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by Freddie P Peters

  Pole remained silent. How unexpected. The intriguing Ms Wu wanted a word, and why not.

  “I’ll come down Reg. Ask her to wait please.”

  “Okey dokey, Guv.”

  Nancy was standing in the lobby, absorbed in considering the space when Pole reached her.

  “Ms Wu, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  “Good evening, Inspector,” said Nancy. “I was admiring your new lobby. It’s a lot more impressive than it used to be … but could do with a good piece of contemporary art.”

  Pole smiled at the remark.

  “Apologies! Good evening Ms Wu.”

  “Don’t worry, I have not come to discuss the merits of the new interior decoration. What exactly was your role in 1992 with the Met and the Counterterrorist Squad?”

  Pole’s face turned to stone.

  “I could try to find out indirectly but why not answer the question yourself,” carried on Nancy.

  “May I ask why it is of any concern of yours?” replied Pole dryly.

  “Henry is Irish, from Northern Ireland as you know by now. I just wanted to decide whether the Inspector leading the case had particular views on this key fact.”

  Nancy was squarely facing Pole. Her ebony hair clasped with an ivory pin, her almond eyes sparkling with intelligence and wit.

  “If you are trying to establish whether I will be biased–”

  “I am not implying anything, Inspector,” Nancy interrupted “I am simply asking some honest questions. I do not shy away from these issues, in particular if I feel they may be material to the case.”

  Pole remained silent. Part of him just wanted to give Nancy a piece of his mind, while the other part wanted to yield to the openness she had shown.

  “Well, I presume you will find out. I was with the Met but worked as liaison officer with the Squad. And before you ask, it was complicated and mistakes were made in 1992. It was a long time ago, so no, I do not hold a grudge.”

  “That I can believe Inspector,” replied Nancy. “It takes a certain type to join the Squad.”

  “A compliment?” replied Pole.

  “No, a statement of facts,” said Nancy unperturbed. “I like to determine very quickly how I can work with people Inspector. I am not trying to be argumentative but I will get to the point and rather quickly at that, if I feel it is in my client’s interest.”

  “Very good, Ms Wu, and I will certainly be more than happy to oblige,” retorted Pole, invigorated by this honest discussion.

  “We now understand each other, which is excellent,” said Nancy. Pole had expected her to bid him farewell but she was not finished. “And to show you I think we can work together, I have come to give you an important piece of evidence.”

  “Why now? Should you not have come forward earlier on?”

  “A valid question of course but I needed to know how to approach this. Are we to talk here or your office?”

  Pole pursed his lips.

  “It depends how long this will be.”

  “Very short indeed. I received post for Henry a day before the flight. The janitor is on holiday and his replacement is quite absent-minded I am afraid. In that post were a couple of plane tickets which I suspect were for the fated trip to Switzerland. I asked the young man to redirect them to Henry and was a little short with him. Probably because I felt guilty I had not done so myself more swiftly.”

  “In short Henry did not get the tickets on time because you could not be bothered,” said Pole.

  “A harsh but good summary of the position,” replied Nancy unfazed.

  “Does Henry know?”

  “That is between me and my client, Inspector. With due respect of course.”

  “Anything else I need to know?” said Pole bluntly.

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Fine,” Pole grunted. “I will get one of my team to record your statement.”

  “Thank you for your time Inspector, no doubt we shall speak soon. A bientot.”

  “Certainement. Et au plaisir,” finished Pole in impeccable French.

  Pole gave a short nod, turned back, disappeared into a lift and walked back to his office. He went straight to his computer and clicked on the Scotland Yard search website. He entered Nancy Wu’s name. He scrolled through her bio quickly and returned to the beginning. Her mixed cultural background did not surprise him, but the history of her family both intrigued him and resonated with his own personal experience. The internship with Jacques Vergès however was utterly unexpected. He jotted a few words on a pad, a reference to the Klaus Barbie affair. Ms Wu must have been fiercely ambitious to agree to be one of the defence lawyers for a war criminal. Pole would not cast judgement on whether Nancy Wu was also devoid of all moral principle to have accepted this assignment, knowing the answer to this question was more complex than it seemed. Then again, she had left France and entered pupillage at Gray’s Inn. Her career had been stellar, becoming a Silk at such a young age. She should have been called to the bench but in 2008 Vergès’ name reappeared. Pole jotted down a few more words and sat back in his chair. Something important had happened in 2008. The Nancy Wu that had managed to get under his skin a few moments ago was a very different woman to the one he had just encountered on the page of the Yard search website.

  Why?

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Nancy turned the corner of her street, she looked up. Light was still on in Henry’s flat. She consulted her watch, it was past 9pm. Henry had followed her advice or perhaps not. There was to be no contact with GL until he had spoken to his lawyer, the notorious Pritchard QC. Pritchard had defended a number of high-flyers in the City. Finance was his domain. If Henry had focused in the way he should have, then his list of to-dos was finished. Nancy anticipated that it would be executed to perfection, with certain omissions of course. She couldn’t imagine a man like Henry disclosing all at a first meeting. Then again Pritchard was a man of extreme sagacity, the type of individual Henry had rarely met. A small pang of anticipation entered her heart. She smiled. Could it be that she was missing the old profession? It only took a few seconds for her to answer with a categorical no, or at least no to the way she conducted her affairs a few years ago. Nevertheless, she had to admit that she was enjoying the intellectual challenge.

  The door of her own apartment appeared in front of her. She paused before opening it. Should she check on Henry? Was he actually there or had he left? She decided against it. She would call when she had settled herself back into her flat. Another cup of Darjeeling would do the trick. The flashing light on her answer phone told her that she would not have to call. The small replay button was pressed and Henry’s baritone voice filled the room, poised but expectant.

  “I have completed my list. But I think I have to come back to you with a couple of questions. One or two points to clarify.”

  There was a small silence.

  “Happy to cook, by the way, although my standards are unlikely to compare to yours – takeaway perhaps. Let me know.”

  Mr Crowne is starting to come around. She had left the door ajar on the off chance and Henry a few moments later leaned against the frame, knocking inside the door.

  “Evening,” he said informally.

  “Good evening, my dear. How is it all going?”

  “I am very clear on most of it,” replied Henry as he sat down where he had sat before.

  He took the tea that had been poured for him, bringing the cup to his nose. The gentle and fresh scent of first flush Darjeeling satisfied his senses. He took a sip.

  “Do I really have to say a lot about Albert? I have to admit I disliked the guy but it feels futile and rather strange to speak ill of him now.”

  “Speak no ill of the dead for fear they may come and haunt you. That is a tad irrational for you, Henry,” said Nancy gently mocking him.

  “I don’t like speaking of someone whom I can’t challenge any longer.”

  “Fair enough. Why don’t you give examples? Show
us events that have happened between you and him that you think best describe your relationship and who Albert was. The prosecution will use these too and your defence team needs to be prepared with your version of facts.”

  Silence.

  “I can imagine that you must have done business together, closed transactions.”

  After some more hesitation, Henry succumbed to the most human of temptations, the pleasure of talking about himself.

  “I suppose I could talk about Dublin?”

  “I think you should,” said Nancy. “You know as well as I do it is an important moment.”

  “I am sure you are knowledgeable about my speciality,” continued Henry.

  “You mean the fact that you run the Structured Product Team at GL?”

  A smile and glance of admiration lit up Henry’s face.

  “So you know that GL arranges some pretty large deals for its clients?”

  “My old profession, Henry, I dealt with a lot of City people. I know your business.”

  “Well then you will appreciate … My team had closed a particularly large complex transaction, in fact the first of many. It was an accounting play that improved EPS, I mean Earning Per Share, for corporates. I must add that these transactions did not cause any negative effects in the markets.”

  “You mean this has nothing to do with subprime, of course.”

  “Absolutely nothing remotely to do with it. In fact, I think those guys got exactly what they deserve but that’s another story.” Henry poured himself some more tea.

  “The transaction had taken us nearly a year to construct and the amount raised was the largest ever raised for a quoted company, and still is, I believe.”

  Henry stopped, mentally perusing the record of the deals he knew had been done.

  “Yes, I am sure. Anyway, we had used HXBK as partners in the transaction. GL had taken a portion of the deal on its trading book and needed someone else to come along that the company would trust. There was no front running, of course. But our Head of Marketing is pretty good. He knew what we had to offer to place the deal with them.”

  “Was Albert’s team involved?”

  “They had to review the technicalities of the deal, legal structure, pricing.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, for a start this company had been their client for years. The CFO would derive some comfort if they joined. We were testing our ability to explain the deal and the impact of the parameters of pricing and kept a little black box that would give us an advance on the market.”

  “You mean, you protected your intellectual property because it did not impact on the buyer’s?”

  “Correct!” said Henry. Yes, Nancy would have been superb in his team.

  “And I presume Albert was livid.”

  “Oh yes, you bet. We had managed to market to one of his major clients right underneath his nose. Of course, the little motherfucker, sorry—”

  Nancy waved her hand. “Go on.”

  “But, we needed them buying into the deal alongside us. Very few clients enjoy being first to market, let alone with a bank they are not so familiar with.”

  “I suppose Albert did his best to scupper the deal?”

  “To start with he did, but we were confident and GL’s structure was very robust. He could do nothing but pretend he was working on a similar idea; pathetic really but so typical of him.”

  “And why Dublin?” said Nancy wanting to hear about what she suspected was a loaded subject.

  “We closed the deal there because we needed an offshore Irish company to structure the transaction.”

  “So, Albert was at the closing?”

  “Well, yes, and bearing in mind that HXBK came to the table and he knew the client. It was very hard to tell him to get lost.”

  “Who else was there, then?”

  Nancy poured herself a fresh cup of tea. Henry measured the impact of the question, admiring Nancy’s ability to lead effortlessly.

  “The usual suspects. That is a cast of thousands: structurers, traders, marketers, lawyers, accountants, the client and his own team of course.”

  “And Albert.”

  “And Albert,” acknowledged Henry. “We all got pretty drunk.”

  “In a good Irish pub?”

  “Wine bar, Michelin star restaurant and then a good Irish pub.”

  Henry’s mind drifted back to that evening. The face of his Chase and Case lawyer Pam hovers very close to him. They are both laughing. She is teasing him about drinking Guinness. She grabs his pint and drinks from it, pulling a face. He remembers her words after she has wetted her red lips with the dark liquid. Henry, babe, how can you drink this stuff? He can’t quite recall his answer but he feels the opportunity, the intimacy.

  “As a matter of interest, who was your lawyer on this deal?” asked Nancy, dissipating the last image.

  “Why?” replied Henry. Had she read his mind?

  “Well, once a lawyer always a lawyer as you must have guessed by now,” said Nancy. “I am interested in finding out who the next generation of high profile solicitor is.”

  “We use a number of law firms at GL but usually for these deals Chase and Case.”

  “A good choice. And do you have a partner assigned to your deals? It is rare to chop and change. Important to trust your key lawyer, it’s fine and dandy when it goes smoothly but when a deal goes sour,” continued Nancy.

  “Well, yes. I agree. It’s when a deal goes south that …”

  The memory of the Wooster QC debacle comes back to Henry like a slap in the face. He had thought there was something special between Pam and him. Physical attraction, he knew but perhaps something more. Trust he had relied on and the hope she cared.

  “And the lucky partner that looks after you at Chase and Case is?” said Nancy.

  “Pamela Anderson.”

  “Anybody else to help you celebrate the pinnacle of your career?” asked Nancy. She would come to Pamela later on.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you are Irish after all. And Dublin is a small place. I don’t wish to offend you by saying this of course. Are you not bound to meet people you know when you get out there?”

  “I know the owner of the pub quite well. I always bring a good crowd when I sign a deal and he gives me good service.”

  “Was it the pub you frequented when you went to uni?”

  “Nancy, really, Dublin was a hell of a different place when I went to uni.”

  “Mmm, so no uni pals to help you celebrate your big day?”

  The ring of Nancy’s phone spared Henry. He would not have to speak about Liam and Bobby. Nancy stood up. It was Pritchard QC.

  Henry no longer hears Nancy’s voice. It is sound rather than words, replaced by the buzzing noise of a pub, glasses ringing, laughter bubbling up.

  Henry does not notice his two friends at first. But Liam raises his glass in the distance with a large grin on his face. Henry goes to them cheerfully, inviting them to join his crowd for another round. The moment is too big not to ask his best pals to share in his glory. He feels invulnerable. Liam and Bobby stay with his party well into the night. Who have they been speaking to? He cannot remember.

  Nancy was standing next to her 1930’s phone when she turned to Henry.

  “Pritchard will see us first thing in the morning.”

  The memories of Dublin lingered in Henry’s mind. He stood up as if to shake off the image of his two friends. He bade Nancy goodnight and left.

  Nancy waited a few minutes before crossing her flat to her office. She opened her computer and started a search for the pub Henry had mentioned in their conversation. She knew something material had happened there.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Henry walked into his flat and was about to go to bed. He had nearly forgotten his BlackBerry. He had left it where it had dropped and not looked at it since. But the little red light was flashing in a hypnotic fashion. Henry tried to ignore it and was about to toss it into h
is briefcase when his last conversation with James resurfaced. What had he meant by speaking to Ted? He looked at his watch. It was gone 10pm but James would take a call.

  He dialled without hesitation. James mobile was engaged. Henry sent a quick text and the reply came back swiftly.

  Still @ office, finalising docs, anything you need?

  No txs, keep going, was Henry’s equally cryptic reply.

  He could be at the office in fifteen minutes if he took the car. Nancy had told him to stay away but so what? She was not his mother and he had already breeched her recommendations once by trying to call McCarthy. There had been no negative consequences, but then again McCarthy had not taken the call.

  Henry turned towards the door but something was holding him back. He hated this state of indecisiveness. It wasn’t him. His eyes fell on the wrapped-up painting. He had not looked at it or moved it since the night Nancy and he had had drinks. Henry walked decisively towards the piece and tore the bubble wrap in one violent move. The painting nearly crashed on the floor. Henry held it back and pushed it into position. Now he could see it better. He liked the ferocity of it and its uncompromised violence. Yes, he would once more bend the rules. He grabbed his car keys, tossed them once in the air. He pocketed his BlackBerry and walked out of his flat.

  The car park underneath the block of flats was brightly lit, Henry’s Aston Martin parked close to the entrance in one of the larger bays. Henry stopped for a few seconds, someone must be in the car park as the light was on. He looked around but could not spot anyone. He was about to deactivate the car alarm when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

  Nancy was standing in front of him.

  “Going for a spin?”

  “Absolutely. The car needs to take the air.”

  “And would that spin take you back to the office, by any chance?”

  “Look Nancy, you’re my lawyer not my guardian,” he raised his voice.

  “Frankly Henry, it feels as if I am turning into your guardian, otherwise stopped being so childish.”

  “What the fuck has childish got to do with it? I need to have a chat with one of my guys. It’s strictly business.”