there would be her, Derek, his fiancée, Anabel, and Jessica.

Mae would just have to lay another setting for Brodie. There would be food enough. The cook must be howling about such a late change to the weekend’s plans. A dinner for four was very different to one for twenty-four.

‘He was a remarkable man.’

Everyone in the room stared at Brodie.

He contemplated the large oil painting that hung on the wall behind the desk.

Jessica swivelled her chair and stared up at the larger than life-size portrait of her dad.

Ian Trove had been a handsome man. Strong features, blonde hair only just beginning to silver, blue eyes. He’d had presence and the artist had captured it. Ian could have been selected from central casting to play the role of chairman.