See No Evil

by Michael Ridpath

  Calder looked at her. He wanted to help, and she almost certainly would find out anyway. ‘I went to see Cornelius van Zyl.’

  ‘Ah. I don’t think that was a good idea, Mr Calder.’

  ‘But I’m sure he’s responsible for this,’ Calder said.

  ‘If he is, and I stress if, the last thing we want you to do is go barging in accusing him. He will need to be treated carefully.’

  ‘Have you seen him yet?’

  ‘I’m going down to London early tomorrow morning, with my superintendent.’

  ‘Superintendent?’

  ‘This is an important investigation.’

  ‘And Cornelius van Zyl is an important man?’

  ‘He certainly is,’ said Banks. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Calder.’

  Calder saw the two detectives to the door. He was shaken by Banks’s questioning, especially about his relationship with Kim. He really didn’t want that to come out. He was quite sure that it had no relevance to the attempt on Todd’s life: the idea that Kim was in some way responsible was absurd, no matter how much money she stood to inherit. But on the other hand he was encouraged by Banks’s persistence and perceptiveness. If she grilled Cornelius like she had grilled him she might get somewhere.

  19

  It was a fine room, Cornelius thought: a long antique board table, portraits of venerable nineteenth-century bankers and the ships that they had financed, and a partial view of the Thames between the flanks of two new City tower blocks.

  They were in the boardroom of Leipziger Gurney Kroheim, the merchant bank that had been swallowed by a German leviathan but was still plying its traditional trade of advising companies how to buy and sell. On the other side of the table were three Gurney Kroheim bankers, led by a smooth Jewish man in a nice striped shirt; Peter Laxton, the deal-doing founder and chairman of Laxton Media; and Tim Rollinson, his recently appointed finance director. With Cornelius were Edwin, Benton Davis, Dower and another Bloomfield Weiss banker whose name Cornelius hadn’t registered. The Gurney Kroheim man was talking, asking for more time before accepting the Zyl News bid.

  It boiled down to the classic game of chicken. Who would blink first. Zyl News had made an offer for Laxton Media shares that in accordance with Takeover Panel rules had to be open for at least twenty-one days. Peter Laxton owned only 10 per cent of the shares of the company he had founded, most of the rest were held by large investors who were sitting on significant losses and were by now fed up with the company’s management. They were waiting before tendering their shares, hoping for a higher bid to emerge. But the company’s bankers wanted their money back and they wanted it now.

  Laxton Media were playing for time, trying to extend Zyl News’s deadline in the hope that they might elicit a higher bid from Evelyn Gill or one of the other potential suitors. Zyl News didn’t want to give them more time for exactly the same reason. If Cornelius refused Peter Laxton’s request for an extension, he risked Laxton rejecting the Zyl News bid. This would be fine for Laxton if another higher bid materialized, but disastrous if it didn’t. Laxton’s bankers were impatient. If Peter Laxton and his board dithered and a higher bid failed to appear, the banks could force the company to come back to Zyl News with their tails between their legs and accept any price Cornelius chose to offer them.

  So, a game of bluff. Of the key players around the table, three were professionals of the first order: Cornelius himself, the Gurney Kroheim banker and Peter Laxton. One wasn’t: Tim Rollinson. He was thin, he was bald, he wore thick glasses and he was mean: he had a reputation as a hard man, a vicious cost-cutter, and he had been put in place by the banks. But he wasn’t a player. Cornelius kept his eyes on Rollinson. Rollinson noticed and shifted in his chair. He twisted the top of his Waterman pen to the left and to the right, gripping it so tightly that Cornelius feared he might break it.

  When the banker had finished, there was silence, all eyes on Cornelius. Cornelius kept his on Rollinson. He let the silence drift. ‘We rather thought that you would want to do a quick deal,’ he said eventually.

  ‘We appreciate that,’ Laxton replied, ‘but you can understand why we might want a couple more weeks to give other interested parties time to put a bid together.’

  ‘I’m just thinking through what will happen if they don’t come up with a bid,’ Cornelius said, ignoring Laxton and focusing on the finance director. ‘It will be tight meeting the payments due to the banks, won’t it, Tim?’

  Rollinson looked up from his papers at Cornelius. The finance director was staring through his thick lenses, Cornelius was peering over his more delicate half-moons. ‘I’m quite certain we will have plenty of time to arrange things satisfactorily with the banks,’ Rollinson said. ‘They have assured us that they will give us all the time we need to come to the very best deal for Laxton Media shareholders.’ He held Cornelius’s eyes for a second, two seconds, and then his own eyes flicked sideways towards Peter Laxton for the tiniest instant before returning to Cornelius.

  The instant was enough. Rollinson was lying. Cornelius knew it, he couldn’t put into words how he knew, but he knew it. He smiled at Peter Laxton, just to let him know that he knew. ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t extend our offer. It expires in, what is it now, eleven days’ time. I’m sure your shareholders will see the sense in going with us.’

  Laxton cleared his throat. ‘We’ll have to consider our position,’ he said gravely.

  ‘Of course you will,’ said Cornelius, smiling. ‘That’s your prerogative.’

  As they left the Gurney Kroheim offices, Benton clapped Cornelius on the back. ‘You’ve hung them out to dry! There’s no way the banks will let them delay recommending our offer. You could see it in Rollinson’s eyes.’

  Dower glowered. ‘We’ll have to wait to see what Laxton come back with,’ he said. ‘We can’t be sure they were bluffing.’

  Benton caught Cornelius’s eye and winked. Dower glowered some more.

  *

  Calder drove over to the hospital to see how Anne was doing. The doctors were pleased with her progress, but she was still unconscious. There was good news from Todd. He was awake: awake but very groggy.

  Kim was ecstatic. Todd had no clue where he was or what he was doing there, but he had recognized Kim. They had spoken, though he had made little sense and soon gone back to sleep. But it was a beginning. Cornelius’s plan, to which Kim had grudgingly agreed, was to move him down to a private hospital in London sometime during the next couple of days, but until then she was determined to stay at his bedside as long as they would let her in case he woke up again.

  Calder had difficulty persuading her to leave him for half an hour. They strolled out of the entrance to the main hospital building and wandered through the grounds, such as they were, ignoring the racks of polysyllabic signs pointing in all directions. Calder recounted his interview with Inspector Banks, although he didn’t mention her probing questions about Kim’s relationship with Todd.

  ‘Let’s hope she gets somewhere with Cornelius,’ said Kim.

  ‘I was thinking,’ Calder said. ‘Whoever planted the bomb in the Yak must have known that Todd and I were going to fly that plane on that day. Now, people at the flying school would have known, and it would have been on the booking sheets there, but it’s highly unlikely that an enemy of Todd’s would have checked. Which leaves the question –’

  ‘Who did we tell?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I told my parents on the phone, I remember that.’

  ‘They’re in Liverpool, aren’t they?’

  ‘That’s right. And when we saw Cornelius in London, we had a conversation about it. I said I was worried about the safety of such an old plane. He just said it sounded fun.’

  ‘Very interesting. Did you mention it to anyone else?’

  ‘No.’ Kim screwed up her face, thinking. ‘Just Cornelius and my parents.’

  ‘I think we can rule your parents out. Your father isn’t an international terrorist wit
h a grudge against Todd, is he?’

  ‘No. He’s the retired owner of a lighting shop who dotes on him,’ Kim said.

  ‘That leaves Cornelius.’

  They walked on, passing an elderly lady with a patch over one eye making slow progress towards an outpatients clinic. She paused for breath and to wish them a good evening.

  ‘There’s not much more we can do here,’ Calder said. ‘I think the next step is for me to go down to South Africa. See where Martha died. See where she lived. See if I can find anyone who knows anything about the last few weeks of her life. Perhaps try to find the diary. I was hoping Todd might be of some help.’

  ‘He might be later, but not now,’ Kim said. ‘What about Caroline?’

  ‘She was only twelve at the time, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. But she noticed the diary. And she told Cornelius she wanted to find out more, remember. I could call her, if you like. She and I got on quite well. In fact –’ Kim pulled out her mobile ‘– I could call her now.’

  ‘OK,’ Calder said. ‘Go for it.’

  They sat on a grassy bank outside the orthopaedic outpatients clinic, and Kim rummaged in her bag for a number. It was about six o’clock English time, so morning in San Diego. She punched out the number, and Calder sat with his ear close to Kim’s to hear the conversation.

  Caroline answered and seemed happy to hear from Kim, and very happy to hear that Todd had woken up. Then Kim explained what Calder was going to do, and asked Caroline whom he should see.

  ‘That’s hard,’ Caroline said, her voice sounding noticeably more Californian over the airwaves. ‘Mom and Dad were often entertaining people, but I’m not sure which ones were true friends, or whether Mom would have confided in any of them. There’s Zan, of course, who was staying there at the time. She lives in Camps Bay now, I think. It’s a swish suburb of Cape Town.’

  ‘I’ve got her address,’ Kim said.

  ‘OK, good. And Doris, who was the maid. If Alex sees her, tell him to give her a big hug from me. I really liked her. Wait, there was a newspaper guy who worked for Dad, George something, George Field, I think. Mom and he became quite close. And she used to go off to some kind of project in one of the townships a lot. Guguletu. She had friends there. It’s kind of hard to think of anyone else. I remember my friends’ parents quite well, but they were important to me rather than Mom.’

  ‘What about the diary?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Hondehoek has been sold now, of course. She said it was hidden in a desk with some tax stuff, didn’t she? God knows where that is. Perhaps at Dad’s house in Philadelphia? Most probably the desk was sold in South Africa and the old tax papers thrown away, like Dad said.’

  ‘Oh,’ Kim said, disappointed.

  ‘But there is something else I’ve remembered about the diary. Actually, I’ve always known it, it just seemed that Dad was so jumpy at that dinner the other night, I didn’t want to mention it then. You remember I said I saw Mom copying something into her diary from a man’s briefcase?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t know the name of the guy with the briefcase, but I do remember the name of the other man. Andries Visser. I remembered it because “Visser” was the last name of my best friend, and it was one of the few other Afrikaner names in our school, so I was curious. I asked her about him, in case it was her father or something, but she didn’t know him. He did have a limp, I remember.’

  Kim raised her eyebrows to check that Calder was listening. He nodded to show he was. ‘Well done, Caroline,’ she said.

  ‘I was afraid of mentioning the name at the dinner. Dad was obviously pretty touchy about the whole thing. And Edwin was there.’ She paused. ‘I don’t trust Edwin. In fact I remember he and Mom got on particularly badly.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Kim. ‘What about Zan?’

  ‘No, she did fine with Mom. We hadn’t seen much of her since I was very little, but then she showed up that winter and stayed with us for a couple of months. Mom and she seemed to get on really well. She might be worth speaking to.’

  ‘Thank you, Caroline.’

  ‘Look,’ she said. ‘If you need any financial help with any of this, please let me know. Perhaps I can help with paying for Alex’s trip?’

  Kim glanced at Calder, who shook his head. ‘I’ll ask him. And we’ll let you know what happens.’

  ‘Good. And Kim?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Give Todd a kiss from me, will you?’

  They walked back towards Todd’s room.

  ‘It’s funny,’ Kim said. ‘After I saw that woman Donna here I was scared of Todd waking up, scared of how I would feel about him. But I’m just pleased. Thankful. Happy.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘This may sound stupid, but I think what you and I did made me less angry with him. I’m more angry with myself perhaps, but it’s made it easier to forgive him. Maybe our whole marriage will fall apart when he recovers, but I hope it won’t. I’m willing to try again if he is.’

  ‘He’d be a fool not to,’ Calder said.

  Calder spent the evening preparing himself for his trip to South Africa. He logged on to the internet to buy an air ticket to Cape Town for the following day and to do some preliminary research. He checked out Andries Visser. There were several men of that name mentioned on Google, of course, but the most likely candidate was a bureaucrat in the South African Finance Ministry in the 1980s and 1990s. There wasn’t much about him: some speeches he made to conferences, his name among a list of members on dull-sounding committees. It was odd that someone like that would have had a significant meeting with Cornelius. There was no indication of his current job or whereabouts, but at least it was a start.

  He also tracked down the reference to the word ‘Laagerbond’ in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission testimony. It was as scant as Kim had suggested. A man named Ben Dillard was testifying in relation to an amnesty application for his part in the bombing of the ANC offices in London in 1982. He was a spy for the South African security police and during questioning he mentioned that his handler, Colonel Retief, was rumoured to be a member of the Laagerbond. Colonel Retief could not be called on to testify as he had died in 1990.

  Calder checked South African news sites for any further mention of Dillard. It turned out he was granted amnesty, but he was murdered in 2000 when his house in Durban was broken into by robbers.

  Turning away from his computer, Calder phoned Donna Snyder at the New Hampshire number she had given him. She was nervous when she heard his voice, but overjoyed to learn that Todd had woken up. Calder tried to keep the conversation short, and cut her off when she started talking about how upset she was and whether she should resign from her position at the school. He had done what he had promised to do. He was happy to be leaving that particular problem thousands of miles behind him.

  The next morning he set off for Heathrow planning to stop at Langthorpe and the hospital on the way. The airfield was in its usual state of minor turmoil. Jerry was sympathetic about Calder’s sister, but not impressed with his travel plans. It would mean more cancelled lessons and frustrated students, but Calder was adamant. Jerry would just have to cope by himself.

  There was good news at the hospital: Anne was awake. Calder was just about to follow the nurse into the ward to see her, when William blocked his way.

  He looked bad: his face was yellow, his eyes glinted manically from hollow sockets, the little hair he had stuck out in odd directions from his scalp. ‘I don’t think you should disturb her now, Alex,’ he said.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Calder said reasonably. ‘I’m going to South Africa for a few days. I just want to see her before I go.’

  ‘South Africa, eh?’ William laughed, an unpleasant high-pitched bray that Calder hadn’t heard before. ‘You never learn when to leave things alone, do you?’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Calder said, edging past him.

  William grabbed hold of his arm and tugged. ‘I said you shouldn’t go
in.’

  Calder held his ground but kept his temper. The nurse had gone on into the ward, unaware of the delay. ‘I’m her brother. I have a right to see her.’

  ‘She doesn’t want to see you,’ William said.

  ‘How do you know?’ Calder said. ‘I heard she can’t speak.’

  ‘I’m her husband,’ William said. ‘I know what she thinks.’

  Calder sighed in irritation and broke free of William to meet the nurse who was returning to look for him. He followed her to Anne’s bed.

  Like Todd, she was hooked up to all sorts of machines and instruments. The first thing Calder noticed was that her left arm was in plaster. The second, after a quick glance at her bed, was that the sheets were flat where her left leg should have been. The third was that her cheek and her forehead were bandaged. Her nose and mouth were covered by an oxygen mask, and her eyes were closed.

  He moved over beside her. She opened her eyes. He took her right hand and pressed it. ‘Annie, it’s Alex,’ he whispered.

  Her eyes took a moment to focus on him. Then they widened. Her fingers, which had gently clasped his hand, opened. She began to shake her head, gently at first and then more violently.

  ‘Annie! It’s only me,’ Calder whispered again, more urgently.

  Anne turned her head away from him.

  The nurse put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Come with me, love,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to upset her.’

  Calder stared at the back of his sister’s head, her short spikes of hair plastered to her skull. Then he let himself be led out of the ward.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ William brayed in triumph at the door. ‘Now, don’t come back!’

  Calder ignored him. He reeled down the corridors. He needed to get out of there.

  ‘Alex!’

  He turned. It was Kim. ‘Alex! What’s wrong?’

  Calder put his hand to his brow. ‘I just saw Anne,’ he said.

  ‘What’s happened? Has there been some kind of complication?’

  ‘No,’ Calder said. ‘She …’ He could hardly bring himself to say it. ‘She didn’t want to see me. She turned her head away.’