find out what is going on, but I will need you with me. Probably not necessary for you to come up Martin, but feel free to do so if you wish.”
“I won't bother” I ’d said, “you don't need me and London is not my favourite destination.”
Two days later Fr ank and Alec had met ‘the spook’ and friends in Whitehall. The news from the meeting was that the MoD had classified Control Networks as potentially being strategically important to the national interest and a very strong hint given that Plavsic and Mendip Finance would not be allowed to acquire Control Networks, even if we wanted to sell. Apparently they had brought up the subject of Mendip Finance without prompting from us. Interesting, how had they known?
In the meantime a courier had delivered the promised draft Term Sheet from Mendip Finance together with a Letter of Comfort from Allied Grampian advising that in their opinion Mendip Finance had access to the resources necessary to do a deal. The Term Sheet was only a draft and therefore did not constitute a firm offer, but it was interesting all the same. It did not value the company quite as highly as the brokers claimed a successful IPO would, but it came close. They must really want it! Alec and I would have more money on signing the deal than either of us had seen before and after the successful completion of 3 year employment contracts we could both be billionaires. There was also a commitment to a substantial injection of working capital, which had been my motivation for agreeing to the IPO and of course like the IPO it was a method by which Armstrong could successfully exit their investment.
I had never really been interested in lots of money; it was not my major motivation. However the idea of hundreds of millions is mind boggling, and represented a scale of wealth and opportunity that I had not really focussed on until now.
CHAPTER 12
That night I had got in about seven. As I ’d stepped through the door I realised that the TV was on, Adrian must be back, but no, he didn't have a key so it couldn't be him. I had not used the TV for several days but it was blaring away and I walked in to the lounge to turn it off and bent over to get the remote on the coffee table to switch it off. In doing so I ’d realised there was someone sitting in the armchair by the window. It really made me jump.
“Who the hell are you and how did you get in here!”
He was wearing a beige trench coat, raised a gloved hand as if to calm me down, and told me that he had dro pped by for a little chat. I’d been angry, and frankly a little scared, and threatened to call the police; he sat there unmoving, staring at me. Once I had calmed down a bit more he started to speak.
“I am here to give you a message. Do not float your company.”
“What, what are you talking about?”
“I have given you the message, do not ignore it or else.”
“This is ridiculous!”
“Not ridiculous Mr Lever, really serious. I also want to know if you h ave you seen your brother recently?” he ’d asked.
“What has that got to do with you I said? Get out of my house,” I ’d demanded.
He ’d ignored me and told that his friends were most unhappy with my brother and wanted to talk to him. My brother had something that belonged to them and they wanted it back. Somewhat indignantly I ’d asked him who his friends were and what gave him the right to break in to my house. I suppose I had calmed down and the fear had subsided so I was feeling braver and even wondered if I could tackle him. He must have sensed that and he ’d stood up and drew a knife from his coat pocket. It was a long bladed switch knife and the sight of it made me step back. He ’d told me not to worry, that he was not here to hurt me, this time, just to deliver a message, which he had done. I would do well to get my brother to heed it. He then gave me a slip of paper with a tele phone number on it and told me to get Adrian to call him immediately and ask for Groucho.
“Groucho!” I ’d said, “What sort of name is that, and who is Groucho.”
“Just a friend interested in your brothers welfare.” He ’d then walked to the door and quietly left.
I ’d poured myself a large Scotch and slumped down in a chair, the sweat pouring off me.
An hour later Adrian arrived and I told him what had happened.
“I think I had better call Groucho,” he said.
“You could go to the police instead.”
“I am not sure that would be a good idea. From what I can see these people have to be security services of some kind, so the police are on their side. The best I could expect would be a prosecution for the hacking and at the worst they might deliver me in to the hands of these guys. No, the only card I have is a copy of that video, so how do I use that?”
“They could be watching the house,” I ’d said. “They probably know you are here.”
“Yes, you're right, I need to get out of here while I think about what to do,” he said getting up and moving toward the door.
“Where will you go?”
“I have the girl friend at Pill on the other side of town, nobody knows of her, so I will stay there for a while.”
“If these guys are heavy as you suggest,” I ’d said, “then they will have the facility to track your mobile phone. I have one of those pay as you go phone s somewhere, I will find it and you can use that, leave your phone here.” A few minutes later I came down the stairs with the phone and hande d it to him.
“As they are probably watching the house leave your car here in the drive and use the MG in the garage, go out the back lane.”
Adrian looked at me in surprise. “You don't ever let anyone else drive that,” he ’d exclaimed. He was right; it was my pride and joy, a 1935 MG sports soft top in British racing green in immaculate condition.
“I don't think we have any choice at the moment, it's running well, I gave it a run last week. Don't crash it!”
With that Adrian had left through the back door to the garage at the foot of the garden. I heard the faint rumble of the MG engine, and then quiet. Hopefully he got away undetected.
The next morning I had got up half expecting to be confronted with something new, but all was quiet, so after an orange juice and cereal I jumped in the car and headed off to work. My imagination had me being followed but as far as I could see I wasn't. At one point I imagined that a white van had been behind me a suspiciously long time but even that turned off, and everything else looked innocuous.
At work I ’d soon became embroiled in the issues of the day and time passed quickly. I gone out to a call box at lunchtime and phone d Adrian and he ’d confirmed that he was OK and was staying at the girlfriend’s house as planned.
CHAPTER 13
That night, arriving home I had walked in to the house to see that I had been burgled. In the study my papers were strewn everywhere, the contents of the fridge and drawers in the kitchen turfed on to the floor with the same in the bedroom, and the back door had been forced. I ’d returned to the lounge and was about to call the police when I was hit on the back of the head.
I came to slowly and as I ’d opened my eyes I could see spots of blood congealing in front of me on the pine floor, my blood I presumed. There was a noise, someone was still there and searching through the bookshelves by the simple expedient of pulling them over with books flying out and crashing to the floor. What were they looking for? Adrian’s disc I assume.
