Chapter 1

Jim Matlock stopped at the local newsagent on the way to his first job of the day and picked up a copy of The Daily Echo, a Coke and a Mars bar. Since it was Thursday, he also bought the latest edition of Ladz. Ladz was a weekly magazine aimed at men in their late teens to early thirties, featuring a mixture of pub jokes, sport and a great many pictures of young, attractive women in their underwear. The magazine’s most popular feature was Ladz Local Lovelies. Ordinary girls from around Britain sent pictures of themselves to the magazine in the hope of becoming The Next Big Thing. Each week one of them was invited to do a professional photoshoot that included the magazine’s centrefold spread.

Jim adored the Local Lovelies. The feature was the only reason he bought the magazine. He took his copy and his other items to the counter.

“Morning, Jim,” said the owner of the small shop.

“Morning, Raj. How are you?”

“Oh, same as usual. You know.” He scanned the items into the till. “Ah, Ladz. They’ve announced the winner of the Local Lovely of the Year this week.”

“Yeah, I know. I haven’t looked yet. Have you?”

Raj nodded. “Of course, although don’t tell the wife, eh? It’s that lawyer girl.”

“Rebecca? Cool. I voted for her. Give it here—let me look.”

Five minutes later, Jim sat in his car outside the shop and drooled over the photos of Rebecca Anderson, a twenty-five-year-old lawyer from Westmouth—Jim’s home town. When she’d first appeared in the magazine, Jim had fantasised about one day bumping into her, even though he knew the chances of that were pretty slim—lawyers were certainly not in his social circle.

When he finally stuffed the magazine into his toolbox and looked at his watch, he realised he was late. His first job was in Westmouth Wharf, an office development on the other side of town, whose forty-five storey centrepiece was the tallest building in the Westmouthshire. He’d never get through the traffic fast enough to be on time. He just hoped that the clients weren’t too mad.

After he’d parked in the huge office block’s car park, he dashed across the lobby towards the rapidly closing elevator doors. He just made it and jammed his toolbox between the doors, forcing them to re-open and admit him. He stepped into the lift and pushed the button for the fortieth floor. Jim was a photocopier engineer, and this first job on his daily call sheet was at his company’s most important client. The law firm Jenkins, McCall & Smith occupied the top five floors of the shiny new office block.

He wasn’t alone in the lift but he was in such a rush when he’d entered that he’d registered only that the other occupant was female and now he glanced behind to get a better look. One of Jim’s mildly amusing pastimes was rating the women he saw on his office visits out of ten. In the past week, he’d been lucky enough to encounter two eights and even a nine! Today’s random totty couldn’t top that, could it? Only one way to find out.

A stunning, raven-haired woman leaned against the lift’s mirrored back wall. She was wearing an expensive-looking black business-suit and held a slim, elegant leather briefcase in front of her. She wasn’t an eight. Or even a nine. She was an honest to goodness ten.

He didn’t know how long he stared at her, but knew it was too long when she raised her eyebrows and said, “Yes?”

“Er ... Oh ... I ... Nothing. Sorry.” He looked away and concentrated on the metal door in front of him. Jim never saw women as beautiful as her in the bars and clubs he normally frequented. Sure, he knew plenty of good-looking girls, but this woman exuded the kind of class and sophistication that he didn’t normally encounter. In fact, he only saw such glamour in the pages of Ladz.

Before he could stop himself, he spun around and blurted out, “Are you? You’re Rebecca Anderson! Aren’t you?”

She smiled and said, “Now how would someone like you know my name?”

“I ... Er ... well, you’re a Ladz Local Lovely, aren’t you? You’ve just been named Local Lovely of the Year.”

Her smile widened and she nodded. “Did you like my winner’s shoot?”

“Fuck, yeah! Sorry. Excuse my language. Didn’t mean to offend.”

“Oh, you didn’t. I’ve heard a lot worse.” She cocked her head to the side. “I’ve used a lot worse, come to think of it.”

Jim blushed. It was odd—he was normally so cool and confident around women. Working-class women at least—the white stilettos, dance-around-their-handbag type. But there was something strangely disarming about Ms Anderson. Was it that smile? Confident and sexy, but also a little bit naughty. Or was it her eyes? Hazel coloured and almond-shaped, but with a glint that said she knew how to get dirty. Or maybe it was just because he knew exactly what was under that sharp black suit—there was a copy of it in his toolbox.

“Well ... Er ... Nice to meet you.” He faced the door again and grinned. There was a fuzzy reflection of her on the aluminium door. Even distorted, he couldn’t deny she was beautiful. He couldn’t quite believe it—he was in the same lift as the Ladz Local Lovely of the Year. He’d even voted for her—her eyes won his vote, although the rest of her helped too.

He was delighted that she’d won. He half wanted her to hurry up and leave so he could get the magazine out and take in her wonderful nakedness again. He looked at the buttons on the control panel. Only two were lit. He’d pressed forty. She was going one floor higher. The red digits on the console indicated that they were already on floor twenty-two. It wouldn’t be long now. Thirty seconds, maybe a minute.

“Come on,” said Rebecca, sounding impatient. “God, I hate lifts.”

Jim looked around at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “It’s more like an irrational fear. Come on, hurry up.”

The console told them they were on floor thirty-four.

Thirty-five.

Thirty-six.

The lights suddenly went out and the lift came to a juddering, screeching halt.

“What’s happening?” Rebecca’s voice was full of panic.

The emergency lights flickered into life. They were much dimmer than the regular lights and emitted an eerie green glow that made the lift seem suddenly smaller and more imposing.

“Power cut would be my guess,” said Jim. “I shouldn’t worry. This building has back-up generators. It won’t take long for them to kick in.”

“I hope you’re right.” She fanned herself with her hand. “Oh God, I’m starting to sweat.”

“Calm down. We’ll be fine.”

“I need to get out of here!”

“We will. It’s okay. Calm down.”

Rebecca’s breathing increased in tempo. Jim thought she might start to hyperventilate. “Ms Anderson? Rebecca? Listen to me.” He took her hand in his and stroked it gently. “It’s okay. Take a couple of deep breaths. That’s it. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”