I felt exposed, though, no mistake about that, and just a little bit nervous about my meeting with Lidia Bromberg. . if that was her real name. I’ve become pretty self-reliant, in all things, over the years, and I’ve got out of the habit of turning to others, even my dad, for help and advice. That’s not to say that I don’t have a Mr Fix-it. Miles Grayson, my brother-in-law, is a very influential man. Trouble is, he’s also straight as a die and I knew that any advice he gave me would involve the police, and might even be conditional upon it.
And then I thought of Mark.
Back in the old days, Oz had a. . How best to describe him? Let’s call him an associate. His name is Mark Kravitz, and he describes himself as a security consultant. But he’s one of the very few consultants I know who doesn’t have a website, and if you Google his name the only hits you’ll make will be a rock musician and an American judge, neither of whom are related to him in any way.
I paused in my stroll. ‘Lady,’ a voice called to me.
I turned, to see a café called the Gallego, and a white-shirted waiter beckoning me towards an empty table. Why not? I thought. It was hot as the approach roads to hell, and I was beginning to feel parched. I thanked him as I sat down; a badge on his chest told me that his name was Carlos.
‘You’re not Spanish,’ he said. (I’ll never pass for one, no matter how fluent I become.) ‘English?’
‘Not quite,’ I told him. ‘Try Scottish.’
‘Ah, Scotland.’ He sighed. ‘Football. Rangers, Celtic?’
A thousand years of history, and that’s all they know about us, but I went along with it. ‘In my case, St Johnstone,’ I confessed.
He smiled, then extended his left hand towards me, displaying an embossed signet ring. ‘What is that, do you think?’
I peered at the crest: it was familiar, but out of place. ‘Barcelona?’ I suggested.
He nodded, in a way that told me I had made his day, and made a friend too. ‘I am the only Barca supporter in Sevilla. I never speak of it at home. You like some tapas? For you I have a special selection.’
I thanked him, but settled simply for a beer. When it arrived it was full to the brim, with a normal head, not the usual kind they give you, with a layer of foam so deep that a bloke could shave with it. I took a mouthful and went back to my thoughts.
Some years ago, I acquired a PDA, a personal organiser, and it’s been one of my best buddies ever since. Among other things it holds just about every phone number I’ve ever known, including two for Mark Kravitz. I found his mobile and dialled it.
He answered curtly: ‘Yes.’ His tone was all business, making me guess that he had a second number for personal calls. I realised that I had no idea if he had a personal life or if he was consumed by his round-the clock job.
‘Mark, this is Primavera Blackstone. Do you remember me?’
His reply was instantaneous, without a pause for thought. ‘Yes, Prim, of course I do. Still alive, I’m glad to hear.’ That was as close to a joke as I’d ever heard him come. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘A favour?’
‘I don’t normally do those,’ he shot back, then continued, ‘but just this once, for old times’ sake. In memoriam, let’s say. What is it?’
‘I’m on the hunt for a missing person, my cousin, Frank McGowan. Recently he’s been in Seville, calling himself Roy Urquhart, and involved with an enterprise called Hotel Casino d’Amuseo; his title was director and sales manager and he was responsible for recruiting investors for the project. He has an associate, George Macela. There are two others involved. They are listed on the company website as Alastair Rowland and Lidia Bromberg.’
‘This is the same cousin who did time for illegal dealing?’ he asked.
I was taken aback. ‘Yes, that’s the boy. You must have a hell of a memory for names. That was a while back.’
‘Oz called me when he was released. He asked me to make sure that he wasn’t going to be a problem for you or Tom.’
Even in the heat of the afternoon, I felt a shiver run through me. ‘Did he give you any specific instructions?’ I asked.
‘He asked me to talk to him, that’s all, to make it clear he was very protective of your interests.’
‘You mean Tom’s?’
‘No, both of you; he was quite specific. He was really broken up when you disappeared, Prim. He never really accepted that you were dead. He spent a lot of money having me try to find you,’ yes, and I could guess why, ‘but I couldn’t.’ He paused. ‘As a matter of professional interest,’ he went on, ‘where did you go?’
‘Las Vegas, via Vancouver.’
He whistled. ‘Then you can really trust your Canadian lawyer. I went to see him and he flat out denied any knowledge of you. I asked him what would happen to your investments. He told me that was between him and your son, and Oz, as his legal guardian.’
‘And what did Frank say to you when you went to see him?’
‘He promised me that he had no intention of going anywhere near you.’
‘And if he hadn’t?’
‘I’d have had to go back to Oz for further instructions.’
‘Which you’d have carried out regardless?’
‘Absolutely. I loved that guy, Prim; there was something about him. But I don’t have to tell you that.’
You surely don’t, I thought.
‘These people Frank’s mixed up with,’ he said. ‘If they’re bent, as you think they are, and he’s missing, you’d be as well to stay clear of them.’
‘I’m meeting Bromberg tomorrow afternoon, as a potential investor, using the same alias I had in Vegas, Janet More.’
‘In that case, I’ll check out those names right now and get back to you.’
‘Let me give you my number.’
‘That’s okay: my phone’s picked it up. Just make sure yours is charged up. Something else: I’ll run another check for you, just in case.’
‘On what?’
‘Unidentified male stiffs in Spain. Juan Does, you might call them. Frank would be mid-thirties, yes?’
‘Yes, five feet seven, with an Asian look to him.’
‘I’ve met him, remember.’
‘Of course. I have a photo; I can probably get it to you through my hotel fax.’
‘Leave it for now, until I need it to identify him.’
‘I’m sure you won’t.’ As I spoke, I realised that I wasn’t nearly as confident as I sounded.
Twelve
It didn’t take Mark long; less than an hour in fact. I had only just returned to the hotel when he called me.
‘I’ll give you the good news first,’ he began. ‘There is no one answering your cousin’s description currently lying in a morgue anywhere on the Iberian peninsula.’
‘That’s a relief,’ I said. If there had been, I wouldn’t have fancied telling Auntie Ade.
‘But that’s all it means. Sorry to be blunt, but if Frank’s upset someone badly enough to have been taken out, they may have done a proper job and cleaned up afterwards.’
‘And that’s the bad news?’
‘No, or not all of it. None of the names you gave me is kosher. Yes, there are people who answer to Rowland, Macela and Bromberg, but none of them could possibly be linked to this casino project.’
My original doubts returned. ‘Are you telling me that the thing’s a phoney?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘The company behind it is real enough, and that brings me to something significant. It’s registered in Luxembourg and the directors of record are your three friends. However, Lidia Bromberg only joined the board two months ago, following the resignation of Mr Roy Urquhart.’