Topspin (28 page)

“I’d be glad to, but I’m not a shareholder myself, you realize.”

“That’s not important. What counts is your ability to persuade. You’re a good looking man, Mr. Palmer. Use that to your advantage to persuade the ladies. They, in turn, will work on their men.” Aston shrugged. “That’s the way the world works.”

“A lot of the members seem to be on tight budgets.” Colin smirked. “Either that or they’re just naturally tight, so your financial incentives ought to hit the spot with those having difficulties. They’re as snooty as hell, a lot of them, but don’t seem to have a lot of ready cash to support their lifestyles. I reckon if we sell the idea properly they’ll jump at the chance of taking your money and scampering.”

“Exactly. I can see you and I are already thinking along the same lines. Do I take it you’re prepared to help?”

“Sure, I’ll do what I can.” But Colin still didn’t think it was much in return for five thousand quid and wondered what else Aston had in mind for him. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Are the Porterhouses going to Bisham Abbey?”

“Yes, but Joe can’t get there until Saturday.”

“Excellent. Things couldn’t be better. What do you think of Mrs. Porterhouse?”

Colin grinned. “Since you ask, I think that she’s a prime piece of arse!”

“I’m glad you think so. That’ll make your other assignment more pleasurable.” Aston took a swig of the drink he’d so far not touched and once again held Colin’s gaze. “On Friday evening, I want you to call upon Mrs. Porterhouse and deliver a message from me. Make sure you do it on Friday evening and try to catch her when she’s dressing for dinner. She’s more likely to be on her own then.”

“All right. What sort of message?”

“I’ve been grooming Mrs. Porterhouse to persuade her set to vote in favor of selling, but she’s trying to renege on our agreement.” He leaned back in his chair, the only outward indication that he was annoyed with Claire a slight tightening of his jaw. “As I told you earlier, I don’t care for people who go back on their word, so I want you to tell the lovely Claire that I still have the original.”

“Original what?” Colin asked.

“That doesn’t concern you. She’ll know what I mean. Tell her I’m counting on her to do the right thing. But make sure you don’t let Mr. Brady know what you’re about. He’s unaware of my arrangement with Mrs. Porterhouse and I’d like it to remain that way.”

“No sweat.”

“And after that, Mr. Palmer,” Aston said, picking up his briefcase and standing, “you may do with Mrs. Porterhouse whatever you wish. I doubt that she’ll put up much resistance and, trust me,” he added, flashing a brief smile, “she doesn’t disappoint.”

“He’s living in a rented house in Northwood,” Jack’s contact informed him two days after he’d asked him to find Paul Aston’s address.

“Any problems getting in?”

“Nah, but there’s no safe in the place.”

“Shit!” Jack had been getting ready for the drive to Bisham Abbey when the phone rang. He stopped throwing things into the bag that was open on his bed and gave the telephone conversation his full attention. “Any ideas where he might have hidden the goods then?” He didn’t insult his contact’s professional integrity by asking if he was sure about there not being a safe.

“Not offhand, but they ain’t in that house. It’s a two-bedroom place and he lives like a fucking monk, everything tidy and in its place, no clutter.” A pause, presumably for emphasis. “And definitely no safe.”

Disquieting thoughts tumbled through Jack’s head. “Was there a computer?”

“No, but there was an empty laptop bag. Aston carries a large briefcase with him everywhere he goes. I reckon he keeps the laptop in there.”

“Very likely.”

“There was a digital video camera in the flat, though.”

“Anything on it?”

“No, but I figured that perhaps the material you wanted might have been recorded digitally and then burned onto a cd.”

“Good thinking. Any cd’s in the flat?”

“Yeah, and we checked them all. The guy’s got lousy taste in music as well. Madonna and Blur, I ask you!” Jack chuckled. “We checked them all to be on the safe side, but they appear to be kosher.”

“Yeah, that would have been too much to hope for, I suppose.”

“The material you want wasn’t in the house at the same time we were,” said the contact emphatically. “So what do you want us to do now?”

“Would you be able to get hold of that briefcase?”

“Tricky. He keeps it close at all times, but yeah, we should be able to nab it.”

“Okay. I need to talk to someone about this. I’ll call you back.”

Jack hung up and immediately called Angela at the salon. Fortunately it was she who answered the phone. Succinctly he relayed the news he’d just received.

“Are you sure they would have videoed the action?”

“Well, that’s how they always used to do it.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking quite a lot of years ago. Things have moved on since then. Was there a video in the bag Aston gave you to give to Claire?”

“I don’t know. To be honest, I didn’t look because I didn’t want to see any of the stills. I simply gave the bag to Claire without opening it.”

“I suppose I’ll have to ask her then.”

“She won’t know either. I watched her burn it without looking inside.”

“Okay, then we’ll just have to go with our instincts. If there’s no safe in Aston’s house my guess is that he’s got a copy of the film on his laptop and has possibly burned it onto CDs as well, and that everything he does have on Claire is in his briefcase.” Jack paused. “Unless he’s being ultra-cautious. I suppose he could have taken a safety deposit box somewhere and stashed the lot in there.”

“I doubt he would have done that. He’s never had a very high opinion of banks.”

“All right, love, leave it with me. I was hoping we’d have everything tidied up before going off to Bisham Abbey, but that ain’t gonna happen so we’ll just have to wing it.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

Jack could hear the tremor in her voice. “Don’t worry, love. I’ve got plans of my own to get the better of Ed, which I’ll tell you about on the drive up. By the time Aston hears what we’ve done, I should have all the stuff in my possession and he’ll be able to do sod-all about it.”

Jack rang his contact back immediately and told him to get hold of the briefcase as soon as he possibly could.

Chapter Thirteen

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were at Bisham Abbey. Ed pointed out to Colin that enough of the greedy bastards, and the financially desperate ones he was relying on to swing the vote, were among them.

“Get at the most influential ones first,” he said, reeling off a list of target names. “If we can convince them, the others’ll follow like the sycophantic hangers-on they are. Mike Dawkins is piss-poor, but so upper-class that he’ll make selling out of Porchfield seem like a perfectly acceptable investment opportunity.”

“Yeah, but let’s not rush into it,” Colin said. “Slow play it, Ed, and give people a chance to settle in first. And when you do raise the subject, don’t pile in too hard. That’ll either put them off or make them suspect your motives.”

“We don’t have enough time to soft peddle,” Ed said, waving Colin’s advice aside. “Just look out for the main players, and we’ll keep one another informed about the reactions we get as the evening wears on. If we individually keep pressure on them, my guess is they’ll speculate among themselves and find reasons to justify selling.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds like a plan.”

Colin sighed as he watched Ed saunter across the room and start right in on people as soon as they arrived. His eyes fell upon a smaller group on the opposite side of the bar to Ed. It was almost as if battle lines were unconsciously being drawn and the two factions, for and against the scheme, were intuitively keeping their distance from one another. Colin wasn’t surprised to see Jack Regent in the middle of the smaller group, along with Angela, Karl, Trina and one or two others, Claire on their periphery. That was strange. Now he came to think about it, Colin hadn’t noticed Claire and Jack exchange a single word since she’d entered the bar. They were very close, and normally Jack hovered round her like the proverbial bee when Joe wasn’t about. Could it be that cracks were already forming in that little set?

Catching Jack’s eye, Colin felt an apprehensive shiver trickle down his spine. Jack was a brutal thug when roused, and Colin belatedly wondered if he’d done the right thing in agreeing to oppose him for a second time. But then he recalled Aston and relaxed a little. There was something about Aston’s cold eyes that made Jack seem relatively harmless by comparison, reassuring Colin that he’d backed the right horse this time.

Friday passed in a whirl of organizational activity for Colin. Before he knew it, the afternoon’s session was drawing to a close and people were drifting off to rest before dinner. Claire was among them and he didn’t hesitate to seize his opportunity. But before he caught up with her a hand reached out of another room and pulled him inside.

“What the—”

“We have unfinished business,” Sheila said sweetly.

“Sure, but I’ll have to catch you later.”

Her seductive smile faded. “What’s wrong with right now?”

“Oh, er…I just left the bar and heard Gordon say he was coming up to rest.”

“No, you didn’t. He’s playing cards.”

“No, really, he said he was tired.”

“Bullshit!”

The profanity slipping from Sheila’s lips was as surprising as it was arousing. But Colin really didn’t have time for the distraction.

“Sheila,” he said, pretending to be shocked. “Would I lie to you?”

He could see that his charm wasn’t working its usual magic and had the good sense to be concerned about that. He needed Sheila in his corner. But he needed to do as Aston had asked of him more.

“Yes,” she said, a deep frown invading her forehead. “I rather think that you would. And let me tell you for a second time that it wouldn’t be wise.”

“Later,” he said, “I promise.”

Reaching Claire’s room at last, Colin knocked at her door and waited. No response. He knocked for a second time, a little harder. Still no answer.

“Mum’s gone for a sauna with some of the other women,” Chris Porterhouse said, emerging from the adjoining room clad in swimming trunks.

Damn, by the time she got back it would be cutting things too fine to deliver the message and try his luck. If they were both late for dinner, people would notice. And talk.

“No problem.” Colin smiled and forced himself to saunter away. “It was just something about a change in the schedules for tomorrow that I wanted to discuss.”

“Aren’t those things put up on the notice board?” Chris asked, frowning.

“Sure, but I didn’t know if she would have seen it.” Colin cursed the guilty conscience that had caused him to blurt out an explanation when none had been necessary. “Not to worry, I’ll catch her in the bar later. But if you see her first, perhaps you’d let her know that I was looking for her.”

“If you like.”

“What do you think of the facilities here, Chris? Quite impressive, eh?”

“Haven’t had a chance to look around yet.” Chris shot him a suspicious glance and headed toward the swimming pool. “See you later.”

“Sure, have a good swim.”

Colin didn’t get to see Claire alone that night. Every time he looked for her, she was either nowhere to be found or surrounded by a crowd of people. Her son was almost always one of them, and Colin didn’t like the way the boy looked at him every time he got anywhere near his mother. Still, he couldn’t let that deter him. Aston wasn’t the type to tolerate excuses; he’d made that abundantly clear. Perhaps Claire would go off to bed early and he could catch her then? He was trying to assess the likelihood of that happening when he overheard a conversation between Angela and Claire, who’d just come off her mobile.

“He can’t get here until Sunday morning.” Claire was talking about Joe. “An emergency of some sort. He has to be in theater tomorrow morning.”