'But she knew, Ricky. She knew and now he's dead. That trip she made to Glasgow yesterday: could it have been one of the Three Bears she saw?'
'I doubt that very much. Her visit was in the city centre, and as far as I know none of them live there. But I'll double check, if you like.
Maybe one of them has a fuck pit that his wife doesn't know about.'
'You do that. As for the chat we had earlier, is everything in place?'
'Yup. I just hope you've got the cash to pay for it, after Morgan wipes out the family fortune next week.'
'I thought we agreed this was on a contingency basis. No win, no fee?'
'Hey, wait a minute…' he began, then realised that I was pulling his chain.
'Don't worry,' I assured him. 'If the worst does happen, I'm going to make a right few quid on the Gantry shares that I've been buying for the last week or so.'
Thirty -four.
Next morning's press stories on the discovery of the latest hazard to navigation in the Clyde were circumspect, to say the least. I guessed that lawyers had poured buckets of cold water down the trousers of each of the tabloid editors, for they reported only the bizarre discovery of Keane's body, interviews with the lady who had been unfortunate enough to spot it, and little else.
There was, of course, the obligatory police quote. Pending the findings of an autopsy, the death was being regarded as 'suspicious'.
Only the Herald mentioned the dead man's connection to 'the beleaguered Gantry Group', carrying a quote from 'a company spokesperson' to the effect that 'Aidan was a valued colleague', and that Phil Culshaw, acting Group managing director, had been hoping to persuade him to return to the post that he resigned last week.
To the best of my knowledge that was a complete fabrication; but, like so many other things in this bizarre situation, its truth or otherwise could never be proved. As I read the story, I threw a mental nod in Phil's direction. 'Nice one,' I whispered.
'What?' Susie asked across the breakfast table.
'Nothing.'
She put down her Scottish Daily Mail. 'Poor Aidan,' she said. 'This is terrible. It's his poor wife I feel sorry for now. What do you think happened?'
I hadn't filled in all the details when I'd told Susie about Keane's demise that morning, but she'd guessed that he'd been unlikely to have drowned while swimming, fully clothed, in the Clyde in the middle of the day. (Poisoning would have been more of a possibility, actually.) 'I guess he must have bet on the wrong horse, that's all. Aidan was a gambling man by all accounts. The betting shop that he used, the one where he was headed when he disappeared, is part owned by Jock Perry.
Maybe he owed a few quid and was pressured into going along with the New Bearsden scam.'
'And maybe the police will be able to prove that,' she exclaimed, brightening up.
'Don't bet on that horse either, love. The police have never proved anything against Perry, or against either of the other two guys, not even when they were young, and answerable to bigger gangsters than they were.'
Her fleeting optimism disappeared. 'Do you really think that the whole thing is linked to the takeover bid, Oz? Did Natalie Morgan really set it all up?'
'I think it has to be, Suse, because of the leaks to the media. The Three Bears wouldn't have done that off their own bat, because press coverage is anathema to them. Someone has to have set this up, and the really big winner from the situation will be Torrent, in engineering the acquisition of a supposedly invulnerable company at a realistic price. But I still don't believe that Natalie set it up. She doesn't strike me as having the sort of imagination you'd need to dream up a scheme like this, and she doesn't associate with the sort of people she'd need to carry it out. I come back to this: there's someone behind her.'
'There's another question too,' Susie observed. 'Who's underwriting the takeover?'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean that Torrent as it stands just isn't big enough to buy me. The company doesn't have enough spare cash, and if they write new shares to trade for ours, as people are saying they've done already with the Sapphire holding, it will upset the balance of Torrent itself.'
She sucked her teeth for a second, and then went on. 'I've been doing some sums, love. If I chucked in the towel and we accepted the offer, between us you and I would own at least thirty-five, and maybe forty per cent of the enlarged company. At the moment, Morgan owns ninety per cent of Torrent, but a new share issue would dilute that down to around the fifty mark, if that. She'd be struggling to retain control, and I'd back myself to have her out inside six months. So when this formal offer comes in, you'll find that new shares in Torrent have already been issued and that someone's subscribed for them. When the offer comes in it will be in cash, funded by that new equity, and maybe by some loan and venture capital. That's probably why Marvin de Luca and Nigel Lanark were at that lunch in the Atrium.'
She frowned. 'That's how it's being done, Oz. I'm certain of it. If you're right and the New Bearsden ambush was a planned attack on our share price, then the person who was behind it is almost certainly Natalie's new investor.'
'Need there be one person in the background?' I asked. 'What if I'm wrong and Ravens, Perry and Cornwell have been driving the thing all along?'
Susie shook her head. 'No, not a chance. Guys like those don't think that way. These are Glaswegian heavies, Oz; I was born and bred in the city, and I know the sort. I've even met Jock Perry, years ago in a disco that I think he owned. He tried to pick me up, without any pretence at subtlety either. I invited him to fuck off, which he did eventually, but with an ill grace. Then one of the guys I was with told me who he was. He was shaking in his boots, because he thought we'd all struggle to get home alive. But somebody must have told Perry who I was, because a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket arrived at our table, with a note addressed to me, saying 'Sorry'.' She paused.
'There's another reason why it couldn't be them. If they underwrote a deal like this, they'd be doing it with bent money. Sure, they all have front businesses, like Ravens' pubs and Perry's betting shops, but none of them are in this league. If the banks had the slightest suspicion that Torrent was funding its expansion by laundering money, they would drop the company like a hot potato. And even if Natalie isn't bright enough to work that one out for herself, her professional advisers certainly are.'
I whistled. 'Magic. So we don't just have a mystery enemy. We have a mystery enemy with serious money, and the ability to persuade Glasgow's three biggest heavies to do his bidding.' I looked across at my wife.
'Do any names suggest themselves to you?'
'If only…' she whispered.
'Me neither.' I looked at her. 'Suse, I'm not giving up, but… suppose we don't get lucky before next week? How will you feel if we lose?'
'Richer,' she replied, but bitterly. 'But before that sinks in, I'll feel humiliated, beaten, a failure, all of that stuff.' She smiled at me, softly. 'Oz, love, I'm sorry if I disappoint you. I know you were hoping that when I went on maternity leave I might change, that I might decide to be a full-time mum for a few years, and be content to be non-executive chair, instead of Fisher. That might even have been an attractive proposition, but for all this. There's a lot to be said for spending the next few years travelling the world with you and the kids, from film location to film location. But if it all ends like this, I'll be the most miserable travelling companion you could ever imagine.
My mind will always be back in Glasgow, thinking of ways to get back at Morgan and whoever her new partner is.'
She looked away from me, up at the ceiling, and I saw a small tear appear in the corner of her right eye and roll down her cheek. 'I suppose what I'm saying is that if I lose this business, it'll break my heart.'
I reached across and took her hand. 'Then that will not happen, my darling.' I gave it a squeeze. 'You've got my word on that.'
She got up from the table, kissed me on the forehead, ran her fingers through my hair, then, mumbling
