by Damien Boyd
‘Who are the others in this photo?’ asked Dixon, handing her the framed photograph from the champagne bar.
‘That’s me and Simon. That’s Liang on the end. He’d come over from Hong Kong for the meeting.’ She pointed to another smiling face. ‘That one’s Bill Luhrmann. He was over from Canada. And the last one’s Paul Goggins. He was our solicitor.’
‘Were there any others?’
‘A couple of techies. It was all done remotely. That was the first time I’d met Liang and Bill, and I’ve never seen them since either.’
‘And what were you celebrating?’
‘We’d just sold the company.’ Adele shook her head. ‘I was a millionaire on paper for a while.’
‘What exactly did you do for the company?’ asked Dixon.
‘I formed it and then got seed funding from a group of angel investors based in Wells, of all places. The internet bubble was inflating fast at that time and investors were throwing money at you, even if your company wasn’t making a bean. There were some ridiculous valuations doing the rounds. We got seventy grand to get us going and that cost us ten per cent.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘Simon and the techies set about building the product and I tried to get some clients. The idea was to let other companies put their own brand on it and offer it to their customers. Nokia were looking at embedding it on their phones too and we had several meetings in Finland. Then we did a second round of funding in 1999 and that’s when it got really exciting.’
‘How much?’
‘We got another two hundred and fifty thousand for twenty per cent, but it brought with it the Engine Room, a corporate finance specialist – called themselves an “accelerator” – retained by the venture capitalist. Their job was to put together an exit, either a trade sale or float us on the stock exchange.’
‘Is this making any sense to you?’ asked Jeremy, frowning at Dixon.
‘He’s a solicitor,’ said Poland.
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘Who was the venture capitalist?’
‘Sajeed Sohail. He was based in New York. Never met him.’
‘And did the Engine Room put together an exit?’
Adele nodded. ‘They did. They merged several small tech businesses like ours into a shell company listed on the Alternative Investment Market. Then the idea was to raise some more money on the stock exchange – only it didn’t work out quite like that.’ She hesitated.
‘Just tell him,’ said Jeremy.
‘They got an empty shell listed on AIM – Vectra Network Technologies Plc, it was called – and we sold out to it for just under eleven million in shares. No money changed hands. We just got shares to the value of eleven million quid. Then, just as we were raising money on the stock exchange, the bubble burst and investors started moving away from internet companies, so we didn’t get the cash.’
‘And that left you owning shares in a company worth nothing?’ asked Dixon.
‘Exactly.’ Adele sighed. ‘Not only that, but we couldn’t sell them for two years because we were founding directors. When we finally sold them we got enough for—’
‘A round of drinks,’ sneered Jeremy.
Adele glared at him. ‘It was like sticking a pin in a balloon. I resigned as a director and that was that. I went back to what I’d been doing before.’
‘Which was?’
‘Training to be an accountant.’
‘And then we met,’ said Jeremy.
‘And when was the last time you saw Simon Gregson?’
Adele hesitated. ‘Just after it all collapsed.’
‘Just tell him,’ said Jeremy.
Poland sat up.
‘About six years ago, longer maybe,’ said Adele, her eyes closed. ‘It wasn’t long after Hatty started nursery, possibly.’
‘After?’ Poland shook his head.
‘Yes, Dad, after. And nothing happened. It wasn’t like that.’
Poland raised his eyebrows.
‘Anyway, I’d just gone back to work part time,’ continued Adele. ‘His father had died and he’d taken over the wine business. He said he wanted some advice, so I met him for lunch. I think it was just an excuse, really.’
‘What did happen, then?’ asked Dixon.
‘Nothing. When he found out I was with Jeremy I never heard from him again.’
‘But he used the connection to move to Svenskabanken?’
Jeremy nodded. ‘And we gave him a good deal to move too. At that time, the business was flying.’
‘And now he’s got your daughter.’ Dixon was sucking his teeth.
‘He won’t do anything to her,’ said Adele. ‘I’m sure he won’t.’
‘Poland’s got a lot to answer for,’ muttered Dixon.
‘That’s what the other girl and her bloody grandmother said.’ Poland stood up and peered through a gap in the curtains.
‘What does it mean, Adele?’ asked Dixon. ‘What have you got to answer for?’
Adele lit another cigarette, leaned over, picked up an ashtray off the floor and placed it on the arm of the sofa.
‘It sounds to me like you have nothing to answer for,’ continued Dixon. ‘Unless it was your decision to sell to Vectra Network Technologies?’
‘No.’ She took a long drag, blowing the smoke out through her nose. ‘That was unanimous. We all agreed. Even the small shareholders.’
‘What have you got to answer for then?’
Jeremy tipped his head to one side and frowned at Adele.
‘I can guarantee you,’ said Poland, ‘whatever it is, it’s going to come out – so you might just as well spit it out now.’
She sighed. ‘I’m not even sure it’s relevant.’
‘You let him be the judge of that,’ said Jeremy, jabbing his finger at Dixon.
‘D’you know what it is, Sir?’
‘If I did, I’d tell you.’
‘All right, all right.’ Adele shook her head. ‘The corporate financier at the Engine Room, Sid Farooq, came down to Combe Hay for a meeting at Simon’s place after we sold to Vectra and before the fundraising on the stock exchange. He said there were material non-disclosures in the sale of Polgen to Vectra and demanded that we give up a chunk of shares or he’d sue. That would mean the fundraising couldn’t go ahead either.’
‘What happened?’
‘I told him to get stuffed. We’d rather burn the whole bloody thing down than do that. And if there really were any material non-disclosures, he should put them in writing and I’d get our lawyers to look at it.’
‘So, you called his bluff?’
‘I did. His little scam had worked with the other companies going into the scheme. They’d had family members and everybody relinquishing shares, but I told him no way. Anyway, I got up and walked out of the meeting. And that was the last time I, or anyone else for that matter, saw Sid Farooq.’
‘What happened to him?’ asked Jeremy.
Adele shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea. There was a police investigation, but nothing came of it. I had to give a statement.’
‘Who else was at the meeting?’ Dixon stood up and walked over to the wood burner.
‘Just me and Simon. He said that Farooq had left in a taxi not long after me.’
‘And why should you have to answer for that?’
‘Simon blamed the failure of the fundraising on the publicity. It was a murder investigation and he was a suspect. He said we should’ve just handed over the shares and got on with it.’ Adele shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was all my fault, apparently.’
‘We’d better have the file out, Jane,’ said Dixon.
She got up and walked into the kitchen with her phone clamped to her ear.
‘What happens now?’ asked Poland.
‘We’ve got Gregson and the other shareholders in Markhams under surveillance, so one of them may lead us to Hatty. Then there’s Polgen. We’ll see if Scientific can get anything off the note too. But you must let us know if any
further contact is made. Immediately.’
‘We will,’ replied Jeremy.
‘What about the hearing on Monday?’ asked Adele.
‘We can look at that on Monday morning,’ said Dixon. ‘If needs be we can get the directors to withdraw it. After all, they can always issue another winding up petition later.’
‘He won’t hurt Hatty.’ Adele shook her head.
Jeremy grimaced. ‘A man is dead, for fuck’s sake.’
‘Two,’ muttered Dixon.
‘What d’you mean?’ asked Poland.
‘Sid Farooq.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘Hatty first, Roger.’
Poland nodded. He was leaning on the door of Dixon’s Land Rover, watching him putting on his seatbelt. He slammed the door and Dixon wound down the window.
‘And if we can’t find her by Monday we get the petition withdrawn and see if they release her.’
‘I’m not holding my breath.’
‘Me neither.’
‘D’you think Gregson’s got her?’
‘No.’ Dixon switched on the engine. ‘But he’s behind it.’
‘I met him a couple of times, years ago. He seemed a nice lad.’ Poland sighed. ‘What can I do?’
‘Keep your phone on and your fingers crossed.’
‘All right.’
Dixon accelerated along Old School Lane.
‘Poor bugger’s going round the bend,’ said Jane, watching Poland in the wing mirror as he trudged back across the lane to the house. ‘What now?’
‘Back to Express Park.’
The Incident Room was deserted apart from Dave Harding, Mark Pearce and Louise, sitting at workstations at the front, near the whiteboards.
‘Where is everybody?’ asked Jane.
‘Some have gone home, the rest are on surveillance duties,’ replied Louise. ‘We’re watching Gregson and the other shareholders in Markhams.’
‘Phone records?’
‘On their way,’ replied Pearce.
‘Here’s what I’ve been able to find,’ said Louise, handing Dixon a bundle of papers. ‘You’ve got a full company search, plus accounts and whatever else I could get from Companies House. Svenskabanken have provided copies of the stuff they’ve got too.’
‘That’ll be the third time Price has gone in today.’
‘Funnily enough, he did say something along those lines.’ Louise shrugged her shoulders. ‘A couple of times.’
‘What did you find on Polgen and Vectra?’
‘You can still find Polgen on the Companies House website under “dissolved companies”. It was a voluntary dissolution in 2003. Vectra Network Tech is still current and listed on the Alternative Investment Market, although it’s changed its name to Erbeum Plc and doesn’t seem to have any assets.’
‘What about past directors?’
‘Adele is there. She resigned on twenty-fourth of July 2001. Simon Gregson is listed too.’
Dixon smiled.
‘I printed off everything I could find on both,’ continued Louise, handing Dixon a folder over an inch thick. ‘Cost a few quid on the Companies House website too.’
‘Any sign of Lucy?’ asked Jane.
‘Cole was going to drop her at the Red Cow. That was an hour or so ago maybe.’
‘The night before last, Dave,’ said Dixon, ‘a note was pushed through the letterbox at the Renners’ place in Catcott. Check the nearest traffic cameras and see if any cars on your watch list show up around that time.’
‘What time?’
‘Early evening.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Give me a few minutes to flick through this stuff then, Jane, and I’ll drop you home.’
She sat down on the corner of Louise’s workstation and folded her arms. ‘What are you looking at?’ she asked, as Dixon thumbed through the pile of papers.
‘Just the shareholders for now,’ he replied. ‘Here, Lou, look. One of the shareholders in Polgen is listed as Bluewater Nominees Limited at an address in Wells. That’ll be the first round of funding they got.’
‘Leave it with me,’ she said.
‘And I need a complete list of all Markhams employees in the last five years.’
‘Where am I going to get that at this time on a Saturday?’
‘HM Revenue and Customs have an emergency number. I’ll be back in an hour.’ Dixon tucked the papers under his arm. ‘Where’s Potter?’
‘She had to go back to Portishead for a meeting with the Chief Constable. She said she was going to ring you.’
‘Well, she hasn’t.’
‘Aren’t you going to ring her?’ asked Jane, following Dixon as he hurried towards the stairs.
‘No bloody fear.’
‘You’d better have something to eat while you’re here,’ said Jane, holding open the door of the pub. ‘You can’t keep going on fruit pastilles.’
‘Fish and chips then.’
‘She’s by the fire,’ said Rob, pushing a glass under the gin optic at the first sight of Jane.
‘Has she eaten?’
‘Not yet.’
Jane leaned around the pillar and shouted across to Lucy. ‘Fish and chips all right with you?’
‘Whatever.’
‘Three lots, by the sounds of things,’ muttered Dixon, reaching for his wallet.
‘How’s it going?’ asked Rob.
‘We’re getting there.’
‘Someone said you’d found the first girl?’
‘Who?’
‘Just someone at the bar. Last night I think it was. News travels fast.’
Dixon frowned. ‘Well, it bloody shouldn’t. There’s a news blackout, or supposed to be.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Who found her?’ asked Rob.
‘He did,’ said Jane, nodding at Dixon.
‘Just keep it under your hat, will you? The fewer people who know about it the better, for the sake of the second girl.’
Rob nodded. ‘I’ll bring your food through.’
‘How was your day?’ asked Jane, sitting down next to Lucy.
‘Cold.’
‘Find anything?’
‘Nobody did.’ Lucy glanced across at Dixon, sitting in the corner, thumbing through a thick wad of paper. ‘What about you?’
‘We’re getting closer,’ replied Jane. ‘I think.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘You won’t get a word out of him when he’s like this. He goes to another place.’
‘Where?’
‘Buggered if I know.’ Jane smiled. ‘Don’t think he does either, but when he comes back he’s got the answer more often than not.’
‘Weird.’ Lucy grimaced, her voice a whisper. ‘And you want to marry him?’
‘I heard that,’ muttered Dixon.
Jane’s eyes widened, glaring at Lucy. ‘What time’s Dave picking you up tomorrow?’
‘He said he’d be here about lunchtime.’
Jane nodded.
‘When this is over,’ said Dixon, looking up, ‘we’ll be going back to the Lakes to finish our holiday. You should come.’
‘Really?’ said Lucy.
‘Why not?’
‘Are there any nightclubs?’
‘Mountains,’ muttered Jane. ‘Lots of them. And lakes.’
‘Does that mean you’re getting married?’ asked Lucy, turning to Jane. ‘Don’t forget, you said I could be your bridesmaid if I passed my exams.’
‘Did she now?’ Dixon smiled. ‘Did she really?’
Jane blushed.
‘Two fish and chips,’ said Rob, appearing behind them. ‘I’ll just go and get the other. Any sauces?’
Dixon left Jane and Lucy in the pub and raced back to Express Park with Monty in the back of the Land Rover, more in hope than expectation of a chance to give him a run somewhere.
‘Potter’s been on again,’ said Louise, as Dixon appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘She said your mobile must be switched o
ff or something.’
‘I was driving.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Louise grinned. ‘Anyway, she wants you at a meeting with the Chief Constable.’
‘When?’
Louise looked at her watch. ‘Twenty minutes.’
‘What did you find on Bluewater Nominees?’
‘Here’s everything I could get off the Companies House website.’ She handed Dixon another bundle of documents. ‘I’ve stapled each document separately.’
‘Anything leap out at you?’
‘There are four shareholders. Are we going to speak to them?’
‘We can’t just go wading in rattling cages. We need to find Hatty first.’ Dixon shook his head. ‘Anything else?’
‘Savage’s post mortem report is in your email.’
‘Well?’
‘Dead before he went into the water,’ continued Louise. ‘But, it’s the comments about the murder weapon that are interesting.’
‘Have they found it?’
‘No.’
‘Can you print me off a copy?’
‘Give me a minute.’ Louise pointed to a printer on the far side of the room. ‘It’ll be on that end one in a sec. Did you find anything in the other stuff I downloaded?’
‘Not really. Simon Gregson is the only one who was a shareholder in both Polgen and Markhams. I need to go through it again.’ Dixon was standing by the printer, watching the paper churn out.
‘D’you want the photos?’
‘No, thanks. What about the employees?’
‘No luck so far,’ replied Louise. ‘It’s the weekend and we may have to wait until Monday. A couple of them are listed on their website. The sales team are named and so is the office administrator and credit controller. None of them known to police. That just leaves the warehouse staff and the drivers.’
Dixon sighed. ‘Check and see if any of their vans have been involved in an accident in the last five years. The police accident report will name the driver, won’t it?’
‘It will.’ Louise nodded. ‘It’s a long shot, but . . .’
‘Try their motor insurers too. The drivers may be named on the policy.’
