‘Don’t let him spot you, mind.’
‘No chance. I’ve always wanted to do this sort of stuff. I’ll pick my camera up when we collect the car.’
‘Good idea. If you could get a picture of him with his fucking uncle that would be useful.’
‘You and old Phil didn’t hit it off, then?’ he surmised.
‘That would be an understatement, my darling. If he wasn’t a boring old accountant at heart, I might be watching my back right now.’
‘You’re not serious, are you?’ he exclaimed ‘’Cos if you are, the only place I’m going to be is by your side.’
‘That is noble of you, but I have seen off much, much tougher guys than him. Don’t you worry about me, Sherlock, you just get into position opposite La Bonne Auberge, soon as you can.’
I hung up on him and left him to it. I was under no illusions about Liam’s tracking ability; he could find his way around a woman pretty well, but he was so laid-back generally that I was sure he’d either get lost or give himself away. Regardless of that, though, he was the only show in town as far as I was concerned, and if he could come up with a snap of Duncan and Phil Culshaw deep in conversation, it might do me some good. After my conversation with Greg, I understood the depth of the shit that I was in, and any stick that might haul me out had to be clutched at.
It’s a very short walk from where we were to Queen Street railway station; past the concert hall, down Buchanan Street, turn left and you’re there. We caught the one fifteen train with a couple of minutes to spare and less than an hour later we were in the nation’s capital. In past times Edinburgh was called the ‘Athens of the North’; today the comparisons are with Barcelona, but since that city is four times as large, and its urban sprawl contains as many people as the whole of Scotland, they don’t really bear much scrutiny.
We jumped from one of Scotland’s most expensive trains into one of Britain’s most expensive taxis and asked the driver to take us to Fabricant’s address. He must have read Wylie as a Glaswegian, for he took us for a ride, and no mistake. Sixteen quid fifty later he pulled up outside a building that was less than a mile from the station. He blamed the Princes Street closure, but the chancer hadn’t needed to cross it. I gave him the exact fare, and smiled as I told him in Catalan that he was a chiselling son-of-a-bitch.
Cousland Tower turned out to be one of those blocks that were chucked up towards the end of the last century as Edinburgh business moved out of its traditional Georgian offices into premises that were deemed to be more IT friendly. There was no reception in the lobby, so we rode a glass-walled lift up to the eighth floor and stepped out, into another area with no welcome mat but with a wall board listing the occupants by suite number.
Fabricant’s was to the left, round a corner; the door was solid, with no name, only the number, Three. Wylie rapped on it, gently, and we waited. I was about to give it a more solid thump when it was opened by a tall woman in a hip-hugging dress, with supermodel looks. Her dark hair was piled on her head, her cheekbones were high, and her lips were naturally full, without the aid of collagen or any other agent. Bitch.
If she was surprised, she didn’t look it. ‘Yes,’ she purred, ‘can I help you?’
‘I, I, I,’ Wylie stammered; he still hadn’t got past the hips.
‘Is this Diego Fabricant’s office?’ I asked.
‘Yes, it is,’ the cover girl replied. ‘I’m Kim Coates, his secretary.’
‘Good. We’d like to see him. My name is Primavera Blackstone, and this is my colleague, Wylie Smith.’
‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘I’m afraid that Mr Fabricant doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.’
‘Then make one for us.’ I checked my watch; it showed two twenty-eight. ‘Half past two will suit us nicely.’
Her smile was patronising; the Queen couldn’t do that to me and get away with it, and Ms Coates had to be at least ten years my junior. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me a little more than that,’ she laughed.
‘Okay. Try this. Your boss is a director of a company that’s trousered twenty million of my company’s money. My colleague here is secretary of both of them, and he doesn’t know what’s happening to it. So, Tootsie, unless you back off and put me together with your boss, I’m going to stand here shouting so loud and so long that eventually the police will come to see what the fuss is about. Or maybe I’ll give my voice a break and go and fetch them myself. Go speak to him, now!’
She took half a pace back and that was enough. I stepped past her into the suite, with Wylie following, muttering a nervous, ‘Excuse me,’ as he did, but ogling her nonetheless as she sashayed towards the door behind her desk. I could understand why. I guessed that when he’d employed her, Diego hadn’t asked about her doorkeeping abilities. With that body, a wink, a smile and a crooked finger would get her through most situations.
I scanned the office as we waited. The furniture was a strange mix of modern and antique, as if some of it had come from Charlotte Square or some other former base. There was a bloody awful painting of a hunting scene on the wall beside the entrance door, and next to that an honours board, headed ‘Client companies’, with a couple of dozen corporate entities listed below.
I was halfway through scanning them when Ms Coates returned. I’d found Monsoon Holdings Ltd, and was still looking for Babylon Links Country Club PLC. ‘Mr Fabricant will see you,’ she announced, managing to make it sound as if it was an honour and one that had been granted against her advice.
‘Thank you,’ I said, moving towards her boss’s sanctum. ‘By the way,’ I murmured as I passed her, ‘a word of advice. In a dress like that, a woman can always tell when another woman isn’t wearing any.’
‘I imagine you know from experience,’ she hissed.
‘Yes indeed,’ I replied, ‘I surely do, but I never go without in the office.’
I let Wylie go into Fabricant’s room ahead of me … and almost had to catch him. The man was holding a shotgun, its stock pressed to his shoulder and he was sighting it almost straight at us. I was startled too, but I wasn’t going to let him see it.
He held the pose for a second, then broke the breech and laid the weapon on his desk. ‘Shooting party this evening,’ he said, in a public school accent that could have originated anywhere. ‘Just getting the feel for it again.’
‘You should relax a little more,’ I suggested, as we all took seats. ‘You looked a bit stiff.’
He peered at me, over his substantial nose. ‘Indeed? I’ll bear that in mind. Do you shoot?’
‘Not for a while.’ No, not for over fifteen years in fact, and then it had been a pistol.
‘Well, shoot now, Mrs Blackstone, in another way. What can I do for you?’
I held up my left hand; occasionally I wear a wedding ring, but not that day. ‘How did you know it’s Mrs?’ I asked. The window behind him offered a view of the Usher Hall, and also a reflection of the computer monitor on his desk. I could see that it was switched off, and there hadn’t been time for him to look me up and then power it down.
‘I read the business press,’ he replied, without pausing for as much as a beat. ‘You’re in it this morning, quite prominently, if I may say so.’
‘That’s more than I can say about you, Mr Fabricant. Not quite a man of mystery, but you keep a low profile, particularly when it comes to our joint venture, Babylon Links. Mr Smith, here, has never met you, and your name isn’t listed as present at any meeting. Don’t you have a duty to the shareholders of the company you represent, Monsoon Holdings?’
‘My dear lady, I am the sole shareholder of Monsoon.’
‘But you’re not the beneficial owner,’ Wylie pointed out. ‘You’re listed in Jersey as a nominee.’
Fabricant laughed. ‘You have indeed been doing your homework.’
‘It’s not too difficult,’ he countered. ‘My assistant established that on day one. I don’t suppose you’d care to disclose the name of the actual owner of the company, and through that of the land that seems to be its sole asset?’