Joseph could almost hear the ghosts of chefs barking out orders to subordinates, relishing the hustle and bustle of organised-chaos at their command. And then there was the huge printing press in the middle of the space where the stainless steel counters would’ve once stood. The archaic machine was currently silent and brooding. It reminded Joseph of an industrial weaving loom – and loom it did. Hungry to print new stories and spit them out.
Well, Ellie would certainly have something juicy to feed it with soon, once she’d finished typing up her exposé of News Scape. She’d banished Joseph out here a while ago, to pound away at her laptop in the office out front – after Sasha had so kindly let them in and left them to it.
Joseph checked his Rolex and saw that it was time to keep his date with his brother, so he grabbed his laptop and walked quietly through the eerie space. The other incongruous thing in this unusual room was the old store cupboard in the corner. It was like a telephone booth, with big glass windows that had been reinforced with criss-crosses of metal to prevent them from being smashed – but which allowed people to see inside. It was currently empty – full of nothing but dusty wooden shelves. There was a metal bolt on the outside of the heavy wooden door, which was strange. Joseph guessed it must’ve once been some sort of pantry. Or perhaps somewhere to store disobedient catering staff…
Joseph set up his laptop on a small steel work-surface that had been left to cloud over, then he pushed a few buttons, and connected with Ivan.
Ivan looked tired. His face was unshaven and his eyes were dull. “What news, little brother?”
“It’s going well. Ellie’s working on her story right now.”
“Glad to hear it… Maybe you can do this.”
“Did you doubt me?”
He paused to think about this. “Maybe. I guess I’m too cynical these days. Since I lost Samira.”
“Don’t talk like that: she’s still alive. And so are you. And you love each other. You’ll see her again.”
“Yeah, yeah. And how about you and your love, huh?”
He grinned. “We’re seeing how it goes. She’s only just broken up with her fiancé.”
“Life’s short, Joe. You never know what might happen. Do you love her?”
He tried to act cool. “I guess.”
“Do you think she loves you?”
He shrugged. “Well, she’s human.”
Ivan laughed. Then he fell serious. “So go tell her.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Joseph. Go tell her you love her.”
Joseph chuckled. “Yeah, alright – I’ll wait ‘til she’s finished typing up her story. I still can’t believe how easy that private investigator crumbled at the prospect of ten grand in new bills. We’ve got everything now but Robertson’s inside leg measurement. Hey, you still coming home?”
“Yeah, I’ve booked my flight for next Wednesday. I guess I’ll need to go see mom and dad and explain everything. Hopefully neither of them will have a heart attack.”
“Then you’ll find Samira?”
“Yep.” Ivan’s face broke out into a grin. “Jesus, I can’t wait… I’m gonna give her everything she wants. Anything she wants.”
Joseph sighed. “I know what you mean: Eleanor wants to go to the beach. I wish I could take her away, but we need to get this News Scape thing resolved first. I wish there was some way to transport her there for an hour, you know. Into the summer sunshine.”
“Well, I’m sure you can work something out.”
“How do you
mean?”
“I don’t know… Bring the beach to her, or something? I know you’ve got a good imagination – I’ve heard some of your song lyrics!”
An idea blossomed in Joseph’s mind, but he put it on the backburner while he continued chatting to his brother. After they said their goodbyes, Joseph strolled towards the kitchen door. He knew Ellie needed peace and quiet to get on with her story, but surely it would be okay to sit and look at her for a while – fantasising about all the things he planned to do to her once she’d met her deadline.
He pushed open the door and stepped out into the office, but as he glanced at Ellie’s desk, he realised she was standing up, frozen by fear beside her chair and staring at the front door. Joseph turned his head slowly and followed her terrified gaze – dreading what might be lurking there.