Майкл Ридпат - The Predator

‘Me?’

‘It sounded a lot like you from his description. He said that you’d approached Lenka and she’d ignored you.’

Duncan didn’t answer. He turned to face the night. Chris waited.

Eventually, Duncan answered. ‘It’s true. When things went wrong with Pippa, I tried to get in touch with Lenka. She didn’t want to see me. But I didn’t give up. She was too important to me to give up on.’

‘So you hassled her?’

‘No. I did watch her from a distance, sometimes, but I don’t think she saw me. I wrote to her. And I approached her a couple of times, like that one you mentioned. But I didn’t “hassle” her. I didn’t force myself on her, if that’s what you mean.’ He smiled. ‘It’s funny. The week before she died, she called me. She wanted to see me. She said she had something important to tell me. We met in a bar somewhere near your office.’

‘What was it?’

Duncan sighed. ‘I don’t know. I think I screwed it up. There was so much I wanted to tell her. She tried to stop me, but I needed to say it. I think I must have gone over the top. She left.’

‘Before she told you anything?’

‘Oh, she told me there was absolutely no chance of us ever getting together again,’ muttered Duncan bitterly. ‘The last time I saw her, and that was the last thing she said to me.’ Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.

‘Bloody hell, Duncan, don’t you realize that she must have had something quite important to say? Why didn’t you listen to her, for God’s sake?’

For a moment, Duncan looked surprised at the vehemence in Chris’s voice. Then the resigned expression returned. ‘I don’t care now. It’s too late.’

Chris leaned forward. ‘Listen to me, Duncan. I know who Marcus is, even if you say you don’t. He’s Alex Lubron’s brother. Lenka sent him an e-mail saying she wanted to tell him something, and she wanted to talk to you.’ Chris was careful not to mention Ian in all of this. If Duncan found out about his relationship with Lenka, it might seriously unbalance him. And Chris wanted Duncan to be as balanced as possible. ‘I think it was something to do with Alex’s death. Now, do you have any idea at all what Lenka was going to say to Marcus?’

Duncan sighed and closed his eyes. ‘I do know who Marcus is. In fact, he came to see me. He’d just seen Lenka in your office that afternoon. She’d told him that I’d hit Alex on the boat, and that was how he fell in the sea. Marcus waited for me outside the office. He got me on the way home. We were shouting at each other in the street.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He asked if it was true that I’d killed Alex. He asked why. He asked why I’d kept quiet about it. Then he gave me a lot of abuse.’

‘And what did you do?’

Duncan sighed. ‘I took it. You know I never felt comfortable about keeping it all quiet. I mean, it was very good of you all to do it, and I know I could have ended up behind bars, but Marcus had a point. It was unfair to him not to know what really happened.’

Chris grunted. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Then he ran out of steam. He stood there, sort of shifting from foot to foot. I thought he was going to leave me alone, when he took a swing at me. I just covered my face. He kept on trying to hit me, until some passers-by pulled him off. I turned and legged it. I didn’t want to fight him.’

‘What do you think he’ll do?’ asked Chris. ‘Do you think he’ll go to the police?’

Duncan shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why did you pretend you didn’t know who he was?’

Duncan sighed. ‘After everything all of you had done to keep things quiet, I didn’t want to admit that I’d let you down. That I’d let out what had really happened. I just hoped that Marcus would go away and I could forget about him.’

‘But why didn’t you deny it?’

‘It was too late. Lenka had already told him. Besides, he had a right to know.’

He had a right to know . Lenka’s words. Well, he knew now. And Chris had no idea what he would do with that knowledge.

Chris spent all the next day at the office, with only a break at midday to have lunch with Duncan’s client, Khalid, at a restaurant in Devonshire Square in the City. Khalid was twenty minutes late, but was all smiles when he finally arrived. He seemed to be about Chris’s age, neatly dressed with a small black moustache, warm brown eyes and a ready grin. They indulged in the typical market small talk. It turned out that Khalid was a friend of Faisal, the Saudi on Chris’s training programme who was now apparently in charge of a large pan-Gulf investment fund. The waitress came, and Khalid flirted expertly with her before ordering his sole done in a very particular way. No wine.

Khalid asked about the Central European high-yield bond market, and Chris answered him as best he could. The problem was that there weren’t yet many issues to choose from, and only three that Chris could strongly recommend.

The sole came, and it was prepared to Khalid’s liking. ‘But you don’t just invest in high yield, do you?’ he asked.

Chris told him about his government bond trades: about the florints, zlotys, korunas, kroons and lats he dealt in every day. Khalid was intrigued, and asked intelligent questions. He, too, had been involved in trading the Continental European bond markets before the euro, and from the sound of it, he was probably quite good at it. As Chris talked, he realized that after a couple of years of thorough immersion, he really did know these markets well.

They had finished the coffee, and Khalid insisted on paying the bill. ‘That was fascinating,’ he said. ‘And thank you for steering me away from Eureka Telecom.’

‘No problem. I think that’s wise, at the moment. I wouldn’t trust Bloomfield Weiss an inch on that kind of stuff.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Khalid. ‘Do you know Herbie Exler?’

‘I used to work for him.’

‘Ah,’ said Khalid carefully.

‘Don’t worry. He screwed me.’

‘He screwed me, too,’ said Khalid. ‘Several times. I think he thinks I’m just a dumb Arab who he can leg over whenever he feels like it. What did he do to you?’

‘Remember that big convergence trade Bloomfield Weiss were involved with a couple of years ago?’

Khalid nodded. ‘How could I forget it?’

Well, that was me. But when I wanted to get out of it, Herbie wanted to double up. We did, we lost, I got the blame, I was on the street.’

Khalid watched Chris carefully as he said this, as though trying to judge whether Chris was spinning a convenient cover story. He could probably tell he wasn’t. There was no need: Chris had no reason to try to impress him.

‘He’s an asshole,’ Khalid said matter-of-factly.

Chris smiled. ‘I wouldn’t argue with that.’ It was late by the time Chris got back to his flat from the office that night. He checked his e-mail before he went to bed. There was one from Marcus.

You say Alex’s drowning was an accident, but I only have your word for that. If you won’t trust me by telling me what happened on the boat, then I can’t tell you what Lenka told me. I am still worried by her death. I don’t think I can trust any of the people who were on the boat that night. So I won’t give you my phone number or address.

Marcus

Damn! Chris quickly typed out a reply.

Marcus

I am flying to America on Sunday. I am going to New York, and Hartford, Connecticut. I would very much like to meet you. You name the time and the place, and I will be there.

He sent the e-mail, and went to bed.

There was an answer waiting for him the next morning. One word.

No.