I couldn’t think of any way to access the door, either. She didn’t lock her office whenever she left – which was quite often – but bloody Eddie was always at his desk so I couldn’t get in to have a poke around.

  It was only as I was walking home one evening that it suddenly dawned on me. Eddie did sweet FA as far as work was concerned – but perhaps that was the true reason for him being there. He wasn’t a paper-pusher like me – he was security.

  The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It also made sense for me to be much more careful around Eddie than I had been. I used the time walking to and from work to try to come up with an imaginative scheme which would discreetly remove Eddie from the office without him noticing. So far, I hadn’t come up with a single idea.

  I have to say, potential murderers or not, Insight were excellent employers. Even though I was on a fixed-term contract, I was called into Bridget’s office for the mandatory two-week formal assessment.

  I seated myself and regarded her somewhat nervously.

  ‘Well, Maxine, how do you think you’re getting on?’

  I sighed. ‘I’m shorter, thinner, older, and even more knackered than I was a fortnight ago. Good thing it’s only a temporary contract or there’d be nothing left of me.’

  She laughed. ‘I think you worry unnecessarily. I’ve seen the amount of chocolate you put away. Daily.’

  ‘Keeping up my strength,’ I said, straight-faced. ‘A valiant effort to prevent the job from killing me.’

  I thought she’d laugh but she didn’t. Instead, she fidgeted with her pen. I shifted uneasily. I’d thought we had a good working relationship. Had I read things wrong? I was still on probation. Was she about to sack me?

  ‘I am aware,’ she said, slowly, ‘that there are two of you and that one does much more than the other.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I said, ‘but it’s not a major issue.’

  ‘I inherited him, I’m afraid. And he’s been here long enough to be entitled to his own bodyweight in compensation should we try to chuck him out.’

  I nodded. As an explanation for Eddie’s immobility, it was a good one. Every office has someone who doesn’t really pull their weight but isn’t bad enough to be sacked.

  ‘It really is OK,’ I said, because it was. The upside was that with Eddie’s bum firmly planted on Eddie’s seat, I had the opportunity to zip around the building and poke my nose into all sorts of places. And at least I always knew where he was. The downside, of course, was that I couldn’t get to that door in Bridget’s office.

  She smiled at me. ‘Well, that’s good of you, Maxine. Don’t think I’m not grateful.’

  ‘Please feel free to express your gratitude in chocolate form.’

  She picked up my personnel sheet. ‘How about I simply mark you down as “exemplary in all areas”?’

  ‘A poor second,’ I said, ‘but I’ll take it. Thank you very much.’

  ‘I’m enjoying having you here, Maxine.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. And meant it.

  ‘And our file delivery statistics have soared,’ she went on, ‘so you’re making me look really good.’

  ‘Astonishingly, you’re the first boss ever to say that to me.’

  ‘Well, to celebrate the occasion, how about we nip up the road and have a quick lunch at the BM?’

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ I said, surprised. Dr Bairstow had never taken me out to lunch. Definitely worth mentioning it next time I saw him. Should either of us ever return to St Mary’s, of course.

  Lunch was lovely. And longer than we intended. Not that I cared. I was out with the boss so timekeeping wasn’t a problem. And although neither of us said anything, I think we were both happy at the thought of Eddie actually having to do a spot of work for a change while the womenfolk of the office enjoyed a leisurely meal.

  We talked History, art, travel, food – all my favourite topics. I really enjoyed it and I think she did too. I really, really had to work at reminding myself that – for some reason not yet clear – she would try to kill us all.

  Two hours later we returned to Eddie. Who, I was prepared to swear, hadn’t moved since we left. I sat at my desk and sighed. I had no idea what to do about Eddie’s bum being perpetually on Eddie’s chair.

  And then . . . one day . . . the god of historians remembered my existence and deigned to lift a finger . . .

  It was just a normal day. Bridget was at a meeting on the top floor. I was preparing my files for delivery around the building, sorting them into order and stowing them in my trolley, when my phone rang. Which was a surprise in itself. Bridget spent a lot of time on the phone, Eddie didn’t answer his, and mine rarely rang because I suspected most people were still unaware of my existence.

  I picked it up. ‘Maxine Forrest.’

  It was Bridget. ‘Oh Maxine, thank God. I was worried you’d be in the Cave and I’d get Eddie instead. I’m up on the top floor. There’s a big meeting and I’ve stupidly forgotten a file. Can you bring it up? Asap?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Which one and where is it?’

  ‘In my pending tray. Right-hand side of the desk. It’s the only one in there.’

  ‘Understood,’ I said. ‘On my way.’

  ‘You’re an angel.’ She hung up.

  I found the file and set off for the top floor. The lift wasn’t working – obviously – so I toiled up the stairs, telling myself I was strengthening my heart. And weakening my legs as well, so, you know, swings and roundabouts.

  There was a receptionist at the top of the stairs. One of those immaculately turned-out specimens who probably moonlights as a fashion model. I was suddenly very conscious of my dust-streaked clothes and slightly dirty hands.

  Automatically I held out the file. She didn’t actually recoil at the sight of me – not recoiling from scruffy lowlifes was probably Reception 101 – but there was no way she was touching me or my file. She simply nodded me through.

  There were four sets of doors along the corridor.

  ‘Boardroom Three,’ she called, hardly bothering to look up. ‘Just go straight in.’

  Well, this was unheard of. From snippets picked up around the building, I knew there were people who’d worked here for years and never even been near the top floor. Was it possible I’d been rumbled? I braced myself because this bunch had tried to kill me a few weeks ago and I had no idea what was waiting for me on the other side of the door.

  I stopped outside Boardroom Three, tapped, took a breath and entered a large corner room. Light streamed through tall windows on two sides. The walls were panelled in oak. In fact, everything was oak. Walls, furnishings, floor, the lot. The whole effect was rather old-fashioned. There was no tubular steel or glass here. Portraits in heavy frames hung around the walls. Mostly old, bearded blokes but there were two silk-clad women among them. One was dressed in 1920s gear and flourished a dramatic cigarette holder. The other wore a 1980s power suit. The only thing bigger than her shoulders was her hair.

  A podium stood at one end of the room and a large oval table at the other, big enough to seat sixteen people. I filed that away for future reference. Was that how many board members there were?

  Everything in the room gleamed. Solid and prosperous. Old-fashioned. Family values. And we all know how unpleasant they can be.

  There were five people in the room – Bridget and four others. Two men and two women. Bridget was the youngest there. They stopped speaking as soon as I entered. A number of files were spread across the table, including, I was interested to see, a black one.

  I hesitated, unsure whether to take the file to them or wait for someone to collect it from me.

  Bridget stood up and held out her hand. I held out the card. After all, she’d been very specific. No Form – No File.

  She shot me a look and then grinned and scribbled her initials on the card.

  Taking the file, she turned to the room. ‘Have you met our latest recruit? This is Maxine Forrest; she joined us a month ago.’

  I thought I might get a frigid nod or two but they all smiled quite pleasantly. Someone said, ‘Welcome, Maxine, how are you settling in?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ I said. ‘Nice place to work.’

  Everyone beamed. ‘We think so, too,’ said someone else.

  I picked up the card and left. Seriously, if I hadn’t actually seen members of Insight blow a hole in our roof then I would never have believed it. And it wasn’t only the people I’d just met. Everyone in the building was pleasant and friendly and helpful. They had to be the nicest, politest, most inclusive sinister organisation up to no good in the whole history of sinister organisations up to no good.

  Even with Bridget providing living proof, I still had difficulty believing I was in the right place, that my boss had tried to kill me. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

  I wondered how she’d felt about being instructed to kill me. Had she protested? Or had she simply nodded, assembled her team and jumped back to carry out her instructions without even the slightest pang of regret? She liked me – I was sure of it. I liked her – which was a bugger. How would I feel if Dr Bairstow put a gun in my hand and instructed me to kill her? Would I do it? That was an interesting thought, wasn’t it?

  And I still didn’t know what I’d done – or would do – to betray myself. That moment standing outside the boardroom door had really set my heart racing.

  I dropped off my regular files then sat back down at my desk and busied myself with my file list. Eddie was still doing his impersonation of a human being – although not very well. I pulled open my top drawer. I had stats to compile ready for the end of the week and needed the list of files I’d handled so far.

  Someone had been in my drawer. I deliberately kept my stats list right on the top, at the front, so all I had to do was whip open the drawer, add a figure in the appropriate column and shut it again. The list was still on the top but pushed towards the back. Definitely not how I’d left it.

  I stared.

  ‘Oh,’ said Eddie’s voice and I started – for a moment I couldn’t think who was talking. ‘I needed a pair of scissors and went into your drawer. Hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Of course not.’

  Well, what else could I say? I didn’t know what the office etiquette was for rummaging in people’s drawers. Was it acceptable or not?

  He held out my scissors. ‘Thanks.’

  I nodded and took them back, hoping I didn’t look as unsettled as I felt.

  I remembered, when I worked at St Mary’s, I’d rather had the feeling that the new Head of Security, Captain Hyssop, had been poking around my desk drawers at night, after Rosie Lee and I had left the office. I’d never said anything but one night I’d scribbled, Fuck off, Hyssop, on a piece of paper and left it in my top drawer.

  Obviously there had never been any reaction from her and I’d never had anything incriminating in my drawers in the first place but it wasn’t a pleasant thing for her to do. I’d mentioned it to Rosie Lee because she was quite capable of having all sorts in her desk, from banned literature to anthrax spores. Not that I had any objections to Hyssop infecting herself with anthrax spores but some of them could have blown my way.

  Anyway, whatever his motives, Eddie wouldn’t have found anything there that shouldn’t be. I should remember I was just a normal, innocent person and proceed accordingly.

  Sadly, I wasn’t given a lot of time. Another call from Bridget. The meeting was finished. Could I come up and collect the files, please.

  I sighed, heaved myself to my feet and set off again for the top floor.

  Again, I was waved through. I tapped and went straight in.

  They were all gathered at the far end of the room by the windows, talking quietly, cups of coffee in hand. The files were still scattered across the table. Four pink, one red, one blue, two green, and . . . and, half hidden under the pile, the black one.

  This was far too good an opportunity to miss. I moved around the table, collecting the files, stacking one on top of the other. Take it slowly, Maxwell. Don’t scrabble at them. Don’t draw attention. One pink, one red, one black, three pink, one green, another green, and the big blue one on the top. A nice file sandwich with the black one in the middle.

  I didn’t catch anyone’s eye. Clutching them to my chest, I quietly opened the door and let myself out. I nodded to the receptionist and, without hurrying, made my way down the stairs.

  There was an empty loo on the next floor. It was as if this was meant to be. No file should ever be left unattended, so naturally I took them all in with me. It was a little crowded but I could cope. I lowered the lid, sat down, and pulled out the black file. I didn’t waste time trying to decode the file number – I opened it up and waded straight in.

  The contents were very sparse. I was looking at a map of some kind. There was no heading. An arrow pointed north. I twisted it the right way around. It was fairly large scale. A thick blue line with the word ‘Windsor’ and an arrow pointing off the map. I frowned. If Windsor was nearby, then this could be the Thames. I turned over the sheet. Blank.

  OK – what was next? A timetable. I scowled at it. From what I could see, it detailed the movements of two groups of people. Purpose unknown.

  And at the bottom of the page – a long line of . . . surely not. Coordinates. They were coordinates. Yes! Eureka! Bingo! Maxwell the Magnificent strikes again. I must remember to tell Markham. Several times.

  Time to act.

  Calling down multiple blessings on an organisation that had never moved on from paper, I whipped out a pen and then found myself without anything to write on. Again. No matter – I was Maxwell the Magnificent. I could do this.

  The coordinates were too complex to memorise so I dropped my trousers – as you do – and copied them on to my thigh. Much safer than writing them on paper should I be spot-searched on the way out. And there was no way I was dropping my trousers for anyone at Insight.

  Time was ticking on. They’d have missed the black file by now. What else could I see? There wasn’t much else. A list of initials which I assumed were the people whose movements had been timetabled. I went back to the map. It seemed very basic so I moved to the other leg and drew it as best I could. The possible river, the arrow pointing to Windsor, some stylised trees. And . . . I peered more closely. That looked like an X. And another one. And was that a J? And that was just about it. No scale. No details. Only Windsor.

  It would have been sensible to look at the other files – the chances were that the black file wouldn’t have been studied in isolation – but I wasn’t given the chance. The outer door banged open.

  ‘Maxine, are you in here?’

  ‘Yes,’ I shouted. ‘Out in a minute.’

  Noiselessly, I replaced the map and list and inserted the black file back into the middle of the heap. Then I yanked on the toilet roll, zipped up my trousers, and pulled the chain. Picking up the files, I unlocked the door.

  Bridget was standing there, a slight look of strain around her eyes.

  ‘Did you want me?’ I said, rather stupidly since she probably didn’t normally stand in the fourth-floor toilets shouting random women’s names.

  ‘Goodness,’ she said, staring at the files. ‘Did you take them in with you?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I said, slightly embarrassed. ‘We’re not supposed to leave files lying around, you said.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think I quite meant . . .’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I didn’t wee on them or anything.’

  I don’t think she was listening. ‘Can I just . . . ?’ She took them off me and rummaged through them, pulling out the black file. ‘You walked off with this.’

  I stared in horror. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice. I just grabbed all the files. It never even registered.’

  ‘No, it’s OK.’ And with that she thrust the other files back at me and whirled out of the door, leaving me still unsure how much trouble I might be in.

  The thing now, obviously, was to get my legs home where I could have a better look at them, and then back to the pod to check out the coordinates.

  Despite being God’s gift to the filing world, I wasn’t wearing a watch. I didn’t really need one and in my former job I’d usually been in a time when watches didn’t exist, and when I was at St Mary’s, Rosie Lee always made damned sure I knew the time – especially when it was time for me to make the tea. Although actually, I haven’t expressed that very well. For some reason, it was always time for me to make the tea.

  Back at my desk, my data table said quarter past four. How soon could I get out of here? Not before five o’clock. I didn’t want to arouse any suspicions. To have accidentally walked off with a dodgy file was something anyone could have done but to walk off with said file and then dash home early was just asking for trouble.

  I opened my drawer, pulled out my stat returns and tried to concentrate. Not that easy.

  I packed up as early as I could. No sign of Bridget, which I tried to regard as a good sign. Unless she was off organising my assassination, of course. My stomach jolted. Was this the incident that had precipitated the attack?

  No, of course it wasn’t. Pull yourself together, Maxwell. I slowly tidied my desk, put everything away, locked all my drawers and was just crossing the room to leave my key in her office when she turned up. Minus the black file.

  ‘I’m just off,’ I said, casually handing her the key. ‘Unless you want me for something.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll walk up with you.’

  Shit. She’d never done that before. She locked my key away and we set off together.

  ‘While I think of it,’ I said, seeking to distract her from my possibly imminent extinction. ‘What’s the policy on going into someone’s desk?’

  She looked at me shrewdly. ‘Eddie been rifling through your drawers?’

 

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