Cold Courage (36 page)

‘No,’ Sarah said, giving Fried a look that left no room for
interpretation
. If he hit her again, their agreement would be over. Fried stepped to the bed and closed his briefcase. ‘Gather your things,’ he said to Sarah.

Sarah hesitated. Then she walked into the bathroom to collect her personal items.

Arthur Fried and Lia looked at each other. When the shock of the assault had passed, all Lia could feel was the speed of her pulse. She was not afraid, which astonished her.

‘You won’t succeed,’ she said to Fried.

He looked back silently.

‘There are too many people involved. Sarah, and her sister knows too. And me. And the person listening on the other end of the line,’ Lia said.

Fried glanced at the mobile lying on the floor. He walked over to it and switched it off. Then he looked at Lia again.

‘Whore.’

‘Bribing and hitting people aren’t going to get you out of this,’ Lia said. ‘You’re going to get caught.’

Fried did not say anything. Lia saw him weighing up whether striking her again would be worth it or not.

Just then Sarah returned from the bathroom with a hastily
assembled
make-up bag. She rushed to pack her clothes. Only a few items remained in the drawers, since her suitcase had already been almost ready.

A sharp rapping came at the door.

‘Hotel security! Open up!’

Lia realised that Mari must have rung the hotel. That was a faster way to get her help. For a moment none of them moved or said
anything
. The knocking turned to pounding on the door.

‘Open up immediately!’

‘Why? What seems to be the problem?’ Sarah replied to the guard.

‘We’ve received a report of an assault. Open the door immediately or we will enter with our own key.’

Sarah looked at Arthur Fried.

‘Everything is fine,’ she said to the guard.

‘Open the door immediately. You do not have a choice. We have a protocol to follow. We must inspect the room.’

Lia raised herself from the floor, first sitting and then slowly climbing to her feet. The whole time she kept her eyes on Fried on the other side of the room. He was standing stock-still.

‘You won’t succeed,’ she said to Fried.

Sarah opened the door, and a young, stern-looking guard barged in. In his hand was a radio transmitting something made
unintelligible
by static.

‘I’m in,’ the guard said into his radio.

He stared at the three people standing in the room and looked around.

‘Is everyone all right?’ he asked.

Sarah nodded. The guard turned his eyes to Lia, who gave him a quick smile.

‘Everything is fine,’ Lia said.

‘Sir, are you all right?’ the guard asked Arthur Fried.

‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Fried replied.

The guard apologised for his intrusion but still checked the
bathroom
. As he returned he eyed the bag Sarah had just packed.

‘Are you leaving?’

‘Yes.’

‘We received an alert that someone’s life was being threatened in this room. Do you know what that could have been about?’

‘No. I don’t know.’

Fried stepped in.

‘This may have something to do with me being a public figure.’

With this, he walked up to the guard and shook his hand.

‘Arthur Fried, Fair Rule party leader. I’ve been in the press lately due to some unfortunate allegations. It may be that this is more of the same. You know what sorts of psychopaths follow celebrities around.’

Recognising Fried, the guard nodded.

‘My apologies for the disturbance. When we receive a report of danger to anyone’s life we are obliged to act as we did.’

‘I understand completely,’ Fried said, smiling at the guard. ‘It’s good you have these protocols. And an effective staff. But truly, nothing has happened here. And if any representatives of the media ask about this incident, I depend upon your discretion.’

The guard quickly withdrew from the room.

‘You haven’t changed,’ Sarah said to Fried. ‘I thought it last night when we talked, but now I know. You’re never going to change.’

Without answering, Fried fetched his briefcase. He threw Lia’s phone on the bed and picked up Sarah’s suitcase.

‘Let’s go.’

‘Sarah, do you understand what you’re doing?’ Lia asked.

Sarah did not say anything. She simply turned to follow Fried out the door.

‘Bring the video to Sarah’s flat by three o’clock. Every copy. If anyone keeps a copy or it comes out in the press, you know what I’ll do,’ Fried said.

Lia stared at the door as it closed after them.
When Lia arrived back at the Studio, she found that Mari had called Paddy and Rico in for an emergency meeting.

‘That was a bold move,’ Mari said.

If Arthur Fried had said anything within earshot of her mobile phone that could prove his bribery or intimidation, perhaps they could still have published the video. Now they couldn’t.

They all agreed that the biggest problem was not security for Sarah Hawkins and her family. They could arrange that easily enough. The problem was that the video would end up helping Fried if Sarah refuted its contents publicly.

‘Fried and Sarah would say that the video was doctored, that we spliced it together. As we did. But they would make it seem like the video wasn’t the truth,’ Rico said.

All the work they had done to produce it would turn against them. For example, removing the background noise could be used as evidence that the speech had been manipulated as well.

‘We can’t use it,’ Mari said. ‘That’s done now. Fried’s won this round.’

They agreed that Lia would take Fried three DVDs with copies of the video.

‘It doesn’t matter how many copies you take,’ Rico said. ‘We could make thousands of them if we wanted. But it’ll be easier for Fried to think he’s got all of them if you only take a few.’

Of course the Studio would keep a copy, Mari said. Rico would have to make sure it was kept under lock and key so no one on the outside could break in and download it.

Rico looked shocked at the very suggestion that Mari thought someone could break into the Studio’s data systems.

‘That won’t happen,’ he said.

‘Still,’ Mari said. ‘We can’t take the risk no matter how unlikely it is.’

Sarah Hawkins had suffered so much already. They had to respect her by doing as she asked. But they would keep a copy in case she ever changed her mind.

Paddy volunteered to drive Lia to Sarah’s flat and monitor the meeting from a distance.

‘What now?’ Lia asked Mari.

‘Now we think,’ Mari said.

On Ferndale Road, Paddy stayed in the front garden while Lia rang the bell. Sarah opened quickly, as if she had been waiting by the door. She glanced at Paddy, but did not ask about him.

Lia walked inside. Arthur Fried was waiting in the kitchen at the table. He and Sarah had been drinking tea. It all looked so oddly cosy.

Lia set on the table a binder containing three plastic sleeves, each holding a DVD.

‘Is this all the copies?’ Fried asked.

‘It’s a digital recording. These are all of the copies we’ve made of it.’

Did they still have a master? Fried wanted to know.

‘No,’ Lia lied. ‘We deleted it.’

Fried nodded.

‘You can go. I hope
Level
can again someday rise above the crude cesspool of vituperation the red tops churn out.’

Lia smiled.

How long did thinking that one up take you, Arthur?

Lia did not say anything to Fried as she left, but she did shake Sarah’s hand. Sarah was unable to speak, and Lia could feel the
trembling
in her hand.

Paddy drove Lia home.

At Kidderpore Avenue, he asked, ‘How are you doing?’

‘What do you mean?’

Her encounter with Fried had not exactly been easy, Paddy said. Less than a week had elapsed since the events in the Sutton
warehouse
. Lia had been interviewed by the police. She had been through things that would shake anyone up.

‘I’m fine. Really. I’m surprised by it too. But I wasn’t even afraid today. I mostly just felt like laying into him, but I’m not quite that stupid.’

‘You’re a tough girl.’

Lia snorted.

‘Yeah, I’m a regular badass.’

‘I know how it feels,’ Paddy said seriously. He had been shot at and beaten several times.

‘The first couple of times I was wetting myself. But then hitting just turned into hitting. It lost its mystery.’

That happened in this line of work, Paddy said. But everyday life went on, if you didn’t get hurt too badly. Over the years Paddy had feared less and less, but he had become extremely careful all the same.

‘I decided that at least my life wasn’t going to end accidentally, because of some bumbling small-time crook.’

‘Maybe I’ll get used to it too. Although I don’t think I’ll ever get used to gunshots.’

‘You can practise that. We’ll go to a range sometime and you can learn to shoot.’

That made Lia smile.

‘Thanks. Just a little while ago I would never have believed it, but that sounds like a great idea.’

Mari sits in her office at the Studio and stares at her computer monitor.

Onscreen updates from the news wires scroll by, relating events in Britain and around the world. But Mari is not looking at them.

She is thinking.

Arthur Fried sneaked ahead of her and frightened Sarah Hawkins into keeping mum. Fried now has space to breathe. But Fried knows that he has to do something to save his career.

Losing Sarah’s video was a big setback for Mari. She can’t replace it just like that. It was Plan A, and usually Mari has other backup plans, a B and usually a C as well. That is how her head works. A backup for the backup for the backup plan.

That is how she ensures success. Her mind develops a plan, considering the target from every possible angle, and that is why she achieves her goals.

But this plan will be hard to replace. Perhaps impossible.

Time could simply run out. Only a few months remain until the election, leaving Fried free to do any number of things to restore his reputation and squeak into Parliament.

Mari’s thoughts run in circles, repeatedly landing on the same themes: the politician, his ex-wife, the video.

It isn’t good, and Mari knows it. She has to get free of what she had before. In order to solve the problem, she has to think of something else, she has to find something new.

Mari knows that Rico is hunched over a keyboard in his office. Berg is tidying up the Den. Paddy is doing his own work. Maggie is free, waiting to be ordered what to do. Lia is dropping in at
Level
, jogging and generally recovering. They all have their place.

Mari’s place is here and her task is resolving this. Her mind has always produced a solution. Always, before long, some thought has started to take shape.

Mari continues to think.

Monday was full. Lia had a big pile of stories to lay out, and
immediately
after work a meeting with her psychiatrist.

On her way to Brooke’s office on the Tube, she found that despite it all, the day seemed to be missing something. This was supposed to have been the day when Sarah Hawkins’ video went to The Wall, shocking the women who worked there and leading to immediate publication.

This week Fried was supposed to fall.

Her conversation with Elizabeth Brooke expunged all such thoughts from her mind. Brooke carefully walked Lia through her state of health, how she had been sleeping, had she been using any medications and other items that would reveal possible symptoms of stress.

I should have them, I suppose. But I haven’t noticed any myself.

Lia talked with the psychiatrist about a question that had been bothering her: when you saw a death, was it OK to be satisfied
sometimes
? If they were evil people, was it wrong to mostly feel relief at their deaths?

‘I doubt there’s any one answer to that,’ Dr Brooke said. ‘That takes us to the outer limits of morality and the law. But I should think it was strange if relief was not one of the acceptable reactions to that.’

At the end of their meeting, Brooke said she was happy for Lia.

‘Your attack last week was so severe that I would have expected you to be doing significantly worse. But it is possible it was a unique episode. If you continue doing this well, perhaps you won’t need any more extensive treatment. And in that case we wouldn’t need to continue meeting long.’

Lia did not tell her about Fried punching her the previous day. Mentioning the incident did not feel necessary.

I didn’t burst into tears at Arthur Fried’s feet. I didn’t have a panic attack. I didn’t have any nightmares.

Frightening me isn’t so easy any more.

At home she considered the week ahead. A few days until Christmas. One more day at work before her short holiday. No plans.

She rang Mari. ‘What’s up?’

She heard Mari laugh.

‘Same old, same old. Thinking. Weighing options.’

‘Do you have any Christmas plans?’

‘No. I haven’t had any all autumn and I still don’t. I doubt I’ll go to Finland. I don’t think I could stand a family Christmas. I’ll
probably
be boring and just continue doing this.’

‘Thinking?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Couldn’t I interest you in anything else?’ Lia asked.

‘Like what?’

‘Well. Running. Films. And there are still clubs with bands. Or we could go to some charity’s soup kitchen to hand out Christmas meals. To the poor. Anything other than just being.’

‘Thanks. Some other time, definitely. But not right now. Not this Christmas.’

‘Well, let’s stay in touch. Maybe we’ll come up with something.’

Lia guessed that would not be the case.

Tuesday was busy at the
Level
offices, especially since amidst all the rush everyone took a break to drink the wine and eat the food the magazine had bought and wish each other a happy Christmas.

Lia also wished editor-in-chief Matt Thomas well, not feeling the slightest bit false in doing so. Months had passed since Mari had revealed Thomas to be an utter idiot, but Lia had had barely a moment’s time to dwell on it. She had begun to give in to the idea that at some point she would have to change jobs.

At home on Kidderpore Avenue nothing awaited her.

Two days until Christmas Eve.

Lia pulled out the airline voucher Mari had given her. Six hundred pounds. She looked up the airline’s website and searched the
last-minute
deals. All that appeared to remain was expensive departures and destinations in which she had no interest.

Then she noticed a flight to Helsinki. A Christmas Eve morning departure to Helsinki with a return on Boxing Day, price a cool £589 including tax. How was it just that price? But Lia did not want to go to Helsinki to celebrate Christmas with her parents.

Now that she thought of it, she realised what a long time had elapsed since she had last rung them.

Her father answered in Espoo after only two rings.

‘Hi. It’s me,’ Lia said.

‘Lia? It’s nice to hear from you.’

Her mother was out just then, gone to the shop, her father said. To get potatoes. Apparently they were having beef and mash the following day.

Lia could hear the sound of Finnish television in the background and knew that her dad was sitting in his favourite chair where he could see both the telly and out towards the sea, where a strip of the Baltic was clearly visible.

Lia asked after their health. Her mother had been in for a
check-up
due to some back pain, but the results of the tests had not yet arrived. At long last, her father had been able to get out and run, since his legs were cooperating again.

‘You ran the shoreline trail, where the geese are during the summer?’ Lia asked.

‘Yes, that’s the one.’

‘I’ve been busy. I’ve met some new friends, and work is a lot… well, it’s just a lot,’ Lia said.

She briefly informed him that she would not be able to come to Helsinki that year.

‘I’m only taking a couple of days off.’

This explanation suited her father well enough. Work. Work could earn you forgiveness for nearly anything.

‘How are things at work?’

‘Fine, fine. Something did happen a little while ago that showed me what a ghastly beast my boss is though. The editor-in-chief. It isn’t a problem otherwise, but I have started thinking that I might not be at this magazine for ever.’

Lia regretted this slip immediately. A note of concern came into her father’s voice.

‘But you have such a good position there. It wouldn’t do to switch just like that. It’s always a good idea to try to keep a good relationship with your boss, no matter what he might be like.’

‘Oh, our relationship is fine. But I’m not willing to take whatever he dishes out.’

‘There aren’t many good bosses out there anywhere. You just have to stick it out.’

‘Thanks, Dad, but I’ll handle it myself. I’ll decide whether I’m staying there or not.’

The phone went silent.

‘Where is this coming from?’ her father finally asked. ‘That you’re talking this way?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Does it have something to do with these new friends? Who are they?’

Lia sighed.

‘Perfectly respectable people. Normal people. One of them is a Finn. A Finnish woman.’

‘Well, that’s good. With Finns you always know what you’re dealing with.’

As the call was ending, as she was sending her love to her mother, Lia knew positively that she did not want to visit her parents for Christmas. She did not want to feel weak. But she also knew she would seriously regret not sending them anything.

Online she found some appropriate CDs and a DVD box set of a BBC nature series, paying nearly £100 to have them delivered wrapped via courier the following day, Christmas Eve.

That was a trifling sum for peace of mind.

Lia spent Christmas at home on Kidderpore Avenue. She bought good food and listened to her favourite albums.

She thought about the Baltic Sea and her parents’ view of it. She thought about that same sea extending to Latvia.

Four women had returned there from London. They were home for Christmas, and although Lia did not know whether their return had been joyful or miserable, that thought alone brought tears to her eyes.

She sent Mari a text message: had she heard anything from Latvia?

Everything there was well, Mari replied presently. She had heard from Ausma, who had called her grandmother Henriete in Riga
from London. All four women had arrived home safely and were with relatives. Henriete was well. She had told her family that Daiga had died in London. Upon hearing, her ex-husband had come demanding Daiga’s things for himself. Henriete had thrown him out.

Lia laughed with tears in her eyes at the thought of Henriete Vītola tossing her no-good son-in-law out on his ear.

Lia went out for long runs on Christmas Eve and the day itself. It was perfect. Sixteen kilometres on Hampstead Heath, which was full of happy sights: families playing with their children, the elderly sitting on benches for the few moments the chilly weather would allow, dogs dragging their owners along.

After her run on Christmas Day, she rang Mr Vong’s doorbell.

They played cards for seven hours. Mr Vong asked whether Lia would mind if he played Christmas songs on the radio in the
background
, since he had this lovely little world radio in the shape of a duck. Lia had no objections. She enjoyed every moment. Thankfully Mr Vong was not one of those people who would have had to bustle about offering Christmas delicacies or things to eat in general. They simply sat in peace playing and drinking tea.

On Boxing Day evening, Lia went out into the city, to a sports bar named Goals, and in half an hour found herself a man. Ollie was fun, intelligent and just as disconnected from Christmas tradition as herself. He also turned out to be good in bed. As they lay on the broad mattress of their chain-hotel room, Ollie suggested that they stay the night.

She ate breakfast in the hotel with him. Staying till the morning deviated from her habits but felt good just then.

I could get used to something like this. I could bend my routine sometimes for this. Sometimes.

She popped home to change her clothes, and when she arrived at
Level
she immediately saw that something had happened. People were standing in small clumps around their desks talking about something, and it wasn’t updating each other on their holidays.

‘What’s going on?’ Lia asked Sam.

‘Matt Thomas is leaving.’

He had been named deputy editor at the
Daily Express
. Thomas’ resignation from his current post had been effective immediately he announced it, because he was off to another media company. The board of
Level
’s controlling company had called an emergency conference in the middle of a holiday morning to decide on a replacement.

‘Oh. Wow,’ Lia said.

‘No kidding. Thomas is still in his office. We’re trying to work out whether we should throw some sort of improvised send-off. And how to handle all the work.’

Lia sat down and allowed the significance of this news to sink in.

Almost instantly she was ready to help organise Thomas’ farewell party. Assigned to get the cake, she went to a nearby supermarket and purchased the largest one she could find.

Matt Thomas emerged from his office at eleven o’clock. He had made several calls over the course of the morning and hastily collected his things.

He was delighted to see the cake, coffee and sparkling wine the staff had thrown together.

The mood during the party was sociable, but Lia thought she could see that she was not alone in being relieved at Thomas’ departure. In the middle of the celebration, news came down that the board had decided to name Timothy Phelps
Level
’s interim editor-in-chief, until the position could be filled permanently. The bubbly went around again.

Timothy was congratulated on every hand, and Matt Thomas gave a brief speech in which he mostly complained about
Level’s
circulation prospects.

‘Matt, out with it. Did they lure you there, or did you apply for the position yourself?’ Timothy Phelps asked.

‘They rang me,’ Thomas said. ‘I didn’t even know the
Daily Express
was looking for another editor. But they made me an extremely convincing offer. And I’ve always thought at some point I would end up at a big paper like that.’

Self-conceited cretin.

Lia watched Thomas grinning and considered Tim’s question. It felt important. What was so special about Matt Thomas that the
Daily Express
would be interested in him? It was a big tabloid that banged out sensationalist headlines that competed for a different readership from
Level
’s. It was a completely different game. A dirty game, some said. And newspapers usually promoted from within.

This started to bother her.

She rang Mari. They had not talked at all over Christmas or
afterwards
other than exchanging texts.

‘How’s it going?’ Lia asked.

‘Work,’ Mari said. ‘I took some time off on Christmas Day though.’

Lia reported what had just happened at her work, that the editor-in-chief was changing.

‘Is that so? That’s interesting,’ Mari said.

Lia paused for a second.

‘Did you know about this?’

Mari’s reply was slow in coming.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you arrange this new position for Thomas?’

‘I played a role in it. But Thomas really did want to move to a larger paper. All I had to do was help a little.’

‘How did you do it?’

Mari said she had put out feelers earlier in the autumn to see which papers were seeking people for management. Some positions were listed publicly, while others were doing their searches quietly. The
Daily Express
position was in the latter category. One of Mari’s acquaintances had dropped a hint to the publisher that Matt Thomas might be interested in a new challenge. Thomas was thrilled to be invited for an interview.

‘He probably thought the background interview we did with Elevate had something to do with the choice. And in a way it did.’

I should have guessed. It was too good to be coincidence.

‘Do you feel bad somehow that I helped Thomas leave?’ Mari asked.

‘No. But it doesn’t feel like it should. And I have the feeling that I owe you a debt of gratitude. Even though I didn’t ask for this.’

‘No, you don’t owe me anything.’

Matt Thomas was happy because he was getting to move forward in his career, Mari said. Thomas’ ideas and attitude would fit in
better at a member of the tabloid press whose main goal was sales and circulation than
Level
did. And Lia would have the
opportunity
to consider whether to continue in a job she liked. All of her options remained open.