Page 81 of Love and Loathing

“Not really. I’m under a gagging clause. Your father’s lawyers will come after me for supposedly breaching it, even if I manage to escape the regulator’s enquiry.”

He walked to his sofa, sat down heavily. He rubbed a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose, a sudden stabbing headache beginning.

“But if it wasn’t you, they won’t find any evidence. What can they build a case on?”

“I don’t know. But you know how vicious your father’s lawyers are. He’ll hurt me if he can.”

Roscoe swore. “I won’t let him. I’ll do what I can.”

“No. Don’t get involved.”

“Aubrey—”

“Hang on. I have another call.” It might be Evie. He wanted it to be Evie.

Roscoe rang off, but the new voice on the line was one of the last Aubrey wanted to hear.

“So, this is your revenge, is it?” George Blackton asked. “Pretty stupid, when you’ve caught your own neck in the noose.”

Aubrey stood up, angry. “You know it wasn’t me.”

“It’s your name on those emails. Your signature on those plans.”

“I did nothing wrong. You’ve got more to worry about on that score.”

George laughed. “They won’t find a fingerprint of mine on anything.”

Grimly, Aubrey suspected he was right.

“But why do it?” George continued. “That’s what I don’t understand. You’ve only hurt yourself.”

“You can’t seriously believe I leaked those emails.”

“No one else had access to them.”

“There are a million ways someone could—”

“I wondered if it was my daughter’s doing.”

“Evie?” Aubrey exclaimed.

“Maybe her influence, if not the deed itself. Pillow talk on the evils of capitalism. Pricking that oversized conscience of yours.”

“She had nothing to do with it.”

“No? But she’s no fan of our work, Aubrey. Even you can’t have missed that. Bringing down BlacktonGold is exactly the sort of stupid, self-sabotaging, irresponsible thing she would do.”

“It wasn’t her.”

“Then I’ll just have to assume it was you. My lawyers will be in touch.”

George rang off, and Aubrey sat on his sofa for a long time, staring at nothing, barely noticing how stiff and cold he was getting, even when he eventually got to his feet. He went through the routines of his morning on autopilot. Shower. Shave. Coffee.

He needed to phone his father. Get lawyered up. Jesus Christ… He didn’t have the energy for this battle… It would be brutal, and sordid, George’s lawyers would make sure of that. And there would be no chance of getting a job at all while it was going on. Not for a long time after, even if he managed to prove his innocence.

He had a moment of bitter, petty, childish weakness, in which tears briefly stung his eyes and the thoughtI do not deserve thisthundered uselessly through his mind. But that wouldn’t help. He had to get moving. Fight this battle whether he wanted to or not, and Evie… He’d thought he’d be lying in bed with Evie this morning… He’d thought some mud on his shoes and competing for her time with that bloody garden would be the worst of his troubles. That every evening would be like yesterday’s…

He threw away his undrunk coffee, then jumped at a knock on his door.

---