Easily solved, she thought, as she deviated from her route and entered one of the shops. Forty minutes later, a uniformed doorman opened the door as she left. She walked further on, no more feeling the cold, a fur-lined coat wrapped around her. She cared little for the man she had left behind in Antigua, but his credit card had not let her down. She knew she was callous, but if Ralph were about to secure the golden egg, to become almost as rich as Midas if he had his way, then she could see a change in her affections.
Ralph had a talent for spotting people keeping tabs on his movements, his wife did not. From across the road, at two different vantage points, two people kept watch.
It had been Frost who had seen the complication. The word was that Yolanda was no pushover. Ralph had made his money through his charm and his ability to set up plausible if ultimately worthless investment strategies. Yolanda had the looks and the ability, even in her early fifties, to seduce men, the richer, the better. The man in Antigua, pushing seventy, was barely able to keep her satisfied, but it was not what drove her. The fortune he had made in shipping or transport or something – she was never sure what, never cared either – came with a credit card, the best jewellery, and an expensive car wherever she was. In London, the car wasn’t critical, although the jewellery was first-rate, and the credit card glinted each time she showed it. A jewellery shop beckoned, and she went inside. Outside were two people, neither aware of the other. Both took their phones out and made their calls.
***
While Yolanda enjoyed herself, or as much as she could, knowing that the meeting with her son was scheduled for the following day, Ralph could not say the same for himself.
As he left his flat in Bayswater a man that he knew came up to him. ‘Mr Frost wants to see you,’ he said. He was big, at least a head and shoulders taller than Ralph.
‘I said I would be in contact. Things are progressing,’ Ralph said, knowing full well that his dismissal of Frost’s request would have little effect.
‘Mr Frost, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’ The tone was polite but menacing.
‘Tomorrow.’
The firm hand on the collar, the bundling into the back seat of a BMW 7 Series was not violent, although sitting wedged between two burly men who looked like they were wrestlers at the weekend was not welcome.
‘I’ll have something to say about this to your boss,’ Ralph said, more sheepishly than when he had been standing out on the street.
‘Do what you want. We’re following orders. Mr Frost, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’
No more was said until the car pulled up outside Frost’s place. This time Ralph got out of the car on his own, no hands on him, and walked to the lift. He pressed the button for the penthouse.
‘Ralph, good to see you,’ Frost said as the door opened on Ralph’s arrival. ‘It’s been some time since we sat down for a chat.’
‘I thought we had an arrangement.’
‘And so we do.’ The man was effusive and overly friendly. Ralph knew that this was when he was at his most dangerous.
The two men sat on comfortable chairs in the living room. A view of the River Thames, the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf on the other side of the river. Each man held a glass of red wine. Ralph Lawrence feigned relaxed; he was not. He knew the man to be vicious and able to impart pain through his heavies at any time.
Frost sat nearby, attempting to assess the man opposite. Was he a major player? Was he trustworthy? Would he ever get any of his father’s money, or should he just break one of his legs now and squeeze him for whatever was owing? Or should he pressure the son, even the new-found ex-wife?
‘What do you want?’ Ralph said as he put his drink to one side.
‘What I always want: money. And your friendship.’
‘Frost, you’re not the sort of man who wants or needs friends. You enjoy threatening people, gaining an advantage, and having them thrown into the back of a car and brought to you here.’
‘There was no throwing, just gentle coercion. You’ve kept away, Ralph, not even answering my phone calls. I was worried, thought you may be ill, coming down with a cold.’
‘Cut it out, Frost, and get to the point.’ Ralph knew that acting firmly with the man was risky, but he had little to lose, and besides, he had leverage, money leverage. With his sister and him working together, even his brother-in-law, there was a possibility that they might bring it off. Now they only had Jill Dundas to deal with, given that her father had done them all a favour and keeled over with a heart attack.
‘You’re pushing your luck here, Ralph.’ That was one thing about Frost’s intimidating tactics, he always maintained the same calm manner of speaking. No bad language, no raising of his voice, no leaning over the hapless fool who had got into his clutches. It was more frightening than a thug looking you in the face from one foot away and shouting at you, Ralph knew that. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t.
‘I still intend to pay you back. The situation’s changed.’
‘I know that. Dundas has died, and your wife
