Eye Contact by Fergus McNeill Page B

car park and drove off into the evening.
    Wrapped in a warm white bathrobe, Naysmith made his way slowly down the stairs. He yawned and pushed his hand through his hair as he walked through to the kitchen where the flagstone floor was cold and invigorating beneath his bare feet.
    He switched on the kettle and took out a tin of fresh coffee, inhaling the dark aroma before scooping a few spoonfuls into the tall cafetière. Life was too short to drink instant coffee. Opening the bread bin, he took out a crusty loaf and cut four thick slices, dropping them into the toaster. Padding across to the fridge, he gathered up butter, marmalade and orange juice and placed them on the large wooden table. Then, yawning again, he picked up his phone and checked his email while he waited for the toast.
    Kim wandered in, rubbing her eyes.
    ‘Morning, you.’ She tilted her head to one side, tangles of long brown hair spilling down over the shoulders of her baggy T-shirt. She wore a pair of white socks to protect her feet from the chill of the floor.
    ‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ Naysmith smiled. ‘Coffee’s on. Sit down. I’ll get it for you.’
    ‘Mmm, thanks.’ She shuffled over, gave him a drowsy hug and then sat at the table, propping up her head with her hands. ‘What time is your meeting?’
    ‘Ten,’ he replied. ‘There’s plenty of time.’
    He plunged the filter down slowly and carefully through the coffee and poured two cups. Adding a splash of cream to hers, he placed it on the table, then moved behind her chair to massage her shoulders. She felt delicate and pliable in his hands, her skin pale and smooth to the touch.
    ‘Mmmm,’ Kim sighed, as she reached up and put her small hand on his forearm. ‘It’s nice to have you back.’
    Naysmith smiled and turned back to the counter to put the toast on a plate.
    ‘Any news from Jemma?’ he asked as he sat down. ‘Did she make it over here in the end?’
    ‘Yes, she came round on Tuesday to keep me company. Actually, that reminds me: she invited us to have dinner with her tomorrow night. John will be there. I didn’t want to say anything until I’d checked with you . . .’
    Naysmith poured a glass of orange juice for her, then one for himself.
    ‘That’s fine,’ he nodded. ‘Tomorrow’s quiet for me – just a few calls to make, and I can do that from here. Today’s the only proper meeting.’
    Kim sipped her coffee.
    ‘What is it today?’ she asked.
    ‘Monthly operations meeting at Woking,’ he replied, without enthusiasm.
    ‘Are you driving or taking the train?’
    ‘Driving.’
    She was quiet for a moment, studying him with those large hazel eyes.
    ‘I wish you weren’t,’ she said at last.
    Naysmith glanced up at her.
    ‘You must be tired from Amsterdam,’ she continued. ‘I don’t want you having an accident or anything.’
    He looked at her for a moment, surprised by the note of concern in her voice. It was oddly pleasing.
    ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me,’ he said, taking her hand, ‘I’m much too careful.’
    He held her gaze for a long moment, then, smiling quietly to himself, continued his breakfast.
    Kim ran her finger round the top of her glass.
    ‘Well, I still think it’s unfair that you have to go out today,’ she frowned.
    ‘That’s enough.’ The stern edge in his voice silenced her, and she looked down, biting her lip nervously. There was something about seeing her like this – suddenly timid and vulnerable – that quickened his pulse.
    Naysmith swallowed the last of his coffee and stood up. Leaning over her, he kissed the top of her head, then gently lifted her chin so that she was looking up into his eyes.
    ‘We each do what we have to do,’ he smiled.

13
Thursday, 14 June
    The heavy steel shutters shivered for a moment before crawling back up into the darkness. Naysmith eased the car under them and down the short ramp that led to the basement parking. As he pulled into his space, he noted the other cars lined up in