Benjamin was knackered. It had been a really full-on day the day before, and not the success he’d hoped for. He had cleared out the history of his computer at work though, to ensure Jazmine wouldn’t find out anything, and Dominique would never dream of suspecting him. The last thing he had needed this morning was a row with Dominique. He’d no idea why she had been in such a mood. Why couldn’t she have come along with him? The row about baubles was pathetic – didn’t she realise how important this meeting with Vladimir Tarkovsky was? Of course not, he reminded himself. But even so, it wasn’t much to expect her to support him in his business dealings.

Too late to worry now, though. The Russian would just have to put up with him on his own. Maybe it was for the best; he wasn’t sure introducing his wife and kids to someone of Vladimir’s fierce reputation was the best idea, even if it did help land the deal of his life. No, better that it was only him, schmoozing the way he did best.

Ben hid behind his easy charm when he left the house, pretending everything was fine. The smile in place as always. As he put the shotgun in the boot, he displayed it to full effect to his neighbour, Mr Jackman, who seemed to be having a fight with a string of lights he was attempting to put round a tree.

‘Need a hand, Alan?’ Ben called.

‘No, I’ll be all right, thanks. How come you’re not on festive duty? I’ve been given a list as long as my arm of things I need to do in preparation for Christmas.’

‘Ah, the women do like to fuss, don’t they? But Dominique is great, she’s taking charge of everything while I go shooting. I go all the time. Hey, look at this beauty.’

He couldn’t help showing off the gun. It made him feel manly beside his emasculated neighbour. When Alan asked if he could hold it, Ben shook his head in fake regret.

‘Go to, er, shoot off, sorry.’

---

He was still chuckling to himself as he pulled into the shooting club’s car park, which was full. Clearly everyone was desperate to shoot something and get rid of their frustrations before being locked up with their families for the festive season.

Where the hell was Vladimir? Benjamin checked his watch.

As he was going to be doing something sporty, he wasn’t wearing his Rolex. It was perfect for fitting under the cuff of a dress shirt, but would look out of place in his current country gentleman outfit, complete with padded waxed jacket. So instead he chose his Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Offshore, because the rubber strap looked more sporty – plus, it had cost almost as much as his car, and was bound to make the Russian green with envy.

Benjamin had been blind to luxury timepieces until chatting to someone in the business class lounge of Heathrow one day. He and the man had been laughing at the poor suckers who had to fly cattle class and get deep-vein thrombosis due to lack of legroom. The other man had suddenly pushed back his sleeve and brandished his watch at Benjamin.

‘You want to get yourself one of these,’ he’d said. ‘This will guarantee you get treated right no matter where you are.’

‘Is it magic?’ Benjamin joked.

‘Might as well be. People take one look and they give you an upgrade because they know the sort of life you’re used to. Seriously, I checked into a hotel in Vegas the other week, and as soon as the receptionist clocked the watch I was upgraded to a suite. Bet you’ve got a nice car, haven’t you?’

‘Yeah, a Merc.’

‘People look at you a certain way when you get out of it, don’t they? They know the type of person you are and the life you lead purely from the wheels you have.’

True – it was one of the things that Benjamin loved about his car.

‘Well, unlike a car, a watch is noticeable wherever you are, at all times, in all public and private spaces, night or day, whether you’re at meetings or going out with friends and family at night. It’s the best investment you can make if you want to be taken seriously by people who matter.’

Benjamin hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that conversation during his entire business trip, wondering what people made of him wearing the Sekonda Dominique had bought him years before. He’d quickly treated himself to a Rolex while away. He had reaped the benefits of his investment a few days later, when he had decided to upgrade his car. He had been chatting with one of the salespeople when the manager had come over, complimented him on his watch, and insisted on dealing with him personally. It had also got him the best table in a restaurant many times, when he had forgotten to book something. The watch was a lifesaver, and Benjamin had got used to receiving a certain reaction from people; they looked at it, and knew he was a serious man with serious money.

Looking at it gave him comfort and confidence as he waited for Vladimir. He glanced up at the sky expectantly. The clouds were the colour of concrete. So heavy and low it looked as if he could reach out and touch them. The helicopter the shooting club had arranged to pick the Russian up in should be landing in about five minutes. All these little touches added up, making Benjamin certain Vladimir Tarkovsky would be impressed and convinced that his company could handle his business. All of his business.

He smiled as he buffed his shotgun, making sure the dust that had gathered on it had gone. Finally, it was going to get some use, instead of sitting in his study like an ornament. He was looking forward to firing it.