Lucifer’S Lair

Prologue

Upon reflection, how different Ian’s life might have been were he able to foresee where those initial steps into that sand funnel would lead him. At first he found it exhilarating to dance close to the fire, only to learn how easily a scorch mark can erupt into flames. Compelled by conscience and love, he would dedicate himself to douse forever that all-consuming bonfire of evil. Through necessity, I will tell Ian’s story. Barbara, however, used her artistic talents to pen this song of remorse.

(Lucifer’s Lair)

Through foolishness, and greed, here I was led, now I’m trapped by deceit in my own web. I would leave but there’s no place to run; the life I chose is the life of the gun. So heed this advice if you will; the dollar’s not wealth it’s only a bill. A bill to be paid some times with your life. The easy way most often brings strife.

There’s a place called Lucifer’s Lair. Lost dreams, lost loves, are plentiful there. In this place called Lucifer’s Lair, all hope withers and dies there. So avoid this place if you can; take heed from one already dammed.

The pain loved ones must bear was not considered when I entered there. This life I can never undo; how can I ask you still to be true? In so deep there’s no turning back, compassion for me is something you’d lack. I’d change the past if only I could, but such foolish dreams will do me no good.

There’s a place called Lucifer’s Lair. Lost dreams, lost loves are plentiful there. In this place called Lucifer’s Lair, all hope withers and dies there. So avoid this place if you can; take heed from one already dammed.

Don’t let lust, and greed lead you astray. Value life’s gifts, and work hard every day. Love, and wealth then you may find. Be true to yourself, and leave sin behind: Don’t be lured by store-bought fame, for greed most often brings pain. A pain that will consume you inside, a pain from which you cannot hide.

There’s a place called Lucifer’s Lair. Lost dreams, lost loves, are plentiful there. In this place called Lucifer’s Lair, all hope withers and dies there. So take the advice of this fool; do not go were Lucifer rules!

Chapter 1

I’d frequently visited Seattle’s Pike Place Market, but I knew this time would be a difficult, and quite different, experience. The meeting I’d arranged would be awkward at best.

I entered the restaurant early; a strategy I’d planned for this very special rendezvous. Asking for a table with a sea view, I was escorted to the upper level balcony. I chose a seat that put my back towards the entrance, and as luck would have it, this seat also bathed my face in the strong sunlight pouring though its windows.

Perhaps when Sylvia arrived she wouldn’t immediately recognize me; having to approach from my back, and being momentarily blinded by the sun’s rays. Only when she was at my table, and about to be seated, would she realize it was me. I gave the waiter her name, asking him to show her to my table when she arrived. Looking over my shoulder to the entrance below, it would be easy to see her when she arrived. It wasn’t a long wait; she was also early. She was easy to spot as she walked in. Her blond hair, the immaculate white naval uniform, and her refined looks, all reflected a presence to be noticed. My little scheme worked. She was unaware of whom she was meeting until she was standing before me.

You bastard, Jason, what are you doing here?

Please, Sylvia, sit down. I’ve something important to tell you. Her cold glare sent shivers down my spine. Again I pleaded with her to sit. You have every right to walk away, but I wouldn’t have arranged this little charade if it hadn’t been imperative we speak. Reluctantly she perched on the corner of her chair; her legs still in the aisle, to accommodate a speedy exit. The waiter; cheeks flushed with embarrassment at witnessing Sylvia’s outburst, stood hovering beside our table menus in hand. I looked straight at him, to be sure I had his undivided attention, and ordered something I knew to be on the menu.

A large seafood platter for two, and coffees, please. I passed him a large bill, This is for you. After you’ve served our food I would appreciate it if we were left in private until we are about to leave. I’ll settle my bill at that time." He smiled, happy to comply with this request.

Yes, sir. Money in his hand, he beat a hasty retreat.

I don’t wish to eat with you, Jason. I don’t think there is anything left to say between us. She rose from her seat, clutching the purse strap she’d not removed from her shoulder. I had to stop her.

This isn’t entirely about us, Silvia, I pleaded. It involves circumstances beyond our control, so please listen to what I’m about to tell you. There are things, important things, you must know, and I don’t want you hearing them from anyone else but me. You don’t have to eat, but this is a restaurant, and we do have to order something if we sit here.

Reluctantly, again she sat down, this time committing fully to the chair. I’ll start the explanation for my behavior with Ian’s story. It’s the best way I know to help you understand what I did was— I lowered my head, I could feel sweat erupting from my brow and palms. My throat became dry as parchment. I took a sip of water, swallowed with difficulty, and look up into her cool gray eyes. —as I thought, at the time, the best for both of us.

Taking another sip of water to help gather my composure, I then took a deep breath. "However, situations change, and this is why I must now tell you the whole truth. So this is Ian’s story; it starts long before you and I where born.

Chapter 2

London in the early sixties was an interesting place, and time. There were few places on earth to match its atmosphere, and night life. By day the city of London was a bustling place. The City, as it is known, is only a mile square, a small area in the center of Greater London. It’s the beating heart of banking, and commerce. Greater London incorporates many boroughs and even the city of Westminster is within its boundaries.

Various parts of this Metropolis contain many markets, each one specializing in it’s own produce: fish, meat, vegetables, flowers and clothing. At this time Carnaby Street was gaining an international reputation for its trendy styles in clothing. Nightclubs played to full houses. The choice of music was electrifying; jazz, modern and traditional, the blues, and the ever popular rock, and roll. Many young musicians emulating American rock idols also drew on their own experiences with other forms of music to create their own unique sounds. This was the city Ian Shaw, for a period of time, called home. Ian was born in Canada; of English parents. At age fourteen Ian’s mother died of cancer. Seeing her fade away in great pain left its mark; never granting him complete recovery from this trauma. Lost in his own grief, and drinking heavily, his father was unable to give Ian much needed support. Within two years he had succumbed to alcoholism and died. His grandmother came from England to attend the funeral.

Returning to England, she took young Ian with her. There Ian found love, and a good home. She lived in an upper middle-class neighborhood, and was financially secure. This stability enabled her to send Ian to university; where he obtained an honors degree in economics; enabling him to secure a position in the banking industry.

Five years had passed since Ian joined the bank, and he had now become very efficient at his job. It was at this point he received another blow in life with the sudden death of his grandmother, whom he adored. She was the one person in life to whom he was close. She was his friend and confidante, the center of his world, as he was of hers. He afforded himself few friends at this time, as work, and ambition, dominated his life. The circles he moved in consisted of superficial acquaintances, who could be used in one way or another. He never bothered to cultivate a steady companionship with a woman, finding it hard to commit to a relationship.

Over the next few years he became entirely self-absorbed, intent only on his own career, and social pleasures. Most lunch times he could be found at trendy restaurants, and cafes that adorned the city; at night he was a patron of some of London’s more exclusive nightclubs.

The bank hierarchy were about to bestow upon Ian the greatest accomplishment of his career; the authority to loan large amounts of money to commerce. Early that Monday morning in August of sixty-two, Ian was called to Sir John’s office. There he was informed of his new promotion to executive capacity, accompanied by all the perks, and responsibilities that go along with such a prestigious position. Sir John, chairman of the bank’s board of directors, welcomed Ian at the door like a conquering hero with vigorous hand shakes, and back slaps.

Congratulations my boy, it’s been decided, that promotion you’ve been working so hard towards has been awarded you. Now, if you sit yourself down, I’ll explain some of the privileges, and duties that go with this promotion.

Ian chose a plush dark red leather chair, in which to receive the accolades—secured through the fruits of his labors—he was about to have lavished upon him. It was a rarity to be invited to sit in Sir John’s office. It was not usually a friendly place for employees; the office seemed designed to intimidate. This was a seat of power, before Ian’s promotion it would have been considered off limits to people such as himself, occupying lesser company status. This place subordinates entered cap in hand.

As I am sure you are aware, Sir John continued, you’ll be joining me as a member of my golf club. I’ll be looking forward to your company there. There will also be a chauffeured limousines at your disposal at all times, plus, of course, a hefty salary increase.

Another round of congratulation seems in order, as I believe you’re the youngest top executive ever, in this banks history. Formalities over, there was some small talk exchanged between the two, and then Ian took his leave. Feeling about as smug as the cat who got the cream after dining on canary as a first course, Ian sailed back through the corridors of power to his own office. He could hardy contain his emotions. Closing the door, and taking a deep breath, he released tensions running through his body, by shouting, YES! This was uncharacteristic of Ian. Since the passing of his beloved grandmother, he’d locked all emotions deep inside a vault in his soul. A place so seldom used he’d practically forgotten where he’d hidden the key. Her death had striped him of love, and robbed him of compassion; emotions he displayed freely in her lifetime. However, a skillful facade kept his characteristics well hidden. He seemed quite gregarious to people who did not know him well, and few did.

Capitalizing on his new club membership, Ian arranged a round of golf that coming Sunday morning. On arrival he was given a message by the steward, informing him the colleague with whom he intended to play, through extenuating circumstances, was unavailable. The news didn’t sit well with Ian. His competitive nature dictated a need to beat this man, whom he saw as a work rival. On the golf course, however, he viewed him as an inferior player, and this to Ian was an Achilles heel to be exploited. This show of dominance would have to be temporarily put on hold. Smothering the pangs of discontent, Ian calmly explained to the steward that not having a partner, he would have to cancel his tee-off time.

There is a member in the lounge sir, who I believe is looking for a partner, if you would be interested. Ian’s morning was starting to look a little bit brighter.

Yes, I’d be very interested. Ian was lead through the lobby into the lounge and over to a table where a man, in his early thirties—approximately Ian’s own age—was sitting. He had a casual air about him. Although immaculately dressed for the occasion, he looked at ease with himself, and full of confidence. Ian saw this as an immediate challenge, for these were characteristics to which he aspired. The steward introduced Ian. Mr James Fuller, I’d like you to met Mr Ian Shaw. As they shook hands, the steward directed his conversation towards James. I’ve taken the liberty of introducing you two gentlemen, as I know you’re both in need of a partner for this morning’s game. I’ll leave you gentlemen to make your own arraignments. After shaking hands with Ian, James sat back down to finish his coffee, and made a open hand invitation towards another chair. Ian looked at his watch, and did not settle.

I have a tee-off time in five minutes.

Well, what are we waiting for? I had to forfeit my play-off time. Fuller quickly finished his coffee. As he rose to his feet, he patted Ian’s shoulder. Let’s get a move on, and make our way to the first tee. Ian followed James out onto the fairway. The solitude of the first tee, and fairway made it seem they had the course to themselves.

This gave ample time for posturing in the guise of practice swings. Able to tee off at their own pleasure, without the pressure from other players, the simple pleasure both derived from competitive verbal jousting blossomed easily between them.

What a beautiful morning this is. I hope it doesn’t distract you from your game, Ian. He inhaled deeply to capture the full aroma of freshly mowed grass.

It is a beautiful morning, James. I always look forward to spending as much time as possible outdoors when I’m away from the office. I find just being outdoors recharges the batteries, and good weather always gives me that extra competitive edge.

That works for me too. I agree, it’s healthy to spend as much time as possible in the fresh air. I’m penned up in an office all day, myself. I’m an investment broker. What line of work are you in, Ian if I may be so bold to ask?

Banking James, banking, Ian replied pompously. Then swinging his three iron, he watched his ball drop, and roll close to the flag. A sweeping arm gesture directed James to take his next stroke. Fuller’s concentration was focused, and his ball made the green with a good lay; rivaling Ian’s position. It was now obvious to Ian, that beneath James’s laid-back persona lurked a drive equally as competitive as his own.

How’s your putting, James? Ian’s tone conveyed a subtle challenge.

Not as good as it could be, Ian. He shrugged as if it was no real concern. I haven’t seemed able to find much time for my game of late, but hopefully that will change. Eager to intensify what he already perceived to be a competitive situation, Ian threw down the gauntlet.

Perhaps I can entice you into a small wager, James. Say, five pounds, to make the game more interesting. The challenge was readily accepted.

That would make the game more interesting. Imagine a banker that gambles.

Only on a sure thing, James, only on a sure thing, Ian retorted quickly. Now let the real game begin!

It was agreed they would each keep their own scorecards until the final tally, which would be done over a drink in the bar, a drink charged to the loser’s club account. Ian entered the lounge with flamboyance, ensuring his entrance did not go unnoticed by several other guests. James, in his laid back style guided Ian, with the help of some subtle body language, to stools at the bar. Scorecards were laid on the bar, and the tallying began. Checking was meticulously done on each others cards, in a manner akin to a school boy squabble. It wasn’t until rechecking their score cards several times did they agree—Ian had won by just one point.

Well, James, it’s time to collect on that wager. Drinks to start, I believe was the agreement.

Correct, Ian, it was a game well played. Without remorse, James dug into his wallet, and handed Ian the agreed sum. Enjoying the rivalry, and the company, made it easy to accept such a close decision. Ian called to the bar steward and then looked at James.

Right then, I’ll start with a long gin and tonic, James. That’s an excellent thirst-quencher for a hot summer’s day. The cocktail was placed before him, and he sipped appreciatively. James wondered if it was the beverage he was savoring, or the win. Ian held the glass at eye level briefly, hypnotically gazing at the bubbles dancing inside, reenforcing this perception, before returning his attention back to James. I hear they have a fine dining room upstairs that over looks the fairways.

That’s correct, Ian. We should book a table for supper, what do you think?

"That sounds like an enjoyable way to finish the day. We’ll book a table for perhaps an hour or so from now. We can relax here for a while longer, before showering and changing for dinner.

Their table provided an excellent view of the now empty fairways, draped in the last orange glows of sunlight adorning dusky skies. Bathed in the reflected half light, a sense of tranquility mantled the quiet dinning room. After settling comfortably into their chairs, each was handed a handsomely bound menu. In keeping with the opulence of the surroundings, the hand crafted menus, bound in calf skin leather, were of the highest quality. Embossed with gold block writing and ornamentation, a gold silk sash graced the spine to complete this presentation. It was only fitting the place settings would be as equally luxurious. Silver flat ware, crystal glasses, finely embroidered linen table cloths, and napkins, adorned their table. Ian pondered through the selections before choosing the trout while, James ordered a thick rare stake. After taking their orders, the waiter quickly returned to their table bearing consomme as an entree. Its aroma alone was enough to entice the most fickle taste buds.

There was little talk between them over dinner. Both seemed content to indulge in the pleasures of fine dining. The meals were as meticulously prepared, and presented as the elegant surroundings suggested they should be. Comments to each other were made on the meals excellence. Their stomachs filled, and egos slightly tempered, both leaned back in their chairs to continue their conversation. As the evening drew to a close, James suggested they should plan a rematch for the following week. Ian quickly accepted. He’d enjoyed James’s company, a man he now considered a friend. The sort of person he found to be much more outgoing than himself, despite his own vain attempts at flamboyance. James laid back attitude made Ian feel at ease and lighthearted; he enjoyed that feeling.

On leaving the dining room they went to the reception desk, and booked a game for the following week. While there they also exchanged telephone numbers, and addresses, before saying good night.

Chapter 3

Ian’s position, and salary, was affording him the status and life style he’d hopped it would. Eager to meet every new challenge his career threw at him, he was man on a mission. Confidently he treated obstacles as stepping stones in the coarse he’d set. A course that had entrenched him as heir apparent to Sir John. Decisions made in his new position, were wielded like weapons, exploiting every opportunity to mingle with rich and powerful clients. He was not shy to exploit any opportunity that would further his own ends.

The next few months proved fruitful for Ian. His golf games with James became a regular thing, and when the weather was unfavorable, they took to playing squash. They also began meeting socially. James would often arrange dates for Ian, so they could go out as a foursome. James never seemed to have trouble attracting women. Unlike Ian who had never learned the art of flirting as a stepping stone to romance. Perhaps for this reason, none of the date’s James arranged for Ian, ever evolved into any kind of relationship. This never bothered Ian, consoling himself in the fact that James and he were not attracted by the same type of women. In fact this was partly true. He also considered most women as not being his intellectual equal. Those who were deemed equal, he perceived as being arrogant, and pushy, never realizing this was the image he himself mirrored.

On the golf course one afternoon James posed a scenario, to which he’d obviously given much thought. Ian, when you loan money to companies, they must have to submit a prospectus as to the intended use of the funds?

Naturally, it’s usually for expansions, material acquisitions, takeovers, that sort of thing, James. My job is then to decide if it’s a viable enough project to qualify for that loan?

If a person were privy to such information there could be a lot of money to be made, in the stock market.

Even with that information, James, which I’m sure would be illegal, you’d need the skills to use it

"I have those skills, Ian, if a person like yourself was not intimidated by petty laws, the sky could be the limit. You supply me with the information, and I’d do the investing. All transactions could be run through paper companies with Swiss bank accounts. I already have a Swiss bank account, it would be easy to set one up for you. I could attend to all transactions, making it a hands off operation for you. This would make it virtually impossible for our little enterprise be traced back to us, or more importantly you.

You’ve thought this out quite thoroughly haven’t you, James. Ian then stared at him in bewilderment.

I most certainly have. I’d need you to sign papers for the account, and other things occasionally. In spite of misgivings Ian was intrigued.

Well, how much money would be an acceptable amount to start such a project, James? I think I could muster up five hundred pound, would that be enough?

That’s just about the amount I can come up with. I’ll get working on the arrangements, so when you’re able to feed me information we’ll be ready.

Even as he was agreeing to James’s proposition, Ian was having misgivings, as he began to wonder what he was getting himself into. However the lure of James’s lucrative proposal did seemed very attractive to Ian. The sense of risk in gambling also appealed to his adventurous nature. This concept had crossed Ian’s mind before, but he would never have initiated such a venture without that little push from James.

Within a week Ian had passed on some information to James, and he in turn had turned their one thousand pounds into seventeen hundred. The next two months saw Ian, and James, make the equivalent of two years salary.

Christmas, was approaching, and feeling quite affluent Ian decided to buy himself some new cloths. Having few people to exchange intimate gifts with, and James spending the holidays away with family, this might make a lonely Christmas a little more tolerable. He decided to use Sir John’s tailors. One of the most exclusive tailors in London’s Saval Roe.

The pampering he received on entering the establishment played to his ego. He was greeted at the door by a well-groomed gentleman, who gave a slight bow. The man looked every inch the gentleman’s gentleman, dress short cutaway black jacket, and gray and black, fine pinstripe pants. His shoes boar the distinct shine of black patent leather.

Mr Shaw I presume? We’ve been expecting you.

That’s correct, I’m here for my appointment.

Could I interest you in a sherry, or perhaps a brandy, Sir.

A brandy would be fine. After the man had left, Ian postured before a mirror well acquainting himself with his surroundings.

The man returned, carrying the brandy, and an open box of cigars, on a small silver tray. He presented the tray to Ian. I took the liberty of warming your glass Sir. Now could I also interest you in a cigar? Ian took the brandy, and after swirling the golden elixir around the warm glass, savored the aroma released by the heat, before sipping.

Temptation urged him to take advantage of the inviting display of Cuban cigar’s in their colorful box. However the memory of a distasteful encounter with a cigar was still strong in his mind. He recalled the price he’d once paid for smoking one; a sickly stomach, and an awful taste in his mouth the next morning, was the only recollection required to promptly decline this offer.

No, thank you, I don’t smoke.

Now, sir, if you would care to follow me, I’ll take you to one of our fitting rooms where our Mr. Bryant will assist you with material, and pattern selections.

Ian was escorted to a fitting room where Mr. Bryant stood waiting. Beside him was a beautiful framed swivel mirror. A matching foot stool was close at hand. A large table dominated the room’s center. These items—all made of mahogany—were in keeping with the room’s decor, in which the same wood had been used extensively. The mirror itself was strategically place to one side, so as not to interfere with the work of measuring and fitting, yet giving the client a good view of himself at all times.

Mr Bryant unfettered his neck from the measuring tap that hug there like shackles.

If we may start Sir, with your measurements.

While the tailor attended to his task, Ian sipped his brandy. His vanity could not resist the occasional nonchalant glance into the mirror, as his posturing accommodated Bryant’s work. Measuring completed, Ian was then assisted with various pattern selection, designed to cover his entire wardrobe. Next came the choice of appropriate materials for the various garments. Large books filled with swaths of fabrics, were retrieved from built in cabinets on the back wall, and laid up on the table. Ian methodically scrutinized every sample before selecting what he considered to be the appropriate choices. That being done, he then began the task of matching the appropriate shirts, ties, and sweaters, to his new wardrobe. He approached this in the same meticulous manner that had gone into his other selections.

Now Sir, I believe I’m correct in assuming you’ve recently opened an account with us.

That’s correct. Bryant then called for Ian’s account to be made current, recording all the particulars of the days transaction. The gentleman that had first greeted him in the reception, delivered the necessary paperwork for Ian’s signature; presented on a silver tray. After Ian took the bill, the tray, with matching pen, was then placed on the table. In a manner befitting a banker, he examined the contract thoroughly, before placing it back on the tray to sign. In a manner he’d only imagined reserved for princes, and potentates, he was awarded a slight bow, as he retrieved his receipt that was presented back to him on the same tray. Ian relished this treatment; as it stroked his ego.

Pocketing the receipt he left the store, accompanied by more subservient behavior from the staff.

Chapter 4

A morning of self indulgence had proved to be a rejuvenating experience for Ian. However his obsession with appearance dictated he should pause to preen himself at least one more time. Utilizing the reflection offered by the store window, he made some superficial adjustments to his appearance before continuing his approach to the waiting limousine. Turning abruptly to resume the walk, he collided head on into a young woman who was also immersed in her own interests. Apparently sorting through her purse held a greater priority than paying attention to where she was walking. The collision caused the Content’s of the purse to spill over the pavement. Confusion rained as Ian side step the objects at his feet, like some highland worrier performing the sword dance. The dance completed, he stooped to help her pick up the contents that had been strewn about them.

Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, he blurted out. The tone of his voice displayed a complete lack of confidence. Her replied came in a voice with a texture of soft velvet: soothing, and warm to the ear.

That’s alright, it was as much my own fought as yours. There was a magnetism about her that transfixed his gaze. She possessed a alluring quality that immediately sprung the lock to the volt on his inner soul. It was as if she’d owned a matching key to the one he’d purposely lost so many years before. An aura that glowed about her projected a shroud of tranquility that engulfed Ian. Mesmerize by her beauty, he was momentarily lost for words.

She was a woman in her early twenties, petite, with long dark hair. Her fair skin had the quality of porcelain, and her eyes were a sparkling blue, with long dark lashes. It was more than looks that attracted Ian’s attention; that certain chemistry so hard to explain had started to blossom between them the instant their eyes first met.

Picking up the last few items he handed them to her, and she placed them back into her purse.

May I give you a lift to where you’re going? He couldn’t just let this chance encounter pass, and this was an initial, if not somewhat clumsy attempt at striking up an acquaintance.

No that’s alright thank you, she replied. Their eyes, still locked in an embrace, gave her time to realize how handsome she found him to be. Ian had manly features, and a slim athletic build, his polite manner gave him an old world charm she also found attractive. In his eyes—the windows to his soul—she saw tenderness, and vulnerability, qualities hidden so well few people had ever detected them. This was the part of his makeup he thought had failed him in the past. This was his Achilles heal, something that could be exploited and cause pain; he’d endured enough hurt in life. Although, with this woman that somehow didn’t seem to matter. Not wishing to let this encounter slip through his fingers, he became relentlessly in his quest.

Then will you have launch with me. Ian’s persistence paid off. This time she couldn’t resist his charm, and she accepted his invitation. The door to the limousine was opened for them, and she took a seat, sinking into the soft leather upholstery. The fact that this man had the status to commanded the use of such a vehicle also impressed her. Now tell me, what are your favorite foods, and have you a preference to where you would like to dine?

You realize you’ve invited me to launch, and you haven’t even asked my name.

Oh god. He’d been so caught up in the pursuit, he’d completely forgotten the formalities. How stupid of me, my name’s Ian, Ian Shaw.

Well Mr Ian Ian Shaw, she replied with a smile, my names Barbara. Ian laughed.

I did sound a bit pompous, didn’t I. Her smile turned to a grin.

You know Ian, I’m not really hungry, but if we were to take a walk along the embankment together, I think I’d enjoy that. Ian welcomed the suggestion, perceiving she was as interested in him, as he was in her.

I’d be a fool to say anything but yes, to a long stroll with a pretty girl. Ian instructed, his driver: Mr Homes, to drive them to their destination. Once again their attentions focused on each other, and engaging in small talk seemed a pleasurable way of building the foundation for this new relationship.

Homes dropped them off at Westminster bridge, with the understanding they were to be picked up, an hour later. The sky’s were overcast, throwing the shadow of its drab gray cloak over the river. However, every cloud has a silver lining for someone. Today it was time for Barbara and Ian to experience this hidden feature. As they enjoyed the simple pleasure of walking together, he took her hand, and she gave him a smile.

I like walking here, especially when it’s cold, and practically deserted. For me it’s a special place on a day like this. It’s a place to clear my head and unwind. I find the solitude helps release the stresses of the day for a while.

They paused for a moment, to lean on the balustrade, and view the pleasure boats moored below, to ride-out the winter months. The wake created by the occasional flow of river traffic caused the boats to undulate slowly. The cold water gently lapping against their side planking was the only sound generated by these river dwellers in hibernation. Brightly painted seats, that in season would be packed with sight seers, now looked cold, damp, and uninviting.

Even a cold setting such as this couldn’t chill the warm glow Ian felt stemming from deep inside. In that instant his thoughts were carried back to happier times; a past he’d previously trained his memory not to dwell on.

"I’d forgotten the simple pleasures that can be derived from taking time out to stand back to smell the roses, so to speak. When I was a young boy my parents would always take me for long walks, mostly on the weekends. I was usually allowed to bring friends along. We would walk along beaches, or hike into the mountains. In warm weather we would often take a picnic with us, and make a day of it. I enjoyed those times. There was always time to appreciate the natural beauty around us, and enjoy the simpler things in life.

It sounds like you don’t see much of your parents these days Ian.

"They died when I was in my early teens, and my grandmother took on the task of raising me.

She was a wonderful person, I loved her very much. It’s been several years since she past away, they say time’s a grate healer, but I still miss her."

Ian, hadn’t laid himself open to anyone in this manner for many years. James, was a close friend, but they share a competitive relationship, and compassion, he always believed, could be viewed as a weakness. His vulnerability felt safe in Barbara’s keeping. These were feelings that had needed expression for far to-long. Never having nurtured a deep connection with anyone since his grandmother’s death, it felt good to again have a confidante. The fact that they’d only just met didn’t seem to matter. This was a soul mate he was talking to. Barbara sensed the loneliness he endured, perceiving that life was possibly about to change for both of them.

I think you were lucky, to have had people in your life that love you as much as they did.

Your absolutely right Barbara, he felt a tier welling up in his eye. I’ve never looked at it like that before, I’ve only ever saw it as my loss, and never what I’d gained from having people who loved me. How short sighted of me to have thought of it in that way. Until now Ian had not been able to come to terms with his grief, but Barbara’s few word seemed to have started the healing process.

I lost my parents several years ago Ian, so it’s easy for me to relate to where your coming from. It took me a long time to come to terms with the loss, but I had an older brother who was very supportive. He took on much the same roll as your grandmother. I’m also lucky to have a group of close friends, who stepped in to give me a new and interesting focus in life. They both looked out at the river for a while, not speaking but glancing at each other occasionally to give a reassuring smile. It was during one of these smiles, Barbara placed her hand on his. He then placed his other hand gently on top. Time had run out on this memorable moment in time, and acknowledging that all good things must come to an end, a feeling of sadness now started to prevail.

I suppose we should be walking back. Homes will be waiting for us by now. They walked slowly back to the limousine hand in hand. I must return to work Barbara, so where can I drop you off first.

I live in north London Ian.

Right then, north London it is. Homes was waiting with a door open as they reached the limo.

Homes, we’re taking the young lady home first please. Now Barbara if you care to give my driver your address we’ll be on our way. This she did. Ian didn’t wish to sound pushy, but he realized he must seize the moment. In the certainty their feelings were mutual he spoke with a confidence and ease he’d never experienced with a woman before. I know this is all a bit sudden Barbara, but if your free this evening I’d love to see you. We could go to a show, or some thing of that nature.

As it so happens I am free this evening, and I’d enjoy going on a date with you. A feeling of elation overwhelmed him as she accepted his offer. Perhaps this was love, and if so he’d become head over heals in it. The conversation then explored the pros and cons of theaters, and shows that came to mind. In keeping with the mood, it seemed only appropriate the venue they should choose would be a light heart-ed one.

As it’s comedy we seem to be interested in, the Whitehall theater usually has a good one.

I’ve heard good reviews about their latest show, and I do love a good laugh Ian.

Give me your phone number, and I’ll give you a call when I have the tickets. We can then arrange a convenient time for me to collect you.

I’ll write it down for you. She foraged through her purse for pen, and paper. Unzipping the back pocket inside her purse she sifted through to the bottom. She then exclaimed, as much for her own ears as Ian’s, so that’s where I put my dam keys! She turned to looked at Ian, with embarrassment. I was looking for them when I first bumped in to you. She paused to giggle. Oh shit, now your going to think I’m really stupid, I was walking to my car at the time.

You’ve left your car in Savill Roe? Ian was amused, as much by the way she had expressed herself, as to the fact she’d forgotten her car. It didn’t strike him as being the slightest bit course, or vulgar, in fact he thought it cute the way it seemed to be a natural part of her vocabulary.

Well, you see Ian, I’d been shopping, but finding nothing that took my fancy, I was returning to my car when we met. Ian couldn’t contain the laughter.

So your car is still in Savill Roe. She started laughing too.

Yes I’m ashamed to say it is. I suppose what I was preaching about taking time-out to relax, and clear my thoughts works, although apparently it cleared a few thoughts to many. Ian smiled at the comment, then leaned towards the driver.

Would you take us back to Savill Roe, please Homes.

Yes sir. Homes wasn’t oblivious to what was going on, so he had a little chuckle to himself as he turned the limousine around. On the way back to her car, Ian scribbled down his name, and phone numbers, and past it to her. Taking the paper she’d written her address on, he folding it neatly, and placed it safely into his wallet.

Homes parked close to Barbara’s car, then Left the limo to walk around and open the door for her. Ian took advantage of this brief moment of privacy, for a few last words.

"I’m looking forward to spending the evening with you. Your the most beautiful stimulating woman I think I’ve ever met. Raising his cupped hands to cradle her cheeks, and kissed her softly on the lips. The tenderness in her eyes portrayed a look that more than adequately expressed her feelings for him. She left the vehicle, and the door was closed behind her. Ian rolled down the window to wave goodby. Barbara waved and smiled back.

Goodby Ian, until this evening. Leaning forward in his seat, he gave Homes his instructions.

Take me back to the office please. The car then pulled away. Ian turned towards the back window to catch that last glance, trying desperately to prolong every final second of this chance encounter. Fumbling to unlock her car door, she some how became aware of his action. Feeling compelled to look, and share this last fleeting moment, she also acknowledged it with a last short sad wave. Ian’s limousine turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Chapter 5

The door reserved for staff was Ian’s access to the bank’s cloistered world. This establishment was the well from which he could fill his cup of desires. His comfortable office beckoned to him like the second home it had become. Again the worrier was returning to his bastion of power, and this was the life that for many years had consumed him. His burning ambitions could only be quenched, until now, with long hours, and a zealous work attitude. This was his domain, the place he’d always looked to eventually have total control over. Goals set so long ago were falling into place in his pursuit of power. He saw his long term strategies coming closer, and they would be fully achieved on the day he would succeeded Sir John as chairman of the board.

His corner office, a status symbol recently acquired with promotion, now felt so comfortable he couldn’t picture himself anywhere else. Its inside walls were constructed of rich dark wooden lower panels, with frosted glass inset into the upper panels. The outer walls were of aged cream painted plaster, window frames, sills, and baseboards were in matching wood to all other carpentry. It was a clean, neat, well maintained office. The deep red leather topped brass studied desk with matching chair, and bureau had enough opulence about it to be impressive without being ostentatious. Polished wood floors were covered by a quality area carpet, whose age only enhance the character of its surroundings. It was everything you’d expected an executives office to be in a old established city bank.

Ian made a brief stop at his secretary’s desk; situated in the outer office area, and away from his own office. This new obsession that had taken control of his emotions was rapidly thawing his cold facade, and his warm smile at his secretary Jean, reflected this change.

Jean would you please arrange to have a dozen red roses sent to the young lady at this address. Handing her the paper with Barbara’s address he continued, and I would like a note attached reading, (Thank you for a very enjoyable lunch, Ian). I would also like you to purchase two tickets for this evening’s early show at the Whitehall theater, in my name, good seats if possible. Oh! and I’ll need that address back when you’ve done with it.

I’ll attend to that right away for you sir.

I’m counting on you Jean. It was a reply Ian only used in the context of a complement, knowing full well her capabilities; abilities he held in high esteem.

Within ten minutes Jean paged Ian telling him the flowers had been sent, and to confirm tickets had also been booked in his name. She went on to explain arrangements were made to acquire them from the box office prior to the show’s start. These important details tended to, he settled in to his afternoons work.