Glancing down the corridor, to where the stairs leading up to the penthouse suite were usually behind locked doors, Chris saw the figures of North, his back towards him, a schoolboy in uniform and, to his great surprise, standing in the penthouse entrance, none other than Jacob Strauss.
As Strauss caught sight of Chris he smiled, before giving the lad a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘Top of the range. The full works plus kit bag.’
Both North and the boy, catching sight of Strauss’s expression, turned now to Chris.
‘Working late?’ remarked North.
‘Guess why.’ Chris stepped out of his office.
‘You already know who this is.’ North nodded towards Strauss. ‘Jay, this is Chris Treiger, Lombard’s new—’
‘I know.’ Strauss moved towards him, arm outstretched. ‘The planning guy. I’m very pleased to meet you.’
‘And this is Dale.’ North nodded towards the schoolboy, who shook Chris’s outstretched hand, awkwardly self-conscious.
Having waited with such anticipation to meet the legendary Jacob Strauss, now that the moment had come, it took Chris by surprise. Strauss was wearing, appropriately perhaps, a Starwear tracksuit and socks, a towel round his neck, having evidently just showered. But even in his deshabille state, thought Chris, Jacob Strauss was more handsome in real life than in his press photograph. His macho good looks were of the classic variety – tall, blond, and muscular in build, he had open, friendly features and a dazzling smile. But it wasn’t only his looks that conveyed charismatic appeal, there was also something in his posture, the way he moved with an easy, athlete’s grace, which held the eye. He had that special air about him of having known the best of this world. Chris found it hard not to stare at him.
Strauss gestured that Chris should pause for a moment, before turning his attention back to the kid. ‘Give me five, big man,’ he held out his hand.
The boy reached up, striking Strauss’s hand with his own. ‘Can I have one of the Blue Galaxy tracksuits?’ he asked excitedly.
Strauss laughed. ‘Of course. You can have any damn kind you want, Dale. Elliott will sort you out.’
‘Sure thing,’ said North.
‘And tell that friend of yours, we’ll also sort him out with a Blue Galaxy when he comes in.’
‘OK.’
The boy turned, as Elliott North gestured down the corridor towards the lift. He must be about ten, eleven, reckoned Chris, and wearing a school uniform – grey trousers, purple blazer, a purple cap with gold emblem – Chris knew he’d seen the uniform before, but couldn’t place it. As the boy waved goodbye, it struck Chris that he was such a good-looking kid he might be Strauss’s own. He had smooth skin, almond-shaped eyes, the same open features. But Chris knew that Jacob Strauss had two daughters, both in their teens.
North and the boy stepped into the lift. Strauss nodded in their direction. ‘Charity thing. Starwear sponsors the school, you know, free sports kits, that kind of stuff.’
Chris nodded.
‘You have a moment?’ Strauss started down the corridor, taking Chris’s availability for granted. Cullen’s office would have been in virtual darkness had it not been for the rising moon, which cast the room in eerie silver. Strauss didn’t bother trying to find a light, instead he walked over towards the window and turned to face Chris, Tower Bridge resplendent behind him, and the moon floating silver above the river. Chris couldn’t help thinking how effortlessly Jacob Strauss seemed to find himself in the right place at the right moment.
‘So,’ he looked over at Chris with an expression of bright enquiry, ‘how is it all going?’
Chris paused, ‘You mean—’
‘The research. Project Silo.’
‘Project Silo’s going very well.’ Chris was as impressed that Strauss could be bothered to remember the coded reference as he had been earlier when Strauss had recognised his own name. Obviously, Project Silo was a subject near and dear to his heart.
As though reading his thoughts, Strauss said now, ‘Critical part of the plan, Chris.’
He nodded. This was strongly reminiscent of Mike Cullen.
‘You’ll have it ready soon?’
Chris hesitated. He decided against saying ‘tomorrow’ – Elliott North and Mike Cullen would want to see the report first. Instead he said, ‘Next week.’
‘Great.’ Strauss turned and glanced, distracted, out of the window, before striking right fist into left palm. ‘Great! You’ve dug up plenty of stuff about those bastards at Sportex and Active Red?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Chris hadn’t called anyone ‘sir’ since leaving school, but it seemed suddenly natural now he was talking to the handsome, charismatic and American Jacob Strauss.