Майкл Ридпат - The Marketmaker

‘Wait for the deadline.’

‘Oh, God. I suppose you’ve spoken to Bloomfield Weiss?’

I nodded.

‘And they took no notice?’

I sighed and nodded again.

‘What about Ricardo?’

‘That was where I went this afternoon. He was very tight-lipped. He denied any knowledge of the kidnap and walked off.’

‘Do you believe him?’

I shook my head. ‘You know how plausible Ricardo can be.’

‘Oh.’ She thought for a moment. ‘What about Andrew Kerton?’

I stared at her.

‘Well, presumably he has to agree to a sale?’ she said. ‘Have you spoken to him?’

‘Christ! No, I hadn’t thought of that.’ Then I frowned. ‘He’d be hardly likely to call off the deal for me, would he? I mean, this is his only chance to sell.’

‘You won’t know until you try.’

I looked at my watch. A quarter past eleven. Just under five hours to go till Zico’s deadline.

‘Do you know where he lives?’ I asked Kate.

‘No idea. But you can try Directory Enquiries.’

‘I bet he’s ex-directory.’ I tried. He was.

‘Jamie might know,’ said Kate. ‘I think he’s been to his house before.’

‘I want to keep Jamie out of this,’ I said.

‘I don’t think you have a choice.’

Jamie was drying up dishes in the kitchen. ‘Jamie, do you know where Lord Kerton lives?’ I asked breathlessly.

He turned and frowned. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Oh, come on Jamie, just tell us,’ Kate implored.

‘Somewhere in Kensington Square, I think. I forget the number.’

‘Come on, Nick. I’ll drive you,’ said Kate.

Jamie put down the glass he was wiping. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘Tell you later,’ said Kate, and I followed her out of the front door.

It took us three-quarters of an hour. Kate drove fast and there wasn’t much traffic. Kensington Square is a quiet gathering of large houses just to the south of Kensington High Street. We had no idea which one was Lord Kerton’s.

An old envelope was lying in the back of Kate’s car. I took it, stuffed the car manual into it, and picked a house at random. I rang the bell. After a couple of minutes, a grey-haired man in an old dressing gown answered. He didn’t seem at all bothered about being disturbed at midnight.

‘Can I speak to Lord Kerton?’ I asked.

‘I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong house. He doesn’t live here.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry, sir. I have an urgent message for him,’ I said, brandishing the unopened end of the envelope. ‘Can you tell me which is his house?’

‘Four doors down,’ said the man helpfully, pointing.

I thanked him, and headed for Kerton’s house. Kate saw me and climbed out of the car.

‘It’s OK. I can do this myself,’ I said.

‘He’ll be more likely to listen to the two of us.’

She was right.

I rang the doorbell. It was answered quickly. Kerton was wearing old green trousers and a striped cotton shirt. No shoes, just socks.

He frowned as he saw me, his expression one of deep distaste. ‘What the hell do you want?’

‘Can we come in, sir?’ I asked.

‘No. Bugger off.’

He tried to shut the door. I leaned into it. ‘Please. Just five minutes.’

‘I said bugger off. Or I’ll call the police.’

Kate squeezed between us. She was a lot shorter than both of us, but she looked determinedly up to Kerton’s chin. ‘If you throw us out, Isabel Pereira will die.’

This made him pause for a moment. ‘So she’s still alive?’

‘Yes. For the time being.’ said Kate.

He thought for a moment. He obviously looked on Kate more kindly than me. ‘Well, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you’d better come in.’

He led us up some stairs to a large, comfortably furnished sitting room on the first floor.

‘Sit down,’ he said, gesturing to the sofa.

He swiftly picked an open novel off an armchair and placed it face down on a small table. I just caught a glimpse of the cover: it was one of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books. He saw I saw and reddened slightly.

‘Now, explain what you want, and go.’

He looked tired. It wasn’t just the hour: he looked worn down. Seeing his company fall apart around him must have taken its toll.

‘Do you know Isabel?’ I asked.

Kerton nodded. ‘Yes, vaguely. She’s quite, ah, noticeable.’

I wasn’t surprised that Kerton appreciated Isabel’s charms, most men would, but it was a good sign.

‘Well, as you know, she was kidnapped last month. It looked like she’d been killed, but it turns out that her kidnappers were just hiding her. Yesterday her father received a threat that unless the Bloomfield Weiss takeover of Dekker Ward was called off, she would die. Luís Pereira and the kidnap specialist who advises him take this threat very seriously. So do I.’

Kerton was listening. ‘What do these kidnappers care about the takeover?’

‘I think it highly likely that Eduardo Ross was behind Isabel’s kidnapping.’

‘No! Do you have proof?’

‘No firm evidence, no. But, as you say, why the interest in Dekker’s future?’

‘I don’t believe Eduardo Ross would do something like that,’ Kerton said, with a primness that sounded ridiculous.

Kerton knew Eduardo. Anyone who knew Eduardo knew he just might be capable of kidnapping.

I raised my eyebrows.

‘OK,’ said Kerton. ‘But how did Eduardo find out about the takeover? I thought we’d kept Ricardo out of it.’

I shrugged. ‘Leaks.’

‘Hum. What do you expect me to do?’

‘Call the deal off.’

Kerton frowned. ‘I can’t. You know that. Dekker Ward is insolvent. If I sell to Bloomfield Weiss, the firm might survive in some form, and I just might get some value out of it. If that deal goes away, I’ll have to call in the receiver.’

‘Well, can’t you delay it? Manufacture some problem. Something to give us more time.’

‘I don’t have much time. If the market moves down any further the deal will fall through. I can’t afford to wait and risk that happening. Anyway, what would you do with a few more days?’

I had been thinking this through in the car on the way to Kerton’s house.

‘Find out who kidnapped Isabel, and get her released.’

‘But if the Brazilian police haven’t been able to find her kidnappers over the last couple of months, why should you be able to find her now?’

‘Because now we know her kidnapping is linked to Dekker Ward. It’s likely that Ricardo or Eduardo Ross is involved. It will make it easier to track her down.’

Kerton sighed. ‘Look, I’m sorry about Isabel, but there’s really nothing I can do. I have no choice.’

‘Yes, you do!’ said Kate. The forcefulness of her tone grabbed Kerton’s attention. ‘If you don’t call the deal off and Isabel is murdered, you’ll have her death on your conscience for the rest of your life. You’ll never be able to forget it. Sure, when you look at your bank statement and see a few million more on it, you’ll remember why you let her die. But that won’t give you satisfaction. You’ll feel as guilty as hell.’

That rattled him. ‘Look. I’m not the one who’s killing her,’ he protested. ‘It has nothing to do with me.’

Kate shook her head. ‘It has everything to do with you.’

Kerton glared at me. ‘Why should I do this for you? You were the one who got Bloomfield Weiss involved in the first place.’

‘It isn’t for him, it’s for Isabel,’ Kate said. ‘Look, I know you don’t know anything about all of this, but you are chairman of Dekker Ward. This is your responsibility.’