On the Edge

by Michael Ridpath

Anne drank her wine. She looked angry. And upset.

  What is it?’ Calder asked.

  ‘You know you could get yourself killed?’ she said, her voice shaking.

  ‘I’ll be careful. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘You might say that, you might even believe it, but it’s not true. How can it be true when two people have already died?’

  ‘I’m still alive, aren’t I?’

  ‘You were lucky, Alex. You seem to live your life assuming that you always will be lucky, but one day your luck’s going to run out.’ A tear ran down her cheek.

  ‘Don’t worry, Annie.’ Calder stood up and put his hand on her shoulder.

  She brushed it with her fingers. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you went. After Mum. It would kill Father. It would leave me in a pretty bad way, too.’

  Calder kissed her on the top of her head. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said firmly, willing it to be true.

  Anne got up from the kitchen table, grabbed a tissue from a box on the window-sill and blew her nose with it. ‘Why do you always have to take such stupid risks? I couldn’t stand it when you were flying those jets. And then you had your accident. At least when you were trading it was only money you might lose, but now you’re back at it, aren’t you? Playing games with your life. I wish you were like Father and put it all on the horses.’

  ‘I’m not sure that would be such a good idea, now, would it, Annie?’ Brother and sister turned to see their father standing in the doorway. ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘Tell him not to be such an idiot, Father,’ Anne said.

  Calder bristled. It was a flagrant breach of sibling rules for Anne to draw their father into an argument on her side. ‘OK, I admit I’m in some danger,’ he said to her. ‘But don’t you see, someone has to stop Martel and others like him from getting away with killing innocent people? It’s just like someone has to fly aeroplanes or join the army to keep the rest of us safe. It just happens that in this case it’s me who has to do it.’

  ‘You love it, don’t you?’ Anne said. ‘Admit it. You love it.’

  ‘I was scared yesterday,’ Calder said.

  ‘Oh, yeah, I’m sure you were scared. But that’s just part of the thrill.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Calder growled angrily. But he knew that she did. That she was right. The prospect of going to America, facing up to and getting through some as yet unknown danger did excite him. But he couldn’t admit that to her. He could barely admit it to himself.

  ‘What’s all this about innocent people getting killed?’ their father asked.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ said Calder. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  Dr Calder sat at the kitchen table, poured himself a glass of wine and looked at his son levelly. ‘Try me.’

  With a sigh, Calder briefly explained about Jen and Perumal, Carr-Jones and Martel.

  ‘See?’ Anne said, appealing to her father. ‘He’s crazy, isn’t he?’

  The doctor stared into his glass of wine, his very stillness giving him authority. It was the pause before the diagnosis. ‘You have to let him do it, Annie,’ he said at last in a voice that was soft and rich, barely above a whisper. ‘It is dangerous, but it’s the right thing to do.’

  She shot him an angry glance. ‘He’s going to go, whatever I say.’

  ‘Aye, and so he should.’

  Anne wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I do find it difficult though. And, Father, I’m sorry about that crack about the horses.’

  ‘That’s all right. It was the truth, after all.’ Then the doctor answered the question he knew his children wanted to ask. ‘I have been to a session of Gamblers Anonymous, as Alex suggested. The first thing you have to do is admit you are a compulsive gambler. That’s harder than I expected.’

  Calder smiled at his father. For once, he felt pride in the proud man. ‘Are you going again?’

  ‘Aye. In three weeks’ time. And of course, thanks to your help, I’ve taken Orchard House off the market.’

  Anne reached over and squeezed her father’s hand. He looked as if he were about to withdraw it, recoiling from the sign of affection, but then he let it rest and smiled at her.

  Calder checked his watch. ‘Oh, Christ, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I agreed to have a drink with the lawyer friend of Jen’s. I shouldn’t be back very late, but don’t wait up for me.’

  ‘But we’ve hardly had a chance to talk,’ protested the doctor.

  ‘No,’ said Calder, for once with regret.

  ‘I’ll see you out.’

  They walked out into the night. The sky was clear and it was just possible to see the stars through the orange glow of London.

  ‘Thank you for supporting me, Father.’

  ‘Och, Annie gets herself too worried. Especially about you. She always has.’ They stood in companionable silence for a moment.

  ‘Alex?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you for paying off those debts.’

  ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘It was a lot of money. An awful lot of money.’

  ‘I can afford it. As you have pointed out many times in the past, I was paid too much in the City. I put by a bit. Quite a bit.’

  ‘I’d like to pay you back.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Calder said.

  ‘No, seriously. I could maybe pay you back a few hundred a month. Perhaps a bit more when I could.’

  ‘Where would you get the money for that, Father?’ Calder said. Then he knew the answer. ‘No, Father. Definitely not. I don’t want you gambling to repay me. That’s not why I wrote those cheques in the first place.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that,’ said his father. ‘Who knows where I might turn up a bob or two?’

  Calder stared at the doctor, the pride he had felt in him ebbing away. Then, afraid his father would notice his disappointment, he turned quickly on his heel into the night.

  Calder was in a bad mood as he walked past the Trelawney Stewart building. Why couldn’t his father just forget the bloody money and the horses? Plus he was not looking forward to another lecture from Sandy on his failure to support Jen, especially after what he had just been through. He had assumed he would have to hang around for another hour, but Sandy was waiting for him in the bar near her office, nursing a glass of fizzy water. She smiled tentatively when she saw him.

  ‘They let you out early tonight, then?’ Calder said.

  Sandy shook her head. ‘Nine o’clock isn’t really early, is it? And after this I’m going back up there. I can see this becoming an all-nighter.’

  Calder winced. ‘I thought you’d have finished here by now?’

  ‘I should be skiing in Austria with a friend as we speak. But the deal didn’t close and I’m still here.’

  ‘Bad luck.’

  Sandy shrugged. ‘I’m used to it. Let me get you a drink.’

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘No. Let me.’ She smiled. Calder let her get him a glass of white wine to add to the half bottle he had already drunk. The wine bar was quiet; she returned a moment later.

  ‘Why do you do it?’ Calder asked.

  ‘Be a lawyer?’

  Work so hard.’

  ‘I’ve got no choice. The client gives Trelawney Stewart the deadline and Trelawney Stewart agrees to meet it, no matter how ridiculous it is. That’s what we do. That’s why we charge such exorbitant fees.’

  ‘You could quit. Do some other kind of law.’

  Sandy glanced at Calder. ‘You’re right. It’s very strange. I mean I worked really hard to get to this situation. You might have guessed it already,’ she smiled, ‘but I’m pretty competitive. I went to Harvard Law School. During my second year I tried out for the summer associate programme at one of the top firms. Out of hundreds of applicants, Trelawney Stewart took me on, and they are one of the best corporate law firms in New York. They wined and dined me and told me I was wonderful, so when I graduated I went to w
ork for them full time. And now I’m here they just make me work harder and harder. The better you are as an associate the more work you get to do. I suppose eventually I’ll make partner and earn godzillions of bucks, but until then all I do is read hundreds of pages of legal documents and make corrections.’ She glanced again at Calder. ‘It’s just not logical when I put it like that, is it?’

  Calder smiled and shook his head. ‘But you’re going to stick with it?’

  Sandy sighed. ‘I guess so. I’m just not a quitter. And I suppose I’ve got something to prove.’

  ‘To whom?’

  ‘Myself. My dad, maybe. He’s a hotshot banker. He’s never told me he wants me to be a hotshot lawyer, but I guess at some level I’m just trying to please him. It’s infuriating.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ said Calder. ‘A hotshot banker? He’s not–’

  ‘Arthur Waterhouse? Yes, yes he is. Sorry, I try not to let that slip out in conversation.’

  Arthur Waterhouse was chairman of Stanhope Moore, ‘a blue-blooded American bank that had just been swallowed up by the gigantic US Commerce Bank. He had a reputation for old-fashioned integrity. Which in today’s world of investment banking meant he was a dinosaur.

  ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, is it?’

  ‘No but … I wouldn’t want you to think I’m just some privileged rich kid. Even if I am.’ She smiled nervously.

  ‘I’ll forgive you,’ Calder said, returning her smile.

  ‘Speaking of which,’ Sandy said, clearly glad to be changing the subject. ‘I owe you an apology.’

  ‘What for?’ Calder asked.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said last time I saw you.’

  Calder shrugged. But he was more inclined to accept Sandy’s apology than Tessa’s.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about our conversation since then,’ Sandy went on. ‘And if you’re right and Jen was murdered, I’m very glad you at least are trying to do something about it. Everyone else has given up.’

  ‘That’s certainly true,’ Calder said.

  ‘Jen wouldn’t have quit.’

  ‘I know.’

  Sandy smiled. ‘I told you we went to high school together? I remember one time in our senior year Jen kicked up such a fuss. She twisted the school board into knots.’

  ‘Now, why am I not surprised?’

  ‘You may not think it to look at her, but she was brilliant at soccer. So brilliant she decided the girls’ team wasn’t good enough for her, she wanted to play for the boys. The Athletics Director wouldn’t let her; he didn’t see why she couldn’t just play with the rest of us. But Jen was having none of that. When she didn’t get what she wanted out of him, she teamed up with a local lawyer and laid into the school board. It was a big deal: it was all over the letters-to-the-editor pages in the local paper. Her parents were mortified, but she didn’t care. In the end the school board caved in, and they let her on the boys’ squad.’

  ‘How did she do?’

  ‘She only started once. They said she wasn’t good enough to be a regular first-team player.’

  ‘Ooh. I bet she wasn’t happy with that.’

  Sandy shrugged. ‘She seemed to accept it. She spent the rest of the season on the bench and we lost our best player. But I guess she’d made her point.’

  They were silent for a moment, thinking of Jen.

  ‘So, what have you found out?’ Sandy asked. ‘Do you mind telling me about it? I am interested.’

  ‘All right,’ Calder said. So he told Sandy all he had discovered about Jen’s and Perumal’s deaths, about Carr-Jones’s protestations of innocence and the faking of the Teton Fund revaluations.

  ‘Do you really think two people have been murdered?’ Sandy said, her eyes widening.

  Calder nodded.

  ‘And no one’s doing anything?’

  Calder shook his head. ‘Just me. The American police are convinced Perumal died in an accident, and the British police think Jen’s death was suicide. I did talk to them about the “Sorry Mum” message, but they weren’t convinced. It was definitely “Mum”, though, we were right about that.’

  ‘So you’re going to the States tomorrow?’ Sandy asked.

  ‘Yes. Jackson Hole. I want to find out more about Perumal’s death and I want to see this Teton Fund at close quarters.’

  ‘Good.’ Sandy fiddled with her wine glass, now almost empty. ‘Um. I’ve been thinking.’ She looked at him nervously, strands of hair falling over her eyes. ‘I know I was pretty horrible to you before, but I’d like to help you on this. Once this deal does close, I’ll have some time before I’m expected back in New York.’

  ‘What about your skiing holiday? Can’t you rebook it?’

  ‘I thought of that,’ said Sandy. ‘But the woman I was going with from work can’t get the time off next week. I’ve screwed up her vacation too.’ She smiled, to herself rather than to Calder. ‘I would have asked Jen, It would have been fun. And that made me think. I’m still angry about what happened to her, even angrier now I’ve heard what you have to say. I owe it to her to help you.’

  Calder smiled politely. ‘Good. Well, if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Sandy said. ‘I’m serious. While you’re in the States perhaps I can do some stuff here. I can be pretty persistent if necessary. I’m sure I can help.’

  Calder looked at her. It would be good to have an ally, and useful possibly. Nils was there to help at Bloomfield Weiss, but there was a limit to how much Calder could ask him. Sandy did seem a capable woman, and the idea of spending more time with her appealed. Appealed quite a lot. ‘Will you have the time?’

  ‘I’ll make the time.’

  ‘All right, then,’ Calder said. ‘Thanks. There is something you could do. There are a couple of suspect investors in the Teton Fund: the Zeller-Montanez family from Mexico and a Ukrainian called Mykhailo Bodinchuk. It might be worth trying to find out something about them.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, pulling a Palm out of her bag and jotting the names down on its tiny screen. ‘I’ll see what I can dig up. How can I get in touch with you? Does your mobile work in the States?’

  ‘It should do.’

  ‘And you will let me know if there’s anything else I can check out?’

  ‘I will, don’t worry.’

  Sandy drained her glass, ready to go back to work.

  ‘Oh, Sandy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You should be careful. Remember Jen and Perumal were probably both murdered. And someone tried to kill me a couple of nights ago.’ Calder briefly explained his struggle in the dark field with the anonymous man. ‘So if you sense any danger, any danger at all, just drop it. Do you understand?’

  Sandy gave Calder a broad smile. ‘You drop it. I’m going back to work. Have a nice trip.’

  Pohek watched the tatty car draw up to the house in Highgate and an Asian man get out and ring the bell. A cab. Calder answered the door, and handed the man a bag. A moment later he was inside the cab. It turned in the road and passed Pohek’s car. He waited and followed. He had been lucky to catch it. He had decided to start staking out the house that morning at six-thirty, and it was barely six forty-five.

  He had checked in with Martel as Luigi the night before to report his success in the supplemental job, scaring the wits out of the runt with the glasses. He hadn’t mentioned the disastrous scramble around the Norfolk cow field, but just said that he was waiting for the right time to deal with Calder. Martel had been apoplectic in his impatience and Pohek had rung off. He would finish the job, cash the cheque, and then Luigi would disappear for good.

  The cab wound its way through some small streets and then on to a major highway. The traffic was building, and Pohek found it relatively easy to hang back three or four cars. This was something he was good at: following without being seen. Cab and bag could mean only one thing, and his suspicion was justified as he began to notice signs for Heathrow airpo
rt. He followed the cab to Terminal Three and parked his own car in the short-term car park. He soon picked out Calder at the United Airlines check-in. From that desk there were flights to a number of destinations in the US: Los Angeles, Dallas, Chicago and Denver. Denver. Flights to Jackson Hole connected at Denver.

  Pohek smiled. It looked like he was going to get another crack at the hundred grand. And on his own territory he was much more confident of success.

  27

  The Teton County Sheriff’s Office was at the back of the courthouse in the centre of Jackson. It was a bright morning and the town was bustling under the watchful gaze of the ever-present mountains. Skiers and snowboarders hauled their unwieldy equipment to bus stops. Tourists took pictures of each other in front of the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar or underneath the arches made of elk anders on the four corners of Town Square. Locals passed each other with a friendly wave or a ‘howdy’.

  As he waited in the hallway Calder’s attention was caught by a sign advertising a Firearms and Home Defense course. Above it was a montage of the mug shots of the sheriff and his loyal deputies. Most of the men had moustaches, but the sheriff had the biggest of the lot, an enormous white walrus that established his dominance over the town. His office had a comfortable, friendly feeling about it: not the kind of place you would expect to see a real criminal.

  Calder was met by not a sheriff, nor even a deputy, but a sergeant, and a detective at that. He wore shirt, tie, neat jeans and cowboy boots. Sergeant Dave Twiler was in his early fifties with close-cropped grey hair, a medium-sized moustache and eyes that had spent a lifetime squinting at the sun. He acted as if Jackson was still the sleepy western town it must once have been.

  He led Calder to a small office and indicated to a chair by his desk. ‘Take a load off,’ he drawled. People really did drawl in Jackson.

  ‘Thank you for seeing me,’ Calder began.

  ‘You’ve come a long way. You want to ask about Perumal…’ he leaned forward to examine the name on the folder lying on the desk in front of him ‘… Perumal Thiagajaran?’

  ‘That’s right. I was a friend of his from work in London. His widow asked me to try to find out some details about what happened.’