Nicholas Searle - The Good Liar

They knew what was coming.

‘It seems that Roy had a prostate scare in his fifties. He was eventually given the all clear but warned that it required monitoring.

Which is why his wife was so insistent on his seeing a doctor when

it flared up again. But anyway. One evening – I think it must have been the day we finished the deal – he simply didn’t come home.’

‘He was complaining about his prostate,’ said Dave.

‘Was he really?’ said Vincent. ‘Anyway, she rang round all the Lon-

don hospitals and apparently he had been admitted to St Thomas’.

She didn’t get to see him before he died.’

‘You sure he’s not just done a runner?’ asked Bryn.

‘Well,’ said Vincent drily, ‘there is the small matter of the body.

His wife identified him. He couldn’t have done a flit from the Grim Reaper. And what would be the point anyway? The way we’re positioned now, he’d have a lot more to lose than gain.’

‘Where does this leave us?’ asked Martin.

41

1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 41

05/05/15 5:32 PM

‘Nothing changes,’ said Vincent. ‘Apart, that is, from what to do

with Roy’s share of the proceeds. His wife, of course . . .’

They considered for a moment.

‘It’s our choice entirely,’ added Vincent. ‘The money still belongs legally to the company and hasn’t been paid over to individuals.

There’s nothing in the contracts to indicate an obligation to pay

over to the estate in the event of a death. But we may feel some

moral obligation . . .’

There was a pause for reflection.

‘Perhaps not,’ said Martin. ‘It could complicate matters for her.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Bryn. ‘How would we explain it all to her? Let alone

to the solicitors dealing with the estate?’

‘Way too complicated,’ added Bernie.

‘Knowing Roy, he’ll have left her well provided for,’ said Dave.

It was settled.

‘Well then,’ said Vincent, ‘we just wait the prescribed time and

meet up again. In the City, I’d suggest, at the branch where the

account is held. Any two of you can authorize the transfer. As you’ll recall, I can’t be one of the two. If you’re happy I’ll tee it up with the bank in a couple of weeks’ time. I have the list of your nominated

accounts. Let me know if anything changes.’

They agreed the plan.

‘Fine man, Roy,’ said Martin. ‘He was good to do business with

and fun to be around. I owed him a lot. At least he went out on a

high.’

‘A diamond,’ agreed Dave. ‘Always brought his mates in on a

piece of business. We’ll miss him.’

‘Sound as a pound,’ murmured Bernie in approbation, his mind

apparently on other matters.

Bryn and Vincent did not contribute to the eulogy. Vincent was

drily businesslike.

‘The funeral is on Thursday apparently. Short service in Leyton-

stone, cremation at Wanstead and then drinks at his home. I haven’t got the details yet. His wife and her daughter are trying to piece it all together. She’s promised to ring me tonight. Give me a call

tomorrow or the day after if you’d like to show your respects.’

42

1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 42

05/05/15 5:32 PM

They replied, almost in mumbling choral unison, in the affirma-

tive. Vincent knew none of them would call. Like to be there, each

would reason to himself, but it’d just confuse matters. Better to

leave Roy in peace and his family to grieve privately.

He knew that this would be the last time he saw these men.

5

One final conference was required between Vincent and Roy before

it was all wrapped up. They met in St Albans of all places, in the

lobby of an august old hotel.

Roy had rented a car from a limousine service to take him from

his flat. The driver waited outside in the car.

Roy was content with his new apartment but felt it was not yet

home. Accustomed since childhood to a peripatetic existence, he

did not crave a sense of belonging or even, particularly, connection.

But a feeling of familiarity short of contempt would, he hoped,

come, and be pleasant. After all, he had to accustom himself to a

different life.

‘Retirement seems to suit you,’ said Vincent once they had

greeted each other.

Vincent was not one normally given to compliments. Roy looked

back at him in initial bewilderment, but then smiled. They went to

the bar, which was dark and overdue a refurbishment and smelt of

the sour beer of several decades.

They took their coffees, which had the unusual distinction of

being at the same time bitter and insipid, to a corner booth. They

were brisk in their dealings. They would shortly attend the central London bank branch where their joint account was held. They

would authorize the transfer of the money to their respective per-

sonal accounts. The appointment had been confirmed. Roy would

book his car service once more for the dash into London, have his

driver wait outside for the five minutes or so it would take. Then it would be in the car and back to Surrey. Dear old London, he would

think. His London, which had sustained him for all those years,

43

1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 43

05/05/15 5:32 PM

even when he was away, waiting for him like a faithful but still glamorous girl. Even before he first came here. Little had he known that his fate would be determined mainly in this great city with its glis-tering silver artery, the Thames.

In the meantime Vincent would sign the letters that they had

drafted carefully months ago and send them to their post office

boxes, those grenades that would explode on the breakfast tables of Bernie, Dave, Martin and Bryn.

I’m sorry to inform you, they began. Sadly our Russian clients

appear to have been not entirely what they claimed . . . Unfortunate that we failed to discover this earlier . . . Have been confidentially informed of an Interpol investigation into their activities . . . Bank accounts being monitored, according to my sources . . . None of us

would want any involvement with criminality or anything remotely

improper . . . Our bank will remain rock solid in respect of client confidentiality . . . However, I suggest it would be prudent at present to remain well clear of the joint trading account . . . Need to maintain a low profile for a short period while the dust settles . . .

Took the unusual step of writing rather than ringing as thought this was the safest option in the circumstances . . . Probably sensible also not to retain this letter . . . Will call in the next couple of days, however, to confirm receipt . . . Love and kisses, V. Or words to that effect.

Roy and Vincent knew what would happen. Vincent, for form,

would call each of their numbers, his script before him. Each of the mobile telephones would have been cut off, the instruments

dropped as if on fire, as quickly as the post office box accounts

would have been closed. Each would be sitting in his luxury

detached, contemplating proceedings and a potential jail sentence.

The imperative would be to cut losses, not maximize profits or seek revenge. None would give the others a second thought but would

seethe at the loss of his nest egg and his impotence to do anything about it. These were not organized criminals but a bunch of

second- rate chancers with hardly an idea between them and no

resort to investigative or retributive resources. Their collective

44

1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 44

05/05/15 5:32 PM

competence had resided in Roy alone. They might suspect Roy was