‘The opposition is suggesting that Gantry’s due to funnel another thirty million into this development,’ she replied. ‘Tell me it’s not true, please.’
‘Sorry, it is. I’ve just found that out.’
‘In that case we can’t hide from it.’ I was getting to like Cressida, for her frankness and the honesty of her advice. ‘We have to advise the Stock Exchange of the position … as gently as we can, but we have to do it.’
‘I can see that. I’ll authorise you to issue a statement by me, confirming that we are committed to providing up to fifty million to finance the development. You should add that it is the upper limit of our involvement, and that the plan is for the investment to be recovered by the sale of tradable bonds to future members of the club. Finish up by saying that pending an extraordinary general meeting, Mr Philip Culshaw has been suspended as managing director, and succeeded temporarily by the finance director. How does all that sound?’
‘Strong,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t hide from the company’s weekened position, but it does show that you’re firmly in charge. The market will approve of that; they’re getting to like you already.’
‘Hopefully it isn’t going to turn into a long-term romance,’ I told her, ‘and I’ll be able to hand over to a permanent chair.’
She whistled, softly. ‘If you don’t mind, Mrs Blackstone, I’m not even going to hint at that. They’ve worked out who your brother-in-law is.’
‘His name is not to be mentioned,’ I warned her.
‘And it hasn’t been, by me, but it’s a fact and if it helps us, so be it.’
‘It won’t help us when it counts, though: at the EGM. Culshaw’s called it and he’s threatened to bring me down.’
‘But he can’t, can he? He doesn’t have the shares.’
‘No,’ I agreed, ‘but two people can, even if neither of them would. Two children, kids I love and who love me. The way things stand, they’ll be my undoing. And probably yours too,’ I warned, ‘if it goes that way.’
‘Is there anything you can do about it?’
‘Change the rules of the game,’ I responded, ‘but right now I don’t have a clue how to do that.’ I didn’t want to depress her further so I changed tack. ‘Did you get the image I sent you?’
‘Yes I did, and it’s legible. I’ve put my assistant on it. If there’s anything there he’ll find it.’
‘Soon?’
‘Yes. Meanwhile, I’ll issue your statement, and brief as hard as I can in your support.’
I let her get on with it, and turned back to the tea table to find that Wylie had eaten all the sandwiches. I picked up an éclair and was halfway through it when he asked me, ‘How many members do we have to recruit to get our money back?’
I made him wait until I’d finished the pastry and picked up another. ‘If income is split evenly between the partners … a safe assumption given the stupidity of everything else Phil did … there will have to be a thousand before we break even. But that depends on the bonds actually being sellable at a hundred grand.’
‘Is that realistic?’
‘I doubt it. I’d need to ask Jonny, Oz’s nephew. He’s a pro, and he has a very efficient manager called Brush Donnelly. He might be able to advise us. My gut, though, says that if we were marketing aggressively and internationally, quoting a hundred thousand US dollars, not sterling, it might be doable, but it would take a long time.’
‘If we could persuade Monsoon to hold off on demanding the extra thirty million?’
‘And finish the course with what we’ve put in so far? The number needed would drop to four hundred. But you saw Fabricant. Did he look negotiable? No, Wylie, it’s a set-up and old Phil’s taken us right into it, with his fucking nephew, if I read his reaction right. But what does Duncan have to gain if he is involved with it? Unless,’ a conspiracy revealed itself to me, ‘it’s a complete scam, the course never gets built and the money disappears. What about that?’
‘Then Farbricant would be party to a fraud,’ Wylie countered, ‘and there are no shooting parties in jail.’
‘True,’ I conceded. ‘So what else is up? Why do I feel there’s another game being played, right under my nose, only I can’t see the action?’
As I demolished my second éclair, my companion shook his head. ‘I have no idea, Primavera,’ he murmured. ‘I’m only a humble solicitor.’
I had to laugh. ‘That makes you unique in your profession, chum. Let’s go back to Glasgow,’ I said, ‘and find out what my boys have been up to.’
I let Wylie pay the bill … as an unspoken punishment for scoffing all the sandwiches … and we left the hotel. We headed along the tram-ravaged Princes Street, towards Waverley Station, and had almost reached the Mound junction when my phone sounded once again. I took it out and was surprised to see that the caller was Tom.
‘Hi, love,’ I answered. ‘Where are you?’
He shot my question back at me. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in Edinburgh with a colleague,’ I told him. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
‘So are we.’
‘You are? How come?’
‘We waited for Duncan,’ he began, ‘like you asked, outside. He had a car parked on a meter just around the corner. He didn’t see us and we were able to follow him. He went on to the motorway then came all the way through here and stopped at a house in a street called Farmer’s Way.’
‘When did he arrive?’
‘About ten minutes ago.’
‘What’s Liam doing? Why are you making the call?’
‘He’s busy, taking photographs of the house. It’s a big place, but we can see up the driveway. Duncan went right up the driveway and parked in front of the garage, then he went into the house. What’s he doing here, Mum?’ he asks. ‘He should be in Monaco, with Janet and wee Jonathan, if he’s going to be their stepfather. Shouldn’t he?’
‘You might think so,’ I murmured. ‘What happened when he got there? Who answered the door? Did you see?’
‘Nobody. He used a key and went in. He didn’t ring the bell or anything.’
‘Do you know if there’s anyone else in the house?’
‘That’s what Liam’s trying to see.’
‘What number is it?’ I asked. ‘Are you close enough to see that?’
‘I don’t think it’s got a number, Mum. But it does have a name. “Springs Eternal”, it says on the sign at the entrance.’
‘Somebody’s got a sense of humour. Let me see if I can find out anything about it. Tell Liam I’ll call you back.’
As we crossed the junction I explained to Wylie what had happened. ‘How easy is it to find out who owns the place?’
‘Simple. Let me call my secretary.’
I gave him the details. He phoned his office, snapped out clear crisp instructions, then suggested that we wait for a reply. We sat on one of the benches that look down into the eastern side of Princes Street Gardens. It was a warm afternoon, although not hot by my standards. Yet people were sunbathing, possibly getting themselves a base tan for the holiday season.
‘Is it as easy as that?’ I murmured.
‘Sure. The land and property registers are public documents; we can access them online, and get a pretty much instant return.’
And it was. It took less than three minutes for his very efficient secretary to call him back. As he listened, I saw him smile. ‘Thanks, Rita,’ he said, then turned to me. ‘You’re going to love this. The property is owned by a corporate entity.’
‘Monsoon Holdings Limited?’
‘Bullseye.’
I rang Tom back, on his phone. As he answered, I could hear road noise. ‘We’ve had to go, Mum,’ he told me. ‘Liam was worried that Duncan would see us if we waited any longer.’
‘I understand. Look, come into Edinburgh and pick us up. Tell Liam we’ll wait across the road from the station.’
We headed for Waverley Bridge. I’d been tired before we’d eaten, but all that sugar had refuelled me; as we passed it I was ready to run up the Scott Monument. When my mobile sounded yet again, as we stood waiting, across from the station access roads, I snatched my phone from my pocket like a gunfighter.