‘Go and see Derek Silverman for starters. And then Clare. I must make them realize Guy has got it all wrong. Then I’ll see if I can get hold of Anne Glazier again. She should be back in her office today.’
‘I’ll come with you to see Silverman,’ said Ingrid. ‘Once I’ve told Guy I’m quitting.’
‘Thanks. I could use the support.’
‘It’s going to be frustrating, though, isn’t it?’ Ingrid said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Sitting on our hands watching Ninetyminutes go down the tubes.’
‘Well, I hope we’ll be able to do something to stop it. But they’ll find it hard without you.’
‘Gaz will manage.’
‘I’m not so sure.’ Gaz would be able to keep the content coming, but without Ingrid the whole editorial and publishing process would soon unravel. Especially if it was necessary to cut back and reorganize. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t resign.’
‘What do you mean? I told you why I want to quit.’
‘Yes. And all that makes sense. Believe me, I value the support. But I think you’ll be more use still working at Ninetyminutes. Things will be bad enough as it is without you leaving. And it will be useful to know what’s going on at the company. If we are going to save Ninetyminutes, we should do it together. Me on the outside and you on the inside.’
‘You don’t expect me to go along with Guy?’
‘Absolutely. For the time being. Until we get Silverman and Orchestra to see our point of view.’
Ingrid sipped her coffee. ‘Maybe I should stay,’ she said. Then she frowned.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘That means I have to go to work now.’
‘I’m afraid it does.’
She put her coffee down and leaned over to kiss me.
‘Well, perhaps not quite yet,’ I said.
After Ingrid had left, I had a shower, put on a suit and went to see Derek Silverman at his town house in Chelsea. He showed me into a study at the back with a view over a perfect herbaceous border, blooming powerfully in the sunshine. He was very civil and offered me a cup of coffee. I told him that in my opinion Ninetyminutes had no choice but to retrench and Guy had been mistaken to fire me. Silverman was polite, he listened and he seemed to understand my point of view. But he was firm.
‘Guy is confident he can raise more funds. He’s the Chief Executive. I’m not one of those people who believe in dumping the Chief Executive as soon as things get tough. You’re putting me in a situation where I have to choose between you and him. I have no choice but to go for him.’
‘But we’ve got ourselves in trouble before by relying on Torsten Schollenberger,’ I protested.
‘Guy and I discussed this at dinner on Monday night. He says the deal is ninety per cent done.’
‘He’s wrong.’
‘It’s possible he may turn out to be wrong. But from my standpoint it seems to be the best chance we’ve got.’
‘But...’ I hesitated, and then went ahead anyway. ‘Ninetyminutes has been in a similar situation before. Last year, when Guy had that argument with his father and resigned.’
‘And?’
‘And, well, a few days later Tony Jourdan was killed.’
‘That was a hit-and-run driver, wasn’t it?’ Silverman said.
‘Perhaps. The police don’t know who it was.’
‘What’s your point, exactly, David?’
What was my point? Was I going to accuse Guy of killing his father? Once I had suggested that to Silverman there would be no going back. And I had no proof, yet. Even if I did suggest it, what would I expect Silverman to do? Change his mind in my favour? Fire Guy because he might possibly be a murderer? No. That would be unfair. Not just unfair, wrong.
‘Nothing, Derek. Nothing. Thanks for your time.’
Silverman saw me out. ‘I’m sorry that you felt you had to leave. I’ve been very impressed with what you’ve contributed to Ninetyminutes over the last year. One of the saddest things I see is when good teams split up under pressure.’
I wanted to protest, claim I hadn’t wanted to leave at all, that it was Guy, not me, who was feeling the pressure, but I realized there was no point. Guy had got to him. So I went.
Once out on the street I pulled out my mobile and dialled Orchestra’s number. Clare Douglas reluctantly agreed to see me in her offices in an hour. But she said she’d only have ten minutes between meetings.
I was shown into a conference room, where I waited for half an hour before Clare arrived. She looked flustered.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘This doesn’t seem to be a great time to be a venture capitalist. No sooner do I put out one fire than another starts.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’m already late for my next meeting. I’ve only got five minutes.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘You’ve heard I’ve left Ninetyminutes?’
‘Yes. Guy has explained it all to me.’
‘Did he tell you why?’
‘He said that you wanted to cut back on costs drastically to conserve cash. He said he’d found another investor so he could continue growing the business.’
‘He hasn’t,’ I said.
‘Well, he says he has. I have to believe him.’
‘It’s an old friend of ours from school. He’s let us down once before. He’ll let us down again.’
Clare looked doubtful. She was not her cool Scottish self that morning. She frowned. ‘That’s not what Guy said.’
‘I know.’
Clare hesitated. ‘Look, I’ve spoken to the Chairman. I’ll be sorry to lose you, but I trust Derek Silverman. People here have known him a long time, and if he wants to stick with Guy on this I’ll go along with him.’
‘Can’t you reconsider?’
Clare’s expression became firm. ‘We’ve made our decision. Now I really must go. Can you see yourself out?’
Once again I found myself out on the pavement.
When I arrived home I rang Anne Glazier in Paris. She was back from her trip. I had decided I needed to talk to her face-to-face. If there was some vital detail to be gleaned from her about Guy and the night Tony died I’d never get it from her over the phone. I was prepared to go to Paris to speak to her, but she had a meeting in London the following week and she was willing to see me for half an hour before that.
The next call was much more difficult. My father was at work: his building-society office in the Market Place. We skated over some small talk, before he asked the question I dreaded.
‘How’s Ninetyminutes?’
‘I have bad news,’ I said.
‘Not again! This thing really is a roller coaster, isn’t it? I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll work out a way round it.’
‘Not this time, Dad.’
‘Oh.’
‘Guy and I have fallen out. He fired me.’
‘Good God. Can he do that?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Oh, Lord. I am sorry. How awful for you.’
‘It is, actually.’ I appreciated my father’s concern for his son. But that wasn’t what I was most worried about. ‘I think it’s awful for all of us. Ninetyminutes is running out of cash and I want to do something about it. Guy wants to ignore it. I fear this time the company doesn’t have long in this world.’
‘Oh.’
Silence. I knew what my father was trying to work out a way of saying. I put him out of his misery. ‘I think it’s quite likely that you’ll lose your entire investment. We all will.’
‘Oh God,’ he whispered.
‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really sorry.’
I heard an intake of breath over the phone line. ‘That’s all right, David. It was entirely my decision. Don’t blame yourself.’
‘I won’t,’ I said. Although, of course, I would. He had trusted me and I had let him down. He’d never hold it against me, but I’d always know. It was my fault.