Dangerous Cargo

by Pauline Rowson

  ‘He was unexpectedly called away last night,’ she answered, avoiding his eye contact.

  I bet he was. ‘Where?’

  ‘I, er …’

  ‘Where?’ he barked, causing her to flinch.

  ‘Frankfurt. A client requested an urgent meeting. He won’t be back for several days.’

  ‘The client’s name?’

  ‘That’s confidential.’ She swallowed and pushed her hair off her face. ‘Anyway, I don’t know who it is. Mr Brampton didn’t say.’

  She flushed under Marvik’s hard stare. Maybe she didn’t know. She’d been told to say that and no more. Had Brampton spoken to her or simply sent her an email or text? She was obviously frightened. He wondered what Brampton had told her about him. It couldn’t be the truth because Brampton didn’t know that. Perhaps the scars on his face also worried her. But Brampton’s impromptu absence meant to Marvik’s mind that he was either running scared or someone, possibly the same people Brampton had met on the South Bank and who had been sent to silence him and Strathen, had ordered him to leave or assisted him to go into hiding. And that had been triggered by his questions about that dock strike in 1979 and Oscar’s disappearance.

  Marvik turned as though to leave then spun around in time to witness the relief on her face, followed by a flash of fear.

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you,’ she gabbled before turning and hurrying towards the lift. The doors slid open and as she entered it a woman stepped out: the same one Marvik had seen at the conference in the red jacket. This time she was wearing a light-grey jacket over black trousers and a brightly patterned multi-coloured scarf around her long, slim neck. Marvik watched as she exchanged a few brief words with Brampton’s secretary, who tossed a glance at Marvik. Then the lift doors closed and the dusky-skinned woman looked directly at him and then addressed the receptionist. ‘Just going for a coffee.’ Marvik knew the message had been intended for him. He followed her as she walked briskly along the road and turned into one of the chain coffee shops a few yards down. Maybe she just fancied him. But Marvik knew that something more than a coffee was on offer. He hoped it was information.

  ‘Let me,’ he said.

  ‘Make it a take-out.’ She glanced around. ‘But we’ll drink inside.’ She gave her order and although the café was busy she managed to secure a table towards the rear, giving them a certain degree of privacy. The music would do the rest.

  He placed the coffee in front of her and took the seat opposite. She unravelled her scarf to reveal a loose-fitting cream blouse and smiled at him. It was a very nice smile, full of promises that sent a man’s pulse racing and his blood surging, and he was no different from any other man.

  ‘You were asking Amy where Donald has gone,’ she said. She spoke without an accent, her voice low and even-toned.

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘Not in Frankfurt, that’s for sure, because if he was he’d be at one of two places – the European Central Bank or with Deutsche Phillipe, the German headquarters of one of our major pharmaceutical clients, and he’s with neither. I checked. And I also checked the airlines. He didn’t catch a flight to Frankfurt.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because I don’t trust him and I don’t like him, but that’s not the real reason, although it helps.’ She swallowed some coffee.

  Marvik rapidly read between the lines. ‘You had an affair with him?’

  ‘Briefly. It wasn’t one of my better decisions.’ She smiled, then added, ‘And no, this has nothing to do with a woman scorned. But he did threaten to sack me. I said just try.’

  She was about twenty years younger than Brampton, not that the age gap mattered when it came to lust. She sat forward with a serious expression on her soft-featured face.

  ‘He’s still trying to get rid of me and I’m still compiling my evidence so that I can blow the whistle on him.’

  ‘About what?’ Marvik asked, deeply interested.

  ‘Collusion, falsifying information, taking bribes.’

  ‘That’s a pretty big allegation.’

  ‘Isn’t it just?’ she said with relish, grinning. ‘And I was hoping you might have more information that can help me, Art Marvik.’ She’d been beside Donald Brampton when he’d introduced himself at the drinks party. ‘I’m Melody Everley, by the way.’

  ‘What kind of information?’ he asked casually, though his mind was racing.

  She shrugged. ‘Anything that can help me to expand my dirty dossier on him.’

  ‘Why do you trust me? I could be in collusion with Donald Brampton. I could be his friend or a crook out to blackmail him.’

  ‘You’re neither because I overheard Donald talking about you on Wednesday after I saw you at the drinks reception. I went into the ladies’, remember.’

  Marvik did. And she’d invited him for a drink before doing so.

  ‘When I came out Donald was outside the conference room along the corridor to the right. He was on his phone. He didn’t see me. I eavesdropped.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Donald said, “He’s sniffing around, wants to know what happened during that strike. For Christ’s sake, get him off my back. You owe me, remember. Neither of us can afford this coming out.” Then he said something about dirty secrets – I couldn’t quite catch it, and that he’d be there in five minutes. He rang off and I thought he was going to head back to the conference drinks but he didn’t. He got his coat and left.’

  ‘Did he know you’d overheard?’

  ‘I doubt it. I made as if I’d just come out of the ladies’ and was heading back to the conference room.’

  ‘And you followed him.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Marvik recalled seeing the flash of red jacket. ‘You saw me watching him and the man he was with on the South Bank.’

  She nodded and sipped her coffee. ‘I’d like to know what dirty secrets. What happened in the strike – which strike? Why are you interested?’

  Marvik certainly wasn’t going to tell her. ‘Did you recognize the man he was talking to on the South Bank?’

  ‘No. Did you?’

  ‘Have you seen him before?’

  She shook her head. ‘Do you know who he is?’

  ‘No.’

  She looked as though she didn’t believe him. She sat forward. He could smell her musky perfume. ‘I’ll tell you what I have.’

  ‘In return for what?’

  ‘Anything you can give me – now, preferably, but I’ll settle for later.’ She again tossed him a flirtatious smile. This time he thought she was overdoing it a bit.

  ‘How do you know that I won’t use your information to blackmail him?’

  ‘I hope you do – it would serve the bastard right. But I’d rather have him exposed to the media. I’ve almost got enough ammunition to ruin him and his precious reputation but a bit more wouldn’t hurt. OK, I know it sounds vindictive and it is but it’s no more than the little shit deserves.’

  Brampton must have really pissed her off. She took another sip of her coffee and seemed to be weighing him up. He said, ‘I’ll help if I can but no promises, and it will have to be later.’

  She studied him for a moment, then smiled. ‘Suits me. That’s something I can look forward to. Where did you get those scars, by the way?’

  ‘I’ll tell you that later too.’

  She gave a small laugh then her expression became more serious. Marvik was keen to hear what she said even though he wasn’t sure how much of it would be the truth.

  ‘I’m an economist, but you’ve probably already gathered that. I head a team of four in the competition section of the company. Companies who have strong market power can find it difficult to merge with other companies or to create joint ventures because of the constraints of competition policy. My job is to help them find a way through the competition legislation by compiling reports on the markets involved and to determine the financial losses that could arise for customers and competitors associ
ated with mergers and anti-competitive behaviour. I produce expert reports, give oral evidence and assist with appeals against the competition authority decisions if it goes against my client.’

  ‘Sounds complicated.’ Marvik couldn’t see how this was going to help him but he’d hear what she had to say.

  ‘It can be but essentially it’s about understanding how markets work. I report directly to Donald as head of the company. We’ve worked very closely together on several client reports and I know for a fact that some of the reports have been massaged in favour of the merger or acquisition and that Donald has been taking bribes in order to come down heavily in favour of one side or the other.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Was it true? Recalling his encounter with Brampton, Marvik thought that maybe it was and maybe Brampton, worried he was going to find that out, had called in some favours, as Melody had claimed, in the form of the heavies who’d come to Strathen’s apartment. It made sense. His interest deepened.

  ‘Because the figures I’ve compiled and the ones he’s presented are not the same.’

  ‘Have you faced him with this?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m waiting until it’s rock solid and I’ve handed it over to a financial journalist I know, then I’ll tell Donald. It’s something I am very much looking forward to.’ She consulted her watch. ‘I’d better be getting back.’ She rose and picked up the paper cup containing her coffee. ‘You won’t forget what you said about helping when you can?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How can I get in touch with you?’

  ‘I know where to find you.’

  She eyed him steadily and with an air of puzzlement. ‘What will you do now?’

  He held her stare and after a moment picked up his cup. ‘Finish my coffee.’

  She smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘The coffee.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He watched her leave and then, a few seconds later, headed outside. He saw her turn into Brampton’s offices. The streets were crowded. His eyes locked on a heavy-set man in dark clothes wearing earphones doing something with his phone. He might be an innocent passer-by but Marvik wasn’t taking bets on it.

  He turned and headed in the direction of the Strand. How much store could he set by what Melody Everley had told him about Brampton? It could be a complete pack of lies. Why had she told him? Was she in danger? From Brampton? Maybe. But Brampton wasn’t around. Or from the men protecting Brampton? Possibly. But Marvik believed Melody had her own protectors and one of them was tailing him now – he could very well be another of Brampton’s contacts. Perhaps she was still having an affair with Brampton and he’d given her instructions to probe him to find out how much he knew if he came asking again. But she’d got nothing from him and hadn’t seemed too bothered that she hadn’t. No, Marvik knew what her role had been and that was to delay him until someone could be put in place to follow him.

  He crossed the road, catching sight of the man behind him. He was keeping his distance and didn’t look at all interested in where Marvik was going. Anyone inexperienced or untrained in surveillance wouldn’t have thought anything of it but Marvik knew differently. Would he try something here in London? It would be easy enough in a crowd: a gentle shove, a push, a knife in his back or a poisoned blade. Marvik would have to avoid crowds, which was impossible given that he was in a heaving capital full of humanity. Or would it be a push under an underground train? As he climbed the four stone steps into the pillared entrance of an impressive building he glanced to his left. The man was still there behind a crowd of Japanese tourists.

  Marvik postponed thoughts of Brampton and entered the plush, highly polished interior of the private bank where he announced himself to a smartly dressed clerk and requested access to his safe deposit boxes. After a lengthy but necessary process of confirming his ID he was shown to the vaults where in privacy he pressed his hand on the electronic plate, entered a code and opened one of the four large safe deposit boxes that contained his parents’ private papers. Inside on the right were stacked a number of small hardcover notebooks labelled by his father. With his heart racing a little faster he extracted the notebook he’d taken from Sarah’s room. It was the same size as those in the box, and yet as he made to put it with them he thought that it felt unusually lightweight, as though pages had been torn out of it. With curiosity he opened it and was surprised to see that the pages at the front were blank. He flicked through them and pulled up, surprised to find that the pages in the latter half of the notebook had been torn out and in their place, taped to the inside of the rear hardcover was a three-and-a-half-inch computer disk with his father’s handwriting on it and just one word, ‘Vasa’.

  He hesitated, his fingers itching over the disk. Did he rip it off and take it with him? But what good would that do? He had no computer device that could read these old back-up disks. Shaun would have, though. Then, angrily, he took a breath, pushed the notebook into the box and locked it. He didn’t have time, he told himself, returning to a member of staff who was waiting for him by the lift. But even then he heard the excuse. He didn’t even want to silently acknowledge the real reasons for his reluctance to face up to the past.

  He blocked it out and focused on the mission. Crisply, he asked a staff member if he could use a private phone and was shown into a small but modern furnished room equipped with a phone, computer and a fax machine, the latter experiencing a resurgence in popularity because it guaranteed greater security than the Internet. Again he was left alone, and although there was the possibility that his conversation could be taped, he thought it highly unlikely in a bank whose reputation had been built on privacy, exclusiveness and discretion.

  He called Strathen using the mission mobile they’d purchased and relayed what had happened at Brampton’s. ‘I think he’s been told to lie low until this is over. His secretary was very nervous.’

  ‘So you’re expecting company.’

  ‘I’ve already had it,’ and he relayed what Melody Everley had told him.

  Strathen echoed Marvik’s thoughts. ‘She seems to have been very quick off the mark and ready to trust you,’ he said suspiciously.

  ‘Maybe it’s my boyish good looks or charm.’

  Strathen scoffed. ‘I’ve looked into Brampton. He’s done very well for himself. Freynsham wasn’t lying when he said that Brampton worked for the Adam Smith Institute, one of Margaret Thatcher’s favourite think tanks, and she was hardly a champion of strikes or strikers. Quite the opposite. After that he acted as a special policy adviser to the Conservative MP James Beeding and then at the Target Policy Centre, another Conservative think tank, where he became Executive Director before setting up his own company in 1990.’

  ‘So not the type to stand on the picket line with his union comrades, championing the working classes.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have thought so. His business, Front Line Economics, has expanded considerably and the accounts show a very healthy profit. Brampton takes a hefty dividend each year. He’s single – no hint of sexual scandals or embittered lovers.’

  ‘Not unless you count Melody.’

  ‘If that’s true. He has an apartment in Kew Bridge, Riverside, London. Very expensive and very flash. He could have gone to ground there. There’s a concierge though and he probably wouldn’t let you in.’

  ‘Brampton’s probably instructed him to call the police if I show up.’

  ‘But then he’d have to give them a reason and getting involved with the police is the last thing he wants. Too public. And that kind of media coverage wouldn’t be good for business or his profile. He is, as Freynsham said, quite often in the press and on TV commenting on economic matters. The apartment fronts on to the Thames. There are some houseboats moored there but there’s also a pontoon and landing pier. He could have left by boat, especially given that the people you saw him meeting on the South Bank left the Festival Pier by boat. He has access to government ministers and industrial and profes
sional organizations at top level. He was born and raised in Southampton, the son of a newsagent. Both parents dead, an only child.’

  ‘So he could have been playing a dirty game in the strike of 1979, pretending to be solidly with the strikers and yet all the time feeding information to the port owners and shipping companies.’

  ‘Yes, who in turn were feeding it to the government who gave the information to the media to disgrace the strikers and undermine the strike.’

  ‘Is revealing that enough for him to run scared?’

  ‘If it involved murder – Darrow’s and possibly Cotleigh’s. He might even be responsible for Oscar Redburn’s disappearance and possible death.’

  ‘He’ll lie low then until you and I are dealt with.’

  ‘Which we should have been the night before last.’

  ‘Freynsham can’t know anything otherwise he’d have been dealt with a long time ago. But if Redburn wasn’t killed then he could have returned in 1989 to blackmail Brampton and when someone decided to deal with him he took off again. Perhaps they got the wrong man and dealt with Joshua Nunton instead and that scared Redburn. And if that’s the case then George Gurney and Bradley Pulford’s deaths in Singapore aren’t connected to it and Darrow didn’t bring any valuable cargo back with him.’

  ‘But he could have done,’ Strathen said.

  ‘You’ve got something?’ Marvik asked, excited.

  ‘Darrow was in Singapore in 1959. His son told me. It didn’t take me long to track him down in Hartlepool. I rang his home and his wife gave me his mobile number when I said it was about his son, Ben, who was ill. I spun Darrow a story about being a doctor at St Richard’s Hospital where Ben had been admitted, and that I needed to know if either he or his parents had suffered from any inherited genetic conditions as Ben was exhibiting symptoms of a form of inherited malaria that can be contracted from living in the Far East and passed on between generations. I reassured him that if Ben was tested positive we’d let him know but he seemed more worried about himself than his son. He’s probably down the doctors now and they’re scratching their heads, never having heard of such an illness.’