Eighty One – Pt. 02

3

The highly polished brass plaque contained only one word ‘Oakham’. Large stone pillars flanked the glossy black door of the Georgian building. After a deep breath to compose herself Laura pushed the ivory button situated below the brass nameplate. Seconds later a voice from the small grill asked if she could be of help. Instinctively Laura glanced up at the camera. “It’s Laura Miller, here to see Mr Weston.”

“Of course, please come in.” The friendly voice replied as the lock released with a loud click. Laura pushed open the heavy door to reveal a large reception area decorated to compliment the style of the original building. Rising from her desk the mature, attractive woman stepped forward to greet her.

“Hello, I’m Grace Edwards, Mr Weston’s assistant. He’s expecting you. I’ll show you straight through.”

“Thank you. It’s a lovely building you have here, it feels so welcoming and the décor’s terrific.”

“Isn’t it just. It’s so quiet but well situated for the city, we’re very fortunate. This way please.” Laura followed her into a long wide hallway. If the thick carpeting and wood panelling alluded to an air of opulence the original modern oil paintings confirmed it. The assistant stopped at the first door on the left, after a light knock she pushed it open before inviting Laura to enter.

“Mr Weston, Mrs Miller has arrived.” The formality between the two struck Laura as odd, so unlike her own very informal relationship with Abbie. Graham Weston screwed the cap onto his expensive looking fountain pen and carefully placed it onto the desk before rising from his chair.

“Laura, how nice to see you again so soon.” His memory had not deceived him. Even in her everyday office clothing he thought she looked as enticing as she had in the little black dress. Although not quite as heavy as that evening her perfect make up made her all the more adorable. He wondered if that was the norm or whether she had made a special effort for their meeting.

“Hello Mr Weston, what a lovely building you have here. You must be so proud of it.”

“We all like to be surrounded by objects of beauty and, so far, we’ve been in the fortunate position of being able to select from very rich pickings.” His words were accompanied by the same restrained half smile she had noticed so often during their previous meeting. “But where are my manners. May I offer you some refreshment? Tea, coffee?”

“No thank you, I’m just fine.”

“Splendid. So Andrew informs me that ‘the game is afoot’ as Sherlock would say. I’m so pleased to hear it.”

“How could we refuse?” She said, slightly unsettled, “we have everything to gain and nothing to loose, don’t you think?” Oh, he thought, the irony of her words. Such opportunities rarely presented themselves so completely; the ideal situation and the ideal subject at just the right time. The onus was then on him to benefit from those favourable circumstances. He had to take care of the details, manipulate the circumstances and incite a satisfactory outcome.

“I’m a firm believer in the old adage ‘it’s not the winning but the taking part that matters’. Personally I’d be more than happy if you were to win the shares, as long as you play a good game.”

“I think we can, that’s why I’m here.” Weston certainly hoped so.

He was used to dealing with very attractive, intelligent women but more often than not they had found him or the organization. They were women who wanted secrets turned into experiences, women who provided no opposition. What he hoped for in this situation was a challenge, a battle of the mind, body and soul.

“I understand that you’re happy with the arrangements and are here to ‘sign on the dotted line’, is that correct?” He opened the top draw of the enormous oak desk and took out a vanilla folder. Handing over the first sheet he said, “This is the basic agreement for the game. Andrew plays the game, you have to return any lost pieces and you both must stick to the rules.” He handed the sheet to Laura, unscrewed the cap from his fountain pen and offered it to her. She signed the bottom of the sheet. He hoped she hadn’t noticed the slight tremble in his hand as he took the sheet back. “And this is the agreement to sell your shares to us should you decide to resign.” Her slight hesitation and raised eyebrows conveyed her unease. “Oh don’t worry. I’ve assured Andrew and I can assure you that this is to be held by a third party and will be returned on completion of the game, win or loose.”

“It’s a lot of trust to place in somebody we hardly know.”

Weston leaned across his desk toward her, then in a neutral tone he said, “this is just our safeguard to make sure you’re not wasting our time. My research gave no indication that you two were ‘quitters’ as the Americans so crudely put it–quite the opposite in fact. But, you don’t have to do this you know, it’s up to you.”

“Oh, no, no. It’s fine, really.” He smiled as she placed her signature on the bottom of the sheet. His heart beat that little bit faster. Success.

“Well, if you have no other questions that just about concludes our business here.” He took a small card from the folder and slid it across the burgundy leather desktop. “Those are the details of the website who host online chess games. Andrew will need to register as a member, it’s all free, and then we can start.”

“That all sounds straight forward, thank you.” Laura rose from her chair seeing no reason to make the meeting last any longer than necessary.

“Laura, the pleasure is all mine, believe me.”

Whilst showing her out he opened the doors before stepping aside gesturing her through with a sweep of the arm–the perfect gentleman.

4

Andrew and Laura both loved lazy Saturday mornings. A leisurely breakfast in bed, reading the papers and making love. The order varied but not usually the content. After an appropriate measure of each Laura was first to make the effort to get out of bed. “Well,” she said with phony annoyance, “if that paper interests you so much you’ve obviously finished taking advantage of me and using me against my will so I think I’ll go for my run before I have a shower.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. I could tell you weren’t too keen when you kept shouting ‘oh fuck, yes, yes…’ right down my ear.” Andrew offered as an equally bogus apology.

“I was putting it on, don’t flatter yourself.” He loved her sense of humour and quick wit, something he found all too rare amongst the women he worked with. When visiting her office he envied the day to day banter he often observed between her and Abbie.

“How are you getting into town?” he called into the bathroom.

“Alice is picking me up and we’re meeting Olivia there.”

“Oh, you’re meeting her Ladyship, I hope you remember your manners.”

“Andrew, don’t be mean,” she scolded. “Olivia’s lovely. Just because she comes from a privileged background and is well spoken doesn’t make her a snob. Besides, she likes slumming it and I think she’d go for a bit of rough. That’s why she likes you.”

“Thanks very much. Just send her round. What time are you off anyway?”

“Alice said she’d be here around twelve.”

“Oh what convenient timing. That’ll just fit in with lunch out, what are the chances of that hey?”

“And what’s Mr Sarcastic planning on doing today?”

“I’ve got a few jobs to do around here first, then this afternoon I might watch the cricket.”

“Ooh, how exciting.” She said in her well practised histrionic manner. “Do you think somebody might win, or will they just play for four or five loooong days before calling it a draw?”

“You can make fun all you like. It’s complicated, that’s why you don’t understand it. You’re a woman and women’s brains aren’t developed enough to handle the intricate complexities of the game.”

“Thank god for that. Come on Jasper let’s leave him to it.” She knelt across the bed to kiss him goodbye, catching his flaccid manhood in the process. “Yuk, you’d better get a shower before you stick to that paper.”

By eleven o’clock Laura had showered and dressed, ready to meet Alice. She loved spending time with her. The two had been friends for years having shared a flat whilst at university. They had a lot in common, she worked for a marketing company in the city and her husband, Edward, worked as a financial consultant.

Laura went into the kitchen where Andrew was sitting on one of the high stools engrossed in something on his laptop. “I’m making coffee, do you want one?” she asked.

“Is it the really nice freshly ground strong sort with heated milk, or the crap sort from the jar?”

“It’s the sort that takes ages and leaves loads to wash up,” then the sarcastic tone returned, “but your worth it darling.”

“I know I am. You might want to take a look at this too.”

“What is it?” Laura asked before moving behind him in order to see the screen.

“The chess game. Graham’s challenge arrived as an email, when I clicked the link it took me here. Look, here’s the board and he’s had his first move. It has the instructions here.” He pointed to a column on the right of the board. “We’re playing black. Maximum 14 days per move.”

“Fourteen days! Bloody hell, with this and cricket you really play your sport in the fast lane don’t you.”

“Up to fourteen days, actually. And besides you may be glad of the time later on.” He continued with scanning the rules. “You can send private messages to opponents during play. If both players are online the game can be played live. Load the mobile app to play on the go, blah, blah, blah. Sounds straight forward.”

“How do you know if he’s online?” Andrew went back to the instructions.

“Here we are, ‘members available for live play are shown with a green dot next to their name’.”

“Is he green?”

“No. We’ll move anyway. There we go Pawn advances, take that sucker.”

“Are you taking this seriously? There’s a lot at stake here.” Laura scolded.

“Of course I am. Early stages darling, early stages. The game gets more interesting as it develops.” Laura left his side to pour the coffee’s.

“Do you want anything with your coffee?”