Owen saw my hesitation. His eyes gleamed. With his legs far apart now, giving him a secure footing, he reached for my shoulders and pulled. I found my chest on the railings, my face staring down at waves gently shifting in and out over the strip of sand a thousand feet below. It was a long, long way. I was gripped by vertigo; a surge of panic rose like bile from my stomach and I jerked backwards to try to break free, but it was hopeless. I couldn’t move.
‘You know what happened to the last person who tried to threaten us?’ he muttered.
I didn’t. I kept quiet.
‘Anyway, let’s just get straight who’s threatening who here,’ he said. ‘If Ninetyminutes needs my help, and I think it does, then I want you to promise me you won’t get in the way. Do you understand?’
I didn’t answer.
Owen heaved. For a fraction of a second I thought I was going over the edge, then he grabbed me again. My face smashed against the railings. ‘I said, do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ I said, fighting back the panic.
I heard a grunt, and he pulled me back over the railings. I collapsed in a heap on the ground. I felt my cheek: there was blood.
‘OK. Now piss off out of here.’
34
‘Where the hell were you?’
I looked up from my desk. ‘Morning, Guy.’
‘Jesus! What happened to you?’ His expression changed from anger to astonishment as he saw my face.
‘Someone tried to push me off a cliff.’
‘Looks like it. There aren’t any cliffs in Munich.’
‘I didn’t go to Munich.’
‘I know. I was trying to get hold of you all yesterday. Your mobile was switched off. They hadn’t seen any sign of you in the office over there. Where were you?’
‘France.’
‘When you say someone tried to push you off a cliff, you don’t mean the one by Les Sarrasins?’
I nodded.
‘You saw Owen. You picked a fight with him, didn’t you?’ The anger was returning.
‘No. I told him to stop screwing around with Ninetyminutes. I told him to stop threatening the likes of Henry and me. I told him to stop sending computer viruses.’
‘He didn’t do any of that,’ Guy said contemptuously.
‘He did. I know.’
‘You know!’
‘Guy! He almost killed me!’ Guy’s refusal to see the obvious was getting to me.
‘My brother has a bad temper. You know that. If you went over there to hassle him it’s not surprising you got hurt. Now just leave him alone.’
‘You tell him to leave us alone.’
‘What the hell do you think he was doing at Les Sarrasins? I told him to go there. You’re the one stirring up trouble, Davo!’ He was shouting now. Everyone was watching.
‘One day, he’s going to kill someone,’ I said, just preventing myself from adding the word ‘again’ with so many ears listening.
‘Just lay off him!’ Guy was glaring at me.
I got up and left my desk, fuming. Everyone stared. Guy and I frequently disagreed, but we never shouted at each other, certainly not in the office. This was a first, and everyone was aware of it.
I went out on to the street. I heard footsteps behind me. It was Ingrid.
‘David, wait!’
I waited. She looked at my face and touched my scratched cheek. ‘That looks nasty.’
‘It hurt.’
‘Owen did this?’
‘Yes. He was trying to scare the living daylights out of me. For a moment there, he succeeded.’
‘My God.’ She fell into step beside me. ‘What were you doing?’
I told her about Henry and about my theory that Owen had planted the Goaldigger virus. I didn’t mention Owen killing Dominique and Abdulatif. Although I had told Hoyle, Guy had specifically asked me not to tell her, and I felt I should respect that, at least for the time being. She listened with a mixture of shock and sympathy.
‘I knew Owen was weird, but I didn’t know he was that weird,’ she said when I had finished.
‘It turns out he is.’
‘It was pretty brave of you to go and see him.’
‘Or stupid. But I had to. I had to stop him.’
‘Do you think you’ll succeed?’
‘Probably not. But I had to try. I couldn’t let him just carry on terrorizing people without doing something.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I told him that if he caused any more trouble I’d bring Ninetyminutes down. Talk to the police, the press.’
‘And will you?’
I stopped and faced her. ‘Yes.’
She avoided my eye. ‘Ah.’
‘What do you mean, “ah”? Do you think I’m wrong?’
‘Well. Owen has to be stopped, you’re right about that. And I don’t condone anything he has done, in fact quite the opposite. But if he does something stupid totally beyond our control, that’s no reason to ruin Ninetyminutes.’
‘What?’
‘You said it yourself to Guy. Ninetyminutes means something to all of us. It’s not just a means for Guy to prove something to his father. And it’s not just your conscience.’
I shook my head. ‘Whatever Ninetyminutes is, it’s not worth someone’s life.’
‘Of course it’s not,’ said Ingrid. ‘But that’s not the issue here. It’s not our fault Owen’s a psycho. Ninetyminutes shouldn’t have to suffer.’
‘But don’t you see? The threat of that is the only way to stop him.’
‘It won’t make any difference.’
‘It might. And for me, that’s enough.’ But I could see it wasn’t enough for Ingrid. She had put a year of her life into Ninetyminutes. I had known she badly wanted it to succeed, only now did I realize how badly. It depressed me. Without saying another word, I turned on my heel and walked. This time, she didn’t follow me.
*
My trip to France hadn’t solved anything. The doubts I had felt before Christmas, doubts that I thought I had laid to rest, were returning stronger than before.
I had thought the situation was clear. I knew Owen was dangerous, but I had thought he was out of the way. Guy, I had thought, was guilty of no more than protecting his brother. And I had thought that I could forget about France and Tony’s death and concentrate on Ninetyminutes.
It was now obvious I couldn’t. Owen wasn’t out of the picture, and neither was Tony’s death. My conversation with Hoyle had raised more questions than it had answered. What had Tony done with the knowledge that his sons had been blackmailed by Abdulatif and that one of them had probably killed the blackmailer? Knowing the Jourdan family, it seemed unlikely to me that he had simply offered counsel and support. And I remembered something Owen had said while he had me pinned against the railings at Les Sarrasins. Something about what had happened to the last person who had threatened them.
Was he talking about his father?
I should take Owen’s threats seriously. I felt the icy fingers of fear tickle my chest. I was afraid of him.
I knew Owen had killed in the past. I knew he could kill again. He didn’t like me, he had probably never liked me, but while I was on Guy’s side he would tolerate me. Once I started asking questions, probing into his brother’s past, that attitude would change. He was strong, he was clever, he was ruthless. But what was most frightening about him was he just didn’t have the same sense of proportion as other people. Nor did he seem to have any remorse. He had bitten off a schoolboy’s ear in a rugby match. He had killed his stepmother for the crime of adultery. He would kill me if he thought I was a serious threat to his brother.
So should I just look the other way, as Owen had mocked me for doing up till now?
It was tempting. It wouldn’t disrupt Ninetyminutes. I’d stay alive. I might even make some money.
But it was the memory of Owen’s taunts that made me realize I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t the kind of person who got rich on the back of other
people’s crimes, and I didn’t want to become that kind of person. I would find out what had happened to Tony, and I would do my best to make sure that no one else was killed.
The problem was, I didn’t have the time.
Guy’s optimism had returned with a vengeance. Ninetyminutes had ten million pounds to spend and he had lots of ideas on how to spend it. Offices in Milan and Barcelona to complement those in Paris and Munich. A site dedicated to Euro 2000, which was taking place in June. More recruits: we now had forty employees and the number was climbing week by week. Organizing this stretched all of us.
And we didn’t actually have the cash yet. Following his phone call Henry had sent us a letter promising us ten million pounds subject to terms to be agreed. As far as I was concerned, those terms had to be agreed as soon as possible. And that meant talking to Clare Douglas.
Clare was diligent, fearsomely diligent. She wanted numbers on everything: website visitors, on-line sales, costs, budgets, cash flows, advertising revenues, headcount. She wanted these numbers going back into the past and forward into the future. And she asked questions, lots of questions. Although I respected her, all this caused me a lot of extra work when I had other things to focus on. I wanted to sign the damned shareholders’ agreement and get on with it.
Guy, Mel and I met Clare at eight o’clock one morning in the boardroom in Ninetyminutes’ offices to discuss the agreement. It should have been very straightforward, since the draft in front of us was based heavily on Orchestra’s original investment document. The only difficult point would be, as always, the price. How much of the company would Orchestra get for their ten million pounds?
Clare was a small figure, stuck alone on one side of the table facing the three of us. She was a couple of years younger than us, but there was something in her grey eyes that said, don’t try to push me around. I noticed how she was fidgeting with a pencil and she seemed more nervous than usual. It wasn’t altogether surprising: we were prepared for a tough negotiation session.
What we weren’t prepared for was what Clare actually said.
‘I’m worried about this investment, Guy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’m not sure Ninetyminutes is going to make it.’
The three of us stared at her.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, although I understood perfectly well. ‘This money should see us safely through until we do an IPO later in the summer.’
‘But what if the stock market gets worse rather than better?’
‘In that case, it’s possible we might not get the funds at the price we originally wanted.’
‘You might not get the funds at all.’
‘We’ve been through all this with Henry,’ Guy interrupted. ‘The decision’s been taken. He’s written us a letter promising us the funds. Orchestra can’t go back on that, can they, Mel?’
‘Definitely not,’ said Mel.
‘You’ve just decided this?’ said Guy, glaring at Clare with contempt.
‘Yes,’ Clare said, glaring back.
‘And what does Henry say?’
‘Henry’s still on holiday.’
‘You mean you haven’t even talked to him?’
‘No. But I’m responsible for this investment now within Orchestra. And I’ve made my decision.’
‘And what will your senior partners say about you welching on a deal?’
‘They’ll stand by me.’
‘When this gets out, which it will, it’ll ruin Orchestra’s reputation.’
‘So will investing ten million pounds only to lose it three months later.’
Clare’s answers were clear and strong. I admired her: she was doing a good job in difficult circumstances.
Mel coughed. ‘Clare, I’d like to draw your attention to this letter that Henry sent us. It clearly states that Orchestra Ventures will provide the funds.’
‘On terms to be agreed,’ Clare responded.
‘Which is what we should be discussing now.’
‘Very well. We will make the ten-million-pound investment mentioned in the letter in return for ninety-five per cent of the company and voting control on the board.’
‘That’s absurd!’ said Guy. ‘That values the company at next to nothing.’
‘It’s next to bankrupt,’ said Clare.
‘With voting control, you could just put the company into liquidation and get your funds out,’ I said.
Clare gave me the briefest of smiles. She had thought of that. ‘The truth is, as I said at the beginning, if we don’t want to invest, we don’t have to. Now, I think I must be going. I’d like to talk about how we take the company forward from here. You still have two hundred thousand pounds in your account. But that’s a discussion for another time, don’t you think?’
She gathered her papers together and left the room.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Guy snarled as she closed the door behind her. ‘She can’t do that, can she, Mel?’
‘I don’t know. We can try and stop her, but it will be difficult. Henry’s letter is subject to contract.’
‘First Bloomfield Weiss and then Orchestra Ventures! These City guys offer you money and never come through with the goods. I’ll tell the press about this. Davo, I want you to get right on to Henry and get him to sort this out.’
I shook my head. ‘Sorry, Guy.’
‘What do you mean? Call him!’
I glanced at Mel, but decided to talk anyway. ‘You know as well as I do why Henry changed his mind. Owen threatened his family.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Owen mutilated Henry’s daughter’s cat and then shunted his wife and children into the middle of a busy road.’
‘What is this crap?’ Guy said.
Mel looked at me as though I was mad.
‘I’m not about to put more pressure on him,’ I said.
‘All right, give me his number. I’ll call him.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘And let me tell you something else. If any more threats are made to Henry, or Clare, I’ll tell the press and the police everything I know. And be sure to pass that message on to your brother.’
With that, I left the room and returned to my desk. I picked up a pen and paper and started to figure out how Ninetyminutes could possibly survive without the Orchestra money.
Ten minutes later, Guy returned to his desk. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, opposite each other but avoiding each other’s eyes. Then Guy spoke.
‘Davo?’
‘Yes.’
‘I promise you I know nothing about Henry’s family being threatened.’
I didn’t answer, but turned back to my work.
‘And I swear that neither I nor Owen will put any pressure on Clare or Henry or anyone else at Orchestra.’
I glanced up. Guy’s eyes held mine. He looked sincere. Of course.
‘But, I am going to do everything legal I can to keep Ninetyminutes alive, and so should you. Agreed?’
‘I’m not going to persuade Orchestra to do anything, Guy.’
Guy breathed in deeply. ‘OK, I’ll do that. But are you with me?’
Was I with him? His brother had done terrible things to keep Ninetyminutes alive. But then Guy had just renounced them. And there was the small matter of my life savings as well as my father’s. I didn’t want to let Ninetyminutes go either.
‘I’m with you.’
‘Good. Now let me get those bastards at Orchestra.’
I heard Guy harangue the bastards at Orchestra for the next hour. But it was clear from Guy’s half of the conversation that they weren’t going to budge. They were one hundred per cent behind Clare. Although her actions had placed Ninetyminutes in probably the most difficult situation we had ever experienced, I couldn’t help admiring her. She was a brave woman.
I suspected she didn’t realize how brave.
That afternoon I went round to Bloomfield Weiss’s offices in Broadgate to discuss the possibility of doing an IPO for a
reduced amount of funding at a lower price. The banker was not optimistic. NASDAQ was still sliding. All the hot internet stocks were way below their IPO prices and slipping lower by the day. Wait till the summer, he said. We were in May. I wondered when his summer would start. Not any time soon, I thought.
Back at the office, I described my meeting to Guy. He listened impatiently.
‘So what are you going to do about it?’ he asked when I had finished.
I took a deep breath. ‘I think we should do two things. Firstly, we should talk to Champion Starsat again. Ask them whether they still want to buy us.’ Guy scowled. I ploughed on. ‘Secondly, we should cut way back on expenses to make the cash we have left last longer. If we cut back far enough, we might be able to last through till October. We might even break even.’
‘Great idea, Davo. And what price do you think Champion Starsat will pay? I’ll tell you something, it won’t be a hundred and fifty million quid. If we didn’t want to sell out at the top of the market, why should we sell now? And as for cutting back, I keep telling you, we need more investment, not less. Can’t you see that?’
‘We don’t have any choice. If we carry on as we are we’ll be closing our doors in three weeks.’
‘Look, I want solutions, not problems. Finance is your responsibility, Davo, so be responsible for it. We are the fastest growing soccer site in Europe; ninetyminutes.com is a brand people know. We’re getting there. We’re winning. And you’re trying to tell me that we’ve lost. I don’t get you, Davo. We used to work together as a team. But now I think you’re just trying to look for problems.’
‘I don’t have to look for them,’ I said. I was angry now. ‘They’re there, staring me in the face every day from our bank statement. I can’t make them go away.’
‘You could bloody well try,’ said Guy.
‘Oh, yes? How?’
‘Fire Bloomfield Weiss. Get an adviser with guts. You must still have some mates at Leipziger Gurney Kroheim. And what about all those other people who were falling over themselves to get our business in March?’
‘It’ll look bad in the market if we fire Bloomfield Weiss.’
‘I don’t care what it looks like. All I want is a broker who can get us the cash.’
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