The Catch (20 page)

Gordon shook his head. ‘We were hoping you could shed some light on it.’

‘This might be important,’ Patricia said. ‘Think very carefully.’

‘I dunno. I remember him in a stinking mood, around the time he came back from Tokyo. I turned up one day and he was on the phone, shouting and bawling about being taken for a ride.’

There was a moment of ominous silence. Then Patricia said, ‘And you didn’t ask him what it concerned?’

Jerry gulped his beer and kept the glass raised, like a shield. ‘I think I did, but he just sort of fobbed me off. I assumed it was a utility company or something. You know the grief you get with those bloody call centres.’ He scratched his head with his customary ferocity. ‘I can’t for the life of me see how there’d be a connection between a British movie and what happened to Hank.’

‘Perhaps there isn’t,’ Gordon said. ‘But in a situation like this we must leave no stone unturned.’

Patricia nodded: not just agreeing with Gordon, but indicating the figure that was bearing down on them.

‘Here’s the man for turning stones,’ she said.

****

Before any of them could react, Stemper had slipped into the armchair beside Jerry. There were no elaborate greetings, no handshakes or kisses: nothing that would draw attention to the group.

‘Glad you could join us,’ Patricia said, beaming. Gordon nodded in agreement, but Jerry only sniffed and shifted in his seat.

‘My pleasure,’ Stemper said. He didn’t appear to have aged in the couple of years since Gordon had last seen him. His face a little puffy but unlined, the features nondescript. There was a smattering of grey in his light brown hair, but Gordon had a feeling that it had always been there. Hadn’t it?

‘Can we get you a drink?’ Patricia asked.

‘I’ll have some of this water, if I may.’

‘Of course.’ A nod to Gordon, who duly poured mineral water into one of the spare glasses. Rather than hand it to Stemper, he slid the glass across the table in his direction.

‘Since none of us want to be here all night,’ Patricia said, ‘we’ll confine ourselves to the broad outline for now.’

She paused, looked round the room and cleared her throat.

‘For many years Hank O’Brien was a Whitehall civil servant. A high-flyer, tipped as a future Permanent Secretary. I first encountered him when I was a special adviser at the Home Office during the Major administration. This was around the time that the government started using PFI.’

‘Private Finance Initiative,’ Gordon chipped in.

‘He’s quite aware of that,’ Patricia snapped. ‘Anyway, Hank grew increasingly frustrated with the public sector, quite understandably. In the late nineties he jumped ship to a company who’d been awarded a major construction contract – a contract that Hank himself had negotiated on the government’s behalf some months earlier.’

Jerry muttered, ‘Jobs for the boys.’ He probably hadn’t intended Patricia to hear it, but she lasered him with a glare.

‘Quite. And where would you be without it, Jerry?’

As Conlon’s face reddened, Stemper gave a thin smile. ‘If that’s the system, only a fool would decline to take advantage of it.’

‘Precisely. Gordon describes it as “gamekeeper turning poacher”. It’s an inevitable consequence of greater private-sector involvement, and of course the late nineties was like a gold rush in that respect. Consequently, O’Brien was headhunted by another firm, keen to benefit from his inside knowledge.’ She paused. ‘The firm was Templeton Wynne.’

‘Ah.’ Stemper gave Patricia a look which, to Gordon’s eye, seemed rather too knowing. It made him wonder what else had been said over the years: conversations between them to which Gordon had not been privy. ‘So there’s a personal element to this?’

‘Intensely personal,’ Patricia agreed. ‘We made Mark Templeton who he is, and in return he cut us dead.’

Tonight it was Cate who arrived at the pub first. When Dan walked in she gave him an uncertain smile. He joined her at the bar, and because they had kissed upon her departure yesterday it seemed natural to greet her with a kiss now.

As he did, he placed a hand on her arm to steady himself and was seized by a sudden urge to pull her into an embrace. He quickly withdrew, scared that his self-control might desert him.

Cate insisted on buying the drinks. Dan chose orange juice. He wanted to keep a clear head.

‘Robbie’s supposed to be joining us,’ Cate said.

‘Really? Did you twist his arm?’

‘I didn’t have to. DS Thomsett paid him a visit this afternoon.’

‘Oh.’ Dan’s response was casual, until he remembered that he was entitled to feel concerned about this. ‘How did it go?’

‘Robbie didn’t tell me. He was in a foul mood because he thinks I dropped him in it. But I wasn’t sure ...’ She hesitated. ‘I can’t decide what’s natural or normal any more. I’m second-guessing everything I say and do.’

Dan nodded. He knew exactly what she meant.

Cate went on: ‘The trouble is, nobody can keep up a deception for ever. And listening to Thomsett, I don’t think he’ll stop chipping away at this. He’s certain the money would have been found during the initial search, which can only mean that somebody took it, then panicked or had an attack of conscience and brought it back.’

‘That sounds like a crazy risk, doesn’t it?’

‘You’d think so. But Thomsett told me that the farmer who found the money is the same man who discovered the body the day before.’

‘So he’s the likely suspect?’ Dan realised he sounded far too eager.

Cate nodded. ‘DC Avery was questioning him today. But if he flatly denies it, I don’t see what they can do. The fingerprints aren’t going to prove anything either way.’

‘Fingerprints?’ A wave of nausea swept over him. Cate started to speak, then glanced to her right and flinched: reacting to her brother’s hostile gaze.

‘Hold on,’ she said. ‘I may as well explain it to you both.’

****

Robbie marched straight up to the table. He looked different: a new hairstyle that didn’t suit him. Dan went to make a sarcastic comment and then understood why Robbie would want to change his appearance.

‘Thanks very much!’ Robbie glowered at his sister as he sat down next to Dan.

‘I didn’t warn you in case it was a test. Thomsett might have told me on purpose to see if I tipped you off.’

Dan nodded. ‘Cate’s right. It would have seemed even more like you had something to hide.’

A couple of slow blinks signalled that Robbie was thinking it through; then he seemed to relax slightly.

‘Luckily for us, DS Thomsett has other things on his mind.’ Cate told him about the farmer, and that the detective intended to test the envelope. It wasn’t news to Robbie.

‘He said he may want to take my prints.’

Cate seemed relieved that Robbie already knew about it. In some respects, Dan thought, this was the perfect outcome: the farmer under suspicion, Robbie questioned without incident and Cate satisfied that her brother had played no part in O’Brien’s death.

But the fingerprints ... the fingerprints could be their undoing.

‘Anyway,’ Robbie said, ‘what does the money have to do with whoever killed Hank?’

‘I asked the same thing. It’s an inconsistency, pure and simple. But I don’t know how far they’ll pursue it. The damp weather might have destroyed the prints—’

‘It rained!’ Dan exclaimed. Cate gave him a troubled glance, while Robbie nudged him with his foot.

‘You guys are getting too worked up,’ Robbie declared. ‘Of course these cops will put us under some pressure. We just have to soak it up till they get bored and go away.’

‘Blasé as ever,’ Cate said. ‘I only hope you’re right.’

‘Me too,’ Dan said. ‘Are you sure Thomsett doesn’t suspect it was you in the pub on Tuesday?’

Robbie shook his head, but he looked shifty. ‘I told him I was out with a “friend” that night.’

‘That was quick thinking.’ Cate’s response gave Dan a second to process his shock. ‘A female friend, I assume?’

‘Is there any other kind?’

Robbie laughed, a deep lascivious
heh-heh-heh
. Cate narrowed her eyes and said, in disgust, ‘You are a piece of work, you really are.’

‘What?’ Robbie seemed genuinely mystified; then he caught Dan’s eye and growled in frustration. ‘Oh, come on, I didn’t mean that
we
’re not friends – me and Danny boy. Of course we are. Best buddies, eh?’

Dan shrugged, while Cate shook her head. Leaving her drink half-finished, she stood up.

‘You don’t deserve him, Robbie, I’ll tell you that for nothing. You don’t deserve either of us.’

Still bitter that his wife might have been confiding in Stemper, Gordon decided he should take a greater part in the conversation. First he poured more wine. He regarded it as safe to drive on up to half a bottle.

‘It was called Templeton Wynne from the start, but there was only ever Templeton in charge. The name was a silly pun to bolster his ego. “Wynne” as in “winner”.’

Patricia took over. ‘It was my address book and Gordon’s PR skills that launched his business. Practically every contract, every connection that made him successful, he owes in some form or another to the assistance we gave him.’

‘Billions of pounds in PFI contracts,’ Gordon said. ‘Not to mention all the direct government funding for his management services and assorted claptrap.’

‘Right from the start he failed to give us credit. And this was when we’d just begun our own political consultancy. Gordon and I were slaving night and day to make it work. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect some mutual support. Instead, he simply cast us aside the moment we’d served our purpose.’

‘Did he ever explain his reasoning?’ Stemper asked.

‘Not a word,’ Patricia said. ‘Not a damn word.’

Gingerly, Gordon added, ‘There had been one or two minor disagreements. Spats. But nothing to justify his treatment of us.’

‘He saw to it that we lost out on some very significant contracts. There’s no other reason to account for why we were passed over ...’

‘And in the meantime he was raking in a fortune.’

Stemper gave a sombre nod. ‘I imagine the recent knighthood must have rubbed salt into the wound ...?’

Gordon cringed. Of course, Stemper wasn’t to know the subject was strictly off-limits.

Patricia said, with frosty disdain: ‘I shan’t comment on whether “Sir Mark” deserves his title. But it’s a given that he’ll be in the Lords within a year or two. His Party donations are already into seven figures, much of it funnelled through proxies.’ A bitter look at Gordon. ‘And to think that I was the one who introduced him to David.’

‘Of course,’ Gordon said drily, ‘we hadn’t the vaguest notion how important that smooth young man would later become. No one did.’

More sympathetic noises from Stemper. He was sitting very straight, his hands folded neatly in his lap. His only movements were regular glances to his left or right, apparently casual, but Gordon sensed he was absorbing every detail of the room and its occupants.

He said, ‘And how does O’Brien’s death link in?’

Patricia nodded. ‘I’m sorry, we’ve gone off-track. It’s a badly kept secret that Templeton is cashing his chips. Even with the spending cuts, the government is intent on outsourcing to an extent that will make the last gold rush seem like small change. In health, in education, social security, policing, you name it. There are hundreds of billions up for grabs, and of course the American conglomerates are determined to get their noses in the trough. One of them decided that a merger with Templeton Wynne offered the perfect route to the front.’

‘“Merger” being something of a euphemism,’ Gordon said.

‘Exactly. Not that Mark Templeton will care much either way. Even on conservative estimates, he’s looking at an instant personal gain of around a hundred million pounds.’

****

Stemper didn’t do anything as coarse as whistle, or even shake his head. He simply digested the news with a sip of water and nodded at Patricia to continue.

‘The one saving grace was that Templeton wasn’t aware of my past association with Hank O’Brien—’

Jerry chose that moment to cough loudly, and not entirely convincingly. Gordon glared at him, wondering what he knew – or what he thought he knew. Someone as boastful as O’Brien might well have spoken out of turn, and Gordon squirmed at the idea of his dirty linen being aired in public.

‘As I say,’ Patricia quickly went on, ‘this gave us a marvellous opportunity. We worked on O’Brien for years, until he came round to our way of thinking.’

‘Which is?’

‘Put simply, that Templeton owes us. From our own experience, we were certain that there would be excessive profits, much of it derived from fraud. When a private company lands a lucrative government contract, it’s like being handed a blank cheque. How many of us can say we wouldn’t add an extra nought?’

‘Or three extra noughts?’ Gordon said.

They all chuckled, politely, and Stemper said, ‘Did Hank confirm this?’

Gordon nodded. ‘For nearly five years he’s been collecting evidence, not just in the UK but from Templeton subsidiaries across the globe. Canada, Australia, Hong Kong.’

‘Part of the deal was that Hank insisted on keeping the incriminating material until we were ready to proceed,’ Patricia said. ‘It’s a decision that with hindsight I bitterly regret.’

‘Fair enough, really, though.’ This was another unexpected contribution from Jerry, who looked taken aback when everyone stared at him. ‘I mean, that was his insurance policy, if anything went wrong.’

‘He didn’t need an insurance policy,’ Patricia said, which Gordon knew was slightly disingenuous. In the event of disaster, their clean-up strategy would have entailed recruiting Stemper to neutralise any threat to the Blakes – and that had included O’Brien, and, indeed, Jerry himself.

Stemper said, ‘If O’Brien held on to the documentation, might he have felt he could go it alone?’