A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

‘With pulling the acquisition? I agree whole-heartedly,’ he said, uncrossing his legs. ‘I would like to know what they’re hiding and why. I don't think we've fully answered why things don't add up.’

‘That’s not our job, Mark. However, if you think you’re close to finding the truth, you have to the end of the week. Then we walk away.’

Neil gasped and shot a glare across the table at Mark.

‘Problem, Neil?’ asked Jackson.

‘No, sir.’

‘This is just for Mark to deal with. Your team can bow out. I want a final report though. That it’s, gentlemen. I have other things to deal with today.’ He rose and so did everyone else.

Mark waited by the table as the room emptied. ‘Mr Haynes?’

‘Yes?’ Jackson was back at his desk.

‘I could do with Julianna’s help still, on this.’

Jackson leaned back and his leather chair creaked. ‘Could you now?’ He grinned. ‘All right. I'll speak to Chris Moran. Keep her freed up for you.’

Mark blushed; a stupid response and immature.

‘Is that all, Mark? Because I haven’t the time to arrange opportunities for you to meet your girlfriend.’

Mark stepped backwards, stumbling against a chair. He knew! The man had eyes everywhere. Had Julianna told Hettie? Possibly. Did it matter? Probably not, as long as he kept his head down and held on to his position in Jackson's inner circle.

‘No. Just that I wanted to say your brother has been very helpful. And Sophia, too. They're a lovely couple and... my sister and I had a good time the other week and...’

Jackson picked up a pen. ‘I’m glad. Now clear off, Mark.’ Jackson’s lip curled slightly as he delivered his dismissal.

Mark hurried out of the office, head down and clutching the report.

He was late home. Having delegated himself an additional piece of work – digging up the dirt on the failed acquisition – he would have to burn the midnight oil. Dropping his briefcase by the front door, he removed his overcoat and kicked off his shoes. In the bathroom, he washed the city grime off his face. Looking up, he caught his reflection in the shaving mirror. He saw somebody else looking back at him; somebody he rarely met these days. A man, who from the other side of a protective glass, had begged Mark to help relieve his mother’s suffering and to find a way for him to gain his freedom. A lying, devious man and Mark hated him, hated that they shared the same features – the bold eyes and narrow nose.

He sat at the kitchen table, fired up his laptop and ploughed through the figures one more time. Outside, the rain pelleted on the windows and car horns blasted. He rose to shut the blinds and, looking down, he spied a biker and his pillion rider perched on a motorcycle outside the building. The pillion passenger was looking right up at his window.

A shiver went down Mark's spine as he snapped the blinds shut. After the incident with the car, he was on edge with everyone around him, just as he had been before leaving Manchester. Everyone thought he was a crook because of his father. He would prove them wrong. He would champion the righteous and become a scrutiniser of facts and figures. Jackson had employed him to maintain his business ethics and Mark would uphold them.

Ellen would have to take a back seat while he cemented his friendship with Haynes. Possibly Julianna, too. She was showing a progression of behaviours he had not experienced with his previous transient girlfriends: an interest in his family, which wasn’t unusual, but for Mark it was unnecessary. She might be an ex-copper and bodyguard, but it wasn't her job to protect him. He shouldn't have let things get that serious between them. She deserved someone better than him and not the liar who had told his mother there was no news. Perhaps that was why the man in the mirror haunted him.

He turned away from the window, stormed into the bathroom, picked up the mirror and smashed it on the floor. A pointless exercise as there were other mirrors in the house. However, it was amazingly satisfying seeing the shards ricochet off the tiles; some of his anger was captured in those slithers of glass. A calmness washed over him and he fetched the dustpan and brush. He should have a go at Julianna's punch bag. He laughed softly to himself – it was a good enough reason to stay with Julianna. It would do for now.

  20

Ellen

MONDAY

Ellen scrutinised the charity pile one last time. She didn't need all those towels. Or a fruit bowl. Or the backgammon set she had bought at a flea market because it looked pretty. Those impulsive purchases had proved themselves inconsequential or unnecessary. Abandoned on the roadside, they received their eviction notice; the van would arrive to take the bags away later that day.

Preparations sped along. She had resigned from her job the previous week and by utilising outstanding holidays, she entered the last week of work. To her embarrassment, her colleagues immediately set about organising farewell coffee and cakes for Friday morning, which she didn't want. Her boss walked past her desk without saying a word.

Pangs of anxiety hit her hourly as she continued to clear her flat. Packed, emptied and repacked, the suitcase bulged. She couldn't decide which significant objects of life should be squished into the cheapest, biggest suitcase that fell within the airline's weight allowance, which wasn't generous. According to Freddie, there was a washing machine in the hostel and a fully equipped kitchen. She imagined the place would be like the student accommodation she had never lived in, but still might one day, if her plans achieved fruition. Little steps, she reminded herself, rather than giant leaps.

She had texted Nicky and