All the Rage (19 page)

‘You can't possibly meet people in the mess you're in. I've never seen you in such a state. For your own good, go home. I can manage the gallery. '

Michael tried to ignore the disgust on Kara's face. ‘I need to examine the DVD. I'll hide in my office. Have we had any other communication with our mysterious postman? '

‘No, thankfully. ' Kara sighed heavily with relief. She told Michael of her success with the repositioning of the CCTV camera, indicating it would be in operation by tomorrow. This thrilled him. But he could hardly keep awake.

Kara made the decision. ‘Right, this is the deal. Go home. Get some sleep. For God's sake, take a shower and get a clean shirt on. I'll call round at eight o'clock. I'm taking you to Tom Aikens, my treat. This will give us a chance to go through everything. By then, you'll have a clear head. '

‘Kara, you're a star! '

‘You don't deserve me. '

 

***

 

When he finally got back to his apartment, he watched the DVD which he'd retrieved from his office. He could make little sense to it; he was too exhausted, in truth, to try. He fell asleep fully clothed on the sofa and slept solidly for six hours.

In his dream, he was adrift, floating on clouds. He had no knowledge of his whereabouts, nor possession of a compass to bring him home. He was high above, looking down. Surrounding him were faces he did not recognise: strange faces, seamless, without expression. The further he looked, the more faces materialised. It was a sea of faces, stretching as far as the horizon.

He could not speak; nor reach out and touch. All he had was his sight. Below him, he saw a planet. Through the thin vapour, he observed that it was planet Earth from which he came. It was startlingly beautiful, a vastness of vivid blues and purples, interspersed with twinkling lights. It was an oasis of calm and tranquillity. What really surprised him was his ability to fly! He could go anywhere, in seconds. In any other sense, this would bring unbridled joy. The capability to travel unhindered, all in the blink of an eye. Like Superman. But he was troubled
.

Where was this ethereal place he occupied? It was not of this world. Nor were the other million faces that floated around him. Try as he might, he could not shake them, push them or wake them. Yet their bulging eyes remained steadfastly open. These were lost souls.

Michael awoke with a jolt. He was sweating profusely. His initial vision of blissful peace transformed into a scenario of nightmarish images he wanted to forget, in an instant. It was a bad, bad dream. These were the dead people, Guardians of the living. Still shaking, he asked himself if
this was a foretaste of death and the afterlife.

He took refuge under a blisteringly hot shower. The fierceness from the jets of water pummelled his aching limbs. It felt good, but he couldn't rid himself of the dream. It was like a premonition.

He checked the clock. Hurriedly towelling down, shaving, dressing, he was punctual to the second as the front doorbell rang. He punched the intercom button marked ‘key' and moments later Kara entered the hallway of his apartment. He caught sight of her in the ambient lighting. She was stunning in a short black sequined dress, high heels and simple pearls around her neck. Her hair was drawn up, clasped at the back with a silver slide.

‘Wow,' Michael said, admiring her from top to toe. ‘Marcus would be jealous. '

‘Marcus wouldn't know a good thing even if it bit him on the arse,' she replied, perfecting her red glossy lipstick in the mirror. ‘But to be honest, I told him that. I also told him I'm with you. '

‘Was that wise? '

‘Absolutely, it'll keep him on his toes. He's in my bad books as it is. '

Michael felt less confident. ‘How did he take it? '

‘He's spitting blood, if you must know. I rather like all this attention. '

Michael grabbed a jacket, kissed her on the cheek and switched off the lights. He took Kara's arm and escorted her to the elevator, adding appreciatively, ‘This is a rare treat. Dinner with the best looking girl in town, and you're picking up the tab. I rather like all this attention as well. '

 

***

 

Marcus was seriously pissed off. At first, he paced Kara's tiny flat until the floorboards began to creak, then went to the nearest corner pub and downed three pints. What was she playing at? Why did she persist in trying to make him jealous? He felt foolish and unwanted, especially after all the support he had given her. What special occasion was so damned important to warrant going out, looking like she did, with her boss to a swanky restaurant? And bloody Tom Aikens as well! Eventually, gaining courage from two large Jack Daniels and Coke, curiosity got the better of him. Now, standing in the shadows of the building opposite the celebrated restaurant, he watched with mounting frustration as they sat, in full view, at a candlelit table for two. Just bloody perfect!

 

***

 

The meal was splendid, the bill less so. Kara gulped at the total, but before she had time to settle the account, Michael whisked it away from her fragile grip and paid by his own credit card.

‘Michael, I
said
…'

He raised his hands. ‘Better to take me to Poppies Diner next week, that way you won't ask for a raise on your salary. '

‘I can pay! ' she protested.

‘You have, by accompanying me here tonight. It was just what I needed. It's been a very difficult few days. '

Over coffee and brandies, they once again analysed all that had happened over this period. It was a lot to digest. Several things emerged to which there was no immediate answer. One was the identity of the mysterious carrier. Also, Michael had been worried by Kara's behaviour lately. He was deeply troubled that whenever his movements or actions came into question, the only person privy to these was…her. What was she doing? What was her motive if she was revealing information against his will? Trust was of a paramount issue here. Therefore, he reasoned, should he now conceal certain things from her in the future? Was she in fact misguided or manipulated or just feeling the need to overprotect him; or was Kara actually part of something far bigger? Up to now, her allegiance was beyond reproach. But only she
knew
of his trip to Venice. How did Antonia find out? Who tipped her off? It needed answering. And fast. For the moment, however, he wouldn't let this line of enquiry spoil the evening. It could wait for another day.

 

***

 

She interrupted his thoughts. ‘Michael, I'm bothered by this inventory of the Porter collection you've asked me to do. '

‘Oh, why is that? '

Kara hesitated, trying to mask her embarrassment at sounding like a thorough wimp. ‘It means me going into the lunatic farm. '

‘The inventory needs doing, Kara. Lauren is expecting you. '

Kara bristled with his comment. Lauren, Lauren, Lauren! He was so bloody compliant. Well, fuck Lauren, but she held back from saying it aloud. Her response was feeble. ‘When? '

‘Early next week, if that's all right. I need digital photos, sizes, and titles. Secure transportation and extra insurance will need organising. ' He picked up on her reluctance. He tried to be tough. ‘You are the best person for the job, Kara. '

‘Why? '

‘Because I can trust you, because you are detached from everything. You will work fast and without distraction. I need a professional approach. '

‘Why can't you do it? '

‘For that very same reason: I will be distracted,' he argued. ‘What's the problem here, Kara? '

She fell silent, fully aware that she had never told him of the fear she felt when confronted by the disgusting message in the Blue Bar. It was all too raw. ‘To be perfectly honest, this Lauren woman scares me. I know you are involved with her, but that is your situation to deal with. Not mine. Since she arrived on the scene, all sorts of weird things have happened, and none of them are to my liking. Something, call it paranoia if you like, tells me this is a dangerous business. I just don't like it, OK? '

Michael leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. ‘Or her, maybe? '

‘Spot on,' she said with a reluctance borne of fear.

 

***

 

During a second brandy, when they had been largely silent, he eventually stepped up the rules of engagement. He wanted to find out just where Kara positioned herself. Once again, she was the only person to know of their conversation this evening.
A dangerous business,
she had said only moments earlier. What did she really know? Absurd, but the thought entered his head that it was maybe
she
who was planting the envelopes. Perversely, he was now becoming suspicious of everyone, including his secretary. However, he had to cling to the notion that Kara's motives were genuine. If it was she who sent the envelopes and, indeed, even had contact with Antonia, then surely it had to be for the best intentions?
Surely
…

Michael broke the awkwardness. ‘Kara, I need you to do this one thing for me. Please, finish the inventory. If you are worried, take Marcus with you. ' Then he added an afterthought. ‘You'll be perfectly safe, I promise. 'His parched throat almost betrayed him, but he masked it well with the last of the cognac.

 

***

 

It was getting colder. Marcus was resilient, if not patient.
How fucking much longer were they going to be?
He sat hunched in the doorway, kicking litter. Twice, a roving police car edged past, looking for tramps and loiterers to move them on. Luckily, he remained undetected. Breathing warmth into the cup of his hands, he sighed with relief as Kara and Michael emerged finally from the restaurant. He watched intently as the couple faced each other closely on the corner of the lamp-lit street.
Kiss her and you'll be dead, pal.

 

***

 

Kara broke her resolve. ‘I'll do it, Michael,' she said.

He nodded. ‘I'll let Lauren know. And thank you. '

They smiled affectionately and clasped hands. From afar, they could have been mistaken as lovers, embracing under the moonlight. They made a striking couple.

‘Thank you for a wonderful evening, Kara. '

She laughed. ‘No. I thank you. '

‘That Marcus, he is indeed one lucky guy. If you want my advice, hold on to one another, and see it through. '

She continued to laugh. ‘We will. ' Then she hugged him with all her strength. They clung together from a mutual desperation.

‘You know,' he began, and then stopped in order to move her away so he could see into her eyes. Then he said, ‘This could be embarrassing, but I'll say it anyway. I only have a son, whom I love dearly. But if I could choose a daughter in this world, it would be you. '

Her eyes misted over. ‘Wow, that's the most beautiful sentiment I have ever heard, Michael. I'm deeply touched. '

He kissed her gently on the cheek and, stroking her hair, whispered, 'You once said that you would always look out for me, do you remember? Well, just remember this, wherever you are, whenever you need someone, I will always be there for you, too. '

‘Is that a promise? ' Kara said.

He saw her vulnerability and recalled her telling him once of her parents' difficult relationship. After they divorced, her distraught father died within two years of the enforced parting. Often, though, her mother would still talk to him to find guidance whenever she had a problem to solve. This, according to Kara, gave comfort and a sense of belonging, and she too spoke to her deceased father whenever she needed help. He was still alive, in her mind. This, her mother had explained, was being truly receptive to the impossible: talking to the dead.
You had to believe.

‘A solemn promise,' he said with a final hug, still troubled by his own dream. What did it signify? It was so vivid, almost suggesting a corridor between those living and those dead. He shivered, as she shivered too. Then, the word
receptive
invaded his head again…from where he did not know.

A taxi came into view and Michael hailed it to take Kara home. He decided to walk his short journey home along the King's Road; it would help to alleviate his overstretched stomach. The joys of middle age
crossed his mind as he helped Kara into the cab.

‘Goodnight,' she said, and leaned forward from her seat and kissed him again. Then he closed the door. As the tail-lights disappeared from view, Michael crossed the road and made his way down the empty pavement. It was past midnight, but he was in no hurry to arrive at his vacant and lonely apartment.

 

***

 

Marcus was in no mood for niceties. It galled him to witness this act of tenderness. Shocked and confused, it hurt him that he could not provide the kind of love that she so obviously desired. He felt isolated. He so wanted to help them, damn it, but this “thing” was now getting in the way. Big time. He headed for the bright lights of a nightclub, one which would keep him in cold comfort as he drowned his sorrows and got blind stinking drunk. He was good at that.