Wheel of Fire

Twenty-Two

Freddie Fairbrother had not booked himself on the next available flight to Australia, as he’d told his sister he would. After all, he’d decided that he wouldn’t go along with her planned course of action, and once he’d made that call to the one person who could stop Bella, everything changed. Obviously.

He had, however, hedged his bets — something of a habit with Freddie — driven to Heathrow, and checked himself into an airport hotel.

He didn’t really like to think about what might happen to Bella now. He told himself she would just be brought back into line, made to realise what she and the whole of what remained of the Fairbrother family stood to lose if she carried out her threat, as Freddie saw it, to tell the police what she knew.

But then, ever since hearing of the fatal fire at Blackdown Manor, he had been intent on convincing himself that there was a relatively innocent explanation for everything; and most certainly no conspiracy to murder. Freddie remained extremely adept at pulling the wool over his own eyes. He was actually very anxious about Bella, fearing the fate that might now befall her. But, at the same time, he told himself that he was being ridiculous. Whatever happened to Bella now, she had brought it upon herself by stepping out of line. And in any case, his sister was not an errant double agent who had fallen foul of the Russian state. Putin wasn’t out to get her. There was no question of Freddie having put her life at risk. Bella would be fine.

However, the truth was that Freddie wasn’t sure of that, nor anything else. In fact, he had dodged several calls that afternoon from DI David Vogel — the detective his sister had told him was heading the investigation into the fire at Blackdown and the subsequent deaths, the detective he had promised to call upon his arrival in the UK — partly because he was afraid of what the policeman might have to tell him.

Finally he picked up. After all, he told himself, presumably his sister had given Vogel his number, and the detective’s call could well be just routine.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Fairbrother,’ said the DI formally. ‘I have been trying to contact you as a matter of urgency, because, well, there is no easy way of saying this, but I am afraid I have some very bad news for you.’

Freddie was standing by his room’s triple-glazed picture window, idly watching a 747 coast in to land on the runway nearest to his viewpoint. He felt his knees buckle. There were two armchairs by the window. He sank quickly into one of them. Vogel was still talking.

‘Normally, Mr Fairbrother, in situations like this, we would not deliver such news over the telephone. But as we do not know where you are, there seemed little choice—’

‘It’s Bella, isn’t it?’ Freddie interrupted. ‘Something’s happened to my sister. Just tell me, for God’s sake, tell me.’

Freddie had difficulty getting the words out. His throat felt as if it were closing up. He couldn’t swallow. He wasn’t even sure he could breathe properly. He was gasping for air.

‘I’m afraid so, Mr Fairbrother. I am extremely sorry to have to tell you that your sister is dead.’

‘How?’ asked Freddie, his voice little more than a croak. ‘How did Bella die?’

‘I am afraid she has been shot, Mr Fairbrother.’

‘Shot? Murdered?’

‘Yes, sir. I fear so.’

‘Oh my God! Where? Who? Do you know who did it?’

‘Not yet,’ said Vogel quietly. ‘But we will find out, you can trust me on that, Mr Fairbrother. She was killed in her home, in her London flat.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Freddie again.

‘Look sir, I realise you have had a terrible shock, but we do need to interview you as soon as possible. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me where you are, and we could make an appointment.’

‘I don’t know. I mean, why do you want to see me? I didn’t have anything to do with it.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting that you did, Mr Fairbrother,’ said Vogel. ‘But you are Bella’s brother and she is now the second member of your family to have died in, at the very least, suspicious circumstances, in under a week. I assume you are in the UK now, sir?’

‘Uh, yes.’

‘So, may I ask if you have seen your sister since your arrival here?’

‘Uh, yes,’ said Freddie again.

He was in too great a state of shock to lie. In any case, he feared he would only further incriminate himself.

‘And when was that, sir?’

‘This morning. I saw her this morning.’

‘In Somerset?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you still there?’

‘No.’

‘So where are you, sir?’

Freddie was well aware that Vogel’s manner was one of somewhat exaggerated patience. He didn’t entirely blame him.

‘I’m at the Heathrow Sofitel,’ he said.

Again, Freddie felt that lying would probably cause more trouble than telling the truth. He didn’t want to put himself in a position where he was on the run from the British police, not if he could help it anyway.

Vogel continued to speak. ‘Mr Fairbrother, it is quite possible that you are the last person to have seen your sister alive. Apart from her killer. Or certainly the last person to have spoken to her. I need to meet up with you as quickly as possible. I’m in London myself. I will come to your hotel and, traffic permitting, I should be with you in just over an hour.’

‘I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you...’

‘You may well have important information without even realising it, Mr Fairbrother. Please stay exactly where you are, and I shall be with you as soon as possible.’

With that Vogel ended the call.

Freddie’s heart seemed to be beating twice as fast as usual. The back of his neck felt sweaty and his hands were trembling.

Bella was dead. She had been murdered. He felt sure he knew very well who had killed her, or, more probably, arranged her killing. And Freddie himself had been instrumental in his sister’s death. It was the call he had made that morning which had led to this. He had little doubt about that.

Freddie may have been close to his sister once, but he had not seen her in twenty years. And he had always blamed her for the irrevocable rift with his father. After all, she was the one who had blabbed. So, he had felt little love for his sister, seeing her again after all that time. Unlike Bella, the other way around. However, Freddie had probably never really loved anyone in his life. Not since his childhood, anyway. But Bella was his flesh and blood. Not only that, she was the one who, armed with the contents of the briefcase he had handed over to her that morning, had been supposed to oversee the rescue and revitalisation of the family bank. And Freddie had continued to hope that Bella would merely be made to see sense, and that the rescue operation would continue as planned.

The news that she was dead, murdered, was therefore a shock in more ways than one. Not only was Freddie quite terrified by the prospect of an impending police interview that, unless he was very careful indeed, might lead to him being suspected of complicity in his sister’s death; but he did not see how the greater plan he was part of could possibly now proceed. Not without Bella.

Freddie wasn’t good at coping with difficult or stressful situations, which was why he had been more or less content to live the life of a lotus eater for so long. The situation he now found himself in was beyond difficult and stressful. It was a catastrophic debacle. Far from reclaiming his position as leader, if only nominally, of the Fairbrother clan, he could end up in jail. And he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Then his phone rang again.

‘Good afternoon, dear boy,’ said the voice of the man he had long ago learned to fear. The man he now quite believed could be capable of anything. But Bella’s murder? Surely not that.

‘Did you do it?’ he asked, his voice still little more than a croak. ‘You couldn’t have done, could you? Did you really kill Bella?’

The reply was swift and uncompromising. ‘Please be very careful what you say. Do not use names. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes,’ croaked Freddie.

‘Right. How do you know she is dead?’

‘The police called me. David Vogel.’

‘How did he have your number? You’ve only just arrived in the country.’

‘I don’t know. I suppose B... uh... she gave it to him. But you haven’t answered me. Did you do it? Did you kill her?’

‘I did what had to be done. She was about to blow the whole thing wide open, and it was you who told me that. Remember? She was out of our control. It was the last thing I wanted to happen. But she brought it on herself. You must see that. She had to be removed, for all our sakes and for the sake of the business, however hurtful you, or I, might find that. We must move on now. And we can move on together. As long as you do what I say, dear boy.’

‘Yes, yes of course,’ croaked Freddie again.

He was now trembling so much so that he had difficulty holding his phone. He suspected that he might have cause to fear for his own life. But he just hoped that he was indispensable, now that Bella was gone.

In any case, he had always been an unlikely rebel. On the one hand so wanting to go his own way, and on the other almost invariably needing to be told what to do if faced with anything remotely difficult or challenging. He knew he shouldn’t be ‘so bloody weak’, as his sister had told him, not for the first time, that very morning. But he’d never been able to help his weakness, Bella wasn’t there anymore. And that was largely down to him. So now all he could do was listen, obey, and hope that his caller still knew what he was doing and had a way out of this mess. He usually did, after all.

‘Right,’ came the reply. ‘I am going to arrange for a package to be brought to you. The same package that you unfortunately handed over this morning. You will take that to head office straight away. Its contents will almost certainly encourage the board to believe that the business can be saved, and that all they have to do is keep things going until the will and the trust fund papers the briefcase contains can be put into operation...’

‘But B..., I mean, she, said it could take weeks for a death certificate to be issued—’

Freddie wasn’t allowed to finish.

‘The family business has survived for centuries, I think it can survive for a few more weeks, as long as the board can be convinced of the ultimate result. That will be your job. And following the regrettable absence now of any other family member to take over the reins, you must make yourself available to chair the board. It is what will be expected.’

Freddie’s jaw dropped. Quite literally.

‘I can’t chair the board,’ he blurted out. ‘I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t know how to run an international company.’

‘No. Of course not. But I do. And I shall run the company with you as a mere figurehead. Which, by the way, was all that the person who regrettably is no longer able to fulfil the position was ever going to be. Only, unlike you, she didn’t know it.’

‘B-but, you’re going to be in hiding for the rest of your days, that’s what you said, wasn’t it?’

‘The Internet makes the world a very small place. I have always intended to remain in control. To be, quite literally, the power behind the throne.’

For the first time it occurred to Freddie that his caller had gone mad. Quite mad. But he still felt he had no choice but to rely on him.

‘Look, I’ll try, I’ll try to do as you ask. But it’s going to be way past office hours before I get to head office. There might not be anybody there.’

Freddie could hear a dry chuckle.

‘You needn’t worry about that,’ said the voice. ‘Under these circumstances I reckon the lot of ’em will be working all night.’

‘All right,’ said Freddie. ‘There’s something else, though. Vogel’s on his way to see me. He insisted. I don’t know what to say. I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing. You must help me. You must tell me what to do—’

Freddie was by then in a total panic. His words came tumbling out, until he was finally interrupted by that almost irritatingly calm voice. What would it take to make that man panic, Freddie wondered obliquely.

‘Of course, I will tell you what to do. You will have to speak to the police eventually, but not now. You need to calm down, and we should have a meeting so that I can brief you thoroughly. Meanwhile, when we have finished this conversation I want you to destroy your phone, and purchase a pay-as-you-go one as soon as you can. You mustn’t use it again to call anyone. The police have probably put a track on you. We can’t be too careful. You should check out of the Sofitel immediately. Take the Heathrow Express into town, and book yourself into the Paddington Hilton. I will get the briefcase delivered there. It should be waiting for you when you arrive. Then you should take it to head office, as I’ve already told you. And you must pull yourself together. The board have to believe that you are capable of running the show, because they need a figurehead as much as I do...’

‘But I can’t. I can’t run the show. I can’t run anything...’

‘I just told you. I will be with you every step of the way. You don’t have to run anything, just pretend that you are. You were a promising actor, once, weren’t you?’

‘I don’t know. People said so...’

‘Yes, they did. You still have the talent, I’m sure. Now what are you wearing?’

‘W-what...?’

Freddie actually had to look at himself in order to answer. He had finally showered, shaved, and changed into fresh clothes for the first time since his flight over. But he was still similarly clad.

‘Jeans, and a shirt, but everything’s clean,’ he said.

‘Do you have a suit with you?’

Freddie did. The only one he owned. His funeral suit. He had, after all, been expecting to attend a funeral, his father’s funeral. Now, with Bella’s death, it looked as if he might be attending two funerals. At least.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘OK, put it on. And a tie?’

‘Yes.’

It was a black tie. His funeral tie.

‘Put that on too. We need you to look like a businessman. If you look the part you will be all the better equipped to play it, right?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Freddie.

‘Good. Now all you have to do is to believe that we can still pull this off. We can, you do believe that, don’t you?’

‘Can we?’

‘Yes. Without any doubt at all. And you know what, dear boy? I think we’re both probably going to be better off without her. Really I do.’

‘Right,’ said Freddie. And then to himself, after the call ended, he muttered, ‘You really are quite mad, aren’t you? Quite mad. Why on earth didn’t I see that before?’

Nonetheless, he proceeded to do exactly what he had been told. He could see no alternative.