Deadly Business

Thirteen

After he’d left, I had to ask myself the same question, but I couldn’t come up with a good answer.

There was one prime suspect, of course. As soon as I’d closed the meeting, formally, I called Audrey Kent in Monaco.

‘How did things go?’ she asked, at once.

‘Combustibly,’ I replied. ‘Gillian Harvey resigned and Phil Culshaw’s just walked out in the huff, vowing to have my head in a basket. He’s called for an extraordinary general meeting, as soon as possible.’

‘Can he do that?’

‘Technically, no; Wylie Smith says he doesn’t have enough shares to force it. But I’m going to allow it. This golf course scam that he’s committed us to is a resignation issue; he’s more or less gambled company money with no guarantee of a return. No chair could let that go unchallenged: one of us has to go. I’ve suspended him from his employment pending the meeting, and Gerry Meek will be acting managing director till the EGM takes place.’

‘But will you win?’ Audrey asked, nervously.

‘I don’t know. It’ll depend on who votes Janet and wee Jonathan’s shares and how. My next meeting will be with Greg McPhillips, Susie’s lawyer. I’m going to show him my power of attorney and instruct him to put the trust in place, the one she asked me to set up.’

‘Can it be done in time?’

‘Time shouldn’t be a problem. I can delay the meeting, to an extent. The key question is whether I’ll be able to do it at all; right now I just don’t know what the position is. But to other things. First, how are the kids?’

‘Calmer this morning. Janet’s still a bit tearful; I’m staying close to her and wee Jonathan’s hardly let Conrad out of his sight. At least Mr Murdstone isn’t around …’

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘David Copperfield’s wicked stepfather,’ she replied, chuckling. ‘You should read Dickens, Primavera; it’s full of analogies.’

‘Where’s he gone?’

‘I have no idea. When Conrad and I got up this morning he’d left, without as much as a note on the kitchen table. Is it too much to hope that he won’t be back?’

‘Probably,’ I suggested. ‘As for your Dickensian image, I’d be surprised if he’s at all interested in the kids.’

‘In that case, what’ll happen to them? There’s no role for me here without Susie, and you can forget what Duncan said last week about keeping Conrad on. The two of them had a big argument last night. Conrad tried to speak to him about the children’s needs, and how he should be considerate with them in the wake of their mother’s death, but Duncan blew up at him, told him to mind his own so-and-so business.’

‘What did Conrad say to that?’

‘He got specific, and said that if he ever caught him looking at Janet inappropriately again, or if he frightened the wee chap any more than he does already, he would have to take action to protect them. Duncan yelled at him that from now on he was to have nothing more to do with them, but Conrad replied, very quietly, that he takes his orders from the chair of the Gantry Group, and that isn’t him. Primavera,’ she murmured, ‘I’m glad he’s gone too. You don’t push Conrad one inch.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ I suggested. ‘Bravery isn’t the man’s trademark. Duplicity is, though. Audrey,’ I went on, ‘do you know if Duncan’s had access to Susie’s private papers?’

‘Physically, no,’ she said, at once, then knocked me back by adding, ‘but he doesn’t need to. He’s had access to her laptop, and I think he’s taken it with him. Everything’s on there, and if he has the password …’

‘Would she have given it to him?’

‘Susie was so erratic in her final days that she might have; or he could simply have watched her key it in. I’m an idiot, Primavera; I knew what it was and I could have changed it after she died. Dammit, I should have. But why do you ask?’

I updated her on what had happened in the Stock Exchange community, and the briefing that had been going on. ‘Gillian Harvey put the boot in me, and got caught, but she wouldn’t have done the other stuff. That golf course information, that’s done real damage; I’ve recovered some of it, but we’re still vulnerable.’

‘Do you reckon Duncan might have done that?’

‘I’d like to pin it on him,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m having trouble working out why he would. After all, it was him that brought the dodgy golf course deal to his Uncle Phil. So why would he want to undermine it? There’s no sense in that. But somebody’s using it to shaft the Gantry Group, that’s for sure.’

I left Audrey to think on that and turned to Wylie Smith. I’d asked him to wait in the boardroom after Gerry Meek and Cathy Black had returned to their offices.

‘Diego Fabricant,’ I fired at him, ‘our partner in Babylon Links. You’re that company’s secretary as well, so tell me about him.’

‘I wish I could, Madam Chair, but …’

‘For God’s sake, call me Primavera. What’s stopping you?’

‘I’ve never met him.’

I frowned. ‘But don’t you attend all the board meetings?’

‘There haven’t been any, after the first, when the company was started. Mr Fabricant recorded an apology; the articles allow a meeting in those circumstances, so a minute was taken, but there have been none since.’

‘No formal record of progress?’ I asked.

‘There hasn’t been any progress, Primavera. The company has lodged an application for planning permission in principle for a golf course, clubhouse and associated buildings; no more than that, just in principle. The requirement that it be formally capitalised was Mr Culshaw’s instruction; it’s never been put to me by anyone else, and I’ve submitted all the paperwork.’

‘Where is our money now?’

‘In a high interest account, offshore.’

‘How far offshore, Wylie?’ I growled.

‘The Isle of Man.’

‘Okay,’ I declared. ‘Get it back.’

He winced, hunching his shoulders as if he thought I was about to aim an axe at his neck. ‘I can’t do that, Primavera, not on my own initiative, or on yours for that matter. Technically you can now appoint yourself a director of Babylon, since Mr Culshaw held office as a representative of the Gantry Group, but even then you couldn’t simply take the money back. All expenditure above a certain level must be approved by both directors.’

‘Then the sooner I sit down with Mr Fabricant, the better. Where can I find him? Jersey, I suppose.’

‘No, Edinburgh,’ he replied.

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Can you be a little more specific?’ I asked.

‘No I can’t. Mr Fabricant’s address is a post office box.’

‘So we don’t know what our partner looks like,’ I said, ‘and we don’t know where he lives, or works. That’s what our Phil got this company into?’

Wylie nodded. ‘Yes. Gerry and I did point out that it was an unusual, possibly even an unsafe, situation, but he said he had private assurances that everything was all right. That may be the case, Primavera; after all, the money Gantry put into Babylon Links hasn’t gone anywhere.’

‘It might as well have,’ I suggested, ‘if we can’t get it back without Fabricant signing for it, and we don’t know where he is. Come on, let’s find him.’

‘How?’

‘We’ll ask Mr Google to look for him.’ I took my laptop from my bag and booted it up, then went online through the company’s network.

‘What if it’s an assumed name?’ Wylie asked.

‘Would it be legal to be a director under a pseudonym?’

‘If it was an act of deliberate deception, no.’

‘Then I’d love that to be the case, but I’ll bet it isn’t.’ I keyed ‘Diego Fabricant Edinburgh’ into the address bar and pressed the return key.

The response was instant; there were six hits, of which five led to newspaper articles. The other was for the Law Society of Scotland. I scanned the digital cuttings first, four of them were from the business sections of the Scotsman or the Herald, and each referred to corporate mergers of acquisitions in which our man had been a player. Two of them described him as ‘dealmaker’, a term I’d never come across before.

‘What does it mean?’ I asked Wylie.

‘More or less what it says,’ he replied. ‘Let’s say you want to sell your business, or make an acquisition, but don’t have a specific buyer or target in mind. You’d go to a man like Fabricant seems to be, and he’d put you together with someone.’

‘What does he get out of it?’

‘A fee, equity or both.’

There were no accompanying photographs, but the fifth item was coverage of an awards dinner, complete with an accompanying picture of a group of ten men in evening dress, lined up and cheesing for the camera. Fabricant was listed as second from the left; the image was that of a tall man, bulky, with a prominent nose and a forehead so high that it was beyond rescue by any hair clinic.

‘So far so good,’ I murmured. ‘Now let’s get more specific.’ I clicked the link on my search page that led me to the Law Society. I’d expected it to be ‘members only’, but in fact it turned out to be publicly accessible and very helpful, with a section that invited me to ‘Find a solicitor’.

I keyed in the surname, the only line I could complete, hit the button, and had only a single response: ‘D. Fabricant, Suite three, eighth floor, Cousland Tower, Lothian Road, Edinburgh.’

‘No phone number,’ I murmured. I noted the address then went on to the BT site, and keyed in Fabricant’s details. It told me that the subscriber number was unavailable.

‘Very discreet,’ Wylie observed. ‘Ex-directory.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about phoning him anyway. I think you and I should pay him a surprise visit. Is the rest of your day clear?’

‘I can make it so.’

‘Good. We’re going to Edinburgh. But first, I have to call on someone else, your partner, Greg McPhillips. I need to talk to him, urgently.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘I made one for four o’clock,’ I replied, ‘but I’ll need to bring it forward now.’

He pursed his lips. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Greg always has a very full diary. He may not be able to reschedule, not for today.’

‘He’ll see me, Wylie, don’t you worry. Greg and I go back more than ten years.’

I gave Gerry Meek and Cathy Black my mobile number and my room number at the hotel, then Wylie and I grabbed a taxi and headed for Greg McPhillips’ office.

The McPhillips practice had gone up in the world since I’d last had reason to consult it. From a small office just off Sauchiehall Street, it had moved into a top-floor suite in a new build block at the top of Renfield Street. Wylie had wanted to call ahead, but I’d decided that I wasn’t giving anyone advance notice of anything else that day. He paid the cab and led me towards the lift. ‘I really don’t know about this,’ he murmured. That didn’t surprise me; the Greg McPhillips I’d known was Wylie’s exact opposite, outgoing, full of himself and, when it suited him, overbearing.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Smith,’ his secretary said when he asked her if he was in. ‘You’ve just missed him. He’s gone for lunch with a client.’

‘Where?’ I asked.

She stared at me. ‘I don’t know if I could …’

I stared back. ‘You do, trust me.’

She glanced at Wylie; he nodded. ‘La Bonne Auberge,’ she said. The name was fresh on my mind; it was across the street from the building in which we stood and we’d just passed it in the taxi.

‘Then call his mobile number, please,’ I requested, politely, ‘and tell him that Mrs Blackstone can’t do four o’clock as arranged previously, but needs five minutes now.’

‘Of course, if you insist, but …’ I waited as she made the call and relayed the message, watching as she pursed her lips and nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, the phone still held to her ear, ‘he says it’s impossible.’

I signed to her to pass me the handset; she was so surprised that she did. ‘Greg,’ I chirped, amiably, ‘Primavera here. Are you still shagging that actress? Remember, the girl who was your bit on the side about twelve years ago when Oz and I were in business together in Glasgow, and we were all pals? She had a part in a TV soap and knew my sister. Did Mrs McPhillips ever find out about her?’

His sigh could have carried across the street from the restaurant without the amplification of the phone. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘five minutes; meet me in the reception area just inside the entrance.’

Wylie wouldn’t come into La Bonne Auberge with me. He said that since it was obviously personal business I was going to discuss, he had to keep well clear of it as company secretary. I could see the logic in that, but I couldn’t help feeling that after hearing what I’d said to his senior partner, he didn’t want to be within earshot of the discussion that followed.

Before I go any further, understand one thing: I didn’t, and don’t, harbour any ill feeling towards Greg. He was a good friend to Oz, and me, back in the days of our private enquiry business, and he put some nice work our way. Oz’s links with him went even further back, and one job he’d sent to him had been the start of all the fame and fortune that came his way. With that history between us, I didn’t crash his lunch date out of malice, only necessity.

He understood that too, for he was smiling as I walked through the door. ‘Christ, Primavera,’ he chuckled. ‘You haven’t changed a bit, and before you ask again, the answers are, no, I’m not, and no, the wife never did find out. Look,’ he continued, ‘I’m sorry I can’t walk away from this engagement, but I can’t and that’s an end of it. What is it, quickly?’

I took from my bag the documents that Susie had sent me, the one specifying the changes she wanted to make to her will, and the other instructing that the children’s trust be set up. Finally, I let him see my power of attorney.

He scanned them for a couple of minutes, then looked up. ‘Fuck it,’ he murmured.

‘I take it that does not mean good news,’ I said.

‘No, it doesn’t.’ He handed me back the will paper. ‘Susie’s wishes are quite clear in there; there’s no doubt about what she wanted to do. The wasp in the embrocation is that she’s no longer alive, so she can’t enact them.’ He looked at me, and I could see sympathy in his eyes. ‘Susie wasn’t herself when she did that, I can tell.’

‘She meant every word of it, Greg,’ I protested.

‘I know that. I just acknowledged that, didn’t I? What I meant was that she must have been confused, or drugged or whatever, for the Susie I knew would have realised that if she’d just got Audrey Kent, or anyone else, to date and witness what’s written there, then I would have accepted it as a codicil to her existing will. But she didn’t, and so I can’t. That will must stand as it was written. It would survive any challenge in court. And if you did try to overturn it, I’d be the guy who had to defend against you, for the moment that Susie died, I became her executor.’

I frowned. ‘Understood.’ I couldn’t argue, for I could see that he was right. ‘Greg, Susie told me some of what was in the will, so my next question is how do you interpret it, given that Oz is named in it, and he’s dead?’

‘But you’re wrong,’ he exclaimed, ‘she didn’t name him. The will refers to “my surviving spouse” as the children’s guardian. When she died, she was married to Duncan Culshaw; I’ve seen the marriage certificate and it’s legal. I know this for sure because a guy I know got hitched in Vegas, and he made very sure of that before he did.’

That was a blow, but I pressed on. ‘She also told me who would inherit her shares in the company: all three kids, Tom included. Are you telling me that my son is now under the guardianship of that man Culshaw?’

He shook his head, firmly. ‘No, I’m not. Susie drafted her will at a time when Oz had custody of young Tom, but clearly she anticipated a situation in which that might change, for the will specifies that during his minority, his interests will be under the curatorship of his legal guardian at the time of her death. That will give you some relief.’

I did a very quick piece of mental arithmetic. ‘A little,’ I agreed, ‘but it doesn’t remove my concern. Susie owned sixty per cent of the Gantry Group shares, meaning twenty per cent goes to each child. But have you forgotten Oz’s will? He owned eighteen per cent, and that is also split three ways. So that gives Janet and wee Jonathan a total of twenty-six per cent each. Twenty-six times two equals fifty-two per cent, and that equals a controlling shareholding when under the guidance of one person. Susie might have been addled over the will changes, but when she instructed me to set up the children’s trust, she knew exactly what she was doing and why. Can I go ahead with that, even though she’s dead?’

Greg let out another industrial-strength sigh. ‘You might be able to,’ he said. ‘I could see an outside possibility that you might, but you’d have to go to court to do it. And it would take time,’ he added.

‘Longer than it would take to hold a company EGM?’

He frowned. ‘That’s not a hypothetical question, is it?’

‘No.’

‘Then it would take much longer, and until the court said otherwise Culshaw would be able to vote the children’s shares as he chose. To be honest, I don’t really believe the court would say otherwise, but you can only try.’

‘Could you represent me?’

‘Not a hope, chum. Susie’s surviving spouse, i.e. Culshaw, would most certainly contest you. As the executor I have to be neutral, so you’d need to get yourself another lawyer.’

‘How about Wylie Smith?’

‘He’s good enough, but he’s too close. He’s a partner in my firm, and there’s the greater complication for him that he’s company secretary of the Gantry Group. He’d probably have to give up that position if he acted for you in such a matter, and frankly, that’s not business I’d want my firm to lose.’

‘I see,’ I murmured. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Sure, but if I gave you a couple and things went against you, you could wind up blaming me, and I wouldn’t want that to happen.’ He paused. ‘You really don’t like this man Culshaw, do you?’

‘That obvious, eh?’

‘Rather.’

‘I have good reason to dislike him. What I can’t understand is why he’s been targeting me so specifically, and Tom for that matter. I’m in no doubt that he’ll kick me out as chair, given the chance. His uncle seems to be my enemy on the board. He’s calling the EGM and he’ll have his nephew’s support.’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t help you there either, for I don’t know. I can see why you would hate his guts, but … let me give you one single piece of legal advice.’

‘What?’

‘If you do take this to court, don’t make it personal.’

‘I’ll do my best, Greg. Thanks for being so frank.’ We shook hands, and he turned to return to the restaurant. ‘Hey,’ I called after him. ‘Who’s your lunch date, by the way?’

‘I can’t tell you that, honestly,’ he replied.

But he didn’t have to. I couldn’t see all the restaurant’s dining area from where I stood but did have a view of a wall mirror, halfway along. As I took a single step to my left, the reflection changed, and I saw, sitting along at a table set for two, a profile that I recognised: that of Duncan Culshaw.

I stepped outside to rejoin Wylie and did some thinking. Culshaw must have caught the first flight out of Nice to get to Glasgow in time for a meeting with Greg, but was he going straight back there? I doubted that; there’s no direct route between the two cities and four flights in a day would have been pushing it. I’d have loved to follow him, just out of interest, to see whether he and Uncle Phil met up, but that wasn’t possible; Fabricant was my priority. But …

I dug out my mobile and called Liam. When he answered after a few seconds, his voice sounded different from the one I’d come to know. ‘Where are you?’ I asked.

‘Burger King,’ he replied, more clearly. ‘You caught me mid-bite.’

‘Burger King,’ I repeated. ‘You?’

‘Mine’s a veggie; Tom’s reducing the animal population.’

‘Are you almost finished? If so, I’ve got a game the two of you might like to play.’

‘Sounds good. What does it involve?’

‘A little sleuthing.’ I explained where I was, and who was inside the restaurant. ‘How would you and Tom like to tail him when he leaves?’

He laughed. ‘That sounds like fun, but how exactly?’

‘I’ve got a hire car parked at the hotel; you can pick it up and park outside. You’ll need it, for I can’t see him walking anywhere.’

‘Are you sure you want Tom involved in this?’

‘As long as he’s with you, what’s the problem? Besides, you’ll need him; he knows what Culshaw looks like, you don’t.’

‘True,’ he conceded. ‘But why can’t you do it?’

‘Frying other fish,’ I told him. ‘My company secretary and I have to go to Edinburgh to corner somebody else. We’ll take the train.’

‘Okay,’ Liam said, cheerfully. ‘Hey, Tom,’ I heard him call, ‘d’you fancy playing detective, like your old man used to?’ I head a muffled reply. ‘He says yes. Bad guys beware: the A Team is mobilised and coming to getcha.’

‘Don’t let him spot you, mind.’

‘No chance. I’ve always wanted to do this sort of stuff. I’ll pick my camera up when we collect the car.’

‘Good idea. If you could get a picture of him with his fucking uncle that would be useful.’

‘You and old Phil didn’t hit it off, then?’ he surmised.

‘That would be an understatement, my darling. If he wasn’t a boring old accountant at heart, I might be watching my back right now.’

‘You’re not serious, are you?’ he exclaimed ‘’Cos if you are, the only place I’m going to be is by your side.’

‘That is noble of you, but I have seen off much, much tougher guys than him. Don’t you worry about me, Sherlock, you just get into position opposite La Bonne Auberge, soon as you can.’

I hung up on him and left him to it. I was under no illusions about Liam’s tracking ability; he could find his way around a woman pretty well, but he was so laid-back generally that I was sure he’d either get lost or give himself away. Regardless of that, though, he was the only show in town as far as I was concerned, and if he could come up with a snap of Duncan and Phil Culshaw deep in conversation, it might do me some good. After my conversation with Greg, I understood the depth of the shit that I was in, and any stick that might haul me out had to be clutched at.

It’s a very short walk from where we were to Queen Street railway station; past the concert hall, down Buchanan Street, turn left and you’re there. We caught the one fifteen train with a couple of minutes to spare and less than an hour later we were in the nation’s capital. In past times Edinburgh was called the ‘Athens of the North’; today the comparisons are with Barcelona, but since that city is four times as large, and its urban sprawl contains as many people as the whole of Scotland, they don’t really bear much scrutiny.

We jumped from one of Scotland’s most expensive trains into one of Britain’s most expensive taxis and asked the driver to take us to Fabricant’s address. He must have read Wylie as a Glaswegian, for he took us for a ride, and no mistake. Sixteen quid fifty later he pulled up outside a building that was less than a mile from the station. He blamed the Princes Street closure, but the chancer hadn’t needed to cross it. I gave him the exact fare, and smiled as I told him in Catalan that he was a chiselling son-of-a-bitch.

Cousland Tower turned out to be one of those blocks that were chucked up towards the end of the last century as Edinburgh business moved out of its traditional Georgian offices into premises that were deemed to be more IT friendly. There was no reception in the lobby, so we rode a glass-walled lift up to the eighth floor and stepped out, into another area with no welcome mat but with a wall board listing the occupants by suite number.

Fabricant’s was to the left, round a corner; the door was solid, with no name, only the number, Three. Wylie rapped on it, gently, and we waited. I was about to give it a more solid thump when it was opened by a tall woman in a hip-hugging dress, with supermodel looks. Her dark hair was piled on her head, her cheekbones were high, and her lips were naturally full, without the aid of collagen or any other agent. Bitch.

If she was surprised, she didn’t look it. ‘Yes,’ she purred, ‘can I help you?’

‘I, I, I,’ Wylie stammered; he still hadn’t got past the hips.

‘Is this Diego Fabricant’s office?’ I asked.

‘Yes, it is,’ the cover girl replied. ‘I’m Kim Coates, his secretary.’

‘Good. We’d like to see him. My name is Primavera Blackstone, and this is my colleague, Wylie Smith.’

‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘I’m afraid that Mr Fabricant doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.’

‘Then make one for us.’ I checked my watch; it showed two twenty-eight. ‘Half past two will suit us nicely.’

Her smile was patronising; the Queen couldn’t do that to me and get away with it, and Ms Coates had to be at least ten years my junior. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me a little more than that,’ she laughed.

‘Okay. Try this. Your boss is a director of a company that’s trousered twenty million of my company’s money. My colleague here is secretary of both of them, and he doesn’t know what’s happening to it. So, Tootsie, unless you back off and put me together with your boss, I’m going to stand here shouting so loud and so long that eventually the police will come to see what the fuss is about. Or maybe I’ll give my voice a break and go and fetch them myself. Go speak to him, now!’

She took half a pace back and that was enough. I stepped past her into the suite, with Wylie following, muttering a nervous, ‘Excuse me,’ as he did, but ogling her nonetheless as she sashayed towards the door behind her desk. I could understand why. I guessed that when he’d employed her, Diego hadn’t asked about her doorkeeping abilities. With that body, a wink, a smile and a crooked finger would get her through most situations.

I scanned the office as we waited. The furniture was a strange mix of modern and antique, as if some of it had come from Charlotte Square or some other former base. There was a bloody awful painting of a hunting scene on the wall beside the entrance door, and next to that an honours board, headed ‘Client companies’, with a couple of dozen corporate entities listed below.

I was halfway through scanning them when Ms Coates returned. I’d found Monsoon Holdings Ltd, and was still looking for Babylon Links Country Club PLC. ‘Mr Fabricant will see you,’ she announced, managing to make it sound as if it was an honour and one that had been granted against her advice.

‘Thank you,’ I said, moving towards her boss’s sanctum. ‘By the way,’ I murmured as I passed her, ‘a word of advice. In a dress like that, a woman can always tell when another woman isn’t wearing any.’

‘I imagine you know from experience,’ she hissed.

‘Yes indeed,’ I replied, ‘I surely do, but I never go without in the office.’

I let Wylie go into Fabricant’s room ahead of me … and almost had to catch him. The man was holding a shotgun, its stock pressed to his shoulder and he was sighting it almost straight at us. I was startled too, but I wasn’t going to let him see it.

He held the pose for a second, then broke the breech and laid the weapon on his desk. ‘Shooting party this evening,’ he said, in a public school accent that could have originated anywhere. ‘Just getting the feel for it again.’

‘You should relax a little more,’ I suggested, as we all took seats. ‘You looked a bit stiff.’

He peered at me, over his substantial nose. ‘Indeed? I’ll bear that in mind. Do you shoot?’

‘Not for a while.’ No, not for over fifteen years in fact, and then it had been a pistol.

‘Well, shoot now, Mrs Blackstone, in another way. What can I do for you?’

I held up my left hand; occasionally I wear a wedding ring, but not that day. ‘How did you know it’s Mrs?’ I asked. The window behind him offered a view of the Usher Hall, and also a reflection of the computer monitor on his desk. I could see that it was switched off, and there hadn’t been time for him to look me up and then power it down.

‘I read the business press,’ he replied, without pausing for as much as a beat. ‘You’re in it this morning, quite prominently, if I may say so.’

‘That’s more than I can say about you, Mr Fabricant. Not quite a man of mystery, but you keep a low profile, particularly when it comes to our joint venture, Babylon Links. Mr Smith, here, has never met you, and your name isn’t listed as present at any meeting. Don’t you have a duty to the shareholders of the company you represent, Monsoon Holdings?’

‘My dear lady, I am the sole shareholder of Monsoon.’

‘But you’re not the beneficial owner,’ Wylie pointed out. ‘You’re listed in Jersey as a nominee.’

Fabricant laughed. ‘You have indeed been doing your homework.’

‘It’s not too difficult,’ he countered. ‘My assistant established that on day one. I don’t suppose you’d care to disclose the name of the actual owner of the company, and through that of the land that seems to be its sole asset?’

‘No, I do not care. If that person wished to be known, there would have been no point in using a nominee. Mr Smith, you’re not suggesting there’s anything illegal in what’s been done, are you?’

‘No, I’m not,’ Wylie admitted; he’d been thrown on to the back foot.

‘Me neither,’ I said, ‘but as the chair of your partner I want to know the process that’s led to the Gantry Group being exposed in this way.’

‘Then hadn’t you better ask your managing director?’ Fabricant suggested. The man was confident, annoyingly so.

‘I did,’ I told him. ‘My former managing director, currently suspended from his position. From that, you might gather I wasn’t given a satisfactory answer, so now I’m asking you. Who initiated this deal?’

‘I’ll throw you one bone, Mrs Blackstone. I’m prepared to tell you that Mr Culshaw was approached by a representative of Monsoon. The proposition was that we own a piece of land in Ayrshire that’s ripe for leisure development, and that we needed a fifty-fifty partner to fund the operation.’

‘And how’s our investment going to be recouped?’

‘Entry to membership will be through the purchase of bonds or debentures. These will be marketed internationally. It’s quite a common model; there are many examples.’

‘And how many are currently active,’ I asked him, ‘with the global economy hiding somewhere up its own arse. Man, I don’t live in Scotland, but even I know that the Ayrshire coast is lined with golf courses, and that the current insolvency rate among ventures like this is scarily high.’

‘You have to take a long-term view, Mrs Blackstone,’ he countered.

‘No, I don’t,’ I shot back at him. ‘First and foremost I have to protect the interests of the Gantry Group, and this deal is undermining them. Leaked information about it is being used against us in the City, and it’s very damaging. I’m pulling our company out of this thing and I want our money back, pronto.’

He shook his head, still wearing that annoyingly assured smirk. ‘It’s not as easy as that,’ he said. ‘Babylon Links can only be wound up by agreement between the parties, and I have very firm instructions from my principal that we are not going to agree to that. The same goes for the Gantry Group’s investment; it won’t be returned either.’

I was contemplating how long I’d get for battering dear Diego to death with his own Purdy when my mobile sounded. I looked at the number, recognised it as Cress Oldham’s, and took the call.

‘I’ve got a certain amount of information,’ she announced. ‘It’s strange. Two different consultancies have been active against us. One of them is Seventh Financial; its people have been spreading the personal stuff about you, but I’m sorry, they won’t tell me who’s instructed them.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ I told her. ‘I know who it was, and I’ve dealt with it. What about the others?’

‘According to my tame analyst, the leaked information is being put about by a firm called Greentree Stanley City. I know a couple of their people and I nobbled one at lunchtime. He admitted it but didn’t give me the faintest hint of the source.’

‘Any chance of progress on that front?’ I asked, cryptically, because Fabricant was making no pretence of not listening to my end of the conversation.

‘I’d have to go through their entire client list, and when I did I’d still be guessing. I’ll try, though.’

‘You do that, and respond soonest.’

‘I will, but … there’s something else happening, Mrs Blackstone, and I don’t know what it is. The share price is heading south again; that tells me there’s new information out there, and it’s not good.’

‘Then get digging. Cheers.’ I pocketed my phone.

‘Not bad news, I hope,’ Fabricant oozed.

‘Only for whoever it is that’s trying to undermine me. I will find them, and I will get even. When that happens, mate, it will be cataclysmic.’

‘That may be,’ he said. ‘But I would suggest you do it quickly. From what I hear your tenure of office may be rather short.’

‘That’s been said at other times and in other places, but I’m still here.’ I started to rise. ‘I’ll give your principal forty-eight hours to authorise the release of our funds.’

‘Actually, I had the opposite in mind.’ There was something in his tone that made me sit down again, as he took a document from his desk and slid it across the desk. ‘This is a copy of the agreement signed by Mr Culshaw when we set up our joint venture. If you read it, you’ll see that it commits Gantry to providing funding of up to fifty million, not merely the twenty that’s been lodged so far.’

I scanned the document, then passed it to Wylie. He read it and winced. ‘What he says is the case, Mada … Primavera.’

‘And we’re calling for the balance to be subscribed immediately,’ Fabricant announced. That was Cress’s new information, I realised at once; it was out there in the public domain and it was screwing us already.

‘And I’m telling you to fuck off,’ I retorted. ‘Come on, Wylie, we’re out of here.’

As we stood, he stayed seated, grinning at my anger. ‘We’ll sue,’ he warned.

‘You do that,’ I snapped. ‘See if you can arrange for the case to be heard by Lord January. He’s my son’s uncle. I’ll be telling him all about you, Diego, and he’ll be telling all his friends.’

It was a crap threat and we both knew it, but it was all I had, other than the satisfaction of shaking his office door on its hinges as I closed it behind me. I’d expected to see Kim Coates beaming behind her desk, but she was gone.

I headed for the exit, then paused. I took out my phone and photographed Fabricant’s client board, then stepped into the corridor. Outside I sent the image to Cress Oldham, with a text message.

‘Check this against the enemy’s client list. See if it sets anything off. P.’

‘We’re in trouble, aren’t we?’ Wylie sighed as we stepped into the glass lift.

‘That’s a fair analysis,’ I chuckled.

‘You must be regretting letting yourself get involved in this.’

The chuckle became a full-out laugh. ‘Are you kidding?’ I exclaimed. ‘I haven’t felt so alive in years.’ He probably thought I was crazy, and if he did, quite possibly he was right.

Finally, I had to admit to the truth, that I’d been hiding from myself, and that, apart from watching Tom grow towards manhood, the challenge of risk and danger, be it financial or physical, is the only thing that really floats my boat.