The Deal (12 page)

Lucy couldn’t reach the school because of the traffic chaos. She abandoned her car and ran the last half mile. She could not find Tabitha. She tracked down the head teacher, who was himself desperately searching the school for any remaining pupils because a policeman had rushed up and warned him about the possibility of an explosion.

Lucy finally found one of the three teachers who would later be accused of negligence. The woman said that Tabitha was there in reception when she heard that her mother was delayed. She could not remember seeing her again.

At this point a policewoman ran into the school and asked if they had any children on the premises. She was met by the caretaker, Nigel Brewer, who immediately took charge of the situation. He took her to the head teacher who explained that the children had, in most cases, left for home before the incident on the Broadway had taken place. A number of teachers were still on the premises as they were unable to exit their cars into Uxbridge Road. Nigel, a former army officer who had served with distinction in the Falklands War, offered to organise for the police officer to look around the school premises. The policewoman, however, was using her radio.

It was not until 5.15pm that Detective Chief Inspector Sarah Rudd managed to begin to piece everything together. There was a major incident in the Broadway. On the opposite side of the street about two hundred yards away, a shopkeeper had reported that he had seen a small girl being pushed into a green car. DCI Rudd was now with Lucy on the pavement where Tabitha was thought to have been taken. Lucy was demanding to speak to the shopkeeper. DCI Rudd explained that this was not possible. Lucy phoned her husband again, whose mobile phone was now turned on. He had arrived home and was perplexed by the police officers outside their home.

DCI Rudd contacted the chief superintendent by phone.

“Ma’am. We have a missing child.”

Abbi was reviewing her file on City Fiction. As marketing manager at Harriman Agnew Capital, her function was to work with Martin Daboute on the documentation and to produce the promotional material. This would be used by the brokers when talking to their clients, who were potential investors in the shares they were selling.

She looked up and stopped writing as she saw that Sara had sat down opposite her.

“Hi,” said Abbi.

“So. Marketing manager. What’s that exactly?” asked Sara.

“I’m more than happy to tell you,” replied Abbi, “but why don’t you drop the aggro bit?”

Sara remained silent.

“Ever since you walked in here you’ve had an attitude. Forget your start with Andrew. You need to earn your place with the rest of us. You missed a real opportunity this morning to start building bridges with Gavin.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Gavin runs a successful department. It’s not easy selling shares in these market conditions. You heard what Duncan was saying at the meeting. They really are a good team. If we don’t raise funds for our clients we have no future.”

“He’s a prick and I don’t trust him. What’s a marketing manager?”

“Ok. I’ll tell you,” said Abbi. “Within the business we have corporate finance and brokerage.”

“Oliver is corporate finance and Gavin and Duncan are brokerage,” said Sara.

“Right. You have been listening,” said Abbi. “You sit there with such a vacant expression on your face I never know what you’re thinking. Corporate finance, which is Oliver and his team, find and approve the deals. You are part of that process. Eventually a decision is made by the bosses to take on the client. When the transaction is ready Gavin and his team, which we call brokerage, will try to sell the shares to our private and professional clients.”

Abbi poured some water for them both and asked Sara if she was feeling better after her bout with Gavin.

“It takes time to settle in here,” she said.

“I’m fine. I can take care of myself,” responded Sara.

“Do you understand what Melanie does?”

“No.”

“You need to know, Sara. She is God – or thinks she is at any rate. She is our compliance officer. Regulation is everything these days. Melanie walks the corridors dispensing fear.”

Sara laughed. “Nonsense.”

“It’s not far from the truth, I promise you.”

“What’s it all in aid of?”

“It’s about ensuring that we understand our clients and treat them fairly. This is why the directors’ backgrounds are checked so carefully. Melanie is paranoid about that. All must pass money laundering checks. We have lawyers and accountants who verify all the information we produce.”

“So what is brokerage?” asked Sara.

Abbi poured some more water and produced two chocolate bars. Sara shook her head. Abbi patted her stomach.

“Jonathan says I need to lose a few pounds,” she said, as she unwrapped her snack.

“Jonathan?” asked Sara.

“Brokerage,” she said, ignoring the question. “When we have the deal ready, my job is to prepare an investor story. This is a script that will be used by Gavin and his team when they talk to potential investors. It’s simply the process of selling shares to our clients. That’s what brokerage is all about.”

“Why is the door to their office locked?”

“Chinese Walls,” replied Abbi. “Melanie makes sure that the corporate finance team can’t talk to the brokers. She wants to make sure that they can’t influence the sales process.”

“So what happens when they’re all in the pub together?”

“They talk to each other. Crazy, isn’t it?”

“This script you produce –”

“It will come under your responsibilities once you’ve settled in,” said Abbi. “It’s a research function. I will then work with you to ensure the wording is something the salesmen can use.” She drank some water.

“It has to be approved by Melanie first,” she continued. “She then allows Gavin and the salesmen to use it. They phone our clients and try to sell them the shares in the company being featured.”

Abbi stood up and indicated to Sara that she should follow. They arrived at the door leading to the sales team, most of whom could be seen through the glass and were on the telephone.

“This is the Dealing Room,” she said. She punched in a number and pushed open the door. She indicated to Sara that she should look across the desks.

“Can you see that girl with the headphones on?” Abbi asked. Sara nodded.

“She works for Melanie. She can, at any time, listen in to any of the sales team’s calls. Her job is to check that they are sticking to the agreed script about the investment they are selling. All calls are taped. If there’s any concern the call will be replayed and if the salesman has exceeded the brief, the client will be offered their money back. It’s a serious matter and we’ve lost two salesmen in recent months.”

“They live on commission,” said Sara.

“You catch on quickly.”

“No. I just listen to them talking in the pub and it’s what Duncan was saying. They’re all short of money.”

“It’s not easy at the moment,” said Abbi. “Anyway, we’re about done here, I think. Buy you a glass of wine?”

“Thanks,” responded Sara. She paused. “What about mobile phones?”

“What about them?”

“Are they recorded?”

“No. That’s smart. Oliver was telling me that the regulators are thinking about imposing new rules and they want them caught by the tapes.”

“How will that work?”

“No idea. Come on. Drinks time.”

At 7.00pm, Gerald Masters was interviewed by a team of police officers led by DCI Rudd.

He was later to sign a statement which, from the police’s point of view, was frustratingly short of detail. Gerald was clear about his timings. He said it was a green car. A dark green car. He looked blank when asked if he had noted the registration number. The police now had a picture of Tabitha which they showed to their witness. He hadn’t seen her face. He said his instinct was that she was about four years old and it might be her. She was young: this he had confirmed. Her hair was blonde and she wasn’t wearing anything on her head. Tabitha had fair hair and hadn’t been wearing a hat that day. Their witness was to state that he couldn’t remember seeing this girl in their shop at any time. Mrs Masters, after studying the photograph, also later confirmed this statement.

DCI Rudd wanted to spend more time with her witness, but he was impatient about collecting his van from the garage, where he said the mechanic was waiting for him, and reaching the Cash and Carry before eight o’clock. She had no choice but to let him go.

At this point DCI Rudd was told that the school caretaker had arrived at the police station and was asking to speak to the officer in charge. He was waiting in an interview room.

“It’s Mr Brewer, isn’t it?” she said. “We met briefly earlier. Thank you for the help you gave my officers.”

“I’m a military man, madam. I’ll come straight to the point. I saw her. I can’t believe that I didn’t react. I’m making excuses, but there were police and fire engines and ambulances. The teachers were panicking. It was mayhem.”

“Where and when did you see her?”

“Very briefly. The pavement was full of people. She’d wandered away from the school.”

“And you didn’t do anything, Mr Brewer?”

“I took a shell at Port Stanley. Bloody Argies. It was about the only one they managed to land. I get dizzy spells and all the commotion must have triggered one off.”

Surprisingly late in the day, the police realised that the green car was facing west and thus on the wrong side of the street. The road further down was blocked by the emergency services. Had Gerald Masters seen the car turn right into one of the side roads? The shopkeeper couldn’t answer this question because he had hurried back into the shop to tell his wife what he’d seen.

DCI Rudd sat with Alice Masters for over thirty minutes and shared a cup of tea with her. They talked about the shop, the school children and how hard she and Gerald worked. They didn’t have any children of their own. She told DCI Rudd that they had decided to apply for adoption, but their problem was that they couldn’t afford to employ additional staff in the shop and she had to continue working.

“Alice, I appreciate that this is a difficult matter but may I ask how you and your husband are getting on with the adoption application?”

“What’s that to do with you, if you don’t mind?” asked Alice. “I must phone Gerald. He wouldn’t like this.”

“Well, I for one always admire people who take that course of action. Adoption, I mean.”

“It’s been difficult. Gerald wanted his own children and it took me a long time to persuade him to go for the tests.” She paused. “When we found out it was him he became quite depressed.”

“So how’s the adoption process going?”

“We’ve got some brochures. But Gerald says he’s too busy in the shop to attend the meetings. I’m hoping to get him there soon.”

“But your husband is committed to adopting a baby?”

“Oh yes,” smiled Alice. “It’s what we both want.”

At 8.30pm in the evening, and with the agreement of Alice, who telephoned her husband to check, a team of police officers, together with a sniffer dog, searched the shop and living accommodation of the confectionary shop where they lived. Nothing was found.

Alice seemed troubled and continually went outside to see if her husband had returned from the Cash and Carry. She explained that he always stocked up mid-week with ice creams for the weekend trade.

“Our sales pick up on Friday, and Saturday is always our best day,” she said.

Nobody was interested when she informed them that a new flavour, peach melba, was currently their bestseller. “The children. They tell each other,” she added.

Abbi and Sara had secured a spare table in the wine bar. They shared the cost of a bottle of wine and Sara had found a bowl of olives from somewhere. They had been chatting for a few minutes when Oliver appeared.

“Abbi,” he said. “I was told that you might be here.”

He sat down and Abbi got another glass and poured him some wine.

“Thanks. Can you join me and Gavin tomorrow morning at eight o’clock? We’re going to start the process of preparing the selling story for City Fiction.”

“That’s fine,” responded Abbi.

“But not me?” said Sara.

“No,” he said. “Right, I must go. I want to get to the gym. Sara, it was a great report but you need to move on. Please try to make your peace with Gavin. Get to know Duncan better. As you’ve seen, he’s more level headed.”

“I seem to be getting plenty of advice,” Sara said.

“Perhaps you need it,” said Abbi.

As Oliver left, Sara picked up her glass of wine. She looked at Abbi and smiled.

“Abbi. Short for Abigail. From the Hebrew meaning ‘father’s joy’.”

Abbi laughed. “Spot on.”

“Abigail was the wife of King David and was said to be intelligent and beautiful. She was one of the great female prophetesses in the bible.”

“You know your stuff, don’t you?”

“Not really. I just looked it up on Wikipedia the other day.”

“Why?”

“Because I hoped there might be an opportunity to impress you.” She took a sip of wine. “See, Abbi. I’m actually trying.”

Lucy arrived home and found her husband in a dreadful state.

“What do we do?” pleaded Charles.

She said they would deal with the police first. She found the officer in charge, who told her that DCI Rudd would be coming later in the evening. She said that they’d completed their searches of the house, garden and surrounding areas.

“How would Tabitha have got here from the school?” asked Lucy, an edge of hysteria in her voice.

“We are simply part of a process, Mrs Harriman. I’ll be leaving two family liaison officers overnight. It’s your choice. I’d prefer you allowed them in the house but they’ll decamp to their vehicles if you want.”

“Don’t you trust us with our own children?” asked Lucy.

“Mrs Harriman. I don’t trust anyone. I want to find Tabitha.”

Lucy agreed to the police staying in the house but asked them to settle in the kitchen. She assembled the family in the lounge and went through their movements from four to six o’clock one by one. Then they each prepared a list of Tabitha’s best friends and compared the names, before phoning each one and slowly ticking them off. Lucy prepared some tea, although only Lily seemed hungry. She spoke privately to Scarlett, who confirmed that Tabitha had seemed fine in the morning.