Norsteadt didn’t think Ketler was serious. After all, secret or even illegal operations were nothing new in the medical world. For hundreds of years, maybe thousands, women had been willing to risk abortions.
Norsteadt took out the work Bonnie had done for him on the slimming industry.
“This is research that shows people today are desperate to get slim. And willing to pay a lot of money, and take a risk, in exchange for a treatment that allows them to eat whatever they like, when they like.”
Ketler nodded.
A small door at one end of the plane opened and a stewardess came out. “Your usual, Mr Norsteadt?” she asked.
“I’d love to, Beth but...” He patted his flat stomach. “My trainer would kill me.” She turned to Ketler. “Go on, Hans, don’t let me stop you.” He ordered a gin and tonic.
“I’m flattered to be involved, but there’s one problem: I don’t actually work for Norton-Hunter,” Ketler said.
“That’s just a technicality.”
“You mean once you’ve gained total control of Lycad everything will be all right?”
Norsteadt wondered how many more times this young man would surprise him. And when was he going to reveal his price for all this niceness?
*
The plane touched down at Zurich. From there it was a two-hour journey along the N3 to Vaduz, the capital of Liechtenstein. The tiny country’s easy-going tax laws made it a haven for foreign companies. Its offer of total anonymity suited Norsteadt perfectly. Once a company was established there, ultimate ownership was impossible to trace. Liechtenstein was the ideal place to avoid difficult questions.
Norsteadt had only two people to see: a lawyer and a banker. Both had been recommended to him for their discretion, a quality that Liechtenstein had in abundance.
“I won’t be long,” Norsteadt said. “Stay in the car and go over this.” He produced the text of Ketler’s book. “There’s a couple of places where I think you’re too technical.”
Norsteadt hadn’t read the manuscript at all. Bonnie had asked Will, who had a science degree, to go through the book and give his views.
“The publisher has this idea of reaching a broader audience,” he said.
When he returned, Ketler had only looked at half of Will’s suggested changes.
Next it was south through Switzerland along the N13 to Italy. Ketler divided his time between looking at the countryside and trying to finish the rest of the book.
Lake Como was shaped like an inverted letter Y. Down the lower eastern leg were occasional industrial sites: the famous Moto Guzzi motorcycles were made there. But it was the western leg that interested Norsteadt the most. Along both shorelines was some of the most desirable real estate in Europe. In one villa the Duke and Duchess of Windsor had spent part of their honeymoon, and across the lake from the town of Bellagio, the former West German Chancellor, Konrad Adenauer, once had a summer retreat.
Fifteen minutes south of the Villa Carlotta, with its famous gardens, and a few hundred yards inland from the twisting coast road, was the Villa Fiammetta. It had been empty for two years and the real estate agent who was trying to rent it out was waiting for them.
“I’d like your opinion on this,” Norsteadt told Ketler. “If you think it suitable, we’ll open our first clinic here.”
While Norsteadt and Signor Ferrari discussed terms, Ketler started to wander. In one large room he threw open the shutters. Beneath him was the lake, with its ferry boats criss-crossing from shore to shore. The blue of the water hurt his eyes. “God, this is a beautiful place,” he said out loud.
Ketler waited by the car, making a list of the equipment they would need. Ferrari locked the door behind Norsteadt.
“Till the next time, Mr Kenny,” Ferrari said.
“The name’s Denny. Doctor Denny, Norsteadt said.
“Of course, il dottore,” Ferrari said and waved goodbye to the two men.
“The beauty of this place is that it is accessible for the rich of Milan and Switzerland. Lugano is just over there.” Norsteadt pointed to a range of mountains to the north-west.
*
Bonnie called in Raymond. “Do a memo to staff. Tell them we’re adding Glynworth Slimming Clinics to our client list.”
“When did we pick that up?”
“The other day.”
“Who’ll be working on it?”
“Me – nobody else.”
Bonnie poured herself a cup of coffee.
*
Denny couldn’t help making a fuss. He hadn’t seen the man in what – five years? He hoped the directions he’d given over the phone were clear enough.
The weather was so good they would have drinks outside. He arranged the table in the centre of the lawn and drew up two chairs. Denny had a cottage set in the Berkshire downs. From where he stood, overlooking the gallops near Lambourne, he could see some of the best racehorses in the world.
As Denny looked away from the horses, he saw a car pull off the main road. “That’s got to be him. No one else ventures up here without an invitation – and a map,” he said aloud. Denny was waving even before the car had a chance to turn into his drive.
He was bigger than Denny remembered. As the man climbed out of the car he stretched his legs.
“Dad,” the man said, and put his arms out to embrace Denny. “It’s great to see you.”
“Jeff. I’m never going to get used to that accent.”
“If you go and live in New York, it’s what happens.”
Denny stood back to get a better look at his son. He looked every inch the preppy investment banker – on his day off – from his L.L. Bean “Rubber Mocs” to his chinos and polo shirt. Even the Armani glasses seemed right.
“When did you get in?”
“Five minutes before I called you,” he said.
“Hope you don’t mind being dragged all the way out here. This is where I spend my weekends.”
“Hell, Dad, it would be great to see you anywhere.”
“Come and have a drink. The wine should be cool by now.”
Denny poured two glasses. Jeff took his and walked to the edge of Denny’s lawn. He looked down on the rolling English countryside. “I forgot how great all this was.”
The two walked back together. “Have you seen your mother lately?”
“She’s thinking of getting married again. To a lawyer in Florida.”
Denny shook his head. “For some reason I didn’t think sharks went around in pairs. Obviously I was wrong.”
“Dad,” Jeff said, gently reprimanding his father.
Denny gave a mischievous grin. “So why are you here?”
“Tying up a deal before . . ” he paused, “before I leave.”
Denny topped up the two glasses. “You’re resigning from Stein Adams?”
“Jumping ship before they drive me mad.”
“But it’s such a good job.”
“Not really. As banks go, their ambition exceeded their ability by a factor of at least ten.”
“So you’re coming home?”
“No. The States is my home now. In fact I’m applying for US citizenship.”
Although Jeff had been away for five years, Denny had always hoped he would come back. But this seemed so final.
“I’ve bought a small farm on the Kentucky – West Virginia border. I’m going to grow and sell flowers,” Jeff said. “I’ve never been really happy at work, unlike you. At least you’re doing something worthwhile.”
Denny gave a wry smile. “Maybe not for much longer. If I can’t find ten million pounds, I lose control of the company. If that happens, I may join you.” Denny went on to explain his arrangement with Norsteadt and the need to raise more development money.
“Take the company public.”
“What?”
“Float it on the stock market,” Jeff said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “They’re doing it all the time in the States. If you’ve got good products, people will kic
k your door down to invest in you.”
“But all our products are still in development.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Surely we need some sort of financial track record?”
“Who’s been advising you, Dad?” Jeff shook his head in disgust.
Denny went into the cottage for another bottle of wine. When he returned, Jeff explained how the London Stock Exchange had changed its rules regarding listing for biotech companies. In the past, he said, they wanted to see several years of profitable trading, but that was no long necessary.
“So long as you have at least two products in trials – and a bunch of other stuff – you can come to the market,” he said. “And you might even end up rich.”
“You sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” Jeff said.
Denny had left his job at Abercrombie Health Care when he discovered he was spending more time managing his department than working at his beloved laboratory bench. He wasn’t sure he wanted the responsibility of being a publicly quoted company; at the beck and call of the money men all of the time.
“On the other hand, it would mean I’d stay out of Bram Norsteadt’s clutches. I only just escaped before he bought Abercrombie.”
“These are the people to see.” Jeff wrote on the back of one of his business cards. “They’re a small but highly reputable and honourable investment bank. And their fees won’t crucify you.”
*
Norsteadt didn’t like being cornered, even by Scott Milligan. Milligan meant business and went on relentlessly.
“I’ve been on the board of this company longer than anyone and I think I’m entitled to a straight answer.” Milligan paced up and down. “I ask you again, Bram, what are you going to do about the union? Because of our association with you, we’ve already lost hundreds of customers to other banks. That doesn’t include the well-publicised departure of the union itself.”
“I’ll tell you what I tell everyone else. There’s no proof that any of our plants were responsible.”
“That’s not an answer. It sounds more like some PR speak dreamed up by your... coach.”
“That’s the answer I’ve been advised to give to anyone who asks.”
“Then I’m sorry to do this.” Milligan took an envelope from his inside pocket. “I’m under extreme pressure from the board of the bank. As you can’t give the assurance I need, here is my resignation. Effective immediately.”
This was the last thing Norsteadt wanted. “Can’t this be kept quiet?”
“No it can’t. This is something that has to be notified to the Stock Exchange and will therefore become public knowledge.”
“But the union will be dancing in the aisle.”
“That is now your problem, Mr Norsteadt.”
Twenty
The phone was ringing as Bonnie entered her office.
“You were right about me keeping my distance from the unions”
“Why’s that, Bram?”
“Check your email.”
Bonnie checked her inbox, opened a message from Bram and clicked on the attachment. It was the front cover of Business Quarterly, and there was the face she now knew well. Across the bottom was the strap line: “Bram Norsteadt, Business Hero”. Beneath that, in only slightly smaller type, she read, “Industry Has a New Champion”.
Her phone rang again. “What do you think of that?”
“You tell me. You’re the client.”
She replaced the phone and stared fondly at nothing in particular.
“Do you normally talk so sweetly to clients?” Bonnie turned. Andrew was staring at her.
“You spying on me?” she snapped.
As quickly as his jealousy had surfaced, it submerged again. “I’m sorry, Bonnie. It’s...” He crossed the room and took her hand.
She pulled away. “Don’t do that.”
“What’s happening?” He was confused. “We haven’t seen each other in weeks.” Andrew leaned over and tried to kiss her.
“Not here, please.”
“We’ve done a lot more than that in this room.”
“That was silly. I’m to blame. In my position I should have known better.”
“Are you calling it – us – off?”
“I think it best.” Andrew looked shocked. “Don’t worry, you’ll still have a job.”
Bonnie went to a walk-in cupboard that Constantinou had built into one of the walls. She took out a green canvas grip bag. “These are yours,” she said and handed it to Andrew.
He unzipped it. Inside were his shaving stuff, toothbrush, a clean shirt and a change of underwear.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Why must you think...?”
“Don’t bluster, Bonnie. It gives you away,” he said and left.
*
If the waiter hadn’t taken her all the way to his table, Angela Nasco might have walked straight past Winston Culpin. The man had changed since they last met. Not for him the classic cut of Savile Row that Norsteadt now wore. He preferred the shiny suits turned out by Italian designers.
She sat opposite him and looked around. She recognised at least half-a-dozen famous faces. “I didn’t think your expense account at Norton-Hunter ran to this.”
Since it opened, the Green Door had quickly earned the reputation as the smartest place to eat in London.
“It doesn’t. This is from me – to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“Showing me how to... have it all.”
Angela furrowed her brow. “I heard you had to book weeks ahead to get a table here,” she said. “But you only invited me two days ago.”
“They had a cancellation,” Culpin said and rubbed his index finger and thumb together.
“I’m impressed.”
“And I’m grateful,” he said. “Do you like the suit?” He opened the jacket to show a Nino Cerruti label.
“Very chic.”
“What are you doing this afternoon?”
The smile that came over Angela’s face was the most inviting Culpin had ever seen. Only some very special women had the gift of combining coyness with an open invitation to... whatever.
Culpin coloured brilliantly. “No, I didn’t mean that.”
“Why not?” There was that smile again.
“It’s just that there are a few paintings I would like you to look at. Your opinion would be very valuable.”
“You’re into art as well as smart suits?”
“In a small way.”
“I did have something planned, but let me make a call.”
In the restaurant lobby she got out her mobile phone.
“Bonnie... Angela... Couldn’t be better... He’s getting hooked, well and truly. We’re... bloody hell.” She was looking at a menu displayed in a glass case close to the cloakroom. “I’ve just seen how much this lunch is costing him. Good grief.” She caught her breath. “As I was saying, he even wants to drag me round some art gallery to look at paintings.”
The rest of the meal seemed to skip by for Culpin. Every time Angela smiled at one of his jokes, his fantasies went off on another improbable journey.
*
Norsteadt thought it right to spend more time at Lycad. Despite his non-scientific background, he was learning a lot of the buzzwords. Although his knowledge was superficial, it sounded good. Bonnie would have been proud of him.
For a man about to lose his life’s work, Denny seemed surprisingly cheerful. “I think – no, I’m sure – I’ll be able to repay your loan.” Norsteadt tried hard to hide his surprise. “And if Norton-Hunter hangs onto its Lycad shares, it could make a lot of money.”
“Explain, Giles.” What is he up to? Norsteadt wondered.
“I’ve decided to go public.”
“Float the company? What a surprise.” This was of course no surprise to Norsteadt. If their positions had been reversed, that’s just what he woul
d have done. But throwing Denny a lifebelt was not part of his game plan.
“That’s the idea.”
“I’m just happy that we could have been some small help.” He can’t be allowed to do this, Norsteadt thought. Without Denny and Lycad, his plans for the clinics would collapse.
Bounding around his office, Denny looked like a cross between a mad professor and an excited schoolboy.
“The investment bank and stockbrokers who will be looking after me are very optimistic.”
Norsteadt started to frown. “I don’t want to dampen your enthusiasm – but is the timing right?”
“What’s wrong with now?”
Norsteadt tried to sound concerned. “I think it might be better after the nonsense about the two dead engineers is settled.” He shook his head. “If it got out – well – it might permanently damage Lycad’s reputation.”
“You have a point,” Denny said. “I’ll talk to my bankers.” He smiled. “Doesn’t that sound strange... ‘my banker’.” Both men laughed, but only with Denny was it heartfelt.
*
“Bonnie, I think you should come quickly,” Raymond said. Before she could ask why, he was gone. Bonnie found him again in reception, bending over a man collapsed in one of the leather chairs.
Bonnie pushed Raymond away. There, slumped to one side, was Andrew. He had a silly smile on his face.
“The taxi driver brought him in,” said Madope, the new receptionist.
Bonnie looked at him in disgust. “He’s pissed.”
“No. He’s stoned,” Raymond corrected her. He showed Bonnie a white envelope containing a dozen multi-coloured pills and capsules. “These were in his pocket.”
“Get him to my office,” she said. “Use the back stairs. There may be clients in the building.”
Raymond and Madope each took hold of an arm and walked Andrew towards a door. Madope had been the Nigerian shot-put champion and could have carried Andrew over her shoulder on her own.
*
Andrew sat giggling on the couch in Bonnie’s room. “He’s not going to throw up, or anything like that?” Bonnie asked.
“It’s not like booze. Your furniture is safe,” Raymond said.
“What the hell are you up to?” she asked, once Raymond and Madope were gone.
Bad Influence Page 13
