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by Freddie P Peters

  “Who is the ranking officer?”

  “In the next car,” answered a tall middle-aged man as Pole presented his ID card, “The traffic’s holding him back.”

  “I am Inspector Pole, I am going in to assess the situation.”

  “You should discuss with Commander Jeffries,” replied the other man aggressively.

  “Not if we are in a critical situation that involves my case and your commander is miles away. He should have taken the tube!” replied Pole with a grin.

  The other officer grabbed his radio and made contact with Commander Jeffries. Pole, Andy and Nurani did not wait to hear the conclusion of the conversation. The three moved swiftly towards the entrance of GL’s offices and barely noticed the shouts calling them in the distance.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The bay window exploded into Henry’s back. He had dived onto the floor seconds before rolling onto his side to avoid the shower of glass. The dark silhouettes of the Counterterrorist Squad moved into the room but Henry was running. He ran towards the lift deaf to the shouts and noise behind him. He shoved Ted’s ID card into the slot, turned the switch back on to reactivate the elevator, pressed the fourth floor button all in one. A hand poked in as the doors were shutting but it was too late and the lift started moving. Henry’s tall body collapsed against the wall, sending reverberations into the side of the elevator. He was shaking uncontrollably.

  Henry had not given any thought as to what he would do next. The fourth floor was Mergers & Acquistions. He noticed he had blood on his jacket. He removed it, slung it casually over his shoulder and composed himself. When the doors opened, Henry had regained some control and opted to go in the direction he knew best. He veered swiftly to his left, meeting rooms on both side of the long corridor. Each room that was occupied had an engaged sign below the name of the room. He dashed into the first free room he found. He closed the door and sat on the floor. He did not want to think about the last hour. He simply wanted to enjoy a few more moments of freedom, a few more minutes of respite.

  Loud voices startled him, they were coming down the corridor, he held his breath as they walked pass. He stood up. As he retraced his steps back to the lift, he noticed one of the room’s door was open, papers spread over the meeting table, laptops showing figures and diagrams, jackets on the back of the chairs. Henry looked into the room – no one there, how careless! Henry managed a smile and picked up one of the jackets that looked large enough to fit him, in exchange for his blood-stained one. He slung it over his shoulder again. Henry started walking in the opposite direction, the elevator might not be such a good idea. He remembered that there was a set of stairs between the fourth and third floors. This enabled the M&A people and their analysts to communicate without having to share lifts with other parts of the bank. He still had Ted’s ID, it should be good enough. He accelerated his pace, grabbing a pile of documents that were being photocopied as he walked past. He looked over at the far side of the large open-plan office and stopped in his tracks. A figure he thought he recognised was walking towards him.

  * * *

  Pole had flashed his inspector card at the security guard, demanding to be led immediately to the control room. The security team was on high alert. One of the men at the entrance door accompanied Pole to a room at the back of the reception desk, a couple of people were scrutinising the CCTVs, all other staff dispatched throughout the entire building to search for Henry. Information was being exchanged but nothing concrete had yet emerged, the hunt for Henry was picking up pace.

  “Have you seen him?” asked Pole with minimal introduction.

  “We think he is on the fourth floor, but not sure yet. Some of your team have just stormed the CEO’s office where Crowne previously was. The lift on the ninth floor dropped someone on the fourth a couple of minutes ago.”

  Pole clenched his fist. He did not have time to question why the rapid intervention team of the Counterterrorist Squad had been put in position without him being informed. That would come later.

  “The fourth floor you said, which lift side?”

  “The right-side Inspector,” replied the older man in charge, without looking at Pole.

  Pole turned around and started running towards the lifts. Nurani was at the entrance surveying the arrival of the Counterterrorism Squad commander. Pole called her on the mobile and she turned around.

  “Nu, don’t follow me but go back to the car and get into the MD’s garage with Andy.”

  He did not wait for a reply as the elevator had arrived. A few people walked out unaware of the drama unfolding a few floors above.

  The doors opened onto the fourth floor. Pole walked out and quickly tried to get his orientation. He decided to turn left away from the meeting rooms, he would get a much better view of the entire floor from the other side of the open-plan office, a 50/50 chance of getting it right.

  Pole recognised Henry before Henry saw him. He stopped. Why should Henry trust him? Why wouldn’t he try for a final escape? Pole decided to stay still, waiting for the other man to see him, signalling his willingness to talk, to give Henry the option of a less violent outcome. He waited, knowing that in a few seconds he would be noticed. The silhouette that Henry had seen in the distance was now staring at him, no movement, an immobility that was waiting for acknowledgement and Henry understood. It was Pole, giving him the time to take a decision, expecting him to make the first move. The two men faced each other for a moment. Henry slowly moved towards the internal staircase, his eyes riveted on Pole. Pole could catch him if he moved fast but he remained still. Henry stopped, Pole immobile, both men feeling each other’s proximity. Henry started moving fast, he accelerated as he reached Pole’s side.

  “There is an internal staircase to the third floor,” said Henry before Pole could say anything.

  “Can we get to the garage from there,” replied Pole as he started walking swiftly with Henry.

  “We can do better, we can get to the CEO’s parking bay.” Henry managed a smile as he took Ted’s security pass from his pocket.

  “Do I even want to know how you got that?”

  They reached the staircase. Henry flashed Ted’s ID again in front of the electronic eye. The door released silently and they ran down the narrow passage.

  Pole called Nurani on his mobile. “Nu, find a way to wait for me at McCarthy’s parking bay.”

  He terminated the conversation abruptly and shut down his mobile altogether, not wanting to get his mobile tapped into. He gestured to Henry to switch off his BlackBerry too.

  “Left mine behind and borrowed McCarthy’s – don’t want to be traced either.”

  “For someone with no criminal record, you are doing pretty well.”

  “I am a man of many talents.”

  Henry was trying to sound amused but a cloud passed over his eyes as he spoke. Pole remembered Henry’s IRA links. They reached the third floor and entered the executive lift in silence. Ted’s card was put to use again and the elevator glided to its destination. When the door opened, Pole’s car was waiting with Nurani in the driving seat. Henry and Pole got in the back, she accelerated, barely stopping as she flashed her ID card at the security guard who had let her in. The car radio picked up a message. The CT Squad were not getting their way and they did not like it.

  A couple of calls came through for Inspector Pole whilst Nurani was driving them back to the Yard. Inspector Murphy told him that Bobby had been caught without a struggle once Liam was involved. Pole would not elaborate with Henry in the car. Pat had managed to extract a statement out of Bobby. The transcript of which was on its way to London. Pat sounded amazed at the content but gathered that his friend was in no position to talk. Then again Bobby had the reputation of being a crackhead. Pat surely knew that and it was unlike him to overdo the evidence. Pole did not want to elaborate and went back to his passenger. Now that the chase was over, Henry’s face had sagged into that of a much older man.

  “What happened in McCarthy’
s office?” asked Pole, not expecting an answer.

  “I settled a few scores,” replied Henry.

  “You did not—” said Pole.

  “No, Inspector Pole I did not,” cut in Henry.

  He turned and Pole noticed his clear blue eyes.

  “Although I had a moment of hesitation.”

  “Hesitation is good,” said Pole nodding.

  “I also sent some documents to HXBK. Compromising documents, of course. I will be surprised if this takeover is one of the reverse types, to quote my former boss,” said Henry through gritted teeth. “In fact, I will be very surprised if this takeover happens at all.”

  “What do you mean exactly?”

  Like most people, Pole had been following the market meltdown closely but he had also assumed, as everyone did, that GL was above the mess that the less worthy banks had succumbed to.

  “GL is up to its eyeballs in the subprime business.” Henry said.

  Pole ruffled his goatee, surprised.

  “I know,” continued Henry. “Who’d have thought? Such a respectable firm! McCarthy thought I did not know. What a stupid man, too wrapped up in his superiority. The only way we can survive the next big drop in the market and there will be one, mark my words, is to merge with HXBK. Of course, the guys at HXBK don’t know that or rather did not know that until this afternoon that is.”

  “But surely, they have looked at your books,” said Pole unconvinced.

  “And so what?” said Henry. “Do you really think that the complex derivatives structure we have on the books can be understood and valued easily? Neither the FSA nor the accountants fully understand the ramifications of what has been put on there. They rely on the rating agencies having done their work. The best credit is AAA, for example a country like the UK is AAA. GL created the famous Collateralised Credit Obligations, these are full of US subprime loans. These CDOS are tranched, like a cake. The best part of the cake, the one with icing and a cherry on top are AAA rated. But if you start eating at the cake from the inside both the icing and the cherry will collapse. This is what’s going to happen – today, tomorrow, very soon. I just don’t know how big the bubble is going to be.”

  “Are you telling me, Henry that even you don’t know what the hell is going on?” said Pole, incredulous.

  “Yep, I don’t know what it means for the financial markets, let alone the economy. It will all depend on how much leverage, I mean borrowing has been created around these structures.”

  Pole absorbed the information but refrained from asking his next question, keeping it for later, when it would be properly recorded as he suspected the answer would be Anthony Albert. Instead he came back to the documents that had been sent out.

  “So, what was it exactly that you sent HXBK?”

  “The summary, with simulations, of our exposure to subprime, unadulterated. It does not make good reading – at the moment at least $30 billion.”

  “Should you,” Pole stopped, this was a stupid question.

  Henry smiled.

  “I came to an abrupt but very clear realisation that no matter what, I will never work in the City again.”

  “Is this justice?” said Pole.

  “Revenge,” Henry didn’t hesitate. “We are all wired very simply in investment banking despite appearances. The most we can do is think about justice in a biblical sense, an eye for an eye.”

  Pole remained silent, he would no doubt read the results of Henry’s fax in the press tomorrow. It was indeed an unforgiving world.

  A new mail flashed on his BlackBerry, it was Dolores. She was chasing Albert’s solicitor and was promised a call as soon as the Will had been read.

  * * *

  Nancy was standing in one of Scotland Yard’s waiting rooms looking through one of the windows. Her mind had drifted towards art. She had been neglecting her role of patron and mentor, aware of the several missed calls she had not yet replied to. The Raft of the Medusa emerged from the depths of her mind the way it must have emerged on the horizon of the ship that rescued it. Its power, reinforced by the events of the last few hours, struck her. The despair and violence it described could be read at two levels: society and individual, thus was the power of the Raft. She knew something extreme had happened when the BBC reported the CT Squad at GL Headquarters. She was on her way to the Yard already when her mobile rang. Henry and she exchanged very little. Nancy’s patience was about to be tested to the full. For a fleeting moment she wondered why she had ever got involved. A last remnant of ego, a moment of intellectual vanity? Yes, there was the mistake she had made with the airline tickets, but she had owned up to it, she could have moved away with a suitably clear conscience. Whatever it was that had pushed her, she also had a sense of duty. She would see this case through just the way she had all those years ago in France.

  She had been mesmerised by Jacques. He was a powerful intellect and a true showman in court. The law was a medium, a tool he used to take on the most controversial of cases. She had dived into the world of criminal law head first. Moved by her own background, a Chinese father, an English mother and a childhood between Mao’s China and France; Jacques Vergès shared a similar background, a French father and Vietnamese mother together with an association to communism. Was it what she shared with Henry? The impact of a cross-cultural upbringing in a world hardly ready for it? The anguish of not knowing where to belong.

  Nurani interrupted her thoughts when she called her name. Nancy composed herself before facing the young inspector. She gave an affable smile and followed without a word. When she entered the meeting room, she sat in front of Henry and listened. He did not omit any details this time, including the impact of Liam’s confession. Nancy still listened when he finally spoke about the regular payments into the Swiss bank account.

  “You knew it would support some IRA operations, even though Ireland is trying to move on.” Nancy did not intend this as a question.

  “I never asked,” replied Henry.

  “You knew it would support the IRA,” repeated Nancy. She would not be put off by some non-answer. The Irish cause could be fought through other means but Henry gave a small shrug.

  “Why? Henry why?”

  “You and I are very different, Nancy,” said Henry.

  “That is rubbish and you know it,” replied Nancy.

  “You think there is always some goodness to salvage in someone but I don’t. I was born with anger and violence around me and that has become part of me, forever.”

  “That is not a good enough reason, I understand anger more than you can imagine–”

  “Do you know what my first childhood memory is?” interrupted Henry. Nancy would not have the last word.

  “A wall full of hatred, murals and slogans that spoke of death and retribution. Did I ever want peace? No, I wanted revenge and then I compromised; money makes you complacent. I wanted to grind those stupid bastards underneath my foot and I became one of them. So, somewhere I still had to have some truth in me, not to forget 500 years of abuse and exploitation, so OK I am a manipulative arrogant bastard of a banker but at least …”

  Henry paused as if considering the veracity of his statement.

  “I have remained true to my only friends.”

  A total and yet childish admission, a boy who had never grown up was speaking. Nancy extended a hand as if to reach Henry’s.

  “Did you have to go that far? You had escaped.”

  “You never escape Nancy. I can still hear it all: the bombs, the sirens, the gunshots, the insults and the cries of those who had lost someone they loved. It will never go away.”

  “It will never go away if you keep fuelling it. Did you kill Anthony Albert?”

  The question startled them both.

  “NO.”

  “Are we having a discussion about semantics?”

  “NO.”

  “Bobby is giving evidence as we speak.”

  “Bobby is a crackhead; he will do anything.”

  “A
nything for you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Henry paused, as the unthinkable began unfolding in his mind. Unwanted thoughts, now unleashed, rushed around his head. The door opened and Pole appeared, alone.

  “It won’t be long before the Counterterrorist Squad arrives.”

  “On the strength of Liam’s deposition?” asked Henry.

  “No, on the strength of Bobby’s.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The will itself was particularly short. An up-to-date statement of assets had been appended to the document. This attracted Pole’s attention as it was only a couple of months old. The entirety of Anthony Albert’s wealth was meticulously accounted for. The appendix was longer than the will itself but the decision unequivocal. All of Albert’s assets were settled in trust for his children. The forceful Adeila received nothing.

  Pole read the document again, motivated by professional habit rather than a need to check the content. Pole dialled Dolores’ extension. There was no reply. He looked at the clock, the reading of the Will had been over for less than an hour. Would Albert’s widow contest it?

  “She will have to. What a mess.”

  The phone rang, he picked up without checking the number. The voice was unfamiliar, but Albert’s solicitor introduced himself.

  “Have you received the document,” enquired the voice.

  “Yes, certainly. I have read it too. May I ask what the reaction at the reading of the will was?”

  “You mean Mrs Albert?”

  “Were there other relevant parties attending?”

  “Yes, the appointed trustees but to come back to your question, well,” the voice on the line was searching for a proper way to qualify the scene, “we thought she might be surprised, but there was not a moment of astonishment or even anger.”