East of the City (12 page)

Beside me Wainwright was nodding, but Justine had her head cocked, like she was still trying to figure Batri out.

Batri asked if she'd seen the court transcripts of some of the evidence already given in the Ottoman case. Justine nodded, putting a hand on her hold-all.

 ‘And have you read them?’ he asked.

‘I’ve looked at them.’

‘Yes, but have you read them?’

‘Mr Wainwright’s told me what’s-’

‘Excuse me.’ Batri raised a finger from the pen. ‘Let us take it, shall we, that you have not found time in your busy schedule to read them. Can I ask that you find the time tonight, perhaps?’ Batri smiled then, a sudden flash of warmth, and the pissed-off look on Justine’s face slowly faded. ‘You’ll find it helpful, I think. And if there’s anything in the evidence with which you disagree, anything you believe needs further clucidation, please tell Mr Wainwright as soon as possible.’

Wainwright broke in, ‘I’ve mentioned to Miss Mortlake the queries raised about the case vis-a-vis her family.’

‘Yes,’ Batri remarked, looking at Justine. ‘Would you mind if we explored that?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘What if I were to put it to you that this case isn’t about syndicate 486 rejecting a valid claim? What if I put it to you, Miss Mortlake, that this is about a father using the full weight of his position, imperilling other people’s money-’ Batri gestured to Lee Chan  ‘-and all this just to protect the underwriting reputation of his daughter? Could you answer that?’ 

Justine shrugged. ‘What’s to answer?'

‘It’s not true?’

‘Of course not.’

‘And how would you prove that?'

'I’m treated the same as everyone else.'

Batri turned to me. ‘Would you agree, Mr Collier?'

Caught by surprise, I said that I supposed so. More or less.

‘Treated the same as everyone else,’ he said, ‘or "more or less" the same?’

When I hesitated, Justine gave a sound of disbelief. And Batri bent forward, uncapped his pen and jotted a note to himself. ‘Well, Miss Mortlake, I take it you see our problem.’

She glared at me. ‘What do you mean, "more or less"? You’re ticking me off the whole time.’

‘Let’s not debate it,’ Batri cut in. He recapped the pen and placed it on the desk. ‘Enough to say, this is a point our opponents will press. And if I may make a general remark about your presentation in court — both of you — please resist being drawn into argument.’ He looked at Justine. ‘Have you been into court before?’

‘No.'

‘When you’re cross-examined, the opposing barrister will attempt to lead you to the destination of his choice. He might try to draw you into argument. He might try to have you agree with certain statements he makes. He will certainly try to put words into your mouth. But whatever he does, do not attempt to second-guess him. Keep the broad thrust of our case in your mind, and, in the light of that, and after considering the particular question he puts to you, give your answer truthfully. Do you both follow me?’

I nodded. But Justine said, ‘What if I make a mistake?’

Batri, ever so slightly, lifted an eyebrow.

‘If he gets me to say something I didn’t mean,’ she said. ‘How do I get out of it?'

'The best advice I can give you is that you don’t get yourself in that situation. Think before you answer.’

‘But say if.’

'Then correct yourself immediately. Don’t wait for him to use your mistake as a premise for a line of argument that will take you somewhere we none of us wish you to be.’

Batri flashed that smile again, but this time Justine didn’t respond. She looked worried now, I think it was dawning on her that once she got into the court she’d be pretty much on her own. And somehow she didn’t seem her usual cocky self. Something was eating her. I think Batri sensed it too.

‘One other matter they’ve raised in passing,’ Batri told her, ‘is your relative lack of underwriting experience. It’s something they’ll press you on.’

I asked what that had to do with the claim.

Batri opened his hands. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ He turned to Justine again. ‘So don’t be defensive. Your curriculum vitae will be before the judge. I take it the picture it gives is full and fair?’

She nodded.

‘Then don’t rise if they bait you. Our expert witness is quite satisfied you were more than experienced enough to write the Ottoman business, and he will make that plain to the judge upon being called.’ Batri reached forward and flipped his notepad open. ‘Clive, I understood Mr Tyler was to be here too.’

Wainwright said, ‘I couldn’t get hold of him.’

Not surprised, I thought.

Then Wainwright looked up from his notes, grinning broadly. 'Justine tells me he’s busy sorting out a kidnap.’ He meant the news to be amusing, but I could hardly believe my ears. When I looked at Justine she stared at the floor.

‘The Ward kidnap?' Lee said.

That did it. It felt like I’d taken a punch in the gut.

Batri straightened. ‘Ward?’

Lee turned to me, suddenly uncertain. Justine did too, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Batri swivel and face me. I breathed out a long breath. It was too late to lie.

‘Sebastian Ward took out a K and R policy with us. He’s been kidnapped. Bill Tyler’s working on it.’

‘Sebastian Ward,’ Batri said, ‘of WardSure? The Ottoman brokers?’

‘Yes.'

There was a second’s appalled silence, and  then Wainwright said, ‘Oh, shit.’

Glancing toward Justine, I remarked  - pointedly - that the whole thing was meant to be extremely confidential.

‘I’m sure it was,’ Batri said. He was unhappy, and this wasn’t just courtroom make-believe. ‘Would it be too much to ask why I wasn’t told?’

‘We didn’t think it affected the Ottoman case.’

‘I see,’ he said softly, looking straight at me. ‘How widely is this known? The kidnap.’

‘Too widely,’ I told him. ‘But I don’t see as it affects the Ottoman case. I really don’t.’

He flicked through his notebook again. ‘Neither do I, Mr Collier, not yet. But should anything come to mind, you’ll be the first to know.’ He glanced up. ‘And I trust that’s a courtesy that will be reciprocated?' His gaze lingered on me a few seconds. Coldly. He was thoroughly pissed off. But once he saw I got that, he moved on.

He gave us some general advice on how we should behave in court, it was news to Justine, but I’d heard it all before. I’d been to court maybe half a dozen times in my career, giving evidence over contested and fraudulent claims. And each time the barrister had given me a few pointers, either like this at his chambers, or informally outside the courtroom door. It always came down to the same thing. Keep your side of this case in mind, and don’t put your foot in your mouth.

Next Batri ran through the main points, a checklist. I’d already been through it in detail with Wainwright: my duties as an underwriter on the syndicate, my experience, and my supervision of Justine. That part bothered me a little, and when Batri asked, ‘Nothing out of the ordinary in supervising the Ottoman business?' I said, ‘No,’ though what I should have said was ‘maybe’. But the last thing I felt like was raking through the ashes of the fire again, explaining how having Mum and Dad die like that had completely screwed me up for a while. Supervision? In those days it was all I could do just to get into work each morning.

Batri opened another file. ‘Miss Mortlake, the same with you now, I won’t keep you long.’

I raised a finger. I told Batri I had another appointment, but that I needed a quick word with Lee. He nodded to the door, dismissing me. Lee followed me into the corridor, and as we walked away from Batri’s office she started apologizing for dropping me in it, tying Ward’s name up with the kidnap.

‘I thought everyone knew,’ she said.

‘Matter of time,’ I muttered. 'Listen, can I ask you a favour?’

She was wary. But after dropping me in it with Batri, she owed me.

‘I met the bloke who runs Ottoman. Barin Mehmet. He’s a villain.’

‘Oh, give me a break, Ian.'

‘I’m not kidding. We’ve had Tyler checking Ottoman’s security systems, turning the hangars inside out. What’s he found?’

She reminded me that according to Tyler's report, the Ottoman security wasn’t up to standard.‘You don’t need a villain, Ian, this is a slam-dunk. Ottoman didn’t measure up to the security specs, that’s it, game over. We don’t pay.’

‘That’s only if the judge accepts Tyler’s report.’

She said, ‘What’s the favour?’

At the far end of the corridor a barrister stepped from his office, a black gown under his arm. He strode away from us, head down.

I said, ‘Find out what other companies Mehmet’s been involved with, say, the past ten years'

Lee snorted.

‘It’s one trip to Companies House, Lee. When you’ve got that, do a search back at the LCO. See what kind of claims they’ve made.’

‘Ian, Ottoman’s plane got stolen. Everyone agreed from the start we’d hammer their security. That’s their weak point. That’s where they breached the policy. Now what? You want to turn this into some fancy fraud thing? You start down that path now, the judge is gonna have a bird.’

A door opened just beside us, two lawyers were sharing a joke inside. We turned and ambled back towards Batri’s office.

‘Do you know something else about Mehmet you’re not telling me?’

‘No,' I said.

She asked me how often I’d seen him. I told her.

‘Once?’ She looked at me like I was simple. ‘You met the guy once and already he’s a villain?’

‘Lee, if you don’t want to do it, just say.’ We looked at each other. Her eyes were dark, and deep, and for a moment I felt myself slipping. She bit her lip. 

At last she said, ‘All right, but it’s not my number one priority, okay?'

Grateful, I reached over and squeezed her arm. Then Wainwright stepped into the corridor and called out to tell me I was wanted on the phone.

It was Allen, he just had a brief message for me; he gave it to me and rang straight off. I stood there for a few seconds, phone to my ear, listening to the dial tone. Then I leant over and hung up the handpiece.

‘I have to go.’

Batri glanced up. ‘No trouble I hope? Allen sounded rather concerned.’

‘No.’ Though I reckon he saw straight through me, I forced a smile onto my face. ‘Just the usual cock-up.’

Wainwright reminded me of when I was expected in court. Nodding to Batri, I said my goodbyes and retreated out the door. My heart was thumping like crazy.

Outside I hailed a taxi, gave the driver an address just along from Tyler’s safe-house in Islington. Then I sat there, a hand resting on the seat to either side of me, and tried to stay calm. It was a mistake, I told myself, some misunderstanding. Max had spoken to Tyler, Tyler to Allen and Allen to me, and somewhere along the way the lines had been crossed. I could accept that the kidnappers had finally demanded the money, I’d been prepared for that. Though I’d hoped Bill might find them first, do the right thing by my career, and rescue Sebastian unharmed, I could accept that it just hadn’t happened.

But what I couldn’t accept was that the cretinous thugs who’d kidnapped Sebastian and murdered Eddie Pike had decided they needed someone to act as a courier. They wanted someone to take them the T-bonds. Sitting silent in the back of the taxi, I refused to believe it. How had it happened? Stay calm, I told myself. Probably a mistake, I told myself.

And all the while I kept thinking, Why me?

B
ill took me across to the basement stairs. ‘Another email,’ he said. ‘Untraceable, but we got a printout this time.'

He pulled the faxed copy from his pocket, I read it as I followed him down to the basement. The kidnappers were demanding five million pounds’ worth of US Treasury bonds, five slips of paper, each with a face value of one million pounds. They wanted Ian Collier to act as courier. The details for delivery, the fax said, would follow.

I said, ‘I don’t get it. Why pick me?'

We stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The van driver was standing by the table, and the other four blokes were sitting there, playing cards. I glanced around the bare walls, at the five bunk beds, and up to the single fluorescent tube overhead. There was a door too, leading out to the back. Comfortable it wasn’t.

Bill pointed the men out one by one. Instead of their names he told me their codes, all animals. The driver was Horse. ‘If you happen to hear a name,’ Bill told me, ‘we’d like you to forget it. Fair enough?' He put a finger on my chest. ‘And for the purposes of saving Mr Ward’s fat arse, you’re Dog.’

‘Can we talk?’ I said. Behind us the men picked up their interrupted card game. ‘You’ve forgotten something,’ I said quietly. ‘See this?’ I touched my tie, and tugged at the lapels of my jacket. ‘This is me, Bill, a suit. I write insurance for a living. I’m an underwriter for Christ’s sake. What the hell am I meant to do, throw a bagful of money over some fence, then run?’

‘We’ll give you a few tips.’

‘I don't need tips. Pick someone else.'

‘Listen, I didn’t pick you. Nobody here picked you. If it was our choice we’d have kept you right out of it, but that’s not the way this thing’s gone, all right? Now, if you’ve got a problem with that, Ian, go find some other post to piss on, Because I'm busy.' He turned away, and without thinking I reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked from my hand up to my face.

‘Bill, I don’t want to do this.’

He didn’t say anything. I don't know, maybe he was afraid he might start feeling some sympathy for me.

‘I can’t even  understand where they got my name.’

‘Brentwell,’ he said. ‘When we dropped you out of the van. I reckon they saw you.’

‘I wasn’t wearing a name-tag.’

Bill waited for me to figure it out for myself. When I did, something tingled up my spine. ‘The kidnappers know me?'

The noise from the card game seemed suddenly distant, the light hurt my eyes. I thought about back when I was hiding behind the bushes, watching Max’s Porsche come up the lane. While I’d been watching him, Sebastian’s kidnappers had been watching me, and maybe deciding right then that they’d rather deal with me than with the professionals in the van.