Roger falls backwards. I dodge out of the way and hear his head hit the edge of the bar with a solid thump. He goes down on the floor in a crumpled sprawl, beer and blood pooling around him.
‘Fucking hell.’ I’m not sure who says that. The barman’s hurrying out from behind the bar and other drinkers are gathering round, though most of the customers are still fixated on the football.
I’m at the door by now. This is my chance. I glance back at Roger, who isn’t moving. I think he must be seriously injured. I wonder if he might actually be dead. If he is, who’s to blame?
Roger Lam was the attractive man who gave me a beginner’s lesson in Go and came across as a kind and cultured academic.
And Roger Lam was the man who tried to kill me one week ago.
So, he’s to blame. And I’m slightly shocked by the fact that I’m happy for him to suffer for it.
I’m not trembling as I walk away from the pub. My mind isn’t scrambled. I feel absolutely certain that what I’m doing is right. Whether I can pull this off I don’t know. But I’m going to give it my very best shot.
Tahvo Norrback is waiting for me by Beau Brummell’s statue at the end of the Piccadilly Arcade. I know it’s him from some way off. Tall, lean and white-haired. He’s wearing a raincoat that looks as if it’s designed to cope with serious Nordic weather.
‘Mr Norrback?’ He doesn’t see me coming and my words make him start with surprise. He’s wearing hearing aids, I notice. Well, he’s close to eighty, so that’s no surprise. But there’s no vagueness of old age in his gaze or in his voice. They’re both firm and decisive.
‘Miss Nevinson?’
‘Call me Nicole.’
‘I’m relieved to see you, Nicole.’
‘Same here. When were you released?’
‘Yesterday. After pressure was applied by the Finnish embassy. I’m glad the fall-back scheme worked. But still I was worried that …’
‘Something would go wrong?’
‘Quite a lot of things have gone wrong.’
‘Not today. I made it here in one piece. So did you.’
‘You have the tape?’
‘Yes.’ I hold up the bag containing the radio cassette player. ‘And the means to play it.’
‘Not necessary. I know what it says. I had it translated many years ago.’
‘I think we may have to play it, actually.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s someone who needs to hear it. And, with any luck, he’s very close by.’
We walk into the Ritz at close to six o’clock. I’m gambling Billy will be in his room, probably getting ready to go out for the evening.
And we’re in luck. The young woman at the reception desk calls his room. Sorry, his suite.
I guess he’s surprised when he hears who wants to see him, but none of that registers in the expression of the young Ritz woman. ‘Please go up.’ She supplies the suite number and some directions.
During a slow walk round from Jermyn Street, I told Norrback all about how I was separated from Joe and Forrester and that previously Forrester and I had seen Billy and Bruno at Morecote, Hexter’s country house. He knows Billy’s not to be trusted. What he doesn’t know is exactly how I intend to persuade Billy to help us.
‘If Hexter has done some sort of deal with Venstrom,’ he comments drily as we go up in the lift, ‘surely Swarther will just brush us off.’
‘Venstrom has a reputation to protect, Tahvo. The other directors won’t thank Billy for sullying it. That’s where they’re vulnerable. Corporate image.’
‘And you think you can convince him their … image … is under threat?’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘Well, I’ll help you as far as I can. But this is your world.’
My world? I suppose so. But it doesn’t feel like it. Not any more.
Billy Swarther’s a big man, with a big personality. He generally laughs a lot and projects bonhomie. He likes large audiences and spacious surroundings. He likes, above all, to be liked. And that’s relatively easy when you’re fronting a successful multinational company with a large and adoring workforce.
Of course, I’ve never met Billy one on one. I’ve only ever been part of a group delivering glowing reports and optimistic forecasts. He loves that. He thrives on it. Expansion. Innovation. Growth. That’s his domain.
He looks oddly different in the lavishly furnished and decorated acreage of his suite overlooking Green Park. He’s wearing a dress shirt and trousers, which is quite a change from his Californian casuals. He also looks ever so slightly nervous, which I wasn’t expecting. But then I’ve become a seriously unknown quantity and he probably realizes he can’t big-talk his way past whatever I’ve come to say.
It’s probably even more significant that he’s asked us up. He could have refused to see us. But he didn’t. He’s not sure what he’s dealing with. I suppose that’s why he hasn’t called Bruno in to join us.
I introduce Norrback. There’s a cautious handshake between them. Then Billy swivels his big blue-grey eyes to look at me. The trademark smile’s in place on his broad, tanned face. But there’s not a lot of warmth hovering around it.
‘You could’ve come and seen me a few days ago, Nicole. But from what Bernice told me, you just turned tail and ran.’
‘I’m here now, Billy.’
‘So I see. But not alone. Who exactly are you, Mr Norrback? And what’s your interest in my company’s relationship with Nicole?’
‘I’m a retired Finnish civil servant, Mr Swarther. I’m here to warn you against doing a deal with Clive Hexter. He’s in the pay of the Chinese.’
‘Who isn’t? One way or another?’ Billy laughs. It’s not contagious.
‘He’s a Chinese double agent,’ I state baldly.
‘That’s one of the craziest ideas I’ve ever heard.’
‘Surely not. What about “When we hire you we take you into our family.” Isn’t that crazier still?’
‘We’ve always supported you, Nicole. Does Mr Norrback know about your little crack-up in Palo Alto?’
I take a breath, determined to face down both Billy and the problems I had back then, which seem now unimportant as well as irrelevant. ‘I fell in love with the wrong man and I was stupid enough to believe he meant it when he said he was going to leave his wife for me and I didn’t cope well for a while when I realized he’d been lying to me – and her – all along.’
‘“Didn’t cope well” is a hell of an understatement.’
‘You all sided with Kevin so quickly, Billy. So quickly and so easily. You and the other men on your all-male board.’
‘Maybe you—’
‘Maybe you should concentrate on what really matters here and now, Mr Swarther,’ Norrback cuts in. ‘Your company is doing business with a Chinese spy.’
‘That’s horse shit. Where’s Carl, Nicole? You told Bernice he’s dead. But the police say they’ve no idea where he is. I reckon his “death” is just another of your fantasies.’
He’s not going to rile me. I let him see that. ‘Tell me where I figured in your deal with Hexter, Billy.’
‘You weren’t discussed. Why the hell would you have been?’
‘What was discussed?’
‘Ways in which Venstrom Computers could benefit from any AI breakthroughs Joe Roberts’ work with British Intelligence leads to. Pretty much the best we could hope for after you screwed up so spectacularly.’
‘British Intelligence don’t have him any more.’
‘Says who?’
‘The police. According to them, he was kidnapped yesterday by me and a man called Duncan Forrester. Hasn’t Hexter told you that? I suppose not, since the truth is he organized the kidnapping. He’s paying the people who are holding Joe.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Probably because his Chinese handlers told him to.’
‘You’re out of your mind.’
‘Will you listen to me, Mr Swarther?’ N
orrback sounds calm and oh so reasonable. ‘I first met Hexter thirty years ago. You should know what happened then. Before you make any decisions, you should know that.’
‘Are you going to let him tell you, Billy?’ I ask. ‘It’ll go badly for you if you ignore this and then it blows up in the company’s face. Reputations are hard to win. But you can lose one faster than you can blink.’
Billy slumps down petulantly in one of several plush Louis XVI-style sofas. ‘Go on, then. What have you got to say?’
‘Do you want to get Bruno in to hear this as well?’
Billy thinks about that for a moment, then says, ‘No. Just give it to me.’
So Norrback does. The full story of the secret conference with Slavsky in September 1989; his subsequent assassination; the murders of Curtis and Bourdil; the attempted murder of Forrester; and the tape recording of Hexter’s voice, ordering the hit on Slavsky and his team.
I can tell from the deepening frown on Billy’s face and the draining of confidence from his gaze that he’s worried by what he hears. He demands proof, naturally enough. I get out the radio cassette player and play the tape. Which is in Chinese, of course. Billy only has Norrback’s word for what’s said on it. Billy signals that thought with a sceptical shrug.
‘Did you recognize Hexter’s voice?’ I ask.
‘Maybe,’ Billy admits. ‘Maybe not. But I don’t understand a single damn word.’
‘Phone the concièrge, then,’ I challenge him. ‘There are bound to be some Mandarin Chinese speakers on the hotel’s staff. Get one of them sent up here to translate it for you.’
‘That is a good idea,’ says Norrback. ‘If you don’t believe me.’
Billy huffs and puffs a bit, as if we’re putting him to some almighty inconvenience. But he can’t think of a good reason not to take me up on the suggestion. He phones down.
The Ritz is the Ritz, after all, used to fulfilling stranger requests than this. He’s told someone is on their way.
‘You know Tahvo’s told you the truth, don’t you, Billy?’ I ask as we wait.
‘According to you, someone’s been feeding me some big fucking lies, Nicole,’ he growls in reply. ‘So I can’t afford to take anything – or anyone – on trust.’
There’s no arguing with that. ‘Did you make any serious attempt to find out what had happened to Carl? To me, come to that?’
‘I put McKenzie on it.’ Gordon McKenzie, Venstrom’s Head of Security. No pushover. But not exactly an outside-the-box thinker either. ‘He turned up nothing but dead ends.’
‘And that’s where you’d have left me? In a dead end?’
Maybe it’s just as well that, before he can answer, the doorbell rings.
They’ve sent a sous-chef, kitted out in kitchen whites. He looks faintly puzzled. But he hides it well with an ingratiating smile. The guest is always right at the Ritz.
Billy tells him what we want him to do. ‘OK,’ he says.
I play the tape. He listens.
‘You want every word?’ he asks. Billy nods. ‘Can I?’ His hand hovers over the machine’s buttons. He looks enquiringly at me. I nod too.
He rewinds the tape, then plays it again, stopping it at each change of voice, translating as he goes.
‘First guy: “White Tiger.” I don’t … understand that. But it’s what he says. Bái Lǎohǔ. White Tiger. Second guy: “Report.” First guy: “They’ve just left.” Second guy: “I acknowledge.” First guy: “You don’t have long.” Second guy: “We know.” First guy: “They mustn’t reach Moscow.”’
Billy interrupts. ‘He definitely says that? Moscow?’
‘Yes, sir. Mòsīkē. Moscow. He, er … sounds worried.’
Billy puffs out his cheeks. ‘OK. Carry on.’
‘So, first guy: “They mustn’t reach Moscow.” Second guy: “We know.” First guy: “There mustn’t be any mistake.” Second guy: “Do you have anything else to report?” First guy thinks for a moment, then: “No.” Second guy: “I acknowledge.” Then … clunk. End of conversation.’
‘Well, thanks a lot.’ Billy stands up and folds the sous-chef’s hand round a fifty-pound note. ‘We’re casting for a film and wanted to check just how good these two guys’ Chinese really is. This is kind of a confidential process, so …’
‘I can’t remember what was on the tape, sir.’
‘Great. Thanks again.’
The sous-chef exits, still smiling.
Billy moves over to the window and gazes out across Green Park. Norrback looks at me. I signal we should give Billy some space to think. No one speaks.
Then Billy turns round and says, ‘This proves nothing. It might be Hexter’s voice. It might not. They don’t mention the Russian you talked about by name. I don’t see what you expect me to do based on something this … thin.’
‘White Tiger is the known codename of a Chinese double agent active in the nineteen eighties,’ I say. ‘Slavsky’s death and the deaths of Curtis and Bourdil are all on record. Duncan Forrester worked with Hexter and Hexter tried to have him killed. He tried to have me killed. What more do you want?’
‘Proof. White Tiger is just two words that mean nothing to me. These other people? I’ve never heard of them. I’ve never met them.’
‘You’ve heard of Roger Lam. You’ve met him.’
‘Hexter’s assistant? Yeah. I’ve met him. So?’
‘Listen to this. It happened a couple of hours ago.’
I take out the phone and play the recording I made of what was said between Roger and me in the pub. I’m so glad now the idea came to me when it did. I had just enough time to set it up before he caught up with me.
I stop the recording before we get to the fight. Billy doesn’t need to hear that. He’s already heard enough.
‘You’ll notice Roger doesn’t deny trying to kill me,’ I say, breaking the silence that follows. ‘Nor does he deny Hexter’s responsible for kidnapping Joe. In fact, he doesn’t deny very much at all, does he? But he mentions the tape. So I think we can agree the tape must prove something. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so desperate to get hold of it. And, like you say, he’s Hexter’s assistant. His trusted right-hand man.’
Billy looks warily at me. ‘Where’s Lam now?’
‘I gave him the slip.’
He glances at Norrback. ‘Was he right about the original never leaving Helsinki?’
Norrback nods. ‘Yes.’
‘Just so you know, Billy,’ I add, ‘I sent the recording of my conversation with Roger to another phone. It’s in a safe place.’ It’s actually an entirely imaginary phone. But Billy needs to believe he really does have to listen to me.
‘Where are you going with this, Nicole?’ he asks, in a tone that suggests he doesn’t think he’ll like the answer.
‘Something’s going to happen soon, Billy. I don’t know what it is, but it’ll be bad for Joe and bad for Duncan. We have to act now. You’re going to be tied in to a serious scandal if you don’t disentangle yourself from Hexter. The media will make mincemeat of you when this all blows up. And then the authorities will probably come looking for people to charge with aiding and abetting espionage, starting with you. That’s if Hexter gets away with whatever he’s planning. Because you’re the sucker who did a deal with him.’
‘You want me to undo the deal?’
‘No. You want to undo it. Because that’s the only way you’re going to survive this.’
Billy looks at Norrback. ‘Hexter really is a Chinese double agent?’
‘He is White Tiger,’ says Norrback.
‘Fuck,’ Billy mutters. He can see Venstrom’s precious reputation going up in smoke. And his with it.
‘If we threaten Hexter with exposure,’ I reason, ‘he’ll have to let Joe and Duncan go. You can guarantee maximum exposure of his activities through Venstrom’s worldwide media outlets, after all. The days are gone when he can hide behind his chums in British Intelligence and other agencies. He’ll realize there’s no way out and giv
e in to our demands. He won’t have a choice.’
Billy looks unconvinced. ‘He strikes me as the kind of guy who always has a choice.’
‘He won’t have bargained on you coming after him, Billy.’
‘You’re right there. Considering what a sweet deal I’ll be kissing goodbye to if I do. Have you any idea what access to the Chinese market is worth?’
‘Is that what he’s offering you?’
‘It’s kind of on the table. It would give us a massive advantage over all our competitors. It’s basically unheard of.’
‘Then how come it’s in Hexter’s gift?’
‘It isn’t. Not exactly. But this other guy he introduced me to … Feng Jianjun … is some sort of middleman for the Chinese government. An expert in unlocking locked doors. That’s how he put it.’
‘What do you have to do for him to unlock these locked doors, Mr Swarther?’ asks Norrback.
‘Bottom line?’ Billy smiles ruefully. ‘What I’m told to, I guess.’
‘And that would mean,’ I go on, ‘for me … and Joe … and Duncan?’
Billy shrugs, almost apologetically.
‘No amount of door-opening in China will help you if the Hexter story breaks in the media and you’re still part of it,’ I point out.
‘He’s just throwing me a few bones to keep me quiet. Until he’s got what he wants. Or his bosses in Beijing have. Yeah. I understand that.’
Billy lurches over to the desk and grabs his phone. He scrolls through some messages. ‘Big numbers,’ he murmurs. ‘Big promises.’ He tosses the phone down, heaves a sigh and looks at me. ‘You should’ve come to me right away, Nicole.’
‘And you’d have believed everything I said? Just like that? With no tape? With no evidence of any kind?’
‘I’m not the asshole you’re making me out to be.’
‘Prove it.’
‘OK.’ Billy glances at his watch. ‘It’s too late now. This is a job for the morning. I’ll settle this with Hexter then. I know for certain he’s spending the weekend at Morecote. Feng Jianjun wants the full tweedy open-fire-in-a-village-inn English experience. If we leave here at six, we can be there before they’ve finished their breakfast.’
One False Move Page 27
