'That sounds familiar,' I told him. 'You could have been talking about the Gantry Group, in the old days.'
'You get my drift. Well, a few days ago, a whisper floated back to me from one of my former partners that the subject of the company had come up in casual conversation with one of these gentlemen. Nothing specific was said, but my former colleague was left with the impression that his client knew something.'
'Why?'
'Because the man said, casually, that he wouldn't be buying any shares in it any time soon.'
With a struggle, I began to paint a mental picture of what he was saying to me. 'You mean that the Group may be a target for gangsters?'
'That's an implication that could be put on it.'
'Well it's one that won't wash. You're a director, man. You must know that we've never been asked for protection in connection with any of our jobs. We've never been approached by phoney security firms offering their services, or else. When Susie took over she cut off all the dirty bits of the group. It's pristine.'
'I can see that from inside,' he admitted. 'But wasn't there an incident, not long before I joined the board? Something involving a small fire in the office.'
'So what?' I frowned at him, looking more than a bit defensive, I suspected.
'So, the word was that it might not have been accidental.'
'But it was. Read the Herald if you don't believe me.'
'Since when did one believe everything one reads in the press? The suggestion's been made that it wasn't, and isn't it true that there were anonymous calls to the press and the police alleging as much?'
'A stupid staff member.'
'That won't wash with me, my young friend. Nobody was sacked after it, or disciplined in any way.'
'Nobody was traced.'
'Did anybody ever try?' he asked, dryly.
'Leave that aside, though, Phil. There have been no incidents since that one.'
'None that you know of.'
'But I would, and so would you.'
'Maybe yes, maybe no.' He glanced across, we were next up on the tee.
'My concern is this, Oz. If anybody wanted to have a go at the group, mount a hostile takeover, say, they'd have little or no chance given the share price. The underwriters wouldn't support a bid much above the existing levels and the board would be quite justified in recommending rejection. But if the share price was to be seriously undermined…'
I got his drift. Actually I'd had it for a while; I'd simply wanted to make him spell it out. 'And who the hell would do that?'
'The Torrent Group has been credited recently with an interest in acquiring Gantry.'
'Come on, Phil. I know Nat Morgan. She's an aggressive character and I don't like her much, but you will not make me believe for one second that she'd conspire with criminals to undermine the share price of a public company.'
Culshaw tapped his big hooked nose. 'You're assuming something there, my friend.'
'And that is?' I asked patiently.
'That Ms Morgan is the only player in Torrent, and that she makes all of her own decisions.'
'You mean she isn't? I've had a check done on her. I know who's on her board, I know who all her major financial backers are. She's the boss, Phil.'
He laughed. 'You, of all people, can't be that naive. You don't have to be a director, or a major shareholder in a business, to have a fundamental influence on the way it's run. Oz, you're walking proof of that.'
As I took in what he was saying, a name seemed to burn itself into my forehead. It didn't help. If anything it made me more confused than ever. Why the hell would Ewan Capperauld want to undermine the Gantry Group?
I didn't have time to dwell on it, though. 'Come on,' said Culshaw.
'The tee's clear at last.'
Twenty-Two.
He's a cunning sod, is our Phil. I knew damn well that he'd raised the subject of hints and rumours surrounding the Gantry Group in the middle of our round as a bit of added insurance… as if being two up at the turn wasn't enough. He could just as easily have waited until we were back in the club-house before bringing it up.
As it happened, it backfired on him. Instead of destroying my confidence it helped me focus. I saw the golf ball as an enemy, and I knocked hell out of it for the rest of the round. I was two up myself after fifteen and closed out the match with a tap-in par on the seventeenth.
Back in the bar, we let the subject of Natalie Morgan and her possible ambitions lie. I didn't forget Phil's warning, though; on my second pint, I brought it up. 'All that stuff we were talking about on the course: I take it you're going to tell Fisher.'
'That'll be a bit difficult,' he replied. 'My information came through a professional source, so no way can I let it be minuted. Telling you about it seemed like the best thing to do; you seem like the sort of guy who might do some digging, rather than just waiting for it to happen.'
'Noted,' I said. 'Now, there's something I've got to ask you, behind the mighty chairman's back. I've told Susie that she is going to take maternity leave, and damn soon, just like any other working mother.
When Janet was born, Gerry Meek deputised for her, but this time there are too many financial balls in the air for him to combine her job with his own. So we were wondering… would you fancy being acting managing director? It wouldn't be for long, mind.'
When Susie and I had discussed an approach to Culshaw she'd been sure he'd turn us down; his golf meant a lot to him. For once she was wrong.
'I'll do it,' he said, with barely a second's thought. 'If anyone is playing silly buggers, they may be counting on a vacuum at the top. I take it Susie will raise that at next week's board.'
'Yes. She'll present it as her appointment. She thinks Fisher fancied the job himself, but no way is she going to let him take any executive decisions.'
The shit had hit the fan, though, long before the board gathered seven days later.
Only a day after Culshaw and I had our chat, Susie and I were at home, watching that silly Monarch of the Glen thing (she likes it), when the phone rang. I don't like it, so I answered.
'Oz Blackstone?' asked a voice at the other end. It was a journalist;
I could tell by the very tone of the woman's voice. Which member of our cast has done what, to whom, and with what?' Those were my first weary thoughts as I said, 'Yes,' in a tone of my own that was meant to convey in a single affirmative just how pissed off I was at having my Sunday evening interrupted.
'It's Jenny Pollock here, from the Daily Record. It's your wife I'd like to speak to actually.'
I switched into protective mode in an instant. 'Not a chance. Susie's tired, she's fairly pregnant and on top of that she's watching telly.
I'm not putting my life at risk by telling her the Record wants her.'
'But it's important, Oz.' I've noticed this about celebrity; it puts people you've never met on automatic Christian name terms. 'I'm working on a story that involves the Gantry Group and we're planning to run it as tomorrow's lead.' That got my attention, but I wasn't about to let 'Jenny' know it.
'The Group employs media relations consultants,' I told her. 'They're called Goodchild Capperauld. You've got Alison Goodchild's number on file I'm sure, but if not I'll give you it.'
'I don't want to talk to PR consultants on this, it's too important. If you won't let me speak to your wife, I'll just have to call Sir Graeme Fisher and ask him about it.'
'And Christ knows what he would say in a crisis!' I thought. 'You're missing the obvious,' I told her. 'I will not disturb my wife, but you can talk to me if you like.'
'Do you have authority to speak for her?'
