Fatal Error

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘Was Clare there?’

  ‘Oh, yes. There were the four of us: Guy, Silverman, Clare and me. And Mel was there as the company’s legal adviser.’

  ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘Silverman told us the deal. Champion Starsat are offering eighteen million in cash for the whole company, subject to due diligence on their part. Guy can stay on if he wants, but their plan is to integrate ninetyminutes.com with their existing internet businesses. The offer expires at midnight on Thursday.’

  ‘Midnight on Thursday? But that’s only two days away!’

  ‘Yep. Madden is piling on the pressure.’

  ‘Did the board go for it?’

  ‘Guy made an impassioned plea for independence. You’ve heard it all before, but he was pretty eloquent. Then Mel started trying to pick holes in the Champion Starsat offer. Clare would have none of it; she said it was very straightforward and there was no reason to doubt it. She and Mel had a real fight; Silverman had to break it up. Clare won, though. Mel had to shut up.’

  ‘So Orchestra want to sell?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Yes! What about Silverman?’

  ‘You know the way the shareholders’ agreement is with Orchestra. In times like this, they call the shots. Silverman knows that and he went with Clare.’

  ‘Which left you?’

  ‘I abstained,’ Ingrid said, smiling. ‘It seemed the best thing to do in the circumstances.’

  ‘So they’ve accepted the offer?’

  ‘Not quite. They’ve agreed to let Guy see if he can find an investor before Friday. If he has a firm unconditional offer on paper before then, they’ll reconsider. Otherwise they’ll accept.’

  ‘He’ll never manage that, will he?’

  Ingrid shrugged. ‘You should never underestimate Guy,’ she said. ‘He’s going to see Mercia Metro TV in Birmingham this afternoon. He reckons they’d be an ideal fit.’

  Ingrid was right, you never should underestimate Guy. But I felt a huge surge of relief. It looked as if my investment was safe. Much more importantly, my father wouldn’t lose any money. And I would be proved right. Guy would be devastated, of course, but after that morning’s meeting that didn’t concern me too much. In fact, I was rather pleased. I was also pleased for the staff, especially Gaz, whose website would continue.

  We left the café to head back to Baker Street tube. As we paused to cross the road, Ingrid turned to check for traffic and grabbed my arm.

  ‘My God!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look!’

  I looked. About twenty yards behind us a large figure in a Ninetyminutes T-shirt and baseball cap was shambling along the pavement towards us. Owen.

  He stopped and stared at us, his face devoid of expression. A cab with its light on was approaching us along the Marylebone Road. I thrust out my arm and the taxi screeched to a halt. I bundled Ingrid inside.

  I turned to look for Owen.

  He was gone.

  39

  Anne Glazier was a small, harried woman of about thirty wearing an English suit and a Hermès scarf. The rapid clack of her heels on the hard stone floor echoed around the cavernous foyer of Coward Turner’s new building as she approached me, bulging briefcase weighing her down on one side. We perched uncomfortably on the leather-clad slabs that were supposed to act as seats for the big law firm’s visitors.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me,’ I said.

  ‘Not at all,’ she answered briskly. ‘A murder is important.’

  ‘It is indeed.’

  ‘I take it the police haven’t discovered who killed Tony Jourdan?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You know they spoke to me at length?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. But as I told you on the phone, I’m Guy Jourdan’s partner. The uncertainty over the whole affair is damaging our business, so I’m trying to get to the bottom of what happened myself. I wanted to talk to you in person: I’m sure you know how important it is to get the details right.’

  She frowned for a moment, but then nodded. She looked like the sort of woman who spent a lot of time getting the details right.

  ‘Can you tell me what happened that evening?’

  ‘All right. Mel’s an old friend from Manchester. We studied law together. Every now and then when I visit London I stay on an extra night with her. She does the same in Paris. We see each other perhaps a couple of times a year. Anyway, that afternoon I went to her office to pick up her key. She told me she’d meet me at her flat later. She also said her boyfriend might be there.’

  I picked up a note of distaste in Anne’s voice. ‘You weren’t happy about that?’

  ‘Not exactly. Especially when I heard who it was. I remembered Guy from several years ago. He wasn’t good news. I know he’s a friend of yours, but I’m sure you understand what I mean.’

  I nodded. I did.

  ‘Also, I wanted to spend the evening with Mel myself. I mean, that’s why I was staying with her. But Mel was so excited it was embarrassing. You know her, she usually seems so cool. Apparently, Guy had stayed with her the night before and she was clearly convinced this was going to be the beginning of something serious.’

  From her tone, Anne was less convinced.

  ‘So you were in Mel’s flat all evening?’

  ‘Yes. From about seven o’clock onwards. I dumped my stuff there that afternoon and went for a walk. I got back about seven.’

  ‘And then Guy showed up?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘At what time?’

  ‘I can’t remember exactly. I did tell the police. It was quite late.’

  My interest quickened. ‘So you’re not sure when it was?’

  ‘Not now. It’s six months ago, isn’t it? But I was sure then. I gave them a precise time.’

  ‘Nine thirty?’ I said, remembering my conversation with Spedding.

  ‘That sounds right.’

  ‘How could you be so precise?’

  Anne’s eyebrows knitted together as though she didn’t like the implication that she was ever anything but precise.

  ‘I was watching the clock. Mel wasn’t back from work. I was annoyed. As I said earlier, the whole point of this was to see her. I thought we’d go out to dinner or something.’

  ‘So she wasn’t there when Guy showed up?’

  ‘No. I let him in.’

  ‘How was he?’

  ‘Drunk. Not just drunk. He was in a state. He looked manic. He didn’t say anything to me, just, “Hello,” and “Where’s Mel?”. He searched the flat for alcohol, found a bottle of wine, opened it and slumped on the sofa to wait for her.’

  ‘What happened when Mel came back?’

  ‘She wasn’t much better. I mean, she did have a few words with me, but she was all over Guy. Comforting him, pouring him more drink. She ignored me! I left them to it and shut myself in my room. I was on my way to the airport when Mel called me on my mobile to say that Guy’s father had been killed. She said the police would want to speak to me.’

  ‘Do you know what Mel and Guy talked about?’

  ‘No. They didn’t want me to hear.’

  ‘Could it have been about Tony Jourdan’s death?’

  ‘No. They didn’t know about it then.’ Anne looked me straight in the eye. ‘As you can tell, Guy Jourdan is not my favourite person, and to be frank neither is Mel when she’s with him, but nothing he said or did suggested he was plotting to kill his father. And according to the police, it would be impossible anyway, given the time he arrived at Mel’s flat.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I said.

  ‘I hope I’ve been some help,’ Anne said, looking at her watch. ‘Now I really must go upstairs to get ready for my meeting.’

  I watched her march to the bank of lifts, her heels rapping her progress on the hard floor, and thought about what she had said.

  It was looking increasingly unlikely that Guy could have killed his father. He didn’t have the time to do it himself, and Sergeant Spedd
ing’s conviction that Tony’s death was not the work of a professional effectively ruled out the possibility that Guy had hired someone else to do it.

  That, at least, was good to know. Or it should have been. But my feelings about Guy were becoming more confused, not less, especially after the way he had accused me of betraying him and tried to take my stake in Ninetyminutes away from me. Was he the friend I had always assumed he was? Or was he someone else entirely? Had I really wasted the last year of my life and ruined my career by following him?

  And if neither Guy nor Owen had killed Tony Jourdan, who the hell had?

  I was wary of letting Ingrid go back to Ninetyminutes now Owen had seen us together, but she was determined to do it. She wanted to see what was going on.

  What was going on was that Guy was desperately trying to get Mercia Metro TV interested in Ninetyminutes. He took Ingrid, Gaz, Amy and Mel along with him to Birmingham on Wednesday. According to Ingrid, he put on a good performance and she had no doubt he caught Mercia Metro’s interest. He persuaded two of the senior people to come down to Britton Street the following day, although they weren’t confident that they would be able to put in an unconditional offer by the midnight deadline.

  Nothing from Owen. Ingrid said he was in the office, but he gave no indication that he’d seen the two of us together the day before. Not that that meant anything. I was worried about her. Guy had his back to the wall. Whenever that had happened in the past, someone had got hurt. This time I prayed it wouldn’t be Ingrid.

  I spent the next day, Thursday, the day of the deadline, at home climbing the walls. Ingrid called at eight o’clock that evening.

  ‘I’m leaving now.’

  ‘You’re what? I thought you’d be staying till midnight. Has Guy given up?’

  ‘No. But he’s sent us all home.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’ll explain.’

  She did, when I saw her half an hour later.

  ‘The Mercia Metro TV team came down this morning: the Managing Director and the Finance Director. Guy showed them around the office and there’s no doubt they were keen. All kinds of talk about synergies, and internet space and all that mumbo-jumbo. But then we sat round the table to talk about the deal. They didn’t seem to think there was much chance of coming up with an unconditional offer. They’d have to do their own due diligence, get an accountant’s investigation, convene a board meeting and God knows what.

  ‘Guy argued with that for a while, and then Mel suggested that a conditional offer might work. After all, Champion Starsat’s offer is conditional on due diligence, so if Mercia Metro come up with a better deal with the same conditions, the Ninetyminutes board will have to consider it.’

  ‘What price are they talking?’

  ‘A valuation of twenty-two million pounds. But Mercia Metro wouldn’t buy the whole company. The idea is that they invest eight million of new money and become a minority shareholder. Guy will still run the show. The strategy will still be all-out growth.’

  ‘Will Mercia Metro bite?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s a chance, no. It’s true the Managing Director liked the business, but the Finance Director was sceptical about the practicalities, and he had some pretty good arguments. Also, I suspect they would need a board meeting of their own to authorize the offer, and there doesn’t seem much likelihood of them calling one in time.’

  ‘So it’s all over?’

  ‘Not according to Guy. He still thinks they might go for it. He organized a conference call with Clare Douglas and Derek Silverman to discuss accepting a conditional offer. I sat in on it.’

  ‘Were they receptive?’

  ‘In a word, no. Silverman said it would be a mistake to throw out a solid deal for a flaky one at this stage. And Clare was adamant that it was unconditional or nothing.’

  ‘Good for her.’

  ‘Yes. But she didn’t sound happy about it at all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know Clare. She always seems so cool and in control. Today she sounded tense. Very tense. Almost afraid.’

  ‘Really? Maybe something else is going wrong at Orchestra. I remember last time I went to see her there she looked stressed. Said something about putting out fires.’

  ‘Perhaps. Whatever it was, there’s no way she’s going to change her mind.’

  ‘And you? What did you say?’

  ‘I voted with Guy.’

  ‘For appearances’ sake?’

  ‘Partly. But I have to admit it would be nice if we could bring in Mercia Metro TV as a minority shareholder and Ninetyminutes could continue growing.’

  ‘It would be very nice,’ I said. ‘But it’s not going to happen. You said it yourself: the Internet doesn’t make money. This is our chance to get out whole. We won’t get another one.’

  Ingrid sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. But I can’t help feeling sorry for Guy. He’s a brave man, you know. He’s fighting to the bitter end.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘We wait. Guy sent everyone home, he said there was no point in doing any work. People wanted to stay, but he insisted. It was as if he wanted to be by himself at Ninetyminutes at midnight.’

  ‘Strange.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What’s he like? Is he holding it together?’

  ‘In a manic kind of a way. While there’s still hope.’

  ‘But when the hope goes?’

  Ingrid shuddered. ‘Who knows?’

  The door buzzer rang. I opened it. It was Clare. A distraught Clare. Her hair was a mess, her grey eyes, usually so cool, were wild, her face was flushed.

  I showed her into the living room. Her eyes widened when she saw Ingrid.

  ‘Don’t worry. Ingrid and I are together.’ I said this without thinking through the implications. It was simply the truth.

  Clare’s eyes darted between us. Ingrid smiled reassuringly.

  ‘OK,’ Clare said, accepting the fact. ‘I need to talk to you.’ She was shaking.

  ‘Here, sit down. Do you want a drink? A cup of tea. A whisky?’

  Clare sank into a sofa. ‘No, it’s all right,’ she said. Then she smiled quickly. ‘Actually, a wee whisky might be a good idea.’

  I got her one. Lots of whisky, not much water.

  She took a gulp. ‘Thanks.’ She winced at its strength. Her hands were still shaking. ‘I need your help. Henry suggested I talk to you.’

  ‘Henry?’ I wondered what she could possibly want to talk to me about. Then I knew. ‘You’ve received a threat, haven’t you?’

  Clare nodded. ‘Two.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Yesterday I got this.’ She handed me a single sheet of A4 that had been folded three ways to fit into a standard office envelope. I read it:

  As you know, Ninetyminutes has received an unsolicited offer from Champion Starsat to purchase the company. You should reject this offer in favour of pursuing discussions with other potential investors. In addition, you should make a one million pound bridge loan available to Ninetyminutes until another investor is found. If you don’t reject this offer by midnight on Thursday, you will die. Your colleague, Henry Broughton-Jones, received a similar threat in April. He took the right decision. You should too. By the way, if you contact the police, or anyone else for that matter, you will still die.

  The note was unsigned. It had been produced by a computer, of course, but the font was slightly different from the letter Henry had received.

  Ingrid was reading it over my shoulder. ‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered.

  ‘Did you show this to Henry?’

  ‘Yes,’ Clare said. ‘The bastard told me all about what had happened to him and his family. I can’t believe he let me take Ninetyminutes over from him without warning me. The coward.’

  ‘He was worried about his family,’ I said.

  ‘What about me? And he said he’d told you all about it. Why didn’t you let me know what was going on?
’

  ‘I’m sorry. I had promised Henry I wouldn’t. I did try to stop it. I went to France to try to warn Owen off.’ I touched my cheek, where there was still a small scar. ‘Obviously that didn’t work.’

  ‘Obviously,’ said Clare.

  ‘So that’s why you sounded so shaken this afternoon?’ Ingrid asked.

  ‘Absolutely right. I decided to ignore the note. But I was rattled. And then I got this.’

  She handed me the printout of an e-mail. This message was much shorter.

  You have eight hours. Say no to Champion Starsat or you die. I’m serious.

  I tried to decipher the internet routing gobbledegook. The message had been sent to Clare at Orchestra. Where it had come from was impossible to determine: I didn’t recognize any of the forwarding addresses.

  ‘Will it be possible to trace this?’ I asked.

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Clare. ‘It’s easy to send anonymous e-mails once you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Anonymous?’ I snorted. ‘I don’t know why Owen bothered.’

  ‘Do you think it is Owen?’ Ingrid asked.

  I nodded. ‘I’m sure it’s Owen. It’s a last-ditch attempt to protect Guy.’

  Clare shuddered. ‘That man gives me the creeps.’

  ‘So he should,’ I said.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Ingrid asked Clare.

  ‘I know I’m not going to give in to the threats,’ said Clare, her hand shaking.

  ‘Henry did,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘I know Henry did. But I’m not going to. If I do, Orchestra Ventures will lose millions. I’m just not prepared to be responsible for that.’

  ‘It would be quite understandable if you did pull the deal,’ I said. ‘You should know Owen is quite capable of carrying out his threats. He’s killed at least two people that I know of.’

  Clare looked at me, eyes wide. ‘My God, I’ve dealt with some shady people in the past, but never a murderer.’ Then they narrowed. ‘He’s not going to mess me about. I’m not that easy to push around.’

  I exchanged glances with Ingrid. Clare was a brave woman, there was no doubt about it.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘That leaves you with three choices. You could say nothing and hope, you could go to the police, or I could go and see Owen.’