The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [71]
Frank’s voice was a low, logical statement of the facts.
‘You got the number?’ he asked.
‘I can find it.’
‘Then do it now. Our friend just popped out for a sandwich. He’s due backin less than five minutes.’
‘Rebecca. Give me Sam’s magic book, will you? I need to find something out.’
Mark prayed that she would retrieve it without asking any awkward questions. Without stopping to make conversation. Without wondering why he had a film of sweat on his forehead in the middle of winter.
‘Of course, Mr Keen, of course.’
‘Call me Mark,’ he said. ‘I think she keeps it in the drawer…’
‘Yeah, here it is. Everything all right?’
Frank passed them at the reception desk, sucking on a carton of Ribena.
‘Everything’s fine, yeah. It’s just so hot down there.’ Lowering his voice, Mark whispered, ‘These guys are taking for ever.’
And Rebecca smiled, enjoying the shared confidence. She handed him the bookand followed Mark with her eyes as he walked away.
‘Mr Keen?’
‘Yes?’
Mark turned round. Rebecca was touching her neck, swinging this way and that in her revolving chair.
‘It’s just that I was wondering if you could show me how the fax machine works. I’m having trouble receiving.’
Wondering if this was a pass, Mark said, ‘Sure. Just let me do this one thing and I’ll be right backwith you.’
‘Great.’
He closed the door of his office, heat spread across his body. Flicking through the book - where? - Mark searched for the number. What’s the name of the company? What the fuck are the computer men called?
But Sam was efficient. Sam laid things out. In the section marked ‘Computers’ he found a list of companies, topped by a firm of Apple specialists whose name he instantly recognized. Dialling the number with dervish speed, Mark found himself in an automated queue.
For General Enquiries press 1.
For Information about our range of Software Products, press 2.
For Customers experiencing problems with the latest version of Windows, press 3.
For Corporate Accounts, press 4.
Mark hit ‘4’ hard with a rigid index finger and swore as music drifted through on the line. A boy band. Guitars and harmonies. He could feel his backbe coming soaked in sweat. And then, through the window of his office, Mark saw Macklin coming back with a sandwich, his thin hair pushed to one side by the wind. Stop and talk to the girl, he prayed. Try and get your fat arse laid.
‘Hello, can I help you?’
A woman, young, with a voice not unlike Rebecca’s was on the line.
‘Yes. Hello. Listen, hi, I’m calling from Libra.’
‘Yes?’
‘We’ve solved our problem.’
Nothing.
‘Remember we called you?’
Silence.
‘About a virus.’
‘A virus?’
The woman sounded bored. Not taking things in. So many calls to field in a day and nothing interesting about this one.
‘Yes. A virus at the Libra offices.’ Macklin was eating his sandwich and seemed to be laughing at something Rebecca had said. Stay there, you prick. Keep talking. ‘One of our office managers called you. You said you had a team coming out here at three.’
‘At three?’
More silence, deep as a cave. Was she stupid? Did she even know how to spell‘virus’?
‘I’m just going through the booknow, sir.’
‘Is it there?’
Impatiently the woman said, ‘Just a minute, I’m still looking.’ Then, ‘Here it is. Yes, three o’clock.’
‘And?’
‘And what, sir?’
‘Well I’d like to cancel it. If it’s not too late.’
‘I see.’
Mark experienced a weakening sensation in his arms.
‘Are they already on their way?’
‘Just a minute, please.’
And he was forced to wait as the woman abandoned the line to ‘Careless Whisper’. One minute passed. Two. He looked out into the office and could not see Macklin. Then there was a knock on his door.
‘Just a minute.’
Macklin came in anyway.
‘Keeno, can I just…’
Mark looked up and signalled sternly with his hand. Eyes set like stone and the words ‘Gimme five minutes’ mouthed with absolute intent. Macklin said, ‘Sorry, mate, I’ll wait then,’ and closed the door.
‘Hello?’
‘Yes.’ Mark pressed the phone tighter to his ear.
‘That’s fine, sir.’
‘It’s cancelled?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘They’re not already on their way?