Deadly Business

by Quintin Jardine

  Liam agreed with me that my ball and chain time was ancient history and therefore irrelevant. ‘You never did anything remotely as serious as crashing a bank, honey,’ he commented, ‘and all those guys walked away scot-free. As for whoever’s leaking confidential information, in what has to be an attempt to sabotage the company, I’d like to see him thrown in clink. In fact I’d even volunteer to guard the key.’

  ‘What are you going to do, Mum?’ Tom asked. Before I had a chance to answer he put a second question. ‘Do I have enough money to buy shares?’

  Tom knows he’s wealthy, but that’s about it. Unlike Susie, his father kept his will up to date. In it, he expressed the view that since his wife had a plenty in her own right, she didn’t need any of the fortune he left behind him. Therefore, apart from a substantial bequest to a charity established to provide for hard-up actors and actresses, it was divided among his three children to be held in trust until they reached the age of eighteen, in the care of, the will specified, ‘their legal guardians’. In Tom’s case that’s me. His seven-figure inheritance is invested by the same people who look after me, and thanks to the earnings that still accrue to the estate from DVD sales, it’s completely recession proof.

  And it was going to stay that way. ‘Yes,’ I told him, ‘but you’re not going to. If I let you do that, I’d be gambling with it and I’m not going to do that. Besides, you already own six per cent of the company, and when Susie’s affairs are settled, you, your sister and your brother will own a lot more. But your shares will be equal, and I don’t believe it would be right to upset that balance.’

  ‘There’s nothing to stop me investing, though,’ Liam murmured. ‘I’m not minted, but I’m comfortable. I have some spare capital, and I was planning to sell my Dublin apartment. I only ever bought that for tax reasons anyway.’

  ‘Five million?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Nowhere near.’

  ‘In which case, boys, I have to look elsewhere. Tom,’ I said, ‘wheel that trolley out into the corridor, then go and sort out what you’re going to need for the day.’

  ‘What am I going to do today, Mum?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, you can’t come into the meeting,’ I said, ‘nor can Liam, even though the two of you are both shareholders. So I thought that you might spend the morning getting acquainted with Glasgow and with each other.’ I looked at them both. ‘How does that sound?’

  ‘Good to me,’ my partner agreed. ‘There’s some new stuff been opened down by the river since the last time I was here. You up for checking that out, Tom?’

  He nodded, picked up his iPad and headed for the door, pushing the trolley as requested.

  ‘I’m not rushing you, am I?’ I asked Liam, once he’d left. ‘If you feel uncomfortable, just say so.’

  ‘About what? I don’t see myself as a child-minder. He’s a bright, mature kid, and I enjoy his company, just as I enjoyed his father’s. If you’re worried that I might put myself forward as a replacement, then don’t. I’m happy to be his mate and his mentor, but never his dad.’

  I hugged him to me. After years with nobody to hug whose head came past my shoulder, I was enjoying the novelty. ‘You’re a sweet man. I’m going to miss you when you go back to Toronto.’

  ‘It’ll be quite a little while before I think of that. You’ve promised to show me Catalunya, remember. I have a book to do. This morning might help towards that. I brought my camera with me.’ He kissed me on the forehead. ‘Once the smoke clears, babe, we’ll be able to see the future better.’

  ‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘But one thing I can see already; when we do get back to Spain, you are moving out of that hotel and in with me.’

  ‘What was that you were saying a minute ago, about rushing me?’ He laughed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I murmured, my crest a little fallen. ‘Too big a step?’

  ‘Hey, I’m kidding. That would be great, this is great. If Tom’s happy with it, let’s take our thing for a test drive.’

  ‘Good. Now that’s sorted, let me get on with clearing the way so we can go back. I have a call to make.’

  Liam went through to the Rock ’n’ Roll bedroom and left me to it. I dialled the number, straight from my contacts list. Miles answered, straight away.

  ‘Primavera!’ he exclaimed. ‘Hussy! I knew you and Liam would get on, but not that well. Your sister has been smirking like the cat that got the cream ever since I showed her that image. Go carefully, both of you, but have fun.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Miles. We’re both grown-ups; and we like each other. Listen, in your message you said I could come to you for advice.’

  ‘Of course. Shoot.’

  I thanked him, and I did.

  ‘I see,’ he said slowly, when I was done. ‘Someone has got it in for you, in a big way. You reckon it’s Susie’s new husband, do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Who else would it be?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ he admitted, ‘but why would it be Culshaw? Doesn’t he stand to inherit?’

  ‘That’s another story. Susie’s will was out of date. She never changed it after Oz died. When I showed her the implications of marrying Culshaw, she asked me to do some things to ring-fence the children’s interests, and gave me legal authority to act for her. But you’re right, even in the absence of a relevant will he’s likely to be entitled to a good chunk of her assets.’

  ‘So, I ask again; why would he want to diminish those?’

  ‘To get at me, by hurting Tom. There’s something else you don’t know.’ I hadn’t told him about Culshaw’s crude attempt to extort two million from me the year before, so I updated him and told him of the get-even threat the shit had made in our last exchange.

  ‘Indeed?’ Miles growled when I was done. ‘Yeah, the guy is a nasty piece of work. But from the sound of things he isn’t exactly stupid either. He made that threat while Susie was still alive. You’re small beer to him now, Primavera. Still, I don’t like the idea of him having any hold over those other two kids of Oz’s.’

  ‘How do you think they feel about it?’ I said.

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘And what can I do about it?’ I moaned.

  ‘Could the marriage be declared invalid?’ he murmured, more to himself than to me. ‘It happened in Vegas, you said?’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. Audrey Kent was the witness. I don’t imagine there’s any doubt about it.’

  ‘No,’ he conceded, ‘as long as all the legal requirements have been met, and as long as the person who performed the ceremony is fully licensed. Leave it with me. I’ll have that checked out. Now, about your problems in the City. If someone in the US accessed, without authority, information that’s confidential to the management of a quoted company, and used it in any way, that would break a whole raft of laws. I’m sure it will be the same in the UK. You might want to get back on to your PR people and get a list of anyone they know to have been shown this information. They won’t have any sort of privilege; you could go to court to force them to reveal the source.’

  ‘I can do the first part of that in two minutes and instruct the second in not much longer,’ I told him.

  ‘Yes but, and there is always a but … what if the information hasn’t been stolen? Who’s on the circulation list?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Normally it would be the directors and maybe also the company secretary if he isn’t on the board.’

  ‘He isn’t.’

  ‘Okay, then if I were you, before I took any action I would report what you know to the directors and ask them point blank whether one of them has been leaking information. They’ll scream bloody murder, but you can tell them it’s your duty to ask the question, and they’ll have to live with it.’

  ‘What if one of them admits it?’ I asked.

  ‘Then you push a pad and a pen across the table and ask for a resignation letter there and then.’

  ‘It could get messy, Miles.’


  ‘From what you’ve told me, Primavera, it’s messy already. Your PR lady was right, you need some public support, and you need it fast.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘This golf course development; what do you know about it?’

  ‘Very little. There’s no reference in last year’s annual report, and only a couple of brief items in minutes since then.’

  ‘In that case, you ask the managing director for a full report, and to account for every penny that’s gone into the development so far. Then you veto any further spend.’

  ‘Can I do that?’

  ‘You’re the chair; you can do what you like till the shareholders stop you.’

  ‘It’s my first meeting,’ I pointed out. ‘I’m a new girl.’

  ‘By the time the meeting begins, you’ll be a very powerful new girl.’ He laughed.

  ‘How, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Sister-in-law,’ he drawled, ‘I could invest five million in Gantry shares with one call to my London broker. Problem is, if I did that, the city would see through it; it would be me doing a family member a favour. However … I have friends, seriously wealthy friends, that I’ve made even wealthier by giving them crazy returns on their investments in my movie projects. When does your meeting begin?’

  I checked my watch. ‘An hour and a quarter.’

  ‘In that case, check the company’s share price fifteen minutes before, and look for recent acquisitions. When you get in there, lay the information you get on the table, and look around as you do it. If your enemy’s in that boardroom, he’ll be the one who looks sick.’

  My conversation with Miles boosted my confidence for the meeting. I’d had no clear plan of action before, but he’d more or less drafted my agenda. I’d packed a business suit for the occasion, the kind that Susie would have worn, but on impulse, I left it in the case and opted instead for my casual Catalan look, Cardin jeans, a flowery shirt, tucked in, a wide black belt and black moccasins. I wanted to make a statement. I wanted to say to them, ‘This isn’t someone sent along to play a part and nod her head when required. This is a new broom and watch it, or you will be swept away.’

  ‘You sure?’ Liam asked, when I revealed myself.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Then God help whoever’s been making mischief,’ he chuckled.

  The guys decided that they were going to visit Glasgow’s still relatively new Riverside Museum. Tom had done the planning on his iPad and had decided that the best way to get there was by using the dedicated bus service, which runs from the city centre. I let them go on their way, and then called a taxi to take me to the Gantry Group head office. While I waited in the lobby, I went online via my laptop (I’d asked Tom to use his iPad earlier because it’s instant, and takes no time to boot up), found the Stock Exchange site, and looked up the Gantry listing. The share price hadn’t recovered fully from its slump since Susie’s death, but the loss had been halved. As Miles had told me to, I checked recent acquisitions and found an eight million pound purchase by an American corporate buyer. Eight million! Bloody hell, Miles had called in a big favour. I managed to link up to the hotel’s printer and ran off a copy, just as my black cab arrived.

  Actually they weren’t that far away from the hotel, in a modern block on the intersection of Waterloo Street and Wellington Street, nice military names that helped boost my combative mood.

  The noticeboard in the foyer told me that the company occupied the third floor. I took the lift up and stepped out, at five minutes to ten.

  The first thing I saw was a framed photo of Susie, on a table in front of the reception desk. It was draped in black ribbon and there was a condolence book in front, with a ballpoint pen in a stand. I signed it, glancing at some of the other names; there were many. I recognised a couple of footballers, a musician, and a comedian; three others had added the word ‘Councillor’ after their names, as a form of underlining.

  If I’d been expecting the managing director to be waiting to greet the new chair, I’d have been disappointed. There was no welcoming group in reception. The immaculately dressed woman behind the desk wasn’t too effusive either, but I made allowances for that. She’d have known Susie well, no doubt, and had no reason to be cheerful.

  She had done her homework, though. She knew who I was. ‘Mrs Blackstone,’ she said, rising from her chair and coming round from behind the barrier. ‘Cathy Black, office manager.’ We shook hands, and she ushered me into a corridor to my left. ‘Mr Culshaw and the other directors are here already. They’re waiting in the boardroom. I’m sorry, I should have said two of the other directors. There’s been a formal apology for absence from Mrs Kent.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m aware of that,’ I said. ‘She advised me.’ I didn’t bother to add that she’d also faxed me a proxy form allowing me to vote on her behalf in any division, as I thought fit.

  Mrs Black … I assumed from the weight on her left-hand ring finger … opened a door halfway along the corridor, then followed me into the long room behind. ‘I take the minutes of the meetings,’ she explained quietly.

  My new colleagues were gathered at the far end of the board table, coffee cups and saucers in hand. I’d seen Culshaw on TV the night before of course, and I knew who the others were, since the annual report had included directors’ photographs, and the odd one out had to be the company secretary, Wylie Smith, a plump little guy in his forties, who had the air of someone who’s always slightly out of breath, a man running for a bus who’s never going to catch it.

  The other woman in the room, Gillian Harvey, was all smiles in the report mugshot, but not in real life. I’d read up on her; she was a banker, which may have helped explain her cheerless expression as she eyed me up and down, making me feel glad that I’d dressed the way I had. There had been a period in the company’s history when its bank had felt it necessary to insist on having someone on the board, and she’d been put in place then. Those days were long gone, but somehow she’d managed to hang around.

  Gerry Meek, the finance director, middle-aged, balding and bespectacled, hadn’t been foisted on Susie by anyone. He’d been her choice when she had taken complete control of the company from her old man, to replace his less efficient predecessor. He’d been around as she’d rebuilt the group from the mess she’d inherited, so he must have been competent to say the least. Whether he’d also been compliant in recent months, I planned to find out.

  Phil Culshaw came towards me, hand outstretched, white-haired, tanned, with the weathered complexion of a sailor. That’s what he had been, mostly, easing out of his accountancy firm when Oz had recruited him and brought him in on a temporary basis that had become permanent when he and Susie had moved offshore. He was smiling, but I eyeballed him and didn’t see it reflected there.

  ‘Primavera,’ he exclaimed, ‘welcome to the Gantry Group. You’ve met Cathy, let me introduced the rest of my colleagues.’ He did the rounds; the two men were pleasant, if diffident, but the grey-haired lady banker gazed at me as if I was a member of a parliamentary select committee.

  ‘Can we have a word in private?’ the managing director murmured.

  I beamed at him. ‘Once I have a coffee in my hand, Mr Culshaw, certainly,’ I replied. I used his surname deliberately and spoke loudly enough for the rest to hear.

  Wylie Smith rushed to the coffee pot, poured me a cup and handed it to me. I thanked him, declined the Belgian chocolate biscuits, then walked to the other end of the table, leaving Culshaw to follow behind.

  ‘Yes?’ I said sweetly, being a bitch and revelling in it. Fucking man had annoyed me, twice, first by using my given name without invitation and second when he’d said ‘my colleagues’ rather than ‘our’. I’d gone in there with the intention of building a high wall in my mind between him and his nephew, but I was having trouble.

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get hold of you yesterday,’ he murmured, dispensing with the smile.

  ‘You got close, though. I assume that was you who spoke to my son in the hotel las
t night.’

  His jaw dropped. ‘That was …? My God, I don’t mind telling you …’

  I cut him off. ‘You don’t have to. I know what you thought. If you hadn’t hung up on him, we’d have made contact then. If we had,’ I asked, ‘what would you have said to me?’

  ‘More or less what I said in my television interview. I’d have asked you about the advisability of continuing with this meeting.’

  ‘That’s what I assumed. And I’d have told you then what I’m telling you now, that there is not one good business reason for cancelling it, and several valid ones for pressing ahead, as I intend to do.’

  ‘Then I have to tell you that in my opinion, your taking the chair of this company, unless it’s so you can resign immediately, isn’t in its best interests.’

  I pursed my lips. ‘In that case,’ I murmured, as I sipped the worst coffee I’d tasted since I left prison, ‘we’d better bring the meeting to order, and we’ll see what I do.’

  I sat myself down in the big chair at the head of the table, that I just knew had been Susie’s, and I called along to Wylie Smith, ‘Mr Secretary, I’d be grateful if we could convene the meeting now. It’s gone ten a.m.’

  ‘Of course, Madam Chairman,’ he replied, picking up his papers as I took out my meeting folder and laid my bag on the floor. The other two directors followed suit, although Harvey shot me a glare that made me wonder if she’d gobbed in my coffee when no one was looking.

  When everyone was in place, I kicked off.

  ‘The first thing I want to do as your chair,’ I began, ‘is to call for two minutes’ contemplative silence in memory of my friend Susie. I’ve known her, I believe, for longer than any of you have, so do not any of you think for a second that I feel any lightness in my heart as I sit in her chair. I wish that she was in it, and not me, but she isn’t, and so I promise you as I promised her that I will preserve and protect the company that bears her name.’