Body Politic Read Online Free

of different interpretations by different people, Chris. As I’m sure you will appreciate, upon reflection.’
    He looked again at Zoe, smiled at her over Hampson’s downcast head, trying to assess what effect this was having on her. Power was supposed to be the ultimate aphrodisiac for women, and he was asserting his power now in this quiet, almost claustrophobic setting. He had no doubt whose will would prevail in this conflict, however much right Chris might have on his side. Zoe stared back at him steadily for a moment, then switched her gaze to the man sitting frustrated on the edge of his chair.
    Keane had won now, and all three people in the room knew that. Hampson said dully, ‘We can’t go on being successful if you don’t pull your weight. We’ll need to talk about it.’
    ‘ Of course we shall. Let’s just give it a few days, for both of us to cool down.’ His smile said that only one of them really needed time to cool down, but that he, Raymond Keane, successful businessman and rising MP, was used to being magnanimous about these things.
    He stood up, signifying that their business was concluded. Successfully, as far as he was concerned. He ushered Hampson to the door, preventing himself with difficulty from throwing an arm across the other man’s shoulders. The rigidity of the taller man’s torso and arms warned him that Hampson was still seething, so that any form of physical contact might be a mistake.
    Keane said, ‘I’ll be in touch, Chris. At the end of the coming week. I’ll definitely phone you this time, I promise.’ It was his first acknowledgement that there had been substance in the older man’s complaint.
    He stood in the doorway of the old cottage to watch his partner drive away, beaming a false fondness as he waved him into the distance.
    Zoe Renwick watched Hampson’s departure from behind the low leaded-light window. She had seen a ruthless display of power by Raymond Keane which bordered on cruelty. And what was worse, he had revelled in it. It was a facet of her husband-to-be that she had not even suspected. She found it quite disturbing.

     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    The man in the trees watched Chris Hampson drive away from the cottage. He was curious about this visitor for a little while, as he had been curious when he watched him arrive forty minutes earlier. But his interest in this stranger did not last for very long. It could not contend in his mind with the hatred, steady and intense, which he felt for the man who remained within the house.
    There were still a few leaves on the beeches and oaks, and the rich orange needles of the larches had not yet dropped to the dry ground beneath them, as they would do by the year end as the frosts grew sharper. They gave him concealment enough, but whenever he felt the need of it, the tall firs on the edge of the wood provided him with deeper cover.
    It was dark as he moved beneath these, dark as in those northern forests of Europe, where the trolls controlled a darker world and the nights scarcely conceded daylight at all at this time of the year. On some days now, the man felt that he would be happier if it were dark all the time.
    He flapped his arms occasionally behind his screen. His sparse frame should have shivered, but he wore so many layers against the cold of the December day that he scarcely felt it. He was warmed by the fire of hatred which burned within him against Raymond Keane, MP and hypocrite, who had proved a false friend and a smiling, polished enemy.
    Well, he could play that game too. A man could smile and smile, and be a villain. The man who had first said that had also been a little uncertain about how he should proceed with his revenge, at first. But he had killed his man in the end. The people who gave him such curious looks as he went in and out of his house nowadays would be surprised to know that he knew about things like that.
    The man in the woods went on another of his small, slow perambulations, his