Deadly Business

Fourteen

Wylie and I had quite a bit to take in. I didn’t want to do it on the move, or in a pub, and so at his suggestion we went for afternoon tea in the Caley Hotel. Expensive yes, but compared with that taxi trip, good value for money.

‘What do we do, Mr Company Secretary?’ I asked him as we surveyed a three-tier stand laden with the kind of items that I’d been warning Tom since infancy were bad for his teeth.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead he took Diego Fabricant’s document from the pocket to which he’d consigned it, and reread it, slowly and carefully.

When he was finished he passed it to me. ‘That’s watertight,’ he decreed. ‘Phil did have the authority to commit the company to providing that level of finance, when called upon by our partner. We are liable.’ He paused. ‘Look, you’d need to ask Gerry Meek to confirm this, but I don’t believe it would bankrupt the company. You could cover it, but it would mean selling assets in a down market for much less than their potential worth, or borrowing against them at rates that would make your eyes water. It won’t bust you, but it will devalue your shares.’

‘And that’s what’s happening already,’ I murmured.

‘So it appears. Did you mean it when you said that you wouldn’t meet your obligation?’ he asked.

‘Christ, Wylie!’ I exclaimed. ‘Don’t put it that way. You don’t need to be that blunt.’

‘I’m sorry, but Monsoon’s QC will be even more direct than that if this gets to court.’

I called Cress Oldham. ‘What’s happened since we spoke last?’ I asked her.

‘The opposition is suggesting that Gantry’s due to funnel another thirty million into this development,’ she replied. ‘Tell me it’s not true, please.’

‘Sorry, it is. I’ve just found that out.’

‘In that case we can’t hide from it.’ I was getting to like Cressida, for her frankness and the honesty of her advice. ‘We have to advise the Stock Exchange of the position … as gently as we can, but we have to do it.’

‘I can see that. I’ll authorise you to issue a statement by me, confirming that we are committed to providing up to fifty million to finance the development. You should add that it is the upper limit of our involvement, and that the plan is for the investment to be recovered by the sale of tradable bonds to future members of the club. Finish up by saying that pending an extraordinary general meeting, Mr Philip Culshaw has been suspended as managing director, and succeeded temporarily by the finance director. How does all that sound?’

‘Strong,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t hide from the company’s weekened position, but it does show that you’re firmly in charge. The market will approve of that; they’re getting to like you already.’

‘Hopefully it isn’t going to turn into a long-term romance,’ I told her, ‘and I’ll be able to hand over to a permanent chair.’

She whistled, softly. ‘If you don’t mind, Mrs Blackstone, I’m not even going to hint at that. They’ve worked out who your brother-in-law is.’

‘His name is not to be mentioned,’ I warned her.

‘And it hasn’t been, by me, but it’s a fact and if it helps us, so be it.’

‘It won’t help us when it counts, though: at the EGM. Culshaw’s called it and he’s threatened to bring me down.’

‘But he can’t, can he? He doesn’t have the shares.’

‘No,’ I agreed, ‘but two people can, even if neither of them would. Two children, kids I love and who love me. The way things stand, they’ll be my undoing. And probably yours too,’ I warned, ‘if it goes that way.’

‘Is there anything you can do about it?’

‘Change the rules of the game,’ I responded, ‘but right now I don’t have a clue how to do that.’ I didn’t want to depress her further so I changed tack. ‘Did you get the image I sent you?’

‘Yes I did, and it’s legible. I’ve put my assistant on it. If there’s anything there he’ll find it.’

‘Soon?’

‘Yes. Meanwhile, I’ll issue your statement, and brief as hard as I can in your support.’

I let her get on with it, and turned back to the tea table to find that Wylie had eaten all the sandwiches. I picked up an éclair and was halfway through it when he asked me, ‘How many members do we have to recruit to get our money back?’

I made him wait until I’d finished the pastry and picked up another. ‘If income is split evenly between the partners … a safe assumption given the stupidity of everything else Phil did … there will have to be a thousand before we break even. But that depends on the bonds actually being sellable at a hundred grand.’

‘Is that realistic?’

‘I doubt it. I’d need to ask Jonny, Oz’s nephew. He’s a pro, and he has a very efficient manager called Brush Donnelly. He might be able to advise us. My gut, though, says that if we were marketing aggressively and internationally, quoting a hundred thousand US dollars, not sterling, it might be doable, but it would take a long time.’

‘If we could persuade Monsoon to hold off on demanding the extra thirty million?’

‘And finish the course with what we’ve put in so far? The number needed would drop to four hundred. But you saw Fabricant. Did he look negotiable? No, Wylie, it’s a set-up and old Phil’s taken us right into it, with his fucking nephew, if I read his reaction right. But what does Duncan have to gain if he is involved with it? Unless,’ a conspiracy revealed itself to me, ‘it’s a complete scam, the course never gets built and the money disappears. What about that?’

‘Then Farbricant would be party to a fraud,’ Wylie countered, ‘and there are no shooting parties in jail.’

‘True,’ I conceded. ‘So what else is up? Why do I feel there’s another game being played, right under my nose, only I can’t see the action?’

As I demolished my second éclair, my companion shook his head. ‘I have no idea, Primavera,’ he murmured. ‘I’m only a humble solicitor.’

I had to laugh. ‘That makes you unique in your profession, chum. Let’s go back to Glasgow,’ I said, ‘and find out what my boys have been up to.’

I let Wylie pay the bill … as an unspoken punishment for scoffing all the sandwiches … and we left the hotel. We headed along the tram-ravaged Princes Street, towards Waverley Station, and had almost reached the Mound junction when my phone sounded once again. I took it out and was surprised to see that the caller was Tom.

‘Hi, love,’ I answered. ‘Where are you?’

He shot my question back at me. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in Edinburgh with a colleague,’ I told him. ‘Now it’s your turn.’

‘So are we.’

‘You are? How come?’

‘We waited for Duncan,’ he began, ‘like you asked, outside. He had a car parked on a meter just around the corner. He didn’t see us and we were able to follow him. He went on to the motorway then came all the way through here and stopped at a house in a street called Farmer’s Way.’

‘When did he arrive?’

‘About ten minutes ago.’

‘What’s Liam doing? Why are you making the call?’

‘He’s busy, taking photographs of the house. It’s a big place, but we can see up the driveway. Duncan went right up the driveway and parked in front of the garage, then he went into the house. What’s he doing here, Mum?’ he asks. ‘He should be in Monaco, with Janet and wee Jonathan, if he’s going to be their stepfather. Shouldn’t he?’

‘You might think so,’ I murmured. ‘What happened when he got there? Who answered the door? Did you see?’

‘Nobody. He used a key and went in. He didn’t ring the bell or anything.’

‘Do you know if there’s anyone else in the house?’

‘That’s what Liam’s trying to see.’

‘What number is it?’ I asked. ‘Are you close enough to see that?’

‘I don’t think it’s got a number, Mum. But it does have a name. “Springs Eternal”, it says on the sign at the entrance.’

‘Somebody’s got a sense of humour. Let me see if I can find out anything about it. Tell Liam I’ll call you back.’

As we crossed the junction I explained to Wylie what had happened. ‘How easy is it to find out who owns the place?’

‘Simple. Let me call my secretary.’

I gave him the details. He phoned his office, snapped out clear crisp instructions, then suggested that we wait for a reply. We sat on one of the benches that look down into the eastern side of Princes Street Gardens. It was a warm afternoon, although not hot by my standards. Yet people were sunbathing, possibly getting themselves a base tan for the holiday season.

‘Is it as easy as that?’ I murmured.

‘Sure. The land and property registers are public documents; we can access them online, and get a pretty much instant return.’

And it was. It took less than three minutes for his very efficient secretary to call him back. As he listened, I saw him smile. ‘Thanks, Rita,’ he said, then turned to me. ‘You’re going to love this. The property is owned by a corporate entity.’

‘Monsoon Holdings Limited?’

‘Bullseye.’

I rang Tom back, on his phone. As he answered, I could hear road noise. ‘We’ve had to go, Mum,’ he told me. ‘Liam was worried that Duncan would see us if we waited any longer.’

‘I understand. Look, come into Edinburgh and pick us up. Tell Liam we’ll wait across the road from the station.’

We headed for Waverley Bridge. I’d been tired before we’d eaten, but all that sugar had refuelled me; as we passed it I was ready to run up the Scott Monument. When my mobile sounded yet again, as we stood waiting, across from the station access roads, I snatched my phone from my pocket like a gunfighter.

‘Yes!’ I exclaimed, so assertively that I think Cress Oldham was taken aback, for she paused for a second or two before replying.

‘I’ve issued your statement,’ she told me, ‘and it’s gone down well, so far. The analysts I’ve spoken to appreciate that you’re not a pushover, and that the Monsoon people aren’t going to have it all their own way. Also, we’ve got a hit, from that image you sent me. The one name on Fabricant’s board that’s common to the Greentree Stanley client list is a company called Torrent PLC. I can’t confirm that it’s behind the briefing but …’

‘That name’s familiar,’ I told her, ‘but right now I can’t place it.’ It was too, it had been mentioned recently, but I had so much information swirling around inside my head that I couldn’t bring it to the surface.

‘I’m in the process of finding out as much as I can about them,’ she replied. ‘But it could be a coincidence; I repeat, nobody at Greentree Stanley will confirm the source of leaked information … unless they’re forced to in court. I’ll-’

‘Yes, do that, get back to me. Got to go now.’ I cut her off because I could see our car turn down from Princes Street on to Waverley Bridge, with Liam at the wheel. Wylie and I ran across the road through a gap in the traffic and climbed into the back seat as he drew to a halt.

‘Starsky and Hutch,’ I laughed as he pulled away again. I could see him grin in the rear-view.

‘Who?’ Tom asked, twisting round to look at me.

‘Blasts from my past,’ I said. ‘What have you got?’

‘I don’t know,’ Liam replied, as he turned right into Market Street, as our taxi driver could have done, but didn’t. ‘A few shots of Culshaw getting out of his car and going into the house. Whether he’s identifiable, that’s something else again. He’s in profile in one of them, but in the rest he’s mostly got his back to the lens. There are others, though. For a very short time, I could see him through an upstairs window, and there was someone else there. I got off a couple of frames, very fast. That was when we decided we’d better get the hell out of there. If we had a clear view of him, then vice versa.’

‘How good are the images?’

‘I’ve no idea. I haven’t had a chance to look at them. Even if I did, I’ll probably need to load them on to a computer screen for them to be big enough to be legible.’

‘Can I have a look?’ I asked, reaching out a hand to Tom, who was holding the camera.

‘Better not, Mum,’ he said. ‘You might delete them by accident.’

‘Thanks for your touching faith in my high-tech skills,’ I muttered, but he had a point. Push the wrong button and the memory card could have been wiped.

‘How do I get out of here and back to Glasgow?’ Liam called out from the driver’s seat. I hadn’t been in Edinburgh for years, but my trip up Lothian Road had reminded me of one route, and I was able to give him directions to and along the Western Approach Road, past Murrayfield Stadium, on to Gorgie Road, and eventually to the motorway.

Once we were headed westward, moving steadily through heavy traffic, I asked Tom about his morning. ‘What did you see in the museum?’

He shrugged. ‘Old stuff. Cars, trams, a steam train; like the motor museum in Monaco, only much bigger. There are a couple of streets too, like they used to be.’ He grinned, then switched into Catalan. ‘I liked it well enough,’ he said, ‘but Liam, he was like a dog with two cocks in a forest.’

I came within a breath of asking him why a dog would go on a woodland walk with poultry, when I realised that wasn’t what he’d meant at all.

‘Tell her about the ship,’ Liam chipped in, blissfully unaware that his tackle had been mentioned in despatches, and that I was still coming to terms with the mental image.

‘There’s a tall ship moored there as well,’ my son explained. ‘It has three masts, and it was built on the Glasgow river. It’s quite big, seventy-five metres long, but it doesn’t sail any more. I’ve seen bigger in L’Escala, and been on a couple.’

Tom’s more into surfing these days, but he’s been to the local sailing school, and over the last year or so he’s crewed for a few people.

‘Have you?’ Liam exclaimed, clearly impressed. ‘Could you fix it for me to do that?’

Tom nodded. ‘Sure, as long as you know what you’re doing.’

Jesus, I thought, smiling, this man I’m involved with, he’s a schoolboy at heart.

Suddenly, Cress Oldham’s last called forced its way back into my mind. I turned to Wylie. ‘Does the name Torrent PLC mean anything to you?’ I asked him.

He swivelled round to face me in his seat. ‘Are you kidding?’ he gasped. In our admittedly short acquaintance, I’d never seen him so animated.

‘Hey,’ Liam called from the front, ‘even I’ve heard of them. Last time I was in Edinburgh, got to be ten years ago, making my first movie for Miles Grayson, after Oz got me the gig, he … Oz that is, got involved in this thing. It was a big scandal at the time. It involved a company and that was its name. There was this chick, too.’ He twisted as if he was trying to look at Wylie in the rear-view. ‘Isn’t that right … I’m sorry, I don’t …’

I realised that they hadn’t been introduced, and did the honours.

‘So I believe,’ Wylie told him. ‘I wasn’t involved in that in any way, but there was another incident later on, and I was party to that. Torrent PLC tried to take over the Gantry Group, even though it wasn’t really big enough to do so. Oz was involved again, very much, since Susie was expecting her second child at the time, and he dealt with the crisis. I’m not entirely sure how he did it, but the bid was withdrawn.’

Of course; and it was Harvey who had mentioned it by name.

I knew how Oz had seen off the threat, because years later, he’d told me. It was one of the secrets that I had not wanted Duncan Culshaw to explore; it was well buried and it had to stay that way.

‘Torrent PLC is owned by a woman called Natalie Morgan,’ Wylie continued, ‘one hundred per cent. She inherited it from her uncle whose name it bears.’

‘That’s right,’ Liam exclaimed, again. ‘She was involved in that thing. The actor … Ewan Capperauld was his name … who was supposed to play the cop in our movie, it turned out he was banging her. His wife found out, the whole thing blew up in his face and hers, big time, and he had to pull out of the movie.’

A few days before, I might have been concerned about his choice of words for Tom to hear, but after that crack about dogs and trees, my last delusions of innocence were in pieces.

‘If that’s the case,’ Wylie said, ‘she came out of the experience with a grudge against Oz, because the failed takeover bid was personally motivated, most certainly. But Primavera, why are you asking about Torrent?’

‘Because that’s who’s been using those leaked management accounts against us. The name jumped off Diego Fabricant’s client list.’

‘Can we prove they’re doing it?’

‘I doubt it, going by the advice I’m getting.’

‘But I don’t get it,’ the lawyer murmured. ‘Why?’

I was pretty sure that I’d got it, but I was keeping it to myself for the time being.

We were silent for most of the remainder of the journey. As we came off the motorway, Wylie asked Liam if he wanted to use his office computer to study the images he had shot, but I vetoed that. ‘It’s Greg McPhillips’ office as well, and he’s involved with the dark side. I’m not saying he’d spy on us, but let’s not put him in a situation where he might feel he had to.’

With that decided, we went back to the hotel, returned the car to the parking valet and went up to my, our, suite. I booted up my laptop and handed it to Liam. He connected his camera through a USB socket, then waited while the machine recognised its software. Initially every image on the memory stick was displayed, but he soon isolated those in which we had an interest.

He began by looking at the shots of Duncan leaving his car; yes, I could tell it was him, because that profile shot was recognisable. Another of those shots interested me. It showed him with a key in the Yale lock of the front door. He looked completely at ease and sure of his circumstances, not glancing over his shoulder, nothing furtive about him. He’d been there before, many times. Even in a still image, his body language was that of a man going home.

Liam moved on to the last two pictures that he had snatched, before he began to feel exposed and split from there. The first was blurred beyond redemption, but the other showed two figures. It was a telephoto shot, though, and their faces were indistinct. By the clothes he wore Duncan was one; by the clothes she wasn’t wearing the other was female, very obviously female. Long dark hair fell on to her shoulders, but didn’t hide any assets.

‘Tom,’ I began.

‘Forget it, Mum,’ he said. I didn’t argue, but I made a mental note to monitor his computer usage from that point on.

‘Liam,’ I asked, ‘can you make that any clearer?’

‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘It’s a high-resolution image, the sharpest the camera can do. Let me zoom it up, and make it as sharp as I can.’

He leaned over the laptop, two fingers moving gently, almost sensually, over the track pad, then when he was ready, clocking the return key with his thumb. ‘There,’ he announced, turning the computer so that Wylie and I could see what he had done.

Wylie’s mouth fell open ‘That’s …’ he gasped.

So did mine. ‘That’s Kim Coates,’ I exclaimed.

Liam chuckled. ‘You two can call her anything you like, but trust a man who never forgets a face, especially if it’s above a rack like that: that is Natalie Morgan.’

Why was I not surprised? She’d played me for a mug in Fabricant’s office, and she must have loved it.

‘I am professionally embarrassed,’ Wylie Smith said. ‘I should have known who she was, given her past history with the Gantry Group.’

‘Forget it,’ I told him. ‘You’re a man; you never got as high as her face when we met her. What I want to know is, what’s her past history with Duncan Culshaw? Do you keep company annual reports in your office?’

‘Only those of client companies,’ he replied, ‘but if Torrent has a website, you might find its reports available there. That’s if they publish them at all, beyond what they have to list with Companies House, by statute. It doesn’t have any shareholders to impress, other than Natalie herself.’

‘What does the company do?’

‘It’s always majored in office equipment. When Natalie’s uncle, James Torrent, was alive, they called him the photocopier king. When that market started to die, Natalie was smart enough to spot the symptoms early and diversified into information technology. She sells, installs and updates computer systems to companies of pretty much any size. In fact, when I think about it, I recall that Torrent provided a new set-up for us a couple of years ago. Let me call our IT manager; she may have some information about it.’

I left him to do that, and phoned Cress Oldham. ‘I’ve got the low-down on Torrent,’ I told her, then explained what I knew of the company and its owner.

‘How did Torrent get the leaked information? Do you have any idea about that?’

‘From very early on. The source was Susie Gantry’s second husband, now pretty much ecstatic widower, Duncan Culshaw. He stole it off her computer, although I’m sure he’ll argue that he had every right to do so. This is the same guy who brought the Babylon Links project to his uncle, and got him to commit fifty mil of Gantry money to the project.’

‘So why’s he feeding information to this Morgan woman?’

‘He’s feeding her more than information,’ I snorted, then had a particularly vicious brainwave. ‘I’m going to email you an image. You might be a little shocked by it. I don’t want you to do anything with it, until you hear from me, just keep it and think about where you would put it if you wanted to do the maximum damage to an individual’s reputation. I do believe I can answer your question, but I’d prefer not to, until I’ve sorted a couple of things out in my head.’

‘Okay to all of that,’ she said. ‘But help me out here. We’ve got Culshaw setting up the Babylon Links project with his uncle for Monsoon Holdings, then going to Torrent with information that’s designed to shaft it and Phil. That right?’

‘Spot on.’

‘So who’s Monsoon really?’ she asked. ‘Who’s Fabricant fronting for?’

‘Natalie Morgan, who else?’

‘I don’t get it.’

‘If I’m right, you will, very soon.’

‘It’s funny you should say that,’ Cress exclaimed. ‘I’ve just been tipped off that there’s a press briefing tomorrow morning, nine thirty, in Greentree Stanley’s office in Canary Wharf. I have a contact there and he told me I should keep an eye on it.’

‘No,’ I contradicted her. ‘It’s not funny at all. It’s the beginning of the end.’

‘Of what?’

‘Your client, Cressida; your client.’

Wylie was standing beside my chair as I ended the call. ‘My IT lady has some Torrent corporate brochures,’ he said. ‘I’ve asked her to send them here.’

‘Fine,’ I acknowledged. ‘Don’t wait for them, though. You’ve done a lot for me today. Get yourself home.’ The reports wouldn’t add anything to my knowledge base, but he was pleased with himself, so I didn’t tell him that.

After he’d gone, and after I’d attached Liam’s candid camera shot to an email to Cress, I called Audrey. ‘What news?’ I asked.

‘The French police have released Susie’s body,’ she told me. ‘The cause of death was a massive cerebral haemorrhage. The pathologist agreed with you, and with the consultant in Arizona. She should never have flown that far.’

‘What about the funeral?’

‘I don’t know, Primavera.’ She sighed. ‘Like him or not, Duncan’s her husband. I can’t do anything until he gets back, and that won’t be until tomorrow afternoon. He called Conrad to tell him that, and to say that he’s got about a week to find a new job. He didn’t say where he was though.’

‘He’s in Scotland,’ I told her. ‘He got in quick to check on Susie’s will.’

‘Where does it put him?’

‘In the driving seat, from the looks of things. I’m going to try to set up the children’s trust that Susie wanted, but even if I can, it’ll probably be too late.’

‘You sound really down, Primavera,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t; however this turns out, nobody could have done more than you.’

‘Oz would have,’ I sighed. ‘He’d have killed that fucker Duncan by now.’ It slipped out. I looked around for Tom, but he wasn’t there. He must have gone back to his own room while I was on the phone to Cress. ‘Don’t tell Conrad I said that, please.’

‘The mood he’s in, I wouldn’t dare.’

I decided to keep to myself the titbit about Culshaw shagging Natalie Morgan. That might have tipped both Kents over the edge. And then I realised … Tom had seen the image.

I jumped up, ran down the corridor to his room and knocked on the door, hard. He didn’t answer at first, not till I thumped it a second time. When he did, his expression was grimmer than I’d thought I would ever see it. His young face was set hard, full of rage.

‘How could he do that, Mum?’ he growled, as he stepped aside to let me in. ‘He was Susie Mum’s husband, she’s only just died, and he was with another woman. You know what? When I see him, I hope he tries to hit me again. If he does, he won’t get up this time.’

‘Tom!’ I exclaimed. I was genuinely frightened by him. I’d been half joking with Audrey about Oz and Conrad, yet here was my son making the same lethal threat, and serious, deadly serious, even if he was probably still too small to make good on it. I held him, but he was stiff in my arms. ‘Please, love,’ I begged him. ‘Don’t ever think like that. Remember what Liam said about anger being your enemy.’

‘I don’t care,’ he snapped. ‘I’m that man’s enemy.’

‘Cool it, boy,’ I said. ‘Cool it. Do you think your father would have wanted to see you like this?’

‘Maybe he would. Maybe he’d have been proud of me if I did something to Culshaw.’

‘No, my love,’ I replied, ‘he wouldn’t. I promise you that, on my life. Why do you think I’ve brought you up to be good, kind and gentle? It wasn’t his fault, but he wasn’t always like that, he knew it, and he would never have wanted me to raise you in that image. That would have been his worst nightmare.’

I stayed with him until he was something like his normal self again, then I went back to the suite. I was still shaken; Liam realised that straight away, so I told him what had happened. ‘I’ll take care of him,’ he promised. ‘I’ll talk him down, clear his mind.’

I called the office; Cathy Black was still there. I told her that I expected the next day to be a busy one and that I’d be in by nine, at the latest. That was a long time away. I was restless; I still had some energy to burn, and an idea came to me, of how to use some of it up. I called Cathy again, and asked her for the suspended managing director’s home address. He didn’t live too far away, in Bearsden, an upmarket suburb on the western outskirts of Glasgow.

‘I’m going out,’ I told Liam. ‘I’m going to see Phil Culshaw.’

‘Want me to come?’

‘Thanks for the offer, but no. I won’t need a minder. Anyway, I’d rather you stayed with Tom.’

He nodded. ‘Sure. How about I take him to the gym, let him show me his stuff, let him kick the crap out of me, if that’s what he needs?’

I kissed him in the middle of the forehead. ‘You’re a doll, you really are. You do that, but listen, don’t let him wear you out too much. You’re forty-something, after all, and you’re going to need some strength later on.’

I put my laptop in my bag and headed down to the lobby. The staff recovered my car from the park and I entered Culshaw’s address into the satnav. It took me out of the city along Maryhill Road. I remembered that as being busy, but the worst of the evening traffic was over, so it was quiet. I hadn’t been driving for much more than twenty minutes before my guide told me that I’d arrived at my destination.

I could have called ahead but I didn’t want to give any advance warning. I realised there was a good chance he’d slam the door in my face, assuming he was in, but I was prepared to risk that.

His house was a big stone villa; there was a Range Rover parked in the driveway, almost hiding the Mini behind it from sight. I rang the bell, and heard an old-fashioned clanging from inside.

Phil was in. His eyebrows rose when he saw me standing there, and I reckon he did consider the slamming option, before deciding against it.

‘Mrs Blackstone,’ he exclaimed, then peered theatrically at my hands. ‘Sorry,’ he chuckled, ‘I thought you might have been carrying an olive branch, but no such luck. I take it you want to talk, though?’

I nodded. ‘I do.’

‘Then you’d better come in.’ He stood aside and ushered me into a dark hallway, then through to the back of the house. The place had a lonely feel to it. I looked around for any clues suggesting the presence of another person, but there were none, no lady’s coat on the stand in the hall, only a well-worn Barbour jacket and a flat cap.

‘You live alone?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Beth passed away four years ago. I know, you’ll be thinking this place is far too big for an old guy on his own, but I can’t be bothered to do anything about it. I haven’t even sold her car.’

‘No,’ I replied, ‘I wasn’t thinking that, honestly. My house is as big as this and there’s only my son and me to rattle about in it.’ The guy was lonely, I realised. By unseating him, I’d probably taken the best part of his life away from him.

He led me through to the inevitable conservatory; in Britain every home should have one, it seems. It took up a good chunk of the back garden. We took seats facing each other across a low table. He offered me coffee, ‘or something stronger’, but I declined either. ‘In that case, Mrs Blackstone,’ he continued, ‘what have you come for?’

‘Let’s cut the formalities, please. I want to show you something, Phil. It could go public and it involves a member of your family. That’s one reason why I want to give you advance warning, but it’s not the only one.’

I took my computer from my shoulder bag, and pushed the start button. I’d left it in sleep mode, so when it woke up, the image that had been there sprang instantly to life. It was Liam’s candid camera shot, taken in Barnton through the bedroom window. I put it on the table and turned it around so he could see it.

He looked at it, frowned, then put on a pair of reading specs and looked closer. As he did, I heard a soft gasp.

‘You know who she is?’ I asked.

‘Do I ever. That’s Natalie Morgan.’

‘So I’m told, although she called herself something else when we met in Diego Fabricant’s office this afternoon.’

‘Fabricant’s office,’ he repeated. ‘What the hell was she doing there? Unless …’ A sockful of pennies dropped, with the force of a thump round the ear. He stared at me. ‘She’s Monsoon Holdings? She owns the bloody land?’

‘The way it’s set up, we’ll never prove that she’s the beneficial owner, but that’s the way I’d bet. Monsoon owns her house as well.’

He buried his face in his hands for a second or two then ran his fingers through his grey thatch. ‘God damn it,’ he sighed. ‘And him too! Sleeping with the bloody enemy. Bugger it, bugger it, bugger it! I am sorry, Primavera; I had no idea.’

‘I believe you, Phil. But tell me, please: how was the deal brought to you?’

He stood up, abruptly. ‘Yes, I will tell you,’ he began, walking over to a cabinet that stood against the wall. ‘But first, I need something to help me absorb this.’ He took out a heavy-based glass, a bottle of Isle of Jura malt and poured himself a sizeable slug. He waved it in my direction. ‘Sure you won’t?’

‘No thanks.’

I waited, while he came back to his seat. He swallowed about a third of the whisky, then took another look at the image. ‘I’ll send you a copy,’ I offered.

He shot me a sour grin. ‘Better not. Bad for my blood pressure. The deal,’ he continued. ‘It was Duncan, of course, but you know that. He approached me last year. He said that he had an associate who owned a piece of land that was ripe for development as a posh golf course, aimed at a high-roller international membership. He explained that his colleague had done some research and had the vision, that all he needed was a funding partner to make it fly. I asked him how much, he said the whole thing could probably be built for under ten million, but it should appear that the developer company, which would be a fifty-fifty joint venture, had access to much more than that. This, he said, was because we’d be looking to recruit billionaires as members, Russian oligarchs, American hedge fund managers, German industrialists, et cetera, and that they would be more likely to be attracted by something that could demonstrate substantial resources. The proposition was that Gantry would agree to underwrite development costs of up to fifty million, with a verbal agreement that we’d only ever contribute less than twenty per cent of that.’

‘Did you ever put this to Susie?’ I asked.

‘Yes, but not straight away. She had just gone to America for her first round of chemotherapy. Incidentally, Primavera, she told me at the very start of her illness that she was a long shot to make it, and that while she fought this thing she’d have to delegate much more than usual to me. So I signed up to the formation of Babylon Links PLC, and I only told her about it when the deal was done. She didn’t question it at all.’

‘Did you ever meet Fabricant?’

‘That’s the damnable thing; I didn’t. Duncan was the intermediary all the way through. It was him who came to me and said that the planners had asked Fabricant to show a bank deposit of twenty million as a condition of their consent. I baulked at that, but Duncan told me not to worry, that Fabricant would agree to return most of it as soon as we’d been given the planning green light. Bastard stalled me on it, but I had, still have, hopes that he’d come through soon.’

‘You can forget that, Phil.’ I dropped the bombshell, that our partner was calling in the other thirty million. ‘I’ll resist it, but we’re on a loser in court.’

‘Couldn’t we show that it’s a conspiracy?’ he suggested.

‘They’re not doing anything wrong; all they’re doing is implementing a binding agreement which we signed.’

‘That I signed,’ he corrected me.

‘In good faith, as I now acknowledge,’ I added for him. ‘Whatever, my advice is that under Jersey law we’ll never prove that Natalie Morgan is the beneficial owner of Monsoon Holdings. Sure, I could leak that image to the tabloids and embarrass her and Duncan, the grieving widower … not … but if I did, she’d probably get court bans on publication within hours. My worry is, Duncan’s involvement might damage the Gantry Group even further, given the power he can now exercise using the children’s shares.’

Phil nodded. ‘I apologise for my rudeness this morning, Primavera, and for my threat. Of course I’ll withdraw my request for an EGM.’

‘I’m sure it would be followed by a new one … if it’s even necessary.’

‘What do you mean?’ he murmured, cautiously.

‘You know what I mean,’ I said. ‘You know what’ll happen next.’

He sighed. ‘I fear I do. And there’s no way of stopping it?’

‘Not that I can see.’

‘Then good luck. Primavera, I’m going to resign. I’ll announce it formally first thing in the morning and throw my full support behind you as executive chair. That might help.’

‘It won’t, but thanks for the gesture. Anyway, I don’t want to be executive chair. I want to take my kid back home, as soon as I can.’

I left him in his big empty house and headed back to the hotel. The Rock ’n’ Roll suite was empty too, when I stepped inside. That took my mind back to Phil Culshaw, and what I’d said to him; I really did want to be back home as soon as possible, for Tom’s sake, for my sake, and for the sake of my new relationship. But I had other responsibilities, to Janet and wee Jonathan, and to the company, and if I was wrong about the outcome I envisaged, I couldn’t walk away from them. Yes, Phil would carry on as managing director if asked, but honestly I wasn’t sure that was the right move. He was beyond for what most people would be retirement age, and the ease with which he’d been suckered by his arsehole of a nephew cast doubt on whether he still had what it takes to run a hundred million pound company.

Of course, I was kidding myself there. It wasn’t worth a hundred million any more, or anything like it. I switched the laptop back on to check the share price and shuddered when I saw it. The latest leak had done us in; my earlier bounce-back had been swept aside and it had gone back into free fall, down to forty per cent of where it had been at close on the previous Friday.

I was absorbing the news when the door opened and Liam came in, wearing one of the hotel’s white dressing gowns that we had found in the wardrobe. He was slicked with sweat, and his face was flushed.

‘I didn’t realise till just now, but I am out of shape,’ he announced. ‘Tom and I ran on treadmills, side by side, same speed, same programme. He’d still be going if I hadn’t called it quits.’

I smiled at him. ‘Are you going to blame me for that? “Women weaken legs.” Wasn’t that what Rocky’s trainer said in the movie?’

‘No, I was just busted. I got him to show me his stuff, though. He’s good, way in advance of his age, and very, very fast with his hands and feet.’

‘Did you get the anger out of him?’ I asked, still anxious about the way he had been.

‘I tried to show him that his outrage was over Culshaw’s behaviour,’ he replied, ‘and that his feelings had no place within the discipline he’s studying. What I told him was that he should feel pity, not anger, for somebody as morally bankrupt as that, and that he needs to have patience, for sure as hell our sins and our guilt catch up with all of us eventually.’

‘I can’t think of Tom as having sins,’ I confessed, ‘or guilt.’

‘He has pretty low counts in both, I’ll grant you,’ Liam chuckled, ‘but we all have sins. I’ve told you my great sin. I took it upon myself to condemn my old man to death. Although he may have deserved it, the decision wasn’t mine to make, and I’ll do penance for it every day of my life. As for guilt, you never know when that’s going to find you. For example, I feel slightly and irrationally guilty over sleeping with you.’

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Is your nose hurting?’

He felt it. ‘No, not a bit. I know how Oz felt about you, that’s all.’

‘The late Oz,’ I pointed out.

‘Sure. I told you, it’s irrational. Don’t you feel some of it?’

‘Maybe the first time we did it,’ I admitted, ‘there was a pang. Then I remembered how he felt about you, and since then I’ve been able to believe that if he’d had to choose someone for me to get together with, it would have been you.’

‘But do you really? Deep down? Believe it?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘But what about you? Suppose I’d never met Oz and we’d never met before and there were no associations with the past? Would you have chosen me?’

I took hold of the lapels of his robe, pulled him close, and kissed him. ‘When I saw you last Friday,’ I told him, ‘then when we met on the beach, when I had no idea who you were, the truth is, I chose you then. It took me a day or so to realise it, that’s all.’

‘When we get back,’ he whispered, ‘back to Spain, can I stay for a while?’

‘Honey,’ I replied, ‘you can stay for as long as you like. I know you didn’t set off on your travels looking for a ready-made family, and if you decide it’s not for you, I’ll understand that, but I’ll help you find out, for as long as it takes.’