Tip Off (31 page)

‘Only because I went to the races once to see what Tresidder was doing.'

‘You saw?'

‘He was firing sedatives from what looked like a camera with a very long lens, like a lot of the professionals. Of course he had a photographer's badge so he could go where he wanted. In fact, the lens was like the barrel of a gun using compressed gas – but I expect you know that?'

‘More or less.' I nodded. ‘And you knew what he was trying to do?'

‘His job was to dope as many of the fancied horses as he could – anything except the nap. He was very good at it. He never missed.'

‘And do you know who he was working for?'

I noticed a microsecond of hesitation before he answered. ‘No.'

‘Not for Steve Lincoln?'

‘Good God, no,' Greeves said with a scorn so heart-felt it seemed to revive his own failing self-esteem.

‘What were you doing with Lincoln, then?'

‘Being double-crossed, by the look of it.'

I waited; I didn't need to push now.

Greeves sucked in a sharp, resentful breath through his nostrils. ‘The little bastard tracked me down. He found me at home – really put the wind up my wife. He told me he'd guessed some horses were being doped – there was no other explanation for the winning naps. He'd already noticed Tresidder was always there with his camera, then he spotted me talking to him.'

‘When was that?'

‘A week or so before he found me here. It was at Sandown, the day Musicmusic won. Tresidder was furious I'd turned up there.' The self-contempt in his voice was almost painful to hear.

‘He was right,' I observed drily. ‘It wasn't only Lincoln who spotted you. I photographed you talking to him, though I didn't have a clue who either of you was then.' He didn't look at me. ‘What did Lincoln do?' I asked.

‘He said he'd already worked out that someone must be switching the samples here and knew it was me. For all I know he was bluffing, but the nasty little shit knows how to needle people. When he said he'd pay for evidence that I'd been asked to swap the samples, I didn't even try to deny what I'd been doing. I still needed more money – what I'd got from Tresidder didn't go anywhere.'

‘If Tresidder was paying you to swap samples, why did you stop?'

‘He came to see me on Monday in a hell of a hurry. I told him I wouldn't do it any more, not after two people had been killed. I didn't want to be involved in murder as well as everything else.'

‘So, what evidence did you have to offer Lincoln?'

‘The faxes and notes with the bar-codes.'

‘And what did he pay you?'

‘I told you – nothing! When he first came to me – ten days ago it must have been, just after Toby Brown killed himself – he said he knew who was telling Tresidder what to do. He said he'd already had two lumps of cash – five thousand a time, I think – and with hard, documentary proof, he could get a hell of a lot more, maybe fifty thousand.'

I tried to keep a grip on the serpentine course of Greeves's revelations.

‘Do you think he'd really had some money out of it already?'

Greeves shrugged. ‘I don't know. The truth's impossible to discern in a man like that.'

‘So, did you give him the evidence he wanted?'

‘I only gave him half of each of the bar-codes. I told him he could have the rest once he'd come up with some money. I wouldn't trust him further than I could spit. He hasn't coughed up yet, and I need money tonight. That's why I took the day off and went to London yesterday.'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘We monitored you waiting outside Lincoln's old address. Then you drove to Portman Square.'

He glanced at me – nervous, like most people, at the idea of having been spied upon. He looked ahead again and his face tightened with shame. ‘I nearly caved in; I was on the point of marching into the Jockey Club, putting my cards on the table and pleading for mercy. Then I thought the arrogant bastards would have my guts for garters if it suited them and they couldn't find anyone else to blame. I'd heard they were desperate to produce a culprit and all the bookies are up in arms that nothing's been done.'

‘Apart from two dead winning tipsters,' I remarked.

‘Well, who do you think killed them?' Greeves almost snapped at me.

‘Logic says the bookies, but we've no proof at all.'

‘It might help you to bear in mind that whoever is running this scheme still went on with it when they were being blackmailed.'

‘Yes, I hadn't overlooked that, or that they must have thought it was Toby until he was dead.'

‘If it had started by then. But now it's obvious it's just me and Lincoln.' He turned to look at me, almost elated in defeat. I thought he would not have been a very effective soldier in war conditions.

‘Right,' I said, stopping abruptly. ‘I have to go. Thank you for what you've told me. I won't be passing any of it on to any official . . .'

‘Frankly, I couldn't give a stuff!' The words sounded incongruous in Greeves's tersely accented military English. ‘It'll all come out, sooner or later.'

I shrugged. ‘Well, if it does, it won't be my doing. If Tresidder gets in touch with you, let me know.' I took out my notebook and scribbled my name and numbers on one of the pages, tore it out and gave it to him.

He shoved it into a pocket without looking at it then turned his back on me and plodded away beside the dyke.

I watched him go and wondered what I should do. After a moment, I turned in the opposite direction and quickly walked back towards my car.

On the way I stopped to speak to Matt, still sitting in his car with Larry.

‘What happened?' he asked.

I opened the back door of the car and climbed in. When I'd told him what had been said, as fully as I could remember it, I carried on to my own car.

 

I drove back on to the M11 behind Matt and noticed that it had just turned twelve. I thought of Captain Greeves: a weak man who knew he had failed at every serious challenge life had presented, while carefully giving the appearance of a man firmly in control of his own destiny.

I would keep my word to him by not telling the authorities about him when the time came – if it ever did. But sooner or later the system would catch up with him.

By the time I reached London forty minutes later, and my phone bleeped at me, my thoughts had moved on. I picked it up.

‘Hello?'

‘You might be interested to know that Lincoln has just rung me.' Rupert Greeves was the last person I'd expected to call, and when I heard the clipped, clear voice, I couldn't reconcile it with my memory of that hunched figure on the heath. ‘He's anxious to have the other half of the bar-codes and says he has money. I don't believe him, but I said I'd meet him at a flat in North London at six this evening to hand them over. I shan't be going, but I thought you might like to.'

‘Do you have the address?'

‘Sixteen, Mulberry House, Canal Road, W9. I believe it's a council block.'

‘Thank you very much,' I said.

The line was already dead.

When we arrived back in London, I told Matt about Greeves's call. He immediately wanted to put two of our men, Dougie and Jack, somewhere near the block of flats to check visitors.

‘But it's a big council block,' I said. ‘Unless they're inside, it's going to be impossible to know exactly who's coming to see Lincoln.'

‘Unless they recognise them.'

‘Okay. Let's do it.'

Matt fixed it, and checked with Monica in our Reading office to see if she had found an address for Captain Greeves through our electoral roll access.

He put the phone down with satisfaction. ‘He must have been planning to keep the job. He's recently registered in Newmarket – Captain R. Greeves, Mrs Sharon Greeves, and two boys of twelve and ten – as he told you. At least we know where to find him if we need him.'

‘What do we do now, sir?' Larry asked.

‘I seem to remember you used to be a dab hand at cooking,' Matt said. ‘Use your initiative and see if you can knock up something edible for lunch. Sara's on her way over,' he added for my benefit.

‘I was wondering what happened at your “meeting” last night,' I said with a laugh.

‘It was very productive,' he replied, allowing a faint smile to soften his deadpan expression.

‘So, what's going on there now?'

‘Sara called me just before we got here. There've been some more developments at Salmon's but she wouldn't tell me over the phone; Harry Chapman thinks their lines are being tapped. She didn't want to take any chances so she fixed herself a long lunch and she's on her way.'

I opened the door to Sara as her taxi pulled away. She came in and sniffed the air. ‘That smells good. I'm starving.'

Larry had used his initiative by bringing in a pile of take-aways from the Pizza Express in Notting Hill Gate. He served them up in the kitchen and Sara started bringing us up to date through mouthfuls of
quattro stagione
.

‘Harry's been tipped off that a bid for the Atlantic Hotels Division of Salmon Leisure is going to be circulated to all Salmon shareholders.'

‘Do you know who the tip came from?' I asked.

‘No, Harry wouldn't tell anyone that. But I do know the bid is rumoured to be coming from . . .' she paused ‘. . . the King George Hotel Group – Lord Tintern's company!' She paused to watch our reaction. ‘Well, don't you think that's amazing?'

‘Sorry,' Matt said, trying not to smile at her indignation.

This news, momentous as it was, came as no surprise to me or to Matt, it seemed. Harry Chapman's group, in its current state, was a natural target and the King George Hotel Group an obvious predator.

Matt turned to me. ‘Did Emma tell you anything about this? She's a shareholder – she must have known.'

‘I should think she's probably only just heard herself. Tintern called an EGM of the four King George's shareholders for this morning to get authorisation for some loan – obviously for this deal. But I wonder who leaked it to Chapman?'

‘At the office they assume Tintern's just trying to take advantage of Salmon's cash problems after these two consecutive runs of huge losses,' Sara said. ‘But if he is, he's too late now Connor McDonagh's died – unless, of course, someone else starts up again. Everyone in the office is expecting another tipster to take over but it hasn't happened yet. Mind you, the punters are still going for it like crazy. Turnover's way up on what it was before this all started; only now, the punters aren't winning all the time, and we're making money again.' She laughed. ‘I'm afraid Emma's dad may have missed the boat.'

We sat down to discuss who had most to gain from a take-over of Salmon's by King George, and how we should react to it. Fascinating as this turn of events might be, though, it had no direct bearing on our investigations into Toby's death.

I held up my hand to focus the discussion. ‘This may seem like a non-sequitur, but do you think Harry could have been involved in the deaths of either Toby or Connor?' I asked Sara.

Her eyes widened as she absorbed the idea. ‘I don't know but it's possible, I suppose. Do you think he sent this guy China to see Connor?'

‘China thinks he was sent by the bookies, so Harry must have been involved in some way, but we're not sure if Connor was supposed to be killed or just harassed – or Toby, for that matter.'

As I spoke, the bell on the ground floor rang. I went up again and found Emma on the doorstep, damp from a heavy shower that had just started.

She gave me a lingering kiss on the lips, then slightly spoiled it by swearing at the weather and pushing past me into the narrow hall of the house.

‘So?' I asked, ushering her into the office downstairs. ‘What happened?'

She saw Larry, Matt and Sara waiting. ‘I love an audience.'

‘Just to save you from telling us what we already know, I'll tell you what's happened at Sara's office.'

‘I should think I can guess some of it. Frank told me he had extracted from Lord T what he was planning to do earlier this morning, and immediately leaked it to Salmon's. He was hoping we might have had a reaction from them by the time we had our meeting.'

‘That's not coming until later,' Sara said.

‘So Frank's plan worked?'

‘If he was trying to evoke a counter bid from Salmon's, yes – like a dream.'

‘So, how was your EGM?' I asked.

‘Well, it was pretty grim, I can tell you. I almost felt sorry for the old bastard. He assumed it was in the bag, and even if Frank and David weren't going to vote with him, it never occurred to him for a moment that I wouldn't. But Frank was brilliant. He kept so calm. Lord T said it would be madness not to take advantage of Salmon's position, and when Frank pointed out that all these massive winning gambles had come to an end, he said he thought it more than likely they'd start again soon, and it would take a week or so to sort out the formalities of a two hundred and fifty million pound loan. Then Frank, with David Green's proxy, and I voted against raising the loan, and that was that. I thought Dad was going to explode.'

‘Look,' Matt said, ‘I know this is all very entertaining, but our priority right now is to plan how we're going to tackle Lincoln this evening. We've been wanting to get at him for the last week, and now Greeves has handed him to us, we can't afford to blow it. Tresidder's disappeared to Spain, so Lincoln's our only hope.'