the crowd. She sat in a booth near the back.
"Nice place," he said, as they shook hands.
"It's a favourite of mine. Very authentic."
The waiter handed them both menus and vanished. Tom studied the options. "It does look good."
She laughed. "Speak Italian, do you?"
"No, why?"
"They've given us the wrong menus."
He looked at the intricately printed sheets of paper inside their folder. Nothing seemed wrong.
"I prefer not to have to reach for the dictionary when I order," Kate said. She waved at the waiter. "English menus, please."
"Of course." He whisked the menus from them, and moments later Tom was staring at the contents of a new faux-leather folder. It looked exactly the same. Kate ordered for them both: pesto calamari, then broiled salmon, along with a bottle of Dolcetto.
"So why did you choose law?" she asked, holding up her wine glass. "I mean, aside from the money."
"Don't knock the money. We all have bills and student loans."
"Yes, but there are plenty of other jobs that pay well."
"Working with the law is one way to grasp how business works. It's one of the sets of rules that everybody has to operate within." He shrugged. "And I just didn't like adding up enough to be an accountant."
"And CERUS?"
"They made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"But how do you feel about them keeping the company's financial difficulties from you when you were hired?" She paused. "Unless they didn't. Which would be even more interesting."
"I'm aware of the rumours, but, as far as I'm concerned, that's all they are."
"Maybe." She paused. "Talking of the news, did you know Richard Armstrong?"
Tom shrugged. "He was an engineer. It's a huge company and I've only been there a few days. Why would you think I would know him?" Tom felt his headache returning, stabbing at the base of his skull. Behind him, two mobile phones went off loudly. There were mutterings from diners and embarrassed rummagings as their owners protested that the phones had been on mute. Tom rubbed his temples.
Kate frowned. "Are you OK?"
"Just had a long day. So what did you think of the launch party?"
"Very impressive. The champagne bottle was unfortunate, but Bern knows how to step up to the moment."
"Did you happen to see me there with a woman in a black dress?"
"It was a Friday evening, there were a lot of women in black dresses. Why?" She folded her arms. "Someone skip out without leaving you their number?"
"I'm worried I may have done something that I can't remember."
She leaned forward. "Something embarrassing?"
He flinched back. "No, of course not. Look it's just..." He felt the pain in his head shift into something else.
It seemed like there was a fog around him, then suddenly he felt as if he were back at the party. He had the glass of cognac in his hand: he could taste it in his mouth. The woman in black was before him and he could see her face. She was smiling slowly, and he felt cold... A hand gripped his forearm and the scene slipped away. Kate's voice cut through the fog. "Are you all right?"
He jerked. "I'm fine." He realised his arm was tingling where her hand was on his skin. He stood up, almost hitting his head on a low beam. "I haven't been feeling well. The doctors said... I really shouldn't have come out for dinner. It's probably best if I go home. Sorry for wasting your time." He stumbled through the restaurant and out onto the street without giving her a chance to reply.
TWENTY-NINE
TOM STEPPED OUT OF THE restaurant into the cool night air. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The stabbing headache seemed to have gone, although he still had a faint tingling at the base of his head. Perhaps he should not have drunk anything. What a waste of time. Kate had nothing to tell him about the party and he'd probably embarrassed her by walking out during the meal. He glanced over his shoulder and could make her out behind the glass frontage of the restaurant, talking to the manager.
The Tube station was just across the
"Nice place," he said, as they shook hands.
"It's a favourite of mine. Very authentic."
The waiter handed them both menus and vanished. Tom studied the options. "It does look good."
She laughed. "Speak Italian, do you?"
"No, why?"
"They've given us the wrong menus."
He looked at the intricately printed sheets of paper inside their folder. Nothing seemed wrong.
"I prefer not to have to reach for the dictionary when I order," Kate said. She waved at the waiter. "English menus, please."
"Of course." He whisked the menus from them, and moments later Tom was staring at the contents of a new faux-leather folder. It looked exactly the same. Kate ordered for them both: pesto calamari, then broiled salmon, along with a bottle of Dolcetto.
"So why did you choose law?" she asked, holding up her wine glass. "I mean, aside from the money."
"Don't knock the money. We all have bills and student loans."
"Yes, but there are plenty of other jobs that pay well."
"Working with the law is one way to grasp how business works. It's one of the sets of rules that everybody has to operate within." He shrugged. "And I just didn't like adding up enough to be an accountant."
"And CERUS?"
"They made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"But how do you feel about them keeping the company's financial difficulties from you when you were hired?" She paused. "Unless they didn't. Which would be even more interesting."
"I'm aware of the rumours, but, as far as I'm concerned, that's all they are."
"Maybe." She paused. "Talking of the news, did you know Richard Armstrong?"
Tom shrugged. "He was an engineer. It's a huge company and I've only been there a few days. Why would you think I would know him?" Tom felt his headache returning, stabbing at the base of his skull. Behind him, two mobile phones went off loudly. There were mutterings from diners and embarrassed rummagings as their owners protested that the phones had been on mute. Tom rubbed his temples.
Kate frowned. "Are you OK?"
"Just had a long day. So what did you think of the launch party?"
"Very impressive. The champagne bottle was unfortunate, but Bern knows how to step up to the moment."
"Did you happen to see me there with a woman in a black dress?"
"It was a Friday evening, there were a lot of women in black dresses. Why?" She folded her arms. "Someone skip out without leaving you their number?"
"I'm worried I may have done something that I can't remember."
She leaned forward. "Something embarrassing?"
He flinched back. "No, of course not. Look it's just..." He felt the pain in his head shift into something else.
It seemed like there was a fog around him, then suddenly he felt as if he were back at the party. He had the glass of cognac in his hand: he could taste it in his mouth. The woman in black was before him and he could see her face. She was smiling slowly, and he felt cold... A hand gripped his forearm and the scene slipped away. Kate's voice cut through the fog. "Are you all right?"
He jerked. "I'm fine." He realised his arm was tingling where her hand was on his skin. He stood up, almost hitting his head on a low beam. "I haven't been feeling well. The doctors said... I really shouldn't have come out for dinner. It's probably best if I go home. Sorry for wasting your time." He stumbled through the restaurant and out onto the street without giving her a chance to reply.
TWENTY-NINE
TOM STEPPED OUT OF THE restaurant into the cool night air. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The stabbing headache seemed to have gone, although he still had a faint tingling at the base of his head. Perhaps he should not have drunk anything. What a waste of time. Kate had nothing to tell him about the party and he'd probably embarrassed her by walking out during the meal. He glanced over his shoulder and could make her out behind the glass frontage of the restaurant, talking to the manager.
The Tube station was just across the
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