Wheel of Fire

by Hilary Bonner

  ‘Well yes.’

  ‘If he didn’t wish Sir John to come to any harm, why would he do that?’

  ‘He’d been afraid the fire services might get here too quickly and put out the blaze before enough damage was done to the place for Sir John to make sufficient money out of his insurance claim. When the tree came down that seemed to be the perfect opportunity. He and Sir John agreed that would be the night. George said it would still be all right because the firemen would be able to carry some sort of hand-held pump through. But it would all take just that bit longer—’

  Janice Grey was interrupted then by a hovering paramedic who knocked on the car window. ‘I’m sorry, detective inspector, we really must get Mrs Grey to hospital,’ she said.

  Vogel nodded his assent, and watched in silence as Janice Grey was helped from the MCIT pool car and led to the waiting ambulance.

  SEVENTEEN

  That same morning Bella Fairbrother had been woken in her Mount Somerset hotel room by the ring of her mobile phone. She was still half asleep when she answered. She had, after all, been awake half the night fretting about what her next course of action should be, and had only finally dropped off a couple of hours earlier.

  ‘It’s Jimmy,’ said her caller.

  Jimmy. Jimmy Martins, the recently appointed acting chairman of Fairbrother’s. Bella could see the time at the top of her screen. It was just before seven a.m.

  ‘I’m sorry to call so early,’ he continued. ‘But I’m afraid this can’t wait. I’ve been up all night going through the figures. It’s even worse than we thought …’

  Bella tried to shake herself into full wakefulness. It wasn’t worse than she thought, that was for sure. But Jimmy Martins didn’t know the half of it. He had always been her father’s stooge. He was still a stooge, which was why Bella had pressed the board to offer him the chair, and him to take it, if only on a temporary basis. Bella did feel at least a tad guilty about that, unlike her father, to whom guilt had always been a stranger. She let Martins carry on talking.

  ‘The bank seems to be operating by osmosis,’ he went on. ‘There is just no substance to anything. I had no idea how bad things were. And I spent most of yesterday dodging the financial press, Bella. They’re on to it.’

  ‘I’ve told you, Jimmy, once I’ve got hold of the will and all the paperwork, we can start unravelling the various trusts that will now come into fruition following my father’s death. You know how it works. How it’s always worked. Upon the death of the oldest surviving Fairbrother these trusts automatically yield huge bonuses, but remain ongoing for future generations—’

  ‘My God, you mean you aren’t even in possession of the will yet, nor all those other papers?’ interrupted Martins.

  He sounded as desperate as Bella was beginning to feel. But, on a kind of autopilot, she behaved as she always did, doing her best both to sound assertive and to conceal her own feelings.

  ‘Everything is in hand, Jimmy,’ she said, knowing only too well how far that was from the truth.

  ‘We don’t have much time,’ replied Martins. ‘The bank is a mirage. And the news is clearly out. The shares are going through the floor. Look, Bella, your father died in a fire. How long will it be before he is officially declared dead, before a death certificate is issued? It could be weeks. Months even. I don’t know if we can hold on that long.’

  ‘Of course, we can. Fairbrother’s has gone through worse than this in three centuries of trading. You just have to hold your nerve, Jimmy.’

  ‘You sound disconcertingly like your father at times,’ responded Martins. ‘Look, there’s more. There are all sorts of irregularities in the figures. Particularly concerning pensions. I’ve been looking into not only the Fairbrother International pension funds, but also those of some of the subsidiaries. All too often the sums just don’t add up. Did you know about this, Bella?’

  ‘Of course not. I came off the board of Fairbrother’s over a year ago, remember, Jimmy …’

  ‘If I’m right about this, something has been going on for a lot longer than a year, Bella. These funds have been tampered with, I’m almost sure of it.’

  ‘Jimmy, you must be mistaken,’ said Bella, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt. ‘My father would never countenance anything untoward concerning pension funds. Apart from the terrible betrayal of trust, he would have known just how catastrophic it could prove, not just for the bank but right across all the Fairbrother business interests. I think everyone involved with administering pensions learned that from the Robert Maxwell debacle.’

  ‘It depends how desperate someone is, and I am beginning to suspect that your father was very desperate indeed,’ said Martins.

  Bella leaned back against the pillows, and briefly closed her eyes, so wishing that the entire scenario in which she had, she now realised, so unwisely allowed herself to become embroiled, would just disappear. And that included, at that moment, Jimmy Martins, who had absolutely no idea of the true extent of her father’s desperation. For a moment, she had no words. Neither did he have any idea that the whole lot of them, including the board, might be indirectly involved in crimes far greater than embezzlement.

  Mercifully she didn’t have to say anything. Martins was continuing to speak.

  ‘Look, to be frank, all of us on the board knew things weren’t quite how they should be, and obviously it was public knowledge that our share prices were well below par. But that is the case with many big companies nowadays, and I think we all believed that your father would find a way through, as he always had. I suppose we could be accused of having had our heads in the sand. But Sir John was a brilliant businessman, of course. Quite exceptional. Even after he became ill, and ultimately ceased to come into the offices, he continued to run the show. Well, you know what he was like.’

  ‘I certainly do,’ said Bella, with more than a little feeling.

  ‘Yes. Of course, you do.’

  He paused, and Bella thought she could hear him taking a deep breath before he spoke again.

  ‘The thing is, Bella, and I’ve been considering this all night, in view of everything I have now learned, I do not feel I can continue as acting chairman of Fairbrother’s. I intend to offer my resignation to the board later today. Out of respect for both you and your father, I wanted you to be the first to know—’

  Bella sat bolt upright in bed. She no longer felt sleepy.

  ‘For God’s sake, Jimmy, you mustn’t do that,’ she said, aware that her voice was much louder than she had intended, but unable to do anything about it. ‘You can’t do that. You really can’t. It was only two days ago that you accepted the appointment. Nothing has changed since then.’

  ‘Actually Bella, everything has changed. I now know so much more about the dire state the business is in, and also, I have a fair idea of the extent of highly dubious business practice which has led to this. There are other concerns too, of course, the fire which killed your father could be arson, and the man the police were looking for in connection with it has died in suspicious circumstances. I really cannot continue—’

  Bella interrupted there, deliberately ignoring the last part of what Jimmy Martins had been trying to say.

  ‘Jimmy, look, once the trust funds have been realised we should be able to effectively settle any financial irregularities,’ she began. ‘I can assure you that would always be my intention. And there are billions involved here.’

  ‘I’m not prepared to wait, Bella. The risk is too great. As chairman, albeit recently elected acting chairman, I am technically responsible for the whole awful mess. But it was not of my doing, and I am not prepared to carry that responsibility now that I have learned the extent of the—’

  Bella tried again. ‘All right, Jimmy,’ she said. ‘I do understand. But will you at least wait until I have collated all the information I have gathered over the last couple of days, and until we can have a face-to-face meeting.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know …’

&nbs
p; ‘Jimmy, I am sure you don’t wish to be seen to have presided over the fall of Fairbrother’s. Look, I’m planning to come back to London today. Can we meet early tomorrow morning?’

  ‘I’m not sure I can afford to wait that long. Can’t you make it this afternoon?’

  ‘Well, late afternoon perhaps. I could come to the office at, say, five? I have other meetings first which could have a really positive bearing on the situation.’

  ‘I just don’t know, Bella—’ responded Jimmy.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ Bella interrupted. ‘Please trust me. You owe it to this family, surely, after all these years.’

  Jimmy Martins seemed to take a very long time to answer. ‘All right,’ he said eventually. ‘Five p.m. this afternoon it is. But I have to tell you, Bella, I really do not think there is anything you could possibly say that might make me change my mind.’

  ‘Look, at this stage I just want to thank you for the opportunity to attempt to do so,’ said Bella, before ending the call.

  She climbed out of bed, reached for her hotel issue towelling dressing gown, and sat down on the couch by the window, holding her aching head in both hands.

  She had once read some words of wisdom that would stay with her always, and indeed had often comforted her in bad times. If you feel like committing suicide, wait until tomorrow.

  Part of the thinking behind that, she’d always assumed, was that tomorrow never came.

  Her tomorrow, however, had arrived with a vengeance. She was in a corner she could see no way out of. The events of the previous night had shocked her to the core.

  She hadn’t exactly lied to Jimmy Martins. There were no meetings in her diary for that day, but she was seriously considering arranging at least one. Although that certainly was unlikely to have the positive influence she had promised the acting chairman. She’d merely said the first thing that came into her head in order to stall the man – perhaps only delaying the inevitable, but at least giving herself time to think. If she took the course of action she was considering, it would be she who would prematurely pull the plug on Fairbrother’s, not Jimmy Martins.

  Bella was no saint, nor had she ever been. She was probably one of the toughest businesswomen in the world, certainly one of the toughest in international banking.

  Even the remotest possibility of suicide had never crossed her mind before. But it might have been a serious consideration on that awful morning, were it not for her daughter. Kim had been brought up without a father, in the lap of luxury, yes, but by a mother who was all too often preoccupied with her career. Nonetheless Bella loved her daughter dearly, and one thing she could not do was leave her alone. Neither was she at all sure that she could allow Kim to grow up without having a mother whom she could respect. A mother who, ultimately, had tried to do the right thing. Albeit probably too little too late.

  However, she might still be wrong in her judgement of the situation she found herself in. And she could end up putting her own future and that of the bank in jeopardy for no good reason. It was the kind of dilemma she had never, in her most nightmarish dreams, imagined having to face.

  In spite of everything that had happened, including the events of the last few days, Bella had an intense pride in, and loyalty to, her family and the family business. She had often made it clear she would do anything to protect Fairbrother’s and ensure the future of the bank. She had also always retained huge professional respect, if nothing else, for her father. And it was all of those factors which had combined to lead her to her present lamentable circumstances.

  It seemed not to be true, after all, that she would do anything for Fairbrother’s. She had a limit. And she suspected she had reached it. Actually, she may have progressed beyond it. She believed she was partially responsible for three deaths. Three murders. She did not know for certain that there had been three murders, of course, neither did she know if she could be held legally responsible – and in fact she suspected that she could not be, not yet anyway. But her involvement in the complex sequence of events which had led to the fire at Blackdown, and to those three deaths, could surely be proven. In any case, even if she faced neither prosecution nor any other form of restitution, she would have to live with that possibility.

  She checked her watch. It was still only 7.30 a.m.. Too early to reasonably make the phone call she found herself pondering. In any case, once she had made that call, she would be setting in motion a chain of unstoppable procedures which could lead irrevocably to her own downfall and that of the bank. She decided to have a long hot shower in an attempt to clear her beleaguered head.

  An hour and a half later, showered, dressed, and sitting again on the couch by the window, this time drinking strong coffee and picking at a room-service breakfast, she found that, whilst her head was a little clearer, she remained no less troubled. Should she make that phone call, or not? If she did, there would be no going back. That was for certain.

  She switched on the TV, the regional news programme. The lead item was a break in at The Gatehouse at Blackdown Manor. Armed intruders had been seen on the premises. Police were anxious to locate the householder, Mrs Janice Grey, who was missing.

  Bella recoiled in shock. The bulletin indicated that the incident had occurred during the night, just a few hours after she had made her phone call from the public box on Whiteball Hill.

  Without giving herself any more time to think she picked up her phone and dialled David Vogel’s mobile number.

  He answered at once, as seemed to be his wont, in spite of the early hour, for which Bella apologised.

  ‘Don’t apologise, Miss Fairbrother,’ responded Vogel. ‘I’m running a murder inquiry. There is no early.’

  ‘Uh right,’ continued Bella. ‘Look, I’ve just seen a news bulletin about a break-in at the Gatehouse. It says Mrs Grey is missing, I was wondering—’

  ‘She’s safe, Miss Fairbrother,’ said Vogel. ‘She was found soon after daybreak. I believe a media statement is being prepared.’

  Bella found herself overcome with relief. She wasn’t sure if she could deal with another death, whoever was responsible.

  ‘I’m very glad, Mr Vogel,’ she said. ‘Look, I was hoping you might have time to meet up today. I have some information for you, something I would like to discuss with you which I feel I can no longer keep to myself. It’s quite important.’

  ‘Well, of course,’ replied Vogel. ‘Can you give me any indication of what it might be about?’

  ‘No, no I can’t,’ said Bella quickly. ‘I need to see you. Face to face. It’s all too, too …’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘Delicate,’ she finished, rather lamely, she thought.

  ‘And I sense that it’s urgent?’

  ‘Yes. It is. Most urgent, I suspect.’

  ‘I see. Where are you, Miss Fairbrother? Are you still in Somerset?’

  Bella replied that she was.

  Vogel and Saslow were by then well on their way to London, just ten minutes or so from the junction between the M5 and the M4. Their journey had already been delayed by The Gatehouse incident. Vogel was eager to meet up with Nobby Clarke at Brentford and share details of their investigations.

  ‘Right, well that’s a tad tricky,’ continued Vogel. ‘Unfortunately, I am on my way to London. There are inquiries I need to conduct in the city, primarily concerning the Greys, and what has happened to both of them. And there is also the post-mortem on George Grey later today. Are you sure you couldn’t at least give me the gist of what you have to say now, on the phone?’

  ‘No. No, I really can’t. But I’m also travelling back to London today. Indeed, I shall leave quite soon. I could meet you anywhere you like, after about one-ish probably.’

  ‘Or, I could get another MCIT detective over to you from Wellington straight away—’

  ‘No, Mr Vogel, I really want to see you,’ interrupted Bella.

  She couldn’t quite explain why it had to be David Vogel that she talked to, but she had noticed his intelligent eye
s and his thoughtful sensitive manner. She could not bear the thought of confiding in some clumsy plod.

  ‘OK, the post-mortem is at 1.30 p.m. We could meet as soon as I’ve seen all I need to. That should certainly be by about three, I would have thought, possibly earlier.’

  ‘Right. Where?’

  ‘Well, I shall be at the morgue at the West Middlesex hospital. Let me think. You won’t want to come there—’

  ‘Can you come to me?’ interrupted Bella. ‘I live in Chelsea Harbour. It’s the right side of town from Brentford. We could meet at my flat, then it won’t matter if you are unsure of the time.’

  ‘All right,’ said Vogel. ‘I shall try to make it by 3.30, but thank you for bearing with me.’

  Bella was aware that would probably make her late for her meeting with Jimmy Martins. But, that appointment remained one she might ultimately not wish to keep. She gave Vogel her address and ended the call.

  She then tried to return her attention to her breakfast, but had little appetite. Bella Fairbrother was extremely worried. She had no idea whether she was doing the right thing or not. But more and more, it seemed the only course of action she would be able to live with.

  She abandoned her breakfast tray and headed for the bathroom to complete her morning routine. She hadn’t yet put on her make-up. Bella never liked to face the world without her make-up, and she had also come to believe over the years that her brain worked better once she was fully made up. On this occasion she didn’t think it would help, but she could only go through the motions.

  She’d just opened the bathroom door when her room phone rang. She assumed it was room service or reception calling. Nonetheless, out of habit, she hurried to answer the call.

  ‘Hello, sis,’ said the still familiar voice of her only brother. ‘Fancy a visitor?’

  ‘Ah, so you are in the country …’ she began, then a thought occurred to her. ‘You’re calling on the hotel phone. How did you know I was here?’