Quintin Jardine - Alarm Call

I could see him think. ‘How would it be,’ he said slowly, ‘if we did it for no fee but a sizeable percentage of the gross, say five points? With your name on the marquee, Mr Davis will be guaranteed a distribution deal, so you wouldn’t be robbing him.’

‘Whatever it takes, make it happen for me, and tell him I want the top suite in the Bellagio.’

He grinned. ‘They tell me New York New York is pretty good.’

‘I prefer the real version. See you.’ I closed the program and he disappeared.

I opened my contacts file and began to scroll down; I stopped at ‘K’ and dialled a number.

There’s this guy I know called Mark Kravitz. I met him a few years ago through Miles Grayson, who hired him as my ‘personal assistant’ on my first movie project. Actually he was my bodyguard, but that’s another story. I don’t know exactly where he comes from, or what his background is, but I’ve made some guesses that I reckon are close to the mark. Whatever he was in the past, he’s heavy duty now, and has connections all over the place; I don’t use him as a minder any more, I use him to find them. He recruited Jay Yuille for me, then helped Jay find Conrad and Audrey and, in each case, did a damn fine job. He provides other services, though.

He was at home when I called. ‘Hi, boss!’ (He still calls me that sometimes.) ‘What’s up? Nothing’s gone wrong with Connie and his missus, I hope.’

‘No, they’re great. But something’s happened and it’s just a bit outside Conrad’s job description. There’s an American guy by the name of Paul Wallinger. .’ I spelled it out for him. ‘. . who’s in my bad books.’

‘What’s he done?’

I gave him a quick rundown.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Anything there is; whether he’s got any previous form for openers. I’d like to know whether the FBI might want to speak to him. I’d like to know whether he’s still in the Minneapolis area. I’d like to know whether Wallinger’s his real name.’

‘I’d bet that it is.’

‘Why so sure?’

‘Work it out: he went to Grosvenor Square to have the child added to his passport; he’d hardly have done that if it was a phoney. That probably tells you that he isn’t on anyone’s wanted list either. But leave it with me: someone who pulls a con like this is not a beginner, believe me. I’ll get something on him.’

‘Soonest?’

‘Soon as I can. What are you planning to do?’

‘I’m planning to help Prim get her money back, and her kid, if I can.’

‘By any means necessary?’

‘What does that imply?’

‘This guy’s outside the law, Oz. He’s hardly in a position to complain to the police if, let’s say, someone used basic methods to persuade him to cough up the child and the cash.’

‘Much as I would like to give him a going-over, Mark, I can’t go anywhere near there. I’ve got my reputation to take care of, and my family’s well-being.’

He laughed. ‘Since when did you get cautious?’

‘It comes with age, kids and money.’

‘I can’t knock that. Wallinger probably wouldn’t be too easy to crack, anyway. From what you’re saying to me, he’s been working on this for three years. He probably targeted your ex; that meeting in Gleneagles wasn’t spur-of-the-moment, no chance of that.’

‘Wee Tom wasn’t in his plans, surely.’

‘I don’t imagine so, but …’

I cut across him. ‘That’s what I don’t understand, Mark. Why did he take the kid?’

‘He’s his father; maybe he loves him and couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing him again.’

‘Yeah, and maybe I really did play cricket for England.’

‘In that case, there’s only one answer: he’s going to sell him.’

‘Sell him? On fucking e-Bay, you mean?’

‘It would probably be legal, in some states at least: he could offer him up for adoption and invite bids. But I wasn’t thinking of anything as downmarket as that. Remember who Tom is. He’s not just your ex’s son, he’s Miles Grayson’s nephew. Wallinger may have cleaned your wife out, but Miles is one of the richest blokes in Hollywood. Are you going to bet me that at some point, maybe quite soon, he doesn’t offer to return the kid to Primavera in return for, let’s say, the money he’s embezzled already, plus another couple of million sterling?’

‘That would be blackmail, man.’

‘Bollocks, boss. He’s the child’s father, and he has de facto custody. If Prim agreed to the deal and Miles put up the extra cash, it would all be above board. . more or less. It strikes me, boss, that friend Paul’s been thinking on his feet. Are you sure you don’t want him taken out? It would be a hell of a lot cheaper.’ He chuckled, but I know Mark: he was being dead serious.

‘No, mate,’ I told him. ‘Potentially it would be a hell of a lot more costly, so let’s forget you ever asked me that.’

‘The answer’s no, then?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Fair enough; I like to be totally clear about things like that. I’ll get digging straight away and report as soon as I can.’

I hung up, and walked through the house to the leisure wing, as we sometimes called it when we were being flash. Susie was there, feeding wee Jonathan. . from a bottle: the real stuff had gone with the cutting of the teeth. . and watching Janet as she played with a toy in the far corner, well away from the pool.

‘What do you think?’ I asked her.

She bridled at once. ‘I think it’s bloody disgraceful!’ she exclaimed. ‘When they get this, this … this swine back, I hope they throw the whole bloody set of encyclopaedias at him, never mind the book. Theft, child kidnap, he’s got a lot to answer for.’

‘Not as much as you might think; for openers, in the absence of a court order against him, a father can’t kidnap his own kid. As for the money … Prim let him manage it, remember. It might not be as easy as you think to persuade an American court to extradite him.’

I called across to my daughter. ‘Hey, Janet, want to come and help me finish making the grown-ups’ dinner?’ It was a rhetorical question; she came running.

Actually there wasn’t much to do; Ethel would have raised hell if I’d let her get fish all over her hands so I gave her the kitchen scales, sat her on a stool and let her weigh out three portions of the gluten-free pasta that Susie and I prefer, a hundred grams each for the women and a hundred and fifty for Daddy, but don’t tell them, eh, wee Jan.

She did it very carefully, picking up every piece she dropped on to the work surface and putting it back into the packet. I let her have a Coke for her trouble; when Ethel came to fetch her at bedtime she saw it and treated me to her best nanny glower, but what the hell? My dad let Ellie and me drink the stuff, and he’s a bloody dentist.

When Prim came down for dinner, she seemed to be back on an even keel. She saw the fizzy water on the table, and smiled softly. ‘Very tactful, Oz,’ she said, ‘but I don’t want any more to drink for a while, so don’t let me put you two off having wine.’

‘All for one and one for all, d’Artagnan,’ I replied.

She shook her head. ‘No, I must be Porthos; he was the piss artist among the Musketeers, wasn’t he?’

‘Don’t worry about us,’ Susie assured her. ‘We give our livers a rest quite often.’ That was more tactful than true.

Prim was impressed when she saw the salad, which I’d dressed with balsamic vinegar and chopped herbs. ‘Did you teach him to do this, Susie?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘My mother did; I made it for you several times. You must have been too blootered to remember.’

‘Hey, I didn’t drink that much in those days. What you saw this afternoon has only happened recently; since Paul and Tom disappeared, mostly I’ve hung around the flat, drinking and waiting for the phone to ring.’