Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake Page 10

  Minnie hadn’t learned how to sugar-coat the truth either, so she couldn’t pass judgement on someone who was unintentionally abrupt and to the point. Reading through the comments, however, she got a real sense of how hurt and crushed people were after a brief encounter with Dr Levchin. No one wants false hope, she thought, but no one wants to be drop-kicked over the cliff either.

  As well as research, Dr Levchin had been prolific when it came to setting up exclusive Parkinson’s retreats – Levchin Care Clinics – around the world. She followed links to a chain of luxurious centres that offered first-class accommodation, yoga classes, organic food and a ‘calm and peaceful environment for people with Parkinson’s and their carers’. It all looked very gorgeous and exceedingly expensive, probably out of most people’s price range. But Dr Levchin had a trump card – he was considered one of the leading experts in the world. This mattered because when someone is faced with a hellish health struggle that reshapes their future, you want to best person on your side. You’ll find the money, somehow.

  Dr Levchin had all the awards and the career embellishments that one would expect from someone who had dedicated his life-long career to studying Parkinson’s. Perhaps, though, over the years he had forgotten that people are not laboratory rats or social experiments; they are humans with thoughts and emotions, partners and children, hopes and fears, lives.

  Minnie felt decidedly uneasy at the end of her online research session. Dr Levchin might be a quite brilliant man but it didn’t necessarily mean he was a nice one.

  Minnie walked into San Francisco airport. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had arrived here with Jackson. There was a numbness around her mouth, a phenomenon that Minnie identified as Terrified Person Syndrome. She elbowed her way through a crush of people waiting at Arrivals. Safely at the front, she thrust a sign in the air with Dr Levchin’s name on it, praying her tongue would come back to life in time for introductions.

  She didn’t dare look behind her. An official Dragonet or Greene chauffeur would be close by, scanning passengers, none the wiser that Minnie was determined to get to Dr Levchin first.

  She spotted him. The doctor actually looked younger and fresher than his online photographs. He wore various shades of blue and a distracted frown. The impressive forehead was still there but he didn’t have much of a neck, perhaps cabin pressure had compressed his spine. His head was sitting on his chest but on closer inspection, Minnie suspected it was more to do with head-down distractedness or bad posture. Instinctively she straightened her shoulders.

  As he marched nearer, Minnie noted the exceptionally well-tailored navy suit and polished shoes. He might not have wowed his patients but he was dressed to impress. At this point, the numbness was spreading further than Minnie’s mouth. She couldn’t move. He hadn’t seen his name on her sign and looked as though he would walk straight past her. She only had a second in which to act. As he drew level with her, Minnie lunged athletically, spectacularly, into his path. They collided and Minnie had to throw her arms around him to prevent her crashing to the floor.

  The man staggered back, instinctively heaving Minnie back onto level footing. It was an awkward embrace but one that would work in Minnie’s favour. Greene’s chauffeur wasn’t looking for a couple.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he barked, irritated, practically shoving Minnie off him.

  Minnie refused to let go of him and said breathlessly, ‘Hello, Dr Levchin! Welcome to San Francisco. I’m here to take you to Mr Greene.’

  Minnie exhaled shakily once she’d bundled Dr Levchin into the waiting black Mercedes. She felt as though she had held her breath all the way from Arrivals. She wasn’t the only one suffering respiratory discomfort. Dr Levchin, slumped on the back seat, was also breathing heavily. He had struggled to keep up with Minnie, who had grabbed his suitcase and wheeled it to their pick-up point at a sprinter’s speed.

  There would be no small talk despite Minnie’s efforts to lighten the mood. The doctor sat with his hands folded on top of his briefcase and looked determinedly out of the window, shoulders angled to shut Minnie out. When he crossed his legs, Minnie noted that he wore high quality shoes with expensively thick soles that could probably walk up walls.

  The most movement he displayed during their journey to Pacific Heights was when he delved into his briefcase to retrieve a small bottle of antibacterial hand wash, which he proceeded to slather on vigorously as though he were at risk of infection from Minnie.

  Dread started to rise in Minnie’s stomach. The overwhelming smell of the antibacterial liquid and Dr Levchin’s powerful but obnoxious aftershave was making her feel sick. She stared out through the windscreen and tried to focus on a landmark.

  Finally, Minnie ventured a few words. ‘We’ll be at the Greene residence soon.’

  ‘What?’ Dr Levchin growled.

  Minnie flinched at his tone but recovered her composure with a reassuring smile. ‘Almost there.’

  ‘I don’t want to go there. Take me to my hotel as planned.’

  His eyes bulged, irritated and unimpressed. Minnie could see he was not on good form, perhaps tired from the flight.

  ‘Mr Greene wants to welcome you at this home.’ Her mouth started to hurt from holding such a theatrical smile.

  ‘I am meeting Mr Greene at his office after I have been to my hotel.’

  Minnie had a momentary wobble and the mouth numbness was threatening to return. She had to do this. Deep breath.

  ‘Please accept my apologies. This happens often – a change of location at the last minute. It is security protocol. Mr Greene has a very hands-on team who protect him round the clock.’ She gave Dr Levchin a what-can-you-do sort of shrug.

  ‘I’m tired and I’m hungry,’ he grumbled. He did look ravenous, so Minnie seized this advantage. ‘Lunch is being prepared by Mr Greene’s private chef.’

  No more was said until the car pulled up at the gates at the end of a long driveway. The moment the car stopped, Minnie immediately started over-breathing, which triggered a sequence of short, sharp gasps that made her feel light-headed. Dr Levchin was too busy to notice, craning his neck and eye-balling the enormous renovated warehouse on the horizon through the trees.

  ‘Please announce Dr Maximilian Levchin’s arrival,’ Minnie instructed the driver.

  No one made spontaneous house calls when it came to Greene. The driver got flustered when the voice at the end of the intercom refused them entry. Minnie had a fight or flight moment – she could open the car door and run for her life, screaming through the immaculate, deserted streets of Pacific Heights, or she could stand her ground.

  She got out and marched over to the intercom.

  ‘Open the gates immediately,’ she shouted, using a hellishly snappish voice learned from the A.A Jones’s school of aggression. ‘Dr Levchin must see Mr Greene now! There is no time to lose.’ She was going to leave it at that, but the silence intimidated her so she added, ‘May I also remind you that this gentleman has been travelling in the air for six hours and 19 minutes, more actually, taking into consideration wind speeds. He is ravenous and fatigued to the point of collapse.’

  Her sentences were punctuated with clearly audible exclamation marks and indignation.

  There followed what seemed to be an interminable wait as someone radioed through this information.

  Dr Levchin looked at Minnie for the first time. It was very definitely a questioning look.

  ‘Over zealous security,’ explained Minnie hastily, her best Broadway smile back on her face, as she slid back into her seat. ‘What did I tell you?’

  Then the gates silently opened.

  9

  Pacific Heights

  Minnie could feel her jaw drop as she walked through the front doorway of Greene’s house. The foyer was a cavernous marble-floor space with incredibly high ceilings and a grand Gone With The Wind-inspired staircase. The glamour and grandeur was unlike anything she had seen, even in A.A Jones’s material world.

  Minnie and Dr
Levchin were left alone with a mute butler while someone went off to get further instruction from Greene.

  ‘You could park a car sideways on that staircase,’ Minnie whispered to Dr Levchin. He resolutely ignored her, keeping his eyes fixed ahead, determined not to be overawed by such an ostentatious display of wealth.

  Minnie meanwhile noted the gold-leaf wallpaper and realised that it took a special kind of talent to make something so expensive and authentic look so shiny and fake.

  Then someone interrupted her thoughts with an authoritative order. ‘Mr Greene will see you now.’

  This time Levchin did the marching leaving Minnie behind. Her feet were shackled with the weight of all her past failures. She began a slow death-row shuffle down a plush-carpeted corridor towards someone who she was sure was going to make her suffer for her crimes.

  She followed the cloying vapour trail of Levchin’s aftershave and handwash until a door in the distance opened; she was almost at the end of her journey.

  Minnie hesitantly stepped into the room and saw Greene sitting behind an enormous desk set on a raised platform. Sunlight streamed through three imposing church-like windows positioned directly behind Greene. Minnie squinted at the silent silhouette in front of her. She felt panicky to the point of hyperventilation as she waited for him to do something, say anything.

  The contrast of dark and light unsettled Minnie. She couldn’t read his facial expression or detect any movement. It was as though someone had freeze-framed the scene. The other furniture, not just the desk, seemed larger than necessary – enormous carved pieces drenched in matt black paint, suffocating the natural wood. Minnie knew how that wood felt. She was having trouble breathing, too.

  Then Greene slowly stood up. Minnie hesitantly stepped forward. She could now get a better look at him. He stared at her and she noticed that not even a shadow of surprise darkened his eyes. Someone had been working on his poker face since The Savoy.

  He didn’t speak so Minnie blurted out the obvious. ‘I collected Dr Levchin at the airport,’ she said sheepishly.

  There was an interminable pause.

  He eventually spoke with careful precision. ‘I see people by appointment only.’

  The atmosphere was suddenly dangerously charged, like lethal gas was leaking into the room. Minnie considered flinging herself to the floor where her chances of survival may be greater.

  Levchin, who had been silent until now, cut to the chase with an exasperated bark. ‘Is there a problem?’

  No one answered him.

  Minnie knew she had just seconds to get her point across. ‘I am sincerely sorry about the night at The Savoy…’ She faltered when Greene’s gaze tracked its target, missile lock-on. It would be futile to run around the room or hide behind the curtains, he would still annihilate her.

  Minnie remembered Jackson’s words. I’d find you. Then I’d probably kill you…

  She masked her fear with a rush of more words. ‘I’m aware that your businesses, your… er… shares have suffered a lot of… er, significant damage since the news broke about your… well… I’m here to propose an immediate recovery plan… er, I mean regarding the business side of things not your…’ she stuttered to a stop, unable to mention the unmentionable word. Parkinson’s was now the elephant in the room.

  Greene’s poker face briefly deserted him and black furiousness swept across his face like a shadow. It was an abrupt transformation that scared Minnie. She realised it had been a huge mistake to come here. Then he regained his composure. His metal-detector stare skimmed over Minnie’s body to source worthwhile parts or something of value. There was no animated eye shine or facial recognition – it was like looking into the face of a high-tech robot built for use in a hostile environment. She had never witnessed a more controlled, emotionless man. He had transformed into a Silicon Valley prototype of a human being. It would be impossible to access the real Greene.

  He stopped looking at her and walked towards Levchin, who had been watching with great interest from the far side of the room. Minnie shrank back as he swept past her.

  She shouted after Greene, ‘I have detailed notes on natural gas distribution. The issue you flagged up… well… I’ve worked out how to…’ She started clawing at chunks of her hair.

  She was ignored.

  ‘May I offer you a drink?’ asked Greene, directing his question to Levchin as the men shook hands.

  ‘An aperitif would be most welcome,’ replied Levchin, crisply, his mind evidently still focused on food.

  Then Greene turned back to Minnie and said, ‘Leave now.’

  The iron mask had truly slipped this time and his handsome features struggled to control a vicious snarl that ripped his lips apart. It was a monstrous look. Minnie actually put her hand to her neck as though he intended to bite her head off.

  ‘Oh,’ she whispered.

  ‘Someone will escort you out.’

  Then Greene showed Levchin out through a set of glass doors that opened onto an immaculate lawn where drinks were already being served.

  Minnie was left standing in the tomb-like office that was so quiet she could almost hear the whispery sound of dust falling in the sunlight.

  Minnie didn’t wait for someone to escort her out. Instead, she made a spontaneous decision and dashed towards a designer bathroom adjoining the office.

  The bathroom was a masculine space with heavy wooden cabinets painted, yes, black again. The fixtures and fittings were also black to complement the dark grey walls. She could smell a familiar trace of mint and marmalade in the air; the sweet, sharp and expensive scent of Greene.

  There was no clutter. Minnie took a fraction of a second to wrestle with her conscience before peeping inside one of the bathroom cabinets in the hope she would find proof of Parkinson’s: prescription meds that would vindicate her. She found little of interest, some aftershave balm, mouthwash and an impressive range of hair products befitting someone with a marvellous hairline.

  Then she heard footsteps in the office. Someone was looking for her. The crackle and pop from a radio suggested Dragonet security had sprung into action. Minnie had no idea what possessed her, but she decided it was a good idea to hide inside a large bespoke cabinet next to the shower. She folded herself up next to cashmere cotton towels that were scented with lavender laundry powder. The world shifted on its axis. Last week Minnie was in London with a husband-to-be, a job, a successful project and a pension. Now she was on the other side of the world, San Francisco, crouching in a closet, scared to death.

  The footsteps increased in pace suggesting a sense of urgency. Someone entered the bathroom, there was a pause, then the door slammed shut with such force Minnie was sure the individual tiles trembled.

  Silence ensued. Minnie considered remaining where she was, dark and quiet and contained. The world looked better with the lights out. Then logic kicked in. She would never get another chance to get to Greene. It was now or never.

  Minnie opened the cabinet door a fraction and peered out. No one was around. The voices seemed to have rushed away carrying their sense of urgency. People were still looking for her. She eased herself out of the cabinet and stood up, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her pale and frightened face stared back, her careless hair even more dishevelled than normal, reflecting her state of mind.

  Minnie knew she had two choices: come out with her hands up and admit defeat as she was marched out of the house or try once more to speak to Greene.

  Defeat wasn’t an option.

  She inched her way back into the office that was still suffocatingly silent. Steering clear of the window that overlooked the immaculate lawn, she sidled over to the desk and grabbed a sheet of A4 paper and a pen. She wrote down the name and phone number of the motel she was staying at. She quickly added her mobile phone number too. She folded it carefully, stalling for time as she mustered up courage to walk outside.

  Keeping flat to the wall, she peered out of one of the windows again and could
see Greene and Levchin standing near some garden furniture underneath the shade of huge oak tree. No one was sitting down. She couldn’t exactly describe it as a relaxed atmosphere even though the garden setting was serene.

  Then she noticed the men in black. Security had multiplied – terrible spiders darting here and there. It was only a matter of seconds before someone would sweep the house again and then she would be found and removed. Minnie considered darting back to her hiding place then imagined thermal heat imagery picking her up, a red quivering blob in the towel closet. She would be grabbed by iron hands and the game would be up.

  The situation worsened as a black shadow passed directly in front of the sun. It was an ominous sign. It also came with alarming sound effects. Minnie peered up and saw a helicopter angrily buzzing above Greene’s home. It was an enormous glass eye with shimmering blades, chopping and slicing the air.

  Time up. She took the exact route Greene and Levchin had earlier – straight through the patio doors and down a flight of marble steps onto the lawn, although at a considerably quicker pace. She knew she had to sprint as fast as she could to get to Greene if she was to convince him that she was able to help him out and fix this mess.

  The helicopter had started to land a little too close to the house, the sudden torrent of air picked up gravel and hurled it against the windows. It was a good job that Minnie couldn’t hear herself think. She focused on Greene and pounded towards him, elbows pumping, knees up.