Майкл Ридпат - The Predator

‘A random drug test? I don’t remember a random drug test.’ Chris thought hard. ‘Oh, yes. I think there was some kind of medical for the American trainees after the final examination. The rest of us were allowed to leave. That must have been it.’ He shook his head. ‘Wow. He kept that quiet.’

‘Yes. Eric knew, of course, and therefore so did I. But you can imagine it’s not the sort of thing he wanted to broadcast.’

‘I didn’t realize Alex did drugs.’

‘A lot of people did back then,’ said Megan.

Chris grunted. ‘I’m a complete innocent when it comes to drugs. You read in the press that it’s going on all round you, but I’ve hardly ever seen any. Although I did catch Ian once.’ He remembered Tamara barging into Ian’s bedroom, and the look of embarrassment on Ian’s face as he looked up from the white line of coke. But then he remembered his own discomfort when Tamara had taken some. ‘Ian was very lucky he wasn’t tested.’

‘Perhaps Lenka knew about Alex getting caught,’ Megan said. ‘Perhaps that’s what she wanted to tell Marcus.’

‘But why? I hardly think that it was something Marcus had a “right to know”.’

Megan shook her head. ‘I suppose not. But it’s another reason to look for him. Have you heard any more from him?’

‘He’s scared,’ said Chris. ‘He won’t give me his address. He doesn’t want me to find him.’

Megan looked at Chris. ‘That’s worrying.’

For the first time, Chris wondered whether Marcus had reason to be scared. And if so, whether he should be scared also.

They walked miles that afternoon, criss-crossing the town and its parks and meadows. They were dawdling by the river, surrounded by waterlogged stretches of grass, when darkness crept in around them. They made their way through the gloom to a pub, the Fort St George, standing alone by the bank of the river, and ate in front of a glowing fire.

Later, they walked back to Megan’s college. Chris had intended to drive back to London that evening, but she invited him back to her room for a cup of coffee. They cut through two courtyards, past an ancient tree, a tangle of bare branches looming out of the darkness, to her building. Her room was warm and cosy, and it was cold and damp outside. He and Megan talked late into the night, and Chris didn’t want the evening to end. Neither did Megan.

He stayed.

Chris tried to edge his left elbow on to the armrest beside him, but the large man reading a computer magazine wouldn’t have any of it. On Chris’s other side, a much smaller, skinny boy was playing a frantic game of cards with his brother. The research piece on macroeconomic adjustment in the Baltic States that lay on his lap was not making any sense. Chris cursed himself for travelling Economy. Lenka refused to do it, and became quite upset if Chris ever tried to travel that way. But with Carpathian in so much difficulty, Chris had felt guilty about shelling out the enormous fare for Business Class. Stupid. A thousand pounds here or there would make no difference to whether Carpathian survived. In any case, he had had to buy an expensive open ticket. The trip out to Hartford to see Rudy Moss should be straightforward. But he didn’t know how long it would take him to find Marcus Lubron, or to discover more about Alex’s drug problem.

Chris gave up on the Baltic States, leaned back, closed his eyes, and thought of Megan. He had said goodbye to her in Cambridge before driving back to London to get his stuff ready for America. It had been a great day, a great night. He remembered her smell, the softness of her skin, her hair against his face. She had awakened something in him that he had not experienced for a long time. Since Tamara. No, it was different from the way he had felt with Tamara. It was something new, something much better. There was so much more he wanted to know about her, and yet he felt he knew her well already. Spending time with her seemed so natural. He hoped that he would see a lot more of her; he was determined that he would see a lot more of her.

He thought about her and Eric, and wondered for a moment how he and Eric compared. But only for a moment. Rivalry with Eric was pointless: Eric was always a winner at everything, and it was best just to accept that as a fact of life. He winced at the only stupid remark he could remember making during the night. Sometime in the small hours, after they had made love for the second time, he had mentioned Eric. She had stiffened, and then asked him whether no one had ever told him not to discuss old lovers with new ones. He thought of Duncan and Pippa and felt like an idiot. His transgression had soon been forgotten, but it was clear that Eric was a taboo subject with Megan.

He smiled as he thought about seeing her again. Then the kid on his right whacked him in the ribs with a sharp elbow.

Rudy Moss’s arrogance had matured. He used to be cocky or sycophantic, depending on whom he was with. Ten years had given him a certain authority. His pudginess had transformed into prematurely middle-aged flab. He used his long nose to great effect, holding his head at exactly the right angle to be able to look down it at whomever he was talking to. He was an expert too at the weighty silence, the pause that implied that he alone knew the right answer and was debating whether to divulge it. Chris couldn’t stand him.

But he had to sit there and beg, a process that he found very difficult, but that Rudy seemed to be enjoying greatly.

The meeting started off promisingly.

‘I got a call from Eric Astle about you last week,’ Rudy began. ‘He was quite complimentary.’

‘Good,’ said Chris.

‘Yeah. He’s done well,’ said Rudy. ‘Did you see that piece in Business Week a couple of months back? “Dealmakers of the Twenty-first Century” it was called. Something like that.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘It seems that Eric is quite the M&A star.’

‘It does.’

‘It’s a shame he couldn’t do quite as well as me on the programme,’ Rudy said, with a smile.

Chris’s recollection was that Eric had just pipped Rudy for top place at the end, but he let it rest. Chris looked around Rudy’s office. Small, but at least he had his own. He had a nice view of other tall buildings housing insurance companies. Amalgamated Veterans Life was a respected institution, and Rudy obviously had some responsibility. But he was hardly ‘dealmaker of the twenty-first century’. Chris smiled to himself.

Mistake. Rudy saw him and frowned. He was probably all too aware that he hadn’t fulfilled the promise of the training programme.

‘I’m impressed by what Eric says, but I need to make up my own mind on this. I told you the reservations I have now you’ve lost Lenka. Why should I keep my funds with you?’

Chris launched into an explanation of the opportunities for Central Europe, of the rapid integration of the countries there into the European economy, and of how the hiccups on the way provided opportunities for the fund to trade its way to a stronger return. He focused on how he proposed to recruit a high-yield bond expert to replace Lenka. Chris convinced himself. He didn’t know about Rudy.

‘What do you think about Latvia?’ Rudy asked. ‘Do you think it will make the second wave of candidates for the European Union?’

Typical of Rudy to ask a technical question out of the blue that he had probably mugged up beforehand. But Chris knew his stuff, and, aided by what he had read on the plane, gave a convincing answer.

It seemed to satisfy Rudy. ‘Do you have a current valuation for the fund?’ he asked.

This was it. The moment Chris had been dreading, but that he couldn’t avoid. He handed Rudy the February revaluation. Rudy scanned it.