Майкл Ридпат - Fatal Error

‘No. Guy has got to Silverman. Clare was harassed and was happy to follow his lead.’

‘Oh.’

‘But I’m seeing Anne Glazier next week.’

‘Do you think she’ll be able to tell you anything?’

‘Probably not. But I have to try.’ I drank my beer, feeling the disappointment crowd in on me from all sides. ‘What now?’

‘I don’t want to just give up,’ said Ingrid. ‘Sit by and let Guy screw it all up.’

‘Neither do I. But if neither Silverman nor Clare will listen to us I don’t see how we can get Guy to cut back on costs.’

‘And you’re quite certain Torsten won’t come up with the cash?’

‘Positive. I’m sure Guy is convincing, but that doesn’t mean anything. When Guy wants to believe something, he can make other people believe it too. You know that. Torsten will flake and Ninetyminutes will go under.’

‘What about Champion Starsat?’ Ingrid said.

‘I thought you voted against the idea of selling out to them?’

‘I did then. But this is now. I’m not sure we have a choice.’

‘Guy would hate it if I went to them behind his back.’

‘Guy fired you yesterday.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I’ll call them tomorrow.’

This time I didn’t meet Jay Madden at the Savoy. This time I met him in his large corner office on the South Bank with a view of the river. Madden sat behind an impressive desk; I sat opposite.

‘Now, David,’ said Madden with a friendly smile. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Firstly, I should tell you that I’ve left Ninetyminutes. Guy Jourdan and I had a disagreement over strategy.’

Madden raised his eyebrows. ‘And does that disagreement over strategy have anything to do with Champion Starsat?’

‘It does.’

‘You know the market’s changed since we last spoke. So have our plans. We’ve started up our own site. We don’t need Ninetyminutes any more.’

‘Ninetyminutes has the best site on the Internet.’ I was surprised at the pride I felt as I said this. Whatever Ninetyminutes’ problems, that was the truth and Madden couldn’t deny it.

He didn’t try. ‘Running out of cash, are you?’

‘If Ninetyminutes is to make the most of its potential it needs investment. Serious investment. You can provide that. The markets can’t.’

Madden thought for a moment. ‘It’s true you have an excellent site. Probably even better than ours. But, as you point out, we have the cash and you haven’t. And that means we’ll dominate the space. You’ll fold soon. Goaldigger have a bit more funding than you, so they’ll last longer. But we’ll win. You know that.’ His tone was matter-of-fact, not aggressive, which just made what he said sound even more credible.

‘You may be correct. But at the right price it would be worth your while to incorporate our site into yours.’

Madden smiled. ‘I take it Guy Jourdan doesn’t know you’re here?’

‘No, and I’d rather he didn’t.’

‘Is this a way for you to get your old job back?’

‘No. Absolutely not. But I think it would be good for Ninetyminutes. I’m still a shareholder.’

Madden picked up a pencil from his desk and tapped his chin with it. ‘If we were to make an offer, what makes you think Jourdan would accept it?’

‘He might have no choice.’

‘Are you suggesting I call him?’

‘No. Call Derek Silverman. And please don’t mention my name.’

‘All right,’ said Madden. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, and left, feeling guilty as hell.

Without Ingrid, the weekend would have been unbearable. With Ingrid, I found it extremely bearable. She worked on Saturday, but we went to see a film together that evening. We spent Sunday morning in bed, getting to know each other, ambled down the street to a local café for lunch and wandered round Hyde Park during the afternoon. Summer had come early, the air was hot and heavy, the grass inviting. Then Ingrid returned to her own place to sort out the week’s domestic loose ends.

I didn’t see her again until the following evening. She came straight to my flat from work. I was anxious to hear what had happened at Ninetyminutes: we had agreed not to communicate while she was at the office. With Owen there, you never knew.

I was also anxious just to see her. At this stage of our relationship a day seemed a long time, especially when I had nothing to do but stew.

She kissed me, and tucked herself under my arm on the sofa.

‘Well?’ I said.

‘Well. Interesting day, today.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Guy was in a worse mood than usual this morning. I’m pretty sure he’s ignoring me, but maybe he’s just ignoring everyone. Anyway, I asked him about Torsten. He looked pissed off and said he would handle it. I demanded to know whether Torsten had come through with the cash: I am still a director, after all. Guy admitted he hadn’t.’

‘What did I tell you? So Torsten’s father said no?’

‘Torsten wouldn’t admit that to Guy, but that’s what Guy thinks. Guy was furious. I thought he was going to jump on a plane to Hamburg and kill him.’

‘Don’t say that,’ I said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know. Tony Jourdan has died. I was put in hospital. Henry’s family was threatened. It’s getting dangerous to thwart Ninetyminutes these days.’

Ingrid shuddered. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. Guy didn’t jump on a plane, and before you say anything, Owen was in the office all day too.’

‘Did Madden call Silverman?’

‘I think he must have. Silverman came round about lunchtime, and he and Guy shut themselves in the boardroom for a couple of hours.’

‘Did Guy tell you what it was about?’

‘No. I asked him if there was anything I should know. He said there would be a board meeting tomorrow morning. Apparently Clare is in Leeds or somewhere today. He said it was to confirm your removal as a director from the board. But there’s something else, I’m sure.’

‘Madden’s put an offer in.’

‘It looks like it.’

‘I wonder what the board will say.’

Tuesday morning was tough. The waiting was becoming more difficult by the day. I had spent many hours trying to work out who had run Tony Jourdan down, with little success. For all I knew, it could have been Guy. My best chance for a breakthrough was my forthcoming meeting with Anne Glazier, but that was still twenty-four hours away. Ingrid and I had decided to meet for lunch so that she could tell me about the board meeting, but by nine o’clock I was already stir-crazy. I was just about to leave my flat and go for a walk when the phone rang. It was Michelle.

‘Hi, Michelle. How are you?’

‘I’m good,’ she said. But she sounded tense. It took a lot to make Michelle tense. ‘I’ve got a message from Guy.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. He’d like to see you this morning. Ten o’clock, if you can make it.’

‘OK,’ I said. I was intrigued. And besides, it was good to be able to actually do something. ‘I’ll come round straight away.’

‘He’d like to meet you at Howles Marriott.’

That was a surprise. But I supposed in his current mood Guy wanted to keep me away from Britton Street.

‘All right. I’ll be there.’

Howles Marriott’s offices were in a warren of narrow pavements and cramped squares off Chancery Lane and behind Fleet Street. This was once the labyrinth of streets described by Charles Dickens, but those overcrowded dwellings had been flattened by bombs and bulldozers to be replaced by red brick, plate glass and flagstones. I found such soulless quiet in the middle of London rather eerie.

I waited in the reception area. I had been to these offices dozens of times before, and usually Mel would come down to meet me. Not this time. I was shown up to her office by her secretary.