James Long - Sixth Column

There were nods which didn’t inspire trust in him, but it was worth a try. They stood either side of Jo’s chair while the cameras clicked, then, left alone with the crowd, he did the best he could. Yes, it was a difficult landing. No, he’d never done anything like it before. Did he think they’d die? He was always an optimist. What would he have done if the ship hadn’t been there? Died probably. What did he do for a living? Nothing at the moment. Was Heather his girlfriend? Er, no. How did he know Sir Michael? Through Heather, he said, which was sort of true. They would have gone on all night, but he refused to answer anything more and slipped in through the door as Webley eased it open and shut it rapidly behind him.

The tape in his answering machine was full of messages, from Frankie, from the co-owners of the Cessna in states of mind which varied from alarmed concern on the most part to tight anger from the dentist who’d wanted to use it that weekend. Friends, acquaintances, it seemed that anyone who’d ever had his number had rung. Except his mother. He could just imagine the effect it would have had on her first to hear the news then to discover who his front seat passenger had been.

When they reached Victoria Street, it was clear there was little interest in Sir Greville Kay from the public and the Press. According to the doorman, for some sessions, when key figures were due to appear before the inquiry, the queue had stretched around the block but today was reckoned to be a very second-rate show.

They were conspicuously almost alone on the public benches. Sir Roger Hurst, the judge presiding over the inquiry, and Peter Judd, the sharp young barrister who was trying, with limited success, to emulate Presiley Baxendale’s style in the recent Scott Inquiry, arrived to conclude some left over business with a civil servant from the Defence Export Sales Organization, then – a few minutes late – they called for Sir Greville Kay.

Johnny had half expected his mother to be there too, but Sir Greville came in accompanied only by his lawyer. His attention was fixed on the judge as he walked in from the side and he sat down with his back to the three of them, without noticing their presence.

Hurst and the barrister went through some preliminary niceties then Judd launched straight in. ‘Sir Greville, the principal reason you have been asked to attend this inquiry is in connection with a product apparently marketed by you by the name of “Rage”.’

Sir Greville cleared his throat. ‘May I?’

Judd looked irritated but paused and Sir Greville continued. ‘Thank you. I don’t mean to stop you in midflow but in point of fact we don’t have any product called ‘Rage’ in our current product line.’

Judd looked down at his notes and his expression showed that he thought Sir Greville was walking out a long way on a very rickety plank.

‘You may not recognize that name perhaps, but you, or rather your staff would know it as CN512, Sir Greville. It is manufactured, I believe, by your Chempropa Division at Westrop?’

Got him, thought Johnny. They’ve done some homework. He wished he could see his stepfather’s face from where he sat, but the reply came in a voice that sounded surprisingly unflustered and urbane.

‘I’m afraid you’re misinformed, Mr Judd. GKC does not have a division called Chempropa.’

Judd whirled round to his table and picked up a document. ‘This is a copy of an entry in the file at Companies House, Sir Greville. You must presumably be familiar with it. It shows that Chempropa, based at Westrop, is a wholly owned subsidiary of your company GKC.’

‘My reply stands, Mr Judd.’

Hurst himself broke in at this point. ‘Are you saying, Sir Greville, that you have lodged misleading information with Companies House?’

‘No m’lud, rather that Companies House take some time to up date its files.’

‘You are saying, then, that Chempropa was a subsidiary, but that is no longer the case?’

‘That is correct.’

Hurst’s tone showed signs of exasperation. ‘Sir Greville, could I ask you perhaps simply to spell out the situation without beating around the bush quite so much?’

‘I’m quite happy to answer. The situation is that GKC has sold the entire Chempropa Division to another company.’

‘And the name of this other company?’

‘Pearce Loretta.’

‘Not a company I have heard of, I’m afraid, Sir Greville. Could you tell us where it is based?’

‘South Carolina, m’lud.’

Hurst raised his eyebrows at Judd indicating, it seemed to Johnny, that now the barrister had been given a few moments to think it was time for him to pick up the baton again. Judd did his best.

‘Pearce Loretta, Sir Greville. Are they planning to continue Chempropa’s activities at Westrop?’

Sir Greville turned and held a whispered conversation with his lawyer which went on for some time. The barrister was looking increasingly frustrated.

‘Mr Judd,’ said Sir Greville eventually, ‘I am advised that what we know of Pearce Loretta’s plans is covered by commercial confidentiality stipulations and we believe in any case that detailed questions on their activities would be better addressed to them. I can however tell you that you will find in the Financial Times this morning a report to the effect that the manufacturing activities currently carried out at Westrop are being transferred to the United States.’

‘And that would include the manufacture of this Rage or CN512?’

There was another whispered conversation. ‘I think we are free to inform you, Mr Judd,’ said Sir Greville and his voice oozed urbane helpfulness, ‘that CN512 had proved to be an unsuccessful experiment and that work upon it had already been discontinued before the sale.’

That left Judd nowhere to go. There was a question he could have asked, but he’d had enough of breaking the barrister’s golden rule by asking questions to which he didn’t already know the answer. In this case it had only served to push him further and further up a blind alley.

Sir Greville was extremely glad he hadn’t been asked it. The question he had been dreading was, “When did this takeover happen?” and the truthful answer would have been: “Three days ago.”

‘May I just point out, Mr Judd,’ he said as he got up to go, ‘that had you told us something of the nature of your intended questions, we could perhaps have saved you a lot of time and trouble.’

He turned to leave, saw Johnny sitting there staring at him from the benches at the back and, trying to rescue himself from an involuntary expression of shock, gave him a curt nod before he strode out, giving the women each side of his stepson a hard stare.

‘That’s it, then, is it?’ said Johnny. ‘The Americans have knocked Rage on the head. Best thing for it, I think, and it wouldn’t have happened without you.’

‘What’s it like being one day old and six feet tall?’ asked Jo as they wheeled her out of the building.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you must have been born yesterday if you take that steaming load of horse crap at face value.’

A civil servant coming out behind them flinched visibly.

Heather looked distracted. ‘We’d better head for the station,’ she said. ‘It’s past noon.’

‘What’s the hurry? I was going to offer you lunch,’ said Johnny.

‘I’m on shift tonight at the Hall.’

‘On shift? You’re working all night then going into court tomorrow?’

‘It’s not so bad. I’m number two. I’ll get plenty of sleep if there aren’t any problems. Where’s the nearest tube?’

‘No tube. I’m driving you.’

‘To Yorkshire? No, come on, Johnny. You don’t look too good. You go back and get some rest.’