I updated her on what had happened in the Stock Exchange community, and the briefing that had been going on. ‘Gillian Harvey put the boot in me, and got caught, but she wouldn’t have done the other stuff. That golf course information, that’s done real damage; I’ve recovered some of it, but we’re still vulnerable.’
‘Do you reckon Duncan might have done that?’
‘I’d like to pin it on him,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m having trouble working out why he would. After all, it was him that brought the dodgy golf course deal to his Uncle Phil. So why would he want to undermine it? There’s no sense in that. But somebody’s using it to shaft the Gantry Group, that’s for sure.’
I left Audrey to think on that and turned to Wylie Smith. I’d asked him to wait in the boardroom after Gerry Meek and Cathy Black had returned to their offices.
‘Diego Fabricant,’ I fired at him, ‘our partner in Babylon Links. You’re that company’s secretary as well, so tell me about him.’
‘I wish I could, Madam Chair, but …’
‘For God’s sake, call me Primavera. What’s stopping you?’
‘I’ve never met him.’
I frowned. ‘But don’t you attend all the board meetings?’
‘There haven’t been any, after the first, when the company was started. Mr Fabricant recorded an apology; the articles allow a meeting in those circumstances, so a minute was taken, but there have been none since.’
‘No formal record of progress?’ I asked.
‘There hasn’t been any progress, Primavera. The company has lodged an application for planning permission in principle for a golf course, clubhouse and associated buildings; no more than that, just in principle. The requirement that it be formally capitalised was Mr Culshaw’s instruction; it’s never been put to me by anyone else, and I’ve submitted all the paperwork.’
‘Where is our money now?’
‘In a high interest account, offshore.’
‘How far offshore, Wylie?’ I growled.
‘The Isle of Man.’
‘Okay,’ I declared. ‘Get it back.’
He winced, hunching his shoulders as if he thought I was about to aim an axe at his neck. ‘I can’t do that, Primavera, not on my own initiative, or on yours for that matter. Technically you can now appoint yourself a director of Babylon, since Mr Culshaw held office as a representative of the Gantry Group, but even then you couldn’t simply take the money back. All expenditure above a certain level must be approved by both directors.’
‘Then the sooner I sit down with Mr Fabricant, the better. Where can I find him? Jersey, I suppose.’
‘No, Edinburgh,’ he replied.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Can you be a little more specific?’ I asked.
‘No I can’t. Mr Fabricant’s address is a post office box.’
‘So we don’t know what our partner looks like,’ I said, ‘and we don’t know where he lives, or works. That’s what our Phil got this company into?’
Wylie nodded. ‘Yes. Gerry and I did point out that it was an unusual, possibly even an unsafe, situation, but he said he had private assurances that everything was all right. That may be the case, Primavera; after all, the money Gantry put into Babylon Links hasn’t gone anywhere.’
‘It might as well have,’ I suggested, ‘if we can’t get it back without Fabricant signing for it, and we don’t know where he is. Come on, let’s find him.’
‘How?’
‘We’ll ask Mr Google to look for him.’ I took my laptop from my bag and booted it up, then went online through the company’s network.
‘What if it’s an assumed name?’ Wylie asked.
‘Would it be legal to be a director under a pseudonym?’
‘If it was an act of deliberate deception, no.’
‘Then I’d love that to be the case, but I’ll bet it isn’t.’ I keyed ‘Diego Fabricant Edinburgh’ into the address bar and pressed the return key.
The response was instant; there were six hits, of which five led to newspaper articles. The other was for the Law Society of Scotland. I scanned the digital cuttings first, four of them were from the business sections of the Scotsman or the Herald, and each referred to corporate mergers of acquisitions in which our man had been a player. Two of them described him as ‘dealmaker’, a term I’d never come across before.
‘What does it mean?’ I asked Wylie.
‘More or less what it says,’ he replied. ‘Let’s say you want to sell your business, or make an acquisition, but don’t have a specific buyer or target in mind. You’d go to a man like Fabricant seems to be, and he’d put you together with someone.’
‘What does he get out of it?’
‘A fee, equity or both.’
There were no accompanying photographs, but the fifth item was coverage of an awards dinner, complete with an accompanying picture of a group of ten men in evening dress, lined up and cheesing for the camera. Fabricant was listed as second from the left; the image was that of a tall man, bulky, with a prominent nose and a forehead so high that it was beyond rescue by any hair clinic.
‘So far so good,’ I murmured. ‘Now let’s get more specific.’ I clicked the link on my search page that led me to the Law Society. I’d expected it to be ‘members only’, but in fact it turned out to be publicly accessible and very helpful, with a section that invited me to ‘Find a solicitor’.
I keyed in the surname, the only line I could complete, hit the button, and had only a single response: ‘D. Fabricant, Suite three, eighth floor, Cousland Tower, Lothian Road, Edinburgh.’
‘No phone number,’ I murmured. I noted the address then went on to the BT site, and keyed in Fabricant’s details. It told me that the subscriber number was unavailable.
‘Very discreet,’ Wylie observed. ‘Ex-directory.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about phoning him anyway. I think you and I should pay him a surprise visit. Is the rest of your day clear?’
‘I can make it so.’
‘Good. We’re going to Edinburgh. But first, I have to call on someone else, your partner, Greg McPhillips. I need to talk to him, urgently.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘I made one for four o’clock,’ I replied, ‘but I’ll need to bring it forward now.’
He pursed his lips. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Greg always has a very full diary. He may not be able to reschedule, not for today.’
‘He’ll see me, Wylie, don’t you worry. Greg and I go back more than ten years.’
I gave Gerry Meek and Cathy Black my mobile number and my room number at the hotel, then Wylie and I grabbed a taxi and headed for Greg McPhillips’ office.
The McPhillips practice had gone up in the world since I’d last had reason to consult it. From a small office just off Sauchiehall Street, it had moved into a top-floor suite in a new build block at the top of Renfield Street. Wylie had wanted to call ahead, but I’d decided that I wasn’t giving anyone advance notice of anything else that day. He paid the cab and led me towards the lift. ‘I really don’t know about this,’ he murmured. That didn’t surprise me; the Greg McPhillips I’d known was Wylie’s exact opposite, outgoing, full of himself and, when it suited him, overbearing.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Smith,’ his secretary said when he asked her if he was in. ‘You’ve just missed him. He’s gone for lunch with a client.’
‘Where?’ I asked.
She stared at me. ‘I don’t know if I could …’
I stared back. ‘You do, trust me.’
She glanced at Wylie; he nodded. ‘La Bonne Auberge,’ she said. The name was fresh on my mind; it was across the street from the building in which we stood and we’d just passed it in the taxi.
‘Then call his mobile number, please,’ I requested, politely, ‘and tell him that Mrs Blackstone can’t do four o’clock as arranged previously, but needs five minutes now.’
‘Of course, if you insist, but …’ I waited as she made the call and relayed the message, w
atching as she pursed her lips and nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, the phone still held to her ear, ‘he says it’s impossible.’
I signed to her to pass me the handset; she was so surprised that she did. ‘Greg,’ I chirped, amiably, ‘Primavera here. Are you still shagging that actress? Remember, the girl who was your bit on the side about twelve years ago when Oz and I were in business together in Glasgow, and we were all pals? She had a part in a TV soap and knew my sister. Did Mrs McPhillips ever find out about her?’
His sigh could have carried across the street from the restaurant without the amplification of the phone. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘five minutes; meet me in the reception area just inside the entrance.’
Wylie wouldn’t come into La Bonne Auberge with me. He said that since it was obviously personal business I was going to discuss, he had to keep well clear of it as company secretary. I could see the logic in that, but I couldn’t help feeling that after hearing what I’d said to his senior partner, he didn’t want to be within earshot of the discussion that followed.
Before I go any further, understand one thing: I didn’t, and don’t, harbour any ill feeling towards Greg. He was a good friend to Oz, and me, back in the days of our private enquiry business, and he put some nice work our way. Oz’s links with him went even further back, and one job he’d sent to him had been the start of all the fame and fortune that came his way. With that history between us, I didn’t crash his lunch date out of malice, only necessity.
He understood that too, for he was smiling as I walked through the door. ‘Christ, Primavera,’ he chuckled. ‘You haven’t changed a bit, and before you ask again, the answers are, no, I’m not, and no, the wife never did find out. Look,’ he continued, ‘I’m sorry I can’t walk away from this engagement, but I can’t and that’s an end of it. What is it, quickly?’
I took from my bag the documents that Susie had sent me, the one specifying the changes she wanted to make to her will, and the other instructing that the children’s trust be set up. Finally, I let him see my power of attorney.
He scanned them for a couple of minutes, then looked up. ‘Fuck it,’ he murmured.
‘I take it that does not mean good news,’ I said.
‘No, it doesn’t.’ He handed me back the will paper. ‘Susie’s wishes are quite clear in there; there’s no doubt about what she wanted to do. The wasp in the embrocation is that she’s no longer alive, so she can’t enact them.’ He looked at me, and I could see sympathy in his eyes. ‘Susie wasn’t herself when she did that, I can tell.’
‘She meant every word of it, Greg,’ I protested.
‘I know that. I just acknowledged that, didn’t I? What I meant was that she must have been confused, or drugged or whatever, for the Susie I knew would have realised that if she’d just got Audrey Kent, or anyone else, to date and witness what’s written there, then I would have accepted it as a codicil to her existing will. But she didn’t, and so I can’t. That will must stand as it was written. It would survive any challenge in court. And if you did try to overturn it, I’d be the guy who had to defend against you, for the moment that Susie died, I became her executor.’
I frowned. ‘Understood.’ I couldn’t argue, for I could see that he was right. ‘Greg, Susie told me some of what was in the will, so my next question is how do you interpret it, given that Oz is named in it, and he’s dead?’
‘But you’re wrong,’ he exclaimed, ‘she didn’t name him. The will refers to “my surviving spouse” as the children’s guardian. When she died, she was married to Duncan Culshaw; I’ve seen the marriage certificate and it’s legal. I know this for sure because a guy I know got hitched in Vegas, and he made very sure of that before he did.’
That was a blow, but I pressed on. ‘She also told me who would inherit her shares in the company: all three kids, Tom included. Are you telling me that my son is now under the guardianship of that man Culshaw?’
He shook his head, firmly. ‘No, I’m not. Susie drafted her will at a time when Oz had custody of young Tom, but clearly she anticipated a situation in which that might change, for the will specifies that during his minority, his interests will be under the curatorship of his legal guardian at the time of her death. That will give you some relief.’
I did a very quick piece of mental arithmetic. ‘A little,’ I agreed, ‘but it doesn’t remove my concern. Susie owned sixty per cent of the Gantry Group shares, meaning twenty per cent goes to each child. But have you forgotten Oz’s will? He owned eighteen per cent, and that is also split three ways. So that gives Janet and wee Jonathan a total of twenty-six per cent each. Twenty-six times two equals fifty-two per cent, and that equals a controlling shareholding when under the guidance of one person. Susie might have been addled over the will changes, but when she instructed me to set up the children’s trust, she knew exactly what she was doing and why. Can I go ahead with that, even though she’s dead?’
Greg let out another industrial-strength sigh. ‘You might be able to,’ he said. ‘I could see an outside possibility that you might, but you’d have to go to court to do it. And it would take time,’ he added.
‘Longer than it would take to hold a company EGM?’
He frowned. ‘That’s not a hypothetical question, is it?’
‘No.’
‘Then it would take much longer, and until the court said otherwise Culshaw would be able to vote the children’s shares as he chose. To be honest, I don’t really believe the court would say otherwise, but you can only try.’
‘Could you represent me?’
‘Not a hope, chum. Susie’s surviving spouse, i.e. Culshaw, would most certainly contest you. As the executor I have to be neutral, so you’d need to get yourself another lawyer.’
‘How about Wylie Smith?’
‘He’s good enough, but he’s too close. He’s a partner in my firm, and there’s the greater complication for him that he’s company secretary of the Gantry Group. He’d probably have to give up that position if he acted for you in such a matter, and frankly, that’s not business I’d want my firm to lose.’
‘I see,’ I murmured. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Sure, but if I gave you a couple and things went against you, you could wind up blaming me, and I wouldn’t want that to happen.’ He paused. ‘You really don’t like this man Culshaw, do you?’
‘That obvious, eh?’
‘Rather.’
‘I have good reason to dislike him. What I can’t understand is why he’s been targeting me so specifically, and Tom for that matter. I’m in no doubt that he’ll kick me out as chair, given the chance. His uncle seems to be my enemy on the board. He’s calling the EGM and he’ll have his nephew’s support.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t help you there either, for I don’t know. I can see why you would hate his guts, but … let me give you one single piece of legal advice.’
‘What?’
‘If you do take this to court, don’t make it personal.’
‘I’ll do my best, Greg. Thanks for being so frank.’ We shook hands, and he turned to return to the restaurant. ‘Hey,’ I called after him. ‘Who’s your lunch date, by the way?’
‘I can’t tell you that, honestly,’ he replied.
But he didn’t have to. I couldn’t see all the restaurant’s dining area from where I stood but did have a view of a wall mirror, halfway along. As I took a single step to my left, the reflection changed, and I saw, sitting along at a table set for two, a profile that I recognised: that of Duncan Culshaw.
I stepped outside to rejoin Wylie and did some thinking. Culshaw must have caught the first flight out of Nice to get to Glasgow in time for a meeting with Greg, but was he going straight back there? I doubted that; there’s no direct route between the two cities and four flights in a day would have been pushing it. I’d have loved to follow him, just out of interest, to see whether he and Uncle Phil met up, but that wasn’t possible; Fabricant was my priority. But …
I dug out my m
obile and called Liam. When he answered after a few seconds, his voice sounded different from the one I’d come to know. ‘Where are you?’ I asked.
‘Burger King,’ he replied, more clearly. ‘You caught me mid-bite.’
‘Burger King,’ I repeated. ‘You?’
‘Mine’s a veggie; Tom’s reducing the animal population.’
‘Are you almost finished? If so, I’ve got a game the two of you might like to play.’
‘Sounds good. What does it involve?’
‘A little sleuthing.’ I explained where I was, and who was inside the restaurant. ‘How would you and Tom like to tail him when he leaves?’
He laughed. ‘That sounds like fun, but how exactly?’
‘I’ve got a hire car parked at the hotel; you can pick it up and park outside. You’ll need it, for I can’t see him walking anywhere.’
‘Are you sure you want Tom involved in this?’
‘As long as he’s with you, what’s the problem? Besides, you’ll need him; he knows what Culshaw looks like, you don’t.’
‘True,’ he conceded. ‘But why can’t you do it?’
‘Frying other fish,’ I told him. ‘My company secretary and I have to go to Edinburgh to corner somebody else. We’ll take the train.’
‘Okay,’ Liam said, cheerfully. ‘Hey, Tom,’ I heard him call, ‘d’you fancy playing detective, like your old man used to?’ I head a muffled reply. ‘He says yes. Bad guys beware: the A Team is mobilised and coming to getcha.’
‘Don’t let him spot you, mind.’
‘No chance. I’ve always wanted to do this sort of stuff. I’ll pick my camera up when we collect the car.’
‘Good idea. If you could get a picture of him with his fucking uncle that would be useful.’
‘You and old Phil didn’t hit it off, then?’ he surmised.
‘That would be an understatement, my darling. If he wasn’t a boring old accountant at heart, I might be watching my back right now.’
‘You’re not serious, are you?’ he exclaimed ‘’Cos if you are, the only place I’m going to be is by your side.’
‘That is noble of you, but I have seen off much, much tougher guys than him. Don’t you worry about me, Sherlock, you just get into position opposite La Bonne Auberge, soon as you can.’
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