The Predator

by Michael Ridpath

  'We didn't want Duncan to get into trouble.'

  'Why not? He killed my brother didn't he?'

  'It was an accident. He didn't mean to knock Alex into the sea. He was drunk, and provoked.'

  'So you covered it up. I thought Alex was a friend of yours.' The anger and contempt seethed in Marcus's voice.

  'He was,' said Chris. 'That's why three of us, including Duncan, risked their lives to try to save him. It was very lucky they weren't all drowned. I thought we weren't going to find Ian in the end.'

  'Shame you did,' Marcus muttered.

  Chris ignored the comment.

  'Trouble is,' said Marcus slowly. 'That's not what happened.'

  Chris shrugged. He had told Marcus the truth. There was nothing more he could do.

  'You investment bankers never quit lying, do you?'

  'I'm not lying, Marcus.'

  'How am I supposed to believe you? You lied to the police, didn't you?' A contemptuous smile flickered on his face. 'I know about the police investigation. A few months ago I was going through some of my mother's old stuff and there was a letter to her from my aunt talking about how the police suspected Alex's death was murder. I called my aunt, who said that there were all kinds of suspicions right after the death, but nothing ever came of them. I go to New York from time to time to sell my furniture, so the next time I was there I tracked down a detective who worked on the case. He said he was suspicious. There was bruising on Alex's jaw that was consistent with a blow. He thought you guys were all lying. Then suddenly his boss told him to forget all about it. So he forgot it. But I haven't.'

  'That's why you went looking for Lenka?'

  'That's right. I tried Eric Astle first, but he wouldn't even see me. And the guy who ran the training programme wasn't much help either. Pretty soon, I realized that most of the people on that boat were in London, so I went over there to find them. You were out of the country somewhere, but I spoke to the Czech woman. Lenka.'

  'Who told you the same as I just have,' Chris said.

  'More or less.'

  'And then you found Duncan and screamed at him?'

  'Yes.'

  'So what's the problem?'

  'I'm not sure,' said Marcus. 'But there is one.'

  'Is it something Lenka told you?'

  Marcus didn't answer.

  'I know Lenka sent you an e-mail saying she had something important to tell you. You said you'd phone her. Did you?'

  Marcus nodded.

  'What did she say?'

  'She said she was planning a trip to America in a couple of weeks, and she wanted to come out here to see me. We agreed on a day.'

  'Did she say what she wanted to talk to you about?'

  'I asked her. She said it was something to do with Alex's death. But she'd only tell me the details when we met.'

  'Did she say why?'

  'I asked her that, too. She said she had something to tell me that I had a right to know, but that she was worried about what I might do with the information. She said it would be better to discuss it face-to-face.'

  'So you have no idea what this "something" was?'

  'All she would say was that what she had told me happened, didn't happen. I asked her whether Duncan knocked Alex into the sea or not. I mean that seems a pretty difficult thing to get wrong. Lenka said he had, but that wasn't how Alex had died.'

  Chris was stunned. 'What could she mean?'

  'I don't know. I asked her, but she wouldn't tell me more. But you tell me.'

  'What?' said Chris.

  'How did my brother die?'

  'I've no idea.'

  'You were there. What happened? Did you all throw him in together? Is that what happened? Did you beat him senseless and toss him into the sea?' Marcus raised his voice. 'Tell me, for God's sake!'

  'I don't know,' said Chris. 'If what Lenka originally told you is wrong, I just don't know.'

  'How can that be?' said Marcus. 'You were there.'

  Chris shrugged.

  'You're all going to cover this up, aren't you? And then one of you is going to come out here and kill me too.' His eyes lit up as the thought took hold. 'Is that what you're doing here? Stand up!'

  Chris didn't move.

  'I said, stand up.' The end of Marcus's rifle twitched.

  This time Chris did as he was told.

  'Frisk him, Angie.'

  'What?' Angie looked at him as if he was mad.

  'He might have a gun.'

  'I haven't got a gun,' Chris said.

  'Frisk him. I can't. I want to keep him covered.'

  'OK.' Angie gently ran her hands over Chris's legs and then inside his coat. She checked his pockets. 'Nothing,' she said.

  'Check the car!'

  Angie looked at Marcus, and then at Chris. 'Keys?'

  'It's unlocked,' Chris said.

  Chris sat down again. He and Marcus waited for Angie, staring at each other, Marcus's brown eyes simmering with anger.

  'You look like him, you know,' Chris said.

  'No, I don't.'

  'I think you do.'

  'He's dead.'

  'Oh, come on,' said Chris in frustration. 'You know what I mean.'

  'I don't know how you guys could do it,' said Marcus. 'Lie about him. You all say he was a friend of yours. Why don't you act like it?'

  Chris felt a surge of anger rise in his chest. 'What do you mean, "why don't we act like it"? You have no idea how we felt about Alex's death. We'd all become good friends that summer. We all liked Alex, and with reason. He was a good person in a place where good people were thin on the ground. He lightened the whole place up a bit. He was fun.'

  Marcus was listening grudgingly. The door shut as Angie returned from the car, shaking her head.

  'It just about destroyed Duncan,' Chris continued in a lower voice. 'And Lenka, although she did a better job of getting over it. That evening comes back to me all the time, even now. Especially now. I'm sure it must be bad to lose a brother. But it's not much fun to lose a friend, especially when it happens right in front of your eyes and there's nothing you can do about it.'

  'You know,' Marcus said. 'I was so disappointed when he became an investment banker. He was a good artist. See that painting over there?' He pointed over Chris's shoulder to a painting of a petrochemical plant at night: looming metal curves, orange glows, and bright halogen flashes. It wasn't one Chris recognized. It was out of the line of sight of the doorway, so Chris hadn't noticed it when he came in. It looked totally out of place in that room, but it had obviously been hung with pride.

  'He did that. It won him a prize at college. He'd begun to sell some of his work, and then he gave it all up to go on Wall Street. It's good, isn't it?'

  Chris nodded, and was surprised to feel the prick of tears in his eyes at such a tangible sign of Alex. He blinked, and looked directly at Marcus. 'Did you ever forgive him?'

  'What? What do you mean?'

  'Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.' But Chris could tell from Marcus's suspicious glance that he had guessed correctly.

  'You're right: I didn't forgive him. I was a couple of years older than him. It was the end of the eighties, all anybody wanted to do was get a big job and make big money. It made me sick. I wanted to travel. See the world. Stay in touch with myself. Develop into a creative human being. Alex was my kid brother, and he thought the same way I did.'

  Chris sensed that a powerful urge to talk about his brother was bottled up within Marcus, and now he had the opportunity to release it, it was overcoming his distrust. Chris tried to encourage it.

  'What about your mother?'

  'She didn't understand any of this. Since our dad died, she had become obsessed with us both getting a good job. Nothing exciting, just something that would guarantee us a pay cheque for the rest of our lives. And when I left college, it got worse. You see, I didn't even apply for any jobs; I just went bumming around the Caribbean, crewing on sailboats. Mom couldn't stand it. So I took off completely. Went
to Europe. Australia. The Philippines.'

  'And you lost touch with Alex?'

  'Not at first. I came back, occasionally; spent time with both of them. But it was an ugly time, especially with my mother. I remember I came home one Christmas and she said she'd contracted breast cancer. Of course that shook me up, but then it turned out she had it beat. Or at least that's what she thought. Then Alex took his job at Bloomfield Weiss, and I thought, screw them, and I stayed out of touch for nearly a year.'

  He sighed. 'The cancer came back. Later, I think I discovered the reason Alex took the job.'

  'What was that?'

  Marcus took a moment to answer. He was breathing heavily, trying to control himself. Chris saw the concerned look on Angie's face as she watched him.

  'Mom wasn't properly covered. For healthcare. After Alex died, I found out he'd taken out some large loans. And I found Mom's healthcare bills. They were pretty big.'

  'Alex did spend quite a lot of time with her,' Chris said. 'He got a couple of warnings for it. He looked after her.'

  'Yeah. And I guess I'm grateful. Although sometimes it makes me so angry. I get angry with him and her for not telling me what was going on. But of course I realize it's me that I'm really angry with. I was so stupid, so selfish.' Marcus shook his head. 'You know, I only found out two months after Mom died. I kept calling her and getting no reply, and then I called my aunt and found out what had happened to the two of them. I missed their funerals, everything.

  'I came right home. Sorted through all their stuff, tidied up, and moved up to Vermont.' He looked around at the small cabin. 'I like it here. It's quiet. Sometimes here I can feel peace. And finally I'm beginning to make some money out of the furniture. But I still miss Alex. Mom, too, sometimes, but it's mostly Alex.' He took a deep breath. 'And believe me if I find that someone, one of your friends, did kill him on purpose, did murder him, I'll, I'll . . .'

  Chris kept quiet. He didn't want to know what Marcus would do. But Marcus told him anyway.

  'I'll kill him.'

  13

  Chris was not prepared for what confronted him at the office. He had arrived straight from Heathrow after a lousy night with no sleep. The German stock market had wobbled the night before, and was now in full retreat. There were doubts about the strength of the German recovery, which meant that there were severe doubts about the prospects for Eastern Europe, which meant that most of Carpathian's government bond holdings had fallen. Ironically, German and other euro zone countries' bond prices had actually risen on the expectation of lower interest rates. This was the worst possible combination for Chris's positions. And, of course, Bloomfield Weiss had taken the opportunity to mark Eureka Telecom down by another five points.

  Ollie was despondent. The Slovakian bonds he had bought had fallen with the rest of the market, and he seemed to blame himself for Germany's economic jitters. Chris tried to be supportive, as he knew he must, but it was difficult. He knew that in a month or two things would sort themselves out, but he didn't have a month or two. Rudy Moss would want his money back in two weeks, and Chris would be faced with either trying to sell his Eureka Telecom bonds at a huge loss, or unwinding his fundamentally strong government bond positions at exactly the wrong moment. Carpathian's performance would be severely damaged either way, possibly terminally.

  And there was no message from Melville Capital. Chris had been half-hoping that Dr Zizka would change his mind. But he hadn't.

  Chris spent the day with Ollie ineffectually wrestling with the markets. There was really nothing they could do. They didn't want to sell yet if they could possibly help it. Although there were bonds out there worth buying, they had no spare cash with which to buy them. All they could do was listen to the doom and gloom of a bearish market on a cold grey Friday afternoon.

  There was definitely no chance of getting Rudy back into the fund. But Chris still had hopes for Dr Zizka. At the very end of their meeting, he had had a strong feeling he was finally getting through to him. There was nothing to be gained by waiting for Zizka to change his mind. Either he would, or he wouldn't. Chris needed to find out which. He picked up the phone.

  'Zizka.' The voice was little more than a murmur.

  'Dr Zizka? It's Chris Szczypiorski, Lenka's partner.'

  For a moment, Chris thought Zizka had fled, leaving his phone dangling, but Chris could feel, as much as hear, gentle breathing down the line.

  'Dr Zizka?'

  'Yes, yes,' he replied at last. 'How are you?'

  'I'm fine. Look, I was wondering whether you had decided to change your mind about pulling out of Carpathian.'

  'Ah.'

  'Have you?'

  'It's difficult,' Zizka said. 'I have a meeting with some trustees next week. I'd like to be able to say we've gotten rid of this investment.'

  'The markets are jumpy at the moment. I'm convinced you'll get a better price if you hang on for a couple of months. Lenka got you into the fund with the promise of good returns, and I'd hate you to come out without them.'

  Silence again. Chris could feel his heart beating. He wanted to jump into the void, to fill the silence with persuasive talk, but he kept quiet. Zizka was thinking. And Chris knew who he was thinking about. Lenka.

  'All right,' Zizka said, at last. 'Why not? Personally, I believe these worries about Germany are all overdone, anyway. It won't do any harm to wait a couple of months. I'll stay in. We'll review the situation in May, shall we?'

  'Excellent. We'll talk then. Thank you very much, Dr Zizka.'

  Chris put down the phone with a whoop. They were still going to lose the Amalgamated Veterans money, but keeping Melville Capital in the fund was a psychological boost both he and Ollie needed.

  After that minor victory, there was nothing more they could do at the office late on a Friday afternoon, so Chris told Ollie to go home. He took the tube to King's Cross station and the train up to Cambridge, looking over his shoulder every few minutes to see whether he was being followed. To his relief, he didn't spot anyone.

  On the train, he thought through his conversation with Marcus yet again. Assuming Lenka was telling the truth and not just trying to confuse Marcus, his conclusions were inescapable. She had said that Duncan had knocked Alex into the sea, but that wasn't how Alex had died. Alex was fine before Duncan hit him. So he must have died as a result of what happened afterwards.

  Someone had drowned him. And that someone must have been one of the three people who dived into the sea after him. Eric, Ian or Duncan. One of Chris's friends. Someone he had known for ten years.

  But which one?

  Duncan was too shaken at the time to do anything. Eric was possible. But Ian seemed the most likely. For a start, he was in the water the longest. Also, he was most obviously linked to Lenka's death. From his e-mails to her, it was clear Ian had had problems with Lenka just before she was killed. Or rather, she had had problems with him. Ian knew Lenka was in touch with Marcus, he knew she was going to tell him something, and he wanted to stop her.

  Perhaps he was afraid that Lenka was about to tell Marcus that he had drowned Alex ten years before. So he went to Prague to shut her up. Or paid someone else to.

  The idea revolted Chris. But whichever way he looked at it, it was the only one that made sense.

  It was dark by the time the train pulled into Cambridge station. Chris took a taxi to Megan's college. His spirits lifted as he walked through the ancient college gates into the quiet First Court and then passed the sprawling plane tree in front of her building. He looked up: the lights were on in her rooms.

  'It's so good to see you!' Megan said when she opened her door to him. Before he had a chance to say anything, she gave him a long, warm kiss. He held her and thought it was good to see her, too.

  'You look a wreck,' she said. 'Did you sleep on the plane?'

  'No. Sleep is pretty difficult at the moment.'

  'Come here,' Megan led Chris to the sofa, and nestled under his arm. Chris liked her room. It had whit
e walls and large windows overlooking the court below. Black painted wooden beams ran across the ceiling. She had done her best to scatter the few possessions she had been able to bring to England about the place. On the mantelpiece were two photographs: one of Megan's parents sitting on the porch of a yellow clapboard house, and another of a much younger Megan lying on the grass next to her grandmother, hugging an overweight basset-hound. Framed posters of exhibitions long gone by adorned the walls. Next door was a tiny bedroom with a single bed. Cramped, but Chris wasn't complaining.

  'Tell me what happened,' Megan said. 'Did you find Marcus?'

  Chris told her all about his conversations with Abby Hollis, George Calhoun, and Dr Marcia Horwath. He told her in detail about his trip to Vermont to see Marcus. But he only gave his visit to Eric's house a brief mention, and said nothing at all about the double threat he had received in New York. He didn't want to scare Megan. Having made his decision to continue the search for Lenka's killer, he didn't want Megan to talk him out of it.

  She listened attentively, interrupting only once or twice for clarification. When Chris had finished, she asked the obvious question. 'What was Lenka going to tell Marcus?'

  Chris gave her his answer.

  Megan didn't say anything for several seconds. Her face was pale. 'That's horrible. I just can't believe it. Do you really think Ian would do something like that?'

  'It was either him or Eric,' Chris said. 'I don't believe Duncan was in any state to drown someone that night.'

  'I'm sure it wasn't Eric,' said Megan. 'I know him too well. It must have been Ian. Yuk.' She recoiled. 'And you think he killed Lenka as well?'

  Chris nodded.

  'Oh, my God!' She shook her head. 'But why? Why would Ian want to drown Alex? They weren't enemies.'

  'No, they weren't,' said Chris. 'There's only one reason I can think of. Did I ever tell you I caught Ian taking cocaine on the training programme?'

  'Yes, I think so.'

  'I only saw him do it the once. But what if he was a regular user? What if he was the one who supplied Alex? Remember, only the American trainees were tested. Ian could have had a lucky escape. But what if Alex was planning to tell Calhoun all about Ian?'