‘Look, the charity was doing valuable work,’ he said defensively. ‘It would have ruined them.’
Lara closed her eyes in dismay. Why had Sandrine chosen Stefan to confide in? Why had she trusted this snake over her? But then I trusted him too. Did our desires really blind us, did hope strap blinkers to our eyes?
‘I didn’t know Sachs was dangerous,’ said Stefan, his voice barely a whisper now. ‘I swear to you.’
Lara tilted her head back, looking up at the pewter sky through wrinkled rain-washed glass.
‘Is that why you targeted me too?’ she asked. ‘Have you been feeding Sachs information on us too?’
‘No!’ said Stefan. ‘After Sandrine I stopped.’
Perhaps, thought Lara, but then Stefan had seemed a little too eager to persuade her and Eduardo that Jonathon Meyer’s inner circle and the Kanjomo Mine were the threads to follow, steering them onto an alternative narrative, trying to deflect attention away from the real one – and from everything he had done.
‘So why didn’t you tell us, Stefan? After Sandrine died?’
‘Because I wanted to believe Helen’s death was an accident,’ he said, his voice desperate now. ‘I wanted to believe Sandrine had depression and had taken her own life.’
Alex glanced at Lara.
‘And now?’ he asked. ‘Is that what you think?’
Stefan hung his head, blond hair falling over his face.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Now I’m scared about what they did to her.’
Lara felt emotions roll over her like waves: relief, anger and finally a terrible ache of sadness. She had been right all along, Sandrine hadn’t killed herself. But she hadn’t been able to save her friend and that wonderful burning bright life-force was gone forever.
‘Why, Stefan?’ she asked. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘A hundred thousand reasons.’
‘£100,000?’ said Alex. ‘That was the price of Sandrine’s life?’
‘Everyone has a price, Alex. Everyone, even you.’
Before Alex could answer Stefan picked up his rucksack. Lara tensed, almost expecting him to pull out a weapon, but instead he opened his laptop and began typing.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Accessing my files. They’re all encrypted – in the cloud.’
Finally, he closed the computer and stood up, holding something out to Lara: a USB flash drive.
‘Take it,’ he said. ‘Put it somewhere safe.’ When she failed to move, Stefan took her hand and forced it into her grip. ‘Sandrine’s files,’ he said. ‘All of them.’
Lara looked down at the little plastic stick.
‘But I thought you gave them to Sachs.’
‘I did, but I made copies.’
Stefan’s face was pale, but his eyes were still hopeful.
‘I never wanted to be the bad guy,’ he said in a voice so quiet she could hardly hear it.
‘I think you’d better go,’ she replied. Only a short time earlier, Lara had longed to be alone with Stefan, had dared to dream about a life together. Now she couldn’t bear to be breathing the same air. She had wasted enough time on him already.
Stefan nodded to himself and, hoisting his bag, headed towards the door and was gone.
Alex came over to her and put his arms around her. He held her for a long time. It felt good, his strong arms making Lara feel as if she wasn’t alone in the world.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered and Lara looked up, her damp eyes searching his.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ said Lara. ‘Seriously Alex, none of this is your fault. And don’t you think I’d rather know?’
‘I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to tell you. I can’t believe you ghosted me for three whole days.’
‘I felt bad. I was avoiding you.’
‘Yeah,’ he said with a twisted smile, ‘I got that message.’
She sighed heavily, thinking about what she’d just heard, thinking about Stefan’s betrayal, both of Sandrine and of her.
‘I’ve been so stupid,’ she whispered. ‘How could I have been taken in by him?’
‘We’ve all had the wool pulled over our eyes at some point.’
Lara reached out and squeezed his hand. She thought about Alex, alone in bed, wondering why Alicia had gone looking for the attention of another man. She pictured him there, naked save for a white sheet… then she quickly pulled away from him and held up the USB stick. ‘We should take a look.’
They went through into Lara’s study. The walls were now stripped, empty of all those photos, maps, and notes relating to the story. Lara was actually glad; it felt as if they were starting afresh – and now they had real information, not guesses. She pushed the stick into her laptop as Alex bent to look over her shoulder.
‘Wow,’ he whispered as Lara clicked on each file. It was just as Stefan had said: emails, documents, a transcript of Sandrine’s interviews with Helen Groves, even a shaky video of the lawyer offering Helen a bribe to keep quiet.
‘We’ve got them,’ said Lara.
‘No,’ said Alex. ‘Not quite.’
‘What do you mean?’ she said, looking up. ‘This is evidence.’
‘Evidence of a scandal at a small aid agency on the other side of the world. It’s barely enough to get half a page in the “World News” section. There’s motive here, and it’s a PR nightmare, but there’s nothing to prove anyone was murdered.’
Lara opened her mouth to object, then stopped herself. Alex was right. Three people were dead and yet at best, they had evidence of an attempted cover-up. They’d come so far and yet they still had so little.
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Number one, I’m going to call Stella; she will be frantic with worry.’ He explained how Stella had accompanied him to Stefan’s flat and how she had wanted to call in a SWAT team when Eduardo had told her Stefan was heading to Lara’s boat.
‘It took all my powers of persuasion to make her stand down.’
‘I definitely need to give that girl a raise,’ smiled Lara.
‘Next, you’re coming to stay at mine,’ said Alex, straightening up. ‘We might not have concrete proof, but they don’t know that.’ He gestured around the boat. ‘And they’re obviously getting jumpy.’
Lara shook her head decisively. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I won’t be pushed out of my home again.’
He looked at her. ‘Lar, I just keeping thinking…’
She stopped him.
‘Maybe you could stay here? I mean, the mattress over there has been slashed, but we can probably improvise something.’
Alex smiled.
‘I’ve slept in tougher spots.’
‘Is this where you start telling me your war stories again?’
‘I would but… Can you smell something burning?’
‘Oh crap!’ she cried, dashing to the kitchen, yanking the oven open. Smoke poured out, immediately setting off the fire alarm. Lara grabbed a tea towel and waved it in front of the charred bird as Alex ran around opening the door and windows. Finally, the ringing cut off. They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.
‘Takeaway?’ she asked.
Alex grinned.
‘Sushi, maybe?’
‘I’ll call the restaurant, you call Stella.’
Lara went back to her study and grabbed her phone, but before she could dial, she noticed a blinking message in the centre of the screen. Unknown number:
We need to talk. I have evidence you may want to see.
Victoria.
Lara’s heart lurched. Had her plan of confronting Victoria Sachs at the auction actually paid off and made her rethink her position. Or was it a trap? Whichever way, Lara wanted – needed – to know what Victoria Sachs had to say.
She walked back into the living room. ‘Bad news,’ she said. ‘The restaurant can’t deliver. Can you go and collect it? It’s only up on King’s Road, ten minutes walk, tops.’
Alex peered up at the sk
ylight dubiously.
‘Have you seen the weather out there?’
‘It’s definitely easing off. And you’re already damp,’ she pulled a goofy smile. ‘…Or you could stay here and I’ll cook.’
‘No, no,’ laughed Alex, backing towards the door. ‘I’ll go, I’ll go.’
Lara waited until she heard Alex pass through the creaky gate, then counted to twenty, giving him time to turn the corner. Then she grabbed her jacket and helmet. It was time to bring this to an end.
Chapter 36
Dusk settled upon the city. Slate grey clouds pressed low over streets barely lit by lampposts. The roads had begun to clear of traffic making it easy for Lara’s bike to hiss along Sloane Street, whose pavements were all but abandoned of shoppers and tourists.
Lara had called Victoria Sachs before she had left the boatyard, partly to make sure it was her, partly to see if she could second-guess her mood. ‘Meet me at ClearView,’ she said. ‘I’ve found something you need to see. Come alone.’ That was the entire conversation, leaving Lara to fill in the blanks.
She had tried to think it all through. At City, they had been taught Occam’s Razor, the principle that the most simple explanation was the most likely. And the most likely outcome of Lara’s ambush at Claridge’s? That Victoria Sachs would go straight home and tell her husband everything. Assuming that position, Michael’s strategy could be any number of things, from calling in the lawyers, to arranging for an ‘accident’ for Lara Stone, just as he had for Helen and Jonathon and Sandrine.
Then again, Lara had heard something in Victoria Sachs’s voice, even though they had just exchanged a few words. Regret? Shame? Lara could imagine Victoria going to her husband for advice on the potential ImpactAid scandal. She could imagine handing the problem over to him, and like Stefan, she could easily imagine her ignoring Helen’s accident or passing off Meyer’s mugging as tragic coincidence. Over her many years as a journalist, Lara had come to realise that good people could be bad, and bad people could be good, but inherently, most, when push came to shove, would do the decent thing. Just like Stefan had, finally.
ClearView was impressive, even in the rain. The elegantly curved façade had the effect of making the building seem to float above the street. Shivering white tarpaulins covered the upper floors, but at street level, it looked polished and sleek, open for business in every sense. Lara pulled the bike into the drive in front of the entrance and kicked it onto its stand. Pushing through the revolving door, she shook off the rain, glad at least to be out of the storm. The cavernous lobby was wide, glossy – and abandoned, no one behind the wide reception desk.
From the moment Victoria had suggested it, Lara had wondered what the significance was of meeting at ClearView. Stella had done her homework; knew that although the development wasn’t quite finished, both Michael and Victoria already had offices here.
‘Hello?’ said Lara, walking over, feeling foolish. She saw a large manila envelope sitting on the desk, her name carelessly scrawled on the front. Glancing around, Lara picked it up and tipped the contents into her hand: a thin plastic card with the Sachs Capital logo and the word ‘Visitor’ beneath.
Curiouser and curiouser. To the left of the reception, there was a gate with a red panel on the top. Lara tapped the card on it and with a discreet ‘beep’ the gate slid open. Simultaneously, a lift in the rear wall pinged, the doors revealing a mirrored interior.
Lara had to admit it was slick as she stepped inside, the number ‘15’ lighting up automatically. She rode up, fighting a feeling of inevitability, the feeling that someone had mapped all this out for her. As the lift doors opened, Lara took out her phone to text Alex. She knew he’d be back at the houseboat at any moment and see that she wasn’t there.
Yes, he’d worry and he’d be right to. Victoria’s intentions suddenly felt darker than they had when Lara had spoken to her.
‘At ClearView, Sachs’s new development. Come in ten minutes if you haven’t heard from me.’
As she sent the message to Alex, Lara stepped out of the lift and looked around.
Floor fifteen was almost finished. Almost, but not quite. The floors were covered in a fine layer of dust and she could still see steel beams through the open ceiling above her, but everything else looked in place. The office walls would need painting, the desks were still shrouded in plastic, but the computers were linked by multi-coloured snakes of cabling. A bank of chic, sculptured wall-lights were illuminated, but otherwise it was dark. There was even a CCTV camera pointing down, an unblinking red eye observing Lara’s arrival.
‘Hello?’ she said, walking into the wide-open space. Directly in front of her were tall windows, still with arrows indicating which way up they should be installed. At the far end, Lara could feel the breeze: no windows, the gap covered with the white sheeting she had seen from the street.
‘Lara Stone,’ said a baritone voice, coming from within the unfurnished space. A figure stepped out of the shadows. Although they had never met, Lara recognised him immediately. Michael Sachs was handsome and tall, his grey hair swept back like he’d just left the stylist’s chair. As he strode towards her, Lara tensed until she realised his hand was extended towards her.
‘We meet at last,’ he said.
Lara felt exposed and off-balance. She looked around.
‘Where’s Victoria?’ she said, trying to keep her voice even.
‘Where Victoria usually is, having dinner, having fun with her friends.’
She didn’t miss the contempt in Michael’s voice. ‘I sent her away as I thought it might be more constructive if we spoke privately, man-to-man as it were. But first, let me show you around.’
Before she had time to object, Michael strode off, enthusiastically talking her through the many features of his new office: the Italian design and the state of the art computer brains hidden behind sliding panels.
‘And come and see the view,’ said Sachs, leading Lara to the far end of the floor where the sheeting was rattling against the scaffold. ‘The windows go in last so we could crane everything else up, but they will be seamless, giving a 180 across the park. It was a bugger getting planning permission, but it’s magnificent, don’t you think?’
As Lara gazed out, all she could see was darkness and the storm whipping the tops of the trees – and all she could hear was the sound of a trap snapping closed. Victoria had set her up, lured her to an empty building. And now Michael had her where he wanted her.
Lara took a breath. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her, however vulnerable she was feeling.
‘Well, I’m glad you showed me all this,’ she said. ‘Because it’s really helped me understand your nasty little conjuring trick.’
Sachs looked at her, surprised.
‘All the way through, I’ve been thinking it was about greed,’ continued Lara. ‘But it isn’t, is it? It’s about fear.’
‘Fear? I think you’ve lost me.’
‘You had to shut down Helen Groves because any scandal regarding the charity would undermine your plan to sell Sachs Capital. If the ImpactAid trafficking story came out, your investors would have pulled their money out of your fund and the sale of the company would be derailed. Investors want to see corporate responsibility in this day and age, not corruption, cover-ups and trafficking.’
Sachs put up a hand, but she kept going.
Lara gestured towards the floor.
‘You’ve sunk all your money into this place, haven’t you? My guess is you’ve over-extended. And if you lose the fund, you’ll lose your investment here too. And you’ll have nothing left. That’s why you were so desperate to keep the story quiet.’
Sachs clicked his tongue.
‘It’s a creative story, Ms. Stone. I can see why you’ve done so well in journalism.’
‘So you’re denying it?’
‘Denying what? Some fairytale about a non-existent scandal and disappearing investors?’
‘No,’ said Lara. ‘Denying that
you killed Jonathon Meyer.’
He smiled at her and suddenly Lara caught a glimpse of the man behind the carefully-groomed façade. He looked like a wolf sizing up his prey.
‘No. I did not kill Jonathon Meyer,’ he said. ‘Jon died after a particularly brutal street attack. I wasn’t in the country at the time.’
‘Let me rephrase,’ said Lara. ‘Did you arrange to have Jonathon Meyer murdered?’
Sachs remained calm, just a slight irritated shake of the head. ‘Murder? Scandal? Do you realise how unlikely all these accusations sound? They might even suggest an unbalanced mind. Suicidal, in fact.’
Lara took a step away, her disquiet growing.
‘And I suppose saying that you had Helen Groves and Sandrine Legard killed would also show that I was slipping into madness?’
‘It would,’ said Sachs, with a creeping smile. ‘In fact, Lara, that’s exactly what I will say.’
‘Will say?’ said Lara, feeling the atmosphere change.
‘When your body is found out on the drive.’
Lara immediately turned and strode back to the lift, reaching for the ‘down’ button. But there was no ‘down’ button. In fact there were no buttons at all. Her panic rising, she pulled out the security pass and waved it in front of the door. Nothing.
Lara whirled around.
‘This is what they call a smart building,’ said Sachs, raising a finger towards the cameras dotted all around the room. ‘The whole thing is wired up for audio visual monitoring, facial recognition, GPS orientation, voice commands: seamless integration between security and data.’
Lara backed away past a line of offices, looking for another corridor or a staircase.
‘Only way out,’ he said, nodded towards the billowing plastic. The weather outside was deteriorating again; the wind was tugging at the tarpaulins.
Shit.
‘Come on Lara,’ said Sachs, following her. ‘As a writer you must appreciate how elegant the story is. Accosting my wife at her benefit lunch only shows how unhealthy your obsession with me was. So, driven mad by grief, you steal a security pass from your boyfriend, Sachs Capital researcher Stefan Melberg, and jump to your death in an attempt to frame me. You want to end it all, but at least you’ll take me with you.’
The Yacht Party Page 27