The Planner(84)

Yet when he got back to the first room it didn’t seem quite the same as before. The lights were brighter than he remembered and it was surprising how crowded it had become. Maybe the event hadn’t been as exclusive as he’d thought. More men had arrived, tall ones in black trousers, not all of whom looked as if they were artists. Also, with his new, enhanced powers of cognition, the paintings were so much easier to understand. The problem, though, was that now they didn’t seem anything like as good.

‘Ah – I’ve been looking for you,’ said Felix. ‘It’s time I introduced you to some arts public relations people. You’ll find they’re very much like those charming women you met at the book launch, but paid even worse. James – are you all right?’

‘Yes, hold on. Give me a moment. I’m just feeling a little bit light-headed.’

Felix looked at James with his sceptical eyes, concern and doubt shimmering across his face. ‘What on earth have you done to yourself?’

‘Harriet gave me some of this,’ said James, holding up the black pouch, ‘and now I feel a bit odd.’

‘Let me have a look at that.’

Felix dabbed a finger on some specks of white powder and made his diagnosis immediately.

‘Uh oh,’ said Felix. ‘This isn’t normal cocaine. It isn’t drug dealer’s cocaine. This is art dealer’s cocaine. How much did you take?’

‘I don’t think I had all that much.’

‘A line? Two lines? Any more than that and you’re going to be in serious trouble.’

‘I don’t know. It was difficult to tell.’

‘And where’s Harriet? Did she have some? I’ve seen her on this kind of stuff before. It’s not pretty.’

James felt giddy. The sensation wasn’t especially difficult to understand – it was simply a superabundance of biochemical activity. Across his body, chain reactions were breaking out as every complex molecule simultaneously did something reckless and stupid. His nerves were twitching, his blood vessels shrinking, his synapses spiking and neurons firing. He was burning up great quantities of energy. Metabolically, it was hard to imagine that anyone could be more alive than he was just now and yet his great fear was that it would result in sudden death.

‘Yes, Harriet had quite a lot I think. I don’t know where she is.’

‘Okay, you wait here. I better go and find her. Try not to get into any trouble.’

But waiting in one place wasn’t going to be possible. His legs were trembling and his eyes straining. His teeth were gripped tightly together and he was clenching his cocktail glass so firmly that it was in danger of breaking. He could feel muscles tensing and contracting, his long bones shuddering. Looking at works of art wouldn’t do. He badly needed to interact with another human being, to get into a fight with a man perhaps, or sexually assault a woman. Maybe he should go back and find Felicity. And then, suddenly, he saw someone he knew.

‘Alice?’ said James. ‘I didn’t know you were coming tonight.’

Alice looked startled – not actively displeased, but certainly more bothered than she had any right to be. James could see her clever, complicated face try to absorb what it meant. Well, she’d better get used to it – bumping into James at things like this was something that would happen more often from now on.

‘Well, this is a surprise. How very nice to see you. Are you here with Adam and Carl?’ she said.

‘No,’ said James. ‘I’m here with some other people.’

Alice nodded, as if that was exactly what she expected him to say. There was no doubt she looked great, different but even better than the last time. Her hair had changed again – the fringe had gone and it was darker, so that her black, disbelieving eyes were more conspicuous. She looked alert and ever-so-slightly hostile, as if she was on the cusp of losing her temper or, more likely, saying something witty and remarkable.

‘What have you been up to then? Do tell – it’s been ages. It’s been such a manic year.’

‘Yes, me too. Work has gone crazy – we’re basically rebuilding half of London.’

‘Really? That sounds very grand.’

Before Alice could say any more, James embarked on a short, dazzling summary of the Sunbury Square Masterplan. It was what Felix would have called an elevator pitch. He was vague about its location and precise about its ambitions. He gave a measured overestimate of its budget, size and significance, and lightly passed over operational issues. No one could have heard him without coming away with the impression that James was in complete control of his brief.