Майкл Ридпат - The Predator

‘So, tell me about Marcus.’

Ian took a long drag on his cigarette and carefully flicked the ash into an ashtray before replying. ‘As you probably know, he’s Alex’s brother. He came to see Lenka about Alex’s death.’

‘And what did she tell him?’

‘I don’t know. You saw her e-mail to him. What did it say?’ Ian couldn’t hide his anxiety as he asked the question.

‘What do you think it said?’

‘I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!’ Ian’s impatience was growing.

Chris paused for a moment, enjoying Ian’s discomfort. ‘It said that she had something important she wanted to tell him about Alex’s death.’

‘But she didn’t say what it was?’

‘No. She said she wanted to see Marcus in person to explain it.’ As Chris said this, Ian relaxed. But only for a moment. ‘There’s a reply from Marcus. It says he’ll phone her.’

‘And you don’t know whether he did?’

‘No.’

Ian’s tension had returned.

‘There was also an e-mail from her to you saying she had to tell him about something. You begged her not to.’

‘That’s right.’

‘What was it?’

Ian thought for a moment. ‘What really happened, of course. That Duncan hit Alex and he fell in the sea. That Duncan was responsible for his death.’

‘And why should this bother you? You don’t care much about Duncan, do you?’

‘It’s not that. We’d all get in trouble, wouldn’t we? It was stupid of Lenka to even think of talking about it.’

‘Do you think that’s why she was murdered?’

Ian looked at him with derision. ‘Of course not. Are you suggesting I killed her? I was sleeping with her, for God’s sake!’

‘Ollie says that Lenka wouldn’t take your calls for a couple of days before she died.’

‘That’s true. I was angry about Marcus. She was angry with me. But there’s nothing odd about that. You know Lenka. She could lose her temper pretty easily.’

‘Her funeral is on Wednesday. Are you coming?’

Ian closed his eyes, and shook his head.

‘Why not?’

‘I can’t get away,’ Ian said wearily.

Chris stood up with contempt in his voice. ‘You weren’t really much of a friend to her, were you?’

Ian pursed his lips, anger flaring in his eyes. ‘Fuck off, Chris,’ he said.

Chris was still angry when he got back to the office. There was something about Ian that made him lose his temper every time. He knew it was stupid: his only chance of getting out of that bloody Eureka Telecom position was to persuade Bloomfield Weiss to buy the bonds. Well, if he hadn’t blown that on Friday, he definitely had now.

But what was it that was getting to him?

Obviously, the discovery of Ian’s relationship with Lenka had rattled him more than he had realized. Could he be jealous, as Megan had hinted? Did he regret that Ian had succeeded where he hadn’t dared to try?

He tried to think about that objectively. He was pretty sure the answer was no. He was very fond of Lenka, but he had never thought of her sexually. Right from the beginning, when he was still going out with Tamara, he had placed her off limits and kept her there ever since. That was the secret of their friendship. Lenka liked men. All her other relationships with males had deteriorated into sex and then breakup. But not with Chris. They felt safe with each other, they trusted each other, they were very good friends.

In which case, what was it about Ian that upset him so much? He had always assumed Lenka had torrid relationships with men, and although he had never known the details, he had accepted it as part of who she was: if anything, it made her more colourful. But to see Ian treating her as just another casual relationship, a hot babe to bonk for a few weeks, made him crazy. Why didn’t Ian recognize that she was so much more than that? He wasn’t even going to her funeral, for God’s sake! And the way he had used their relationship so cynically to sell her the Eureka Telecom bonds disgusted Chris. He didn’t believe for one moment that there was anything in the Radaphone rumour. It was just a product of Ian’s imagination, aimed at dumping twenty-five million euros of a difficult position. That should be good for a few grand on his bonus at the end of the year.

Could Ian have killed her to prevent her from telling Marcus about Duncan?

Chris had to admit that the answer was probably not. It wouldn’t make sense. Certainly, the police would cause trouble if they asked questions. But Eric was right; as long as all the witnesses on the boat stuck together, they would all be safe. The police couldn’t prove anything. With a shiver, Chris realized that Ian could even try to cut a deal if he agreed to tell the police what really happened in return for immunity from prosecution. That would be bloody typical. Either way, Ian would survive.

No. As much as he liked to think the contrary, Ian was probably not responsible for Lenka’s death.

Chris wished he could talk to Megan about all this. She would be able to add some objectivity. He wondered how she was getting on at Cambridge. Would she even have a telephone? He desperately wanted to call her.

What about Duncan? Megan had suggested that he should find out a bit more about Duncan and Lenka’s recent relationship. But before confronting him, there was someone else he wanted to talk to first.

He looked up the number for United Arab International Bank, dialled it, and asked to speak to Phillippa Gemmel.

‘Securities Trading,’ came the voice, bright and breezy.

‘Pippa? It’s Chris Szczypiorski.’

‘Chris. How are you?’ She wasn’t rude, but she didn’t sound exactly pleased to hear from him.

‘Look, Pippa, do you think we could meet for a few minutes after work? It won’t take long. There’s something I want to discuss with you.’

‘If Duncan wants to talk to me, he can speak to me himself,’ Pippa said.

‘It’s true, I do want to talk to you about Duncan. But he doesn’t know I’m calling you. Please. It won’t take long.’

Pippa was silent for a moment. ‘OK. But I’m leaving at five thirty. Can you meet me downstairs in the lobby?’

‘Fine. I’ll see you there at half past five.’

He hung up. Next, he pulled out the card of the English-speaking Czech policeman who had interviewed him after the murder. Poručík Petr Karásek . Presumably, poručík was his rank. He dialled, and eventually got through to him. Chris asked whether he had made any progress.

‘We have had some success,’ the policeman replied. His English was careful and clear. ‘We found a woman who said she saw a man with a moustache running out of the street where Miss Němečková was killed. We showed her photographs and she identified a criminal we know here who uses a knife. He is Czech, but he works for the Ukrainian mafia. We arrested him. But there are problems. She was not sure of the identificationwhen we put him in a line, and he has a — what do you say? Ah, yes. Alibi, I think?’

‘Yes, alibi,’ said Chris.

‘It may be false. We are still working on that line of inquiry.’

‘So you think the murderer is a local criminal?’ Chris asked.

‘From the way he used the knife, we think he was a professional. Unfortunately, we do have some professional killers in Prague. It is likely it is one of them. Do you have any idea of a motive?’

Chris knew that Karásek was thinking about Carpathian’s investments. ‘No,’ he answered.

‘You are sure Miss Němečková had no business deals in the Czech Republic?’

‘We own two million euros of a CEZ bond and a lot of bonds issued by your government.’ CEZ was the national electricity company, hardly likely to be the centre of an organized crime conspiracy. ‘Besides that, we were planning to open an office in Prague, but I can’t see why that would upset anyone. Have you spoken to Jan Pavlík?’