Майкл Ридпат - Fatal Error

‘He’s your brother. You’ve worked as hard as any of us in starting this company. It’s your father who’s shutting it down.’

Owen turned away from me, and began tapping passwords into his computer. He ignored me for a whole minute before he finally spoke. ‘I guess I’m pretty pissed too.’

‘Guy seems to have given up,’ I said. ‘But the others haven’t. Ingrid says they’re all willing to resign with him. Your father will have to back down, won’t he?’

Owen didn’t answer, but tapped away.

‘Won’t he?’ I repeated in exasperation.

‘Dad won’t give up,’ said Owen.

‘But why not? You’re his sons. This is his chance to support both of you.’

‘Because he’s a total asshole,’ said Owen. His high-pitched voice contrasted strangely with his size and the words he was saying. ‘He doesn’t give a shit about either of us. Never has. Never will.’

He must have seen my surprise at the sudden vehemence of the response. ‘I used to worship him. So did Guy. Then he walked out on us. Left us with that bitch of a mother. Never saw us, never asked for us. When we did go to stay with him in France he still ignored us. Especially me. And when I saw that slut he left us for, I couldn’t believe it. You know she was a slut,’ he said.

I could feel myself going red.

Owen noticed and smiled to himself. ‘After all that screwing around in France I knew he was a total waste of space. It’s taken Guy a bit longer to figure that out. You know, I think Dad’s scared of him?’

‘Scared of Guy? That doesn’t make any sense.’

‘It does to Dad. Guy represents everything he used to think he was good at. Chasing women, making money. Dad needs to prove to himself he can still do all that. That’s why he screws women half his age. That’s why he’s screwing Ninetyminutes now.’

‘But he’s made much more money than Guy.’

‘He did when he was young, yes. But that was a long time ago. I know for a fact he’s made some bad investments these last few years. It’s not surprising — he doesn’t concentrate on them. But it, like, bugs him. I can tell it bugs him. Now he wants to prove he hasn’t lost his touch.’ Owen’s eyes glowed with a black fire deep beneath his brows. ‘He’s a selfish pig, my dad. He hates us. Both of us. So I’m not at all surprised he wants to destroy Ninetyminutes.’

The strength of all this bitterness took me aback. ‘Where’s Guy?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Owen. He had shared a flat with Guy in Wapping, but once Ninetyminutes had established itself he had moved out and found himself his own place somewhere in Camden.

‘Will he be coming in today?’

‘No idea.’

‘Do you think he’ll change his mind?’

‘No point. I told you. Now, I got a line of code here I need to fix.’

I left Owen to it, reflecting that I had had just about my longest conversation ever with him. And it hadn’t changed my opinion of him one jot.

He was strange. Very strange.

There was no sign of Guy on Wednesday, either, and I didn’t even try to ask Owen about him. Ingrid and I worked till half past eight in the evening, and took the tube to Knightsbridge. She was more confident than I, bristling with arguments and justifications to win Tony over before the next morning’s deadline. I was going to try, but I was much more sceptical of our chances of success. Funnily enough it wasn’t Guy’s defeatism that worried me most, it was the unalloyed certainty of Owen’s hatred for his father. This was not a family about to forgive and forget.

Clutching an A to Z , I led Ingrid through a maze of small streets just to the north of Harrods to where Tony’s flat should be. I paused under a streetlamp to check the map. I was pretty sure I was in the right place, a narrow one-way mews. I looked around for a street sign. A century ago the houses had been inhabited by horses. Now they were inhabited by humans who probably paid at least a million quid for the privilege.

I saw the sign obscured by a car on the other side of the street. I moved a couple of yards down the road to get a better view. I was in the right place. There was a man in the car who caught my eye for a second and then looked away. I wondered briefly what he was doing sitting in a car in the dark. Waiting for someone, presumably. Then I looked for Tony’s flat, which turned out to be the top floor of one of the mews houses.

We rang the bell. Tony answered.

‘Ah, the deputation,’ he said. ‘Come in. I’m afraid you can’t stay long; I’m meeting some friends for dinner in half an hour.’

We sat on pale leather armchairs in his expensively decorated living room. There was no sign of anyone else in the flat. I suppose I had secretly hoped that I would find Guy there negotiating an arrangement with his father.

Ingrid came straight to the point. ‘We’ve come to ask you to keep Guy on.’

Tony raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I can try to persuade Guy to stay, but it’s his decision. There’s really nothing I can do about it.’

‘Oh, come on, Tony,’ I said. ‘We all know why Guy is resigning. You won’t let us raise more money to fund Ninetyminutes’ expansion. I was there. I saw it.’

Tony held up his hands. ‘There’s no point in discussing this now. Let’s see what happens tomorrow morning, shall we? We can talk about it then.’

‘No,’ said Ingrid. ‘We talk about it now. You see, if Guy resigns the rest of the team will resign also.’

‘That’s up to you,’ said Tony calmly.

‘But if we all leave, how are you going to run the site?’

‘I’ll hire people.’

‘That won’t work,’ Ingrid pointed out. ‘You need people who are up to speed with the content, the design, the site software. You can’t just get bodies off the street to do it.’

‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’

‘No,’ said Ingrid. ‘I’m just trying to explain what will happen to your two-million-pound investment if Guy resigns tomorrow.’

‘You are trying to blackmail me,’ said Tony, a patronizing smile playing on his lips. Then his expression changed: all traces of humour disappeared as he leaned forward, deadly serious now. He spoke with a low measured urgency that commanded our total attention. ‘Let me tell you something. I don’t respond to threats. No one in my entire working career has threatened me and got away with it. Whatever happens, Ingrid, you won’t have a job tomorrow. Neither will you, David. Now, it’s time for you both to leave.’

I could see Ingrid was furious, but I caught her eye, and we got up to go.

‘Creep,’ muttered Ingrid as we strode down the mews towards Knightsbridge and taxis.

‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘It was worth a try.’

‘Guy was right,’ she said. ‘We never should have taken his money.’

‘No, we shouldn’t. Big mistake.’

My mistake.

We passed the man in the car at the end of the street. He looked as if he had fallen asleep. With a jerk, he seemed suddenly to wake up and start his car. As we turned the corner, I looked over my shoulder and saw Tony coming out of his mews house.

‘I never liked that man,’ said Ingrid. ‘Ever since we stayed with him in France, I knew he was a scumbag. He gives me the creeps every time I look at him. He thinks he’s a super-suave playboy, but he’s just a dirty old man. He always was. Do you know what I’d like to do to him?’

I never found out what Ingrid would like to do to Tony. Instead I heard the roar of an engine from the mews, and a cry, abruptly cut short.

I glanced at Ingrid and ran.

I rounded the corner and saw a body splayed out at an unnatural angle on the pavement just in front of Tony’s house. As I came closer, it was obvious who it was. I recognized the clothes. I recognized the shape and size. But when I reached him, I couldn’t recognize his face. His head was a bloody mess.