‘What?’
‘You said it yourself to Guy. Ninetyminutes means something to all of us. It’s not just a means for Guy to prove something to his father. And it’s not just your conscience.’
I shook my head. ‘Whatever Ninetyminutes is, it’s not worth someone’s life.’
‘Of course it’s not,’ said Ingrid. ‘But that’s not the issue here. It’s not our fault Owen’s a psycho. Ninetyminutes shouldn’t have to suffer.’
‘But don’t you see? The threat of that is the only way to stop him.’
‘It won’t make any difference.’
‘It might. And for me, that’s enough.’ But I could see it wasn’t enough for Ingrid. She had put a year of her life into Ninetyminutes. I had known she badly wanted it to succeed, only now did I realize how badly. It depressed me. Without saying another word, I turned on my heel and walked. This time, she didn’t follow me.
My trip to France hadn’t solved anything. The doubts I had felt before Christmas, doubts that I thought I had laid to rest, were returning stronger than before.
I had thought the situation was clear. I knew Owen was dangerous, but I had thought he was out of the way. Guy, I had thought, was guilty of no more than protecting his brother. And I had thought that I could forget about France and Tony’s death and concentrate on Ninetyminutes.
It was now obvious I couldn’t. Owen wasn’t out of the picture, and neither was Tony’s death. My conversation with Hoyle had raised more questions than it had answered. What had Tony done with the knowledge that his sons had been blackmailed by Abdulatif and that one of them had probably killed the blackmailer? Knowing the Jourdan family, it seemed unlikely to me that he had simply offered counsel and support. And I remembered something Owen had said while he had me pinned against the railings at Les Sarrasins. Something about what had happened to the last person who had threatened them.
Was he talking about his father?
I should take Owen’s threats seriously. I felt the icy fingers of fear tickle my chest. I was afraid of him.
I knew Owen had killed in the past. I knew he could kill again. He didn’t like me, he had probably never liked me, but while I was on Guy’s side he would tolerate me. Once I started asking questions, probing into his brother’s past, that attitude would change. He was strong, he was clever, he was ruthless. But what was most frightening about him was he just didn’t have the same sense of proportion as other people. Nor did he seem to have any remorse. He had bitten off a schoolboy’s ear in a rugby match. He had killed his stepmother for the crime of adultery. He would kill me if he thought I was a serious threat to his brother.
So should I just look the other way, as Owen had mocked me for doing up till now?
It was tempting. It wouldn’t disrupt Ninetyminutes. I’d stay alive. I might even make some money.
But it was the memory of Owen’s taunts that made me realize I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t the kind of person who got rich on the back of other people’s crimes, and I didn’t want to become that kind of person. I would find out what had happened to Tony, and I would do my best to make sure that no one else was killed.
The problem was, I didn’t have the time.
Guy’s optimism had returned with a vengeance. Ninetyminutes had ten million pounds to spend and he had lots of ideas on how to spend it. Offices in Milan and Barcelona to complement those in Paris and Munich. A site dedicated to Euro 2000, which was taking place in June. More recruits: we now had forty employees and the number was climbing week by week. Organizing this stretched all of us.
And we didn’t actually have the cash yet. Following his phone call Henry had sent us a letter promising us ten million pounds subject to terms to be agreed. As far as I was concerned, those terms had to be agreed as soon as possible. And that meant talking to Clare Douglas.
Clare was diligent, fearsomely diligent. She wanted numbers on everything: website visitors, on-line sales, costs, budgets, cash flows, advertising revenues, headcount. She wanted these numbers going back into the past and forward into the future. And she asked questions, lots of questions. Although I respected her, all this caused me a lot of extra work when I had other things to focus on. I wanted to sign the damned shareholders’ agreement and get on with it.
Guy, Mel and I met Clare at eight o’clock one morning in the boardroom in Ninetyminutes’ offices to discuss the agreement. It should have been very straightforward, since the draft in front of us was based heavily on Orchestra’s original investment document. The only difficult point would be, as always, the price. How much of the company would Orchestra get for their ten million pounds?
Clare was a small figure, stuck alone on one side of the table facing the three of us. She was a couple of years younger than us, but there was something in her grey eyes that said, don’t try to push me around. I noticed how she was fidgeting with a pencil and she seemed more nervous than usual. It wasn’t altogether surprising: we were prepared for a tough negotiation session.
What we weren’t prepared for was what Clare actually said.
‘I’m worried about this investment, Guy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’m not sure Ninetyminutes is going to make it.’
The three of us stared at her.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, although I understood perfectly well. ‘This money should see us safely through until we do an IPO later in the summer.’
‘But what if the stock market gets worse rather than better?’
‘In that case, it’s possible we might not get the funds at the price we originally wanted.’
‘You might not get the funds at all.’
‘We’ve been through all this with Henry,’ Guy interrupted. ‘The decision’s been taken. He’s written us a letter promising us the funds. Orchestra can’t go back on that, can they, Mel?’
‘Definitely not,’ said Mel.
‘You’ve just decided this?’ said Guy, glaring at Clare with contempt.
‘Yes,’ Clare said, glaring back.
‘And what does Henry say?’
‘Henry’s still on holiday.’
‘You mean you haven’t even talked to him?’
‘No. But I’m responsible for this investment now within Orchestra. And I’ve made my decision.’
‘And what will your senior partners say about you welching on a deal?’
‘They’ll stand by me.’
‘When this gets out, which it will, it’ll ruin Orchestra’s reputation.’
‘So will investing ten million pounds only to lose it three months later.’
Clare’s answers were clear and strong. I admired her: she was doing a good job in difficult circumstances.
Mel coughed. ‘Clare, I’d like to draw your attention to this letter that Henry sent us. It clearly states that Orchestra Ventures will provide the funds.’
‘On terms to be agreed,’ Clare responded.
‘Which is what we should be discussing now.’
‘Very well. We will make the ten-million-pound investment mentioned in the letter in return for ninety-five per cent of the company and voting control on the board.’
‘That’s absurd!’ said Guy. ‘That values the company at next to nothing.’
‘It’s next to bankrupt,’ said Clare.
‘With voting control, you could just put the company into liquidation and get your funds out,’ I said.
Clare gave me the briefest of smiles. She had thought of that. ‘The truth is, as I said at the beginning, if we don’t want to invest, we don’t have to. Now, I think I must be going. I’d like to talk about how we take the company forward from here. You still have two hundred thousand pounds in your account. But that’s a discussion for another time, don’t you think?’