Trading Reality (46 page)

Jenson explained. ‘We design, assemble and test here. All the components are manufactured by other people, often in the Far East. Apart from the chips. They come from our Intercirc plant just a few miles down the road. This room is where we design the computers. Come and look at this, Rachel.’

He pulled us over to where a young man in a black T-shirt was bending over the guts of one of the computers. He smiled in recognition as Rachel approached, and they discussed the results of the tests he had been running. Rachel seemed pleased. Jenson moved us on to meet another group of engineers who were talking excitedly about graphics chips. The conversation was way over my head, but not over Jenson’s. His people treated him with deference, he seemed to emanate an almost godlike aura as he moved through the plant. But there was also respect. He knew his stuff.

After twenty minutes or so, he dragged us back towards his office. As he strode on ahead, Rachel whispered to me, ‘He’s right. It’s all coming together. The FairRender system is working really well in their new model. There are still some bugs, but nothing major.’ Her eyes were shining; she was as excited as Jenson.

We returned to Jenson’s office. ‘So, what do you think, Rachel?’

‘It’s good. Once we add in our improvements to the software interface, the system will work brilliantly. But, of course, you won’t be able to use the FairRender chip without our permission.’

‘Hey, I know that.’

‘Shall we talk about a deal, then?’ I asked.

Jenson didn’t answer. His eyes briefly touched my face. ‘There’s something else I want to show you. Come on.’

He pressed a switch, and the glass windows behind him opened. He led us out on to the lawn. The grass was wet underfoot; it had recently been sprinkled. He took us over towards the intriguing wooden structure I had spotted before.

We came to some steps, and Jenson kicked off his shoes. We did the same. He then placed his tiny mobile phone next to them. He raised his eyebrows at us. We shook our heads; we were unarmed.

The building was designed like a Japanese temple. We walked over tatami mats to the other side of the cool wooden room, which opened out on to a tiny, intricate garden of trickling water, ferns and moss.

‘Sit,’ ordered Jenson.

We sat, Rachel cross-legged, Jenson in the lotus position, me with my legs bent uncomfortably under my body.

‘I saw a guy a few years ago,’ Jenson said. ‘He told me to slow down, or I’d wind up dead. Said I should meditate every day. So I do. And it works.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Now, let’s be quiet for a few minutes.’

So we were quiet. Jenson breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. His chest and stomach rose and fell. It was strange to see this bundle of energy at rest. I had no doubt that it was good for Jenson to slow down for a few minutes each day. And it didn’t surprise me that he pursued relaxation as manically as everything else.

After a few minutes, the quietness and the running water began to soothe me, too. I found a more comfortable position for my legs. The small trickle, and the ferns brought back thoughts of a damp Scottish hillside.

Finally, Jenson moved. He took one last deep breath, and turned towards us. ‘That’s better. Now, are you going to sell me FairSystems?’

Straight to the point. I suddenly began to wonder whether this bizarre ritual was some kind of negotiating technique. I was in Jenson’s home territory, my guard was down, he would swoop.

If that was what he was trying, it wasn’t going to work.

‘No,’ I said simply.

‘Hey, you got no choice. You don’t sell to me and the bus leaves without you. You sell, and you get to join in on one of the best parties in town. Am I right, or what?’

‘Um,’ I said. ‘I don’t think it’s quite that simple. You see we’ve just negotiated a deal with a Japanese company, Onada Industries. We’ve agreed to give them access to our simulation manager and our graphics system. And they’ll give us enough cash to keep us going.’

Jenson waved his arm dismissively. ‘But they’re not tooled up to make the chips yet, are they? And that’s just the games market, I’m talking about penetrating all the VR markets worldwide.’

‘You’re right, Carl. We would be better off working with you. I just wanted to point out that we can survive very comfortably without you. We don’t need you.’

Jenson was watching me closely. ‘It still makes sense for you to sell.’

‘Well, I hope that we can continue to work on Project Platform with you. But we need access to more cash, and I don’t want to sell the company. So, if you don’t help us, then I’ll be obliged to do another deal with Onada, this time giving them exclusive rights to the graphics system. I’m sure they would be happy to pay well for that.’

‘So, what do you want?’

‘The five hundred thousand pounds you owe us would do for a start.’

Jenson’s small dark eyes bored into me. For once they were still, all energy and power, all directed at me. He was focusing everything on the problem, and the problem was me.

I waited. A chipmunk scampered along the wooden steps down to the delicate garden.

‘That won’t do,’ said Jenson, slowly, his eyes never leaving me. ‘Project Platform is going to change the world, I’m convinced of that. My company’s future is totally dependent on it. I don’t want Jenson Computer to be reliant on a fly-by-night outfit thousands of miles away that will either go bust or do a deal with the Japanese when I’m not looking. I need some control.’

I sat still, listening.

‘I want fifty per cent,’ he said.

I looked at Rachel. She raised her eyebrows. It was up to me.

I felt the familiar rush of adrenalin. We were three people squatting, in jeans, in a pseudo-Japanese temple, but I might just as well have been at my desk at Harrison Brothers. A lot was at stake. Millions of dollars could be made or lost in the next minute. And I knew Jenson wanted to deal.

‘Ten.’

‘That’s not control. That’s just an accounting problem.’

‘OK. Twenty per cent. Plus a slug of preference shares.’

Jenson’s eyes bored into me. He knew my position and I knew his. We could take days or weeks agreeing this, or we could do it now. Jenson wanted to get on with it, I could feel it.

‘Twenty-five per cent, at the current market price. Plus two million dollars in preference shares, plus two seats on the board. I’ll sleep sounder if I know you have some money in the bank.’

I hesitated, thinking.

‘You have a minute to make up your mind, otherwise we all go home,’ Jenson said. I knew he meant it.

I used the minute. At six dollars a share, Jenson would need to put four million of new money into the company for his twenty-five per cent. That, plus the two million dollars of preference shares, was six million. That would keep FairSystems going for a while. And if Project Platform worked, then FairSystems’ share price would rocket. The company would remain independent, and Richard’s dream would be realised.

But with hostile public shareholders, I would no longer be able to rely on a majority of the votes without Jenson’s support. I would have to trust him.

He had already double-crossed me once by refusing to make the advance payments under the Project Platform contract.

I thought of Richard’s death. Of Hartman toying with my company from his office in New York. Of David doing a secret deal with Onada behind my back. Who the hell could I trust?

I looked at the chubby man sitting cross-legged in front of me. His motivation was clear. He was driven to make his company succeed. And he could only achieve that with FairSystems. Like it or not, we were on the same side.

‘Done.’

I leaned over and offered him my hand.

He smiled, shook it, and looked me straight in the eye. ‘I’ve got a feeling you’ll be a good partner to have around,’ he said. ‘And, frankly, Rachel, we need your brain fast. My guys have a couple of problems that they’d like to talk to you about.’

We arrived back in Scotland on Saturday morning, exhausted. I dropped Rachel off at her flat, and went back to Kirkhaven for a bath and a doze. There was a message on my answering machine to call Daphne, Karen’s mother. No chance. There was really no need for me to talk to her ever again. I smiled at the thought.

As I lay soaking in my bath, I cast my mind back over the past two days. I shared Rachel’s excitement about Project Platform. It looked as though FairSystems was finally out of the woods.

But I knew everything wasn’t tidied up. Far from it. I still had no idea what had happened the night Richard had died. Whoever had killed him was still out there. And I had a nasty feeling that whoever had wanted to kill him, would now want to kill me.

I spent several minutes trying again to work out who that person might be, but my brain was too tired. I got nowhere.

I went into the factory late that afternoon. Rachel, of course, had been there for hours. It was amazing how much had piled up in the three days I had been away.

At seven, I strolled round to her office. Keith and Andy were at their machines. ‘Good news about Platform, boss,’ Keith said, as I walked past. ‘Well done!’

‘Thanks,’ I said, and knocked on Rachel’s door.

‘Come in.’

When she saw me, her face lit up in a broad smile.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.

‘Fine. But there’s so much to do. How about you?’

‘Knackered.’

We were silent for a moment. ‘I don’t want to interrupt you or anything,’ I said, ‘but would you like to come back to Kirkhaven with me this evening?’

Rachel smiled. ‘Of course I would. Let’s go.’

We got into the BMW and pulled out of the factory car park. I negotiated the series of mini-roundabouts which protected Glenrothes from the south, and joined the road heading east to Kirkhaven.

I looked in the mirror for the car behind. It was a habit I had developed over the past couple of weeks. A small white Astra van with two men in it was behind us. It fell back as we drove through Markinch, but then caught up with us as we passed the giant whisky distillery in Leven.

‘I think someone’s following us,’ I said.

Rachel turned to look. ‘Who? There are lots of cars behind us.’

‘The white Astra van. It’s been with us since Glenrothes.’

‘Well, slow down. Let’s see what he does.’

I did, driving at thirty miles per hour. Car after car passed us, but not the van. It was lurking well behind us.

I sped up again. The van was still there.

‘I think you might be right,’ Rachel said. ‘What shall we do?’

‘The turn off to Kirkhaven is in half a mile, I’ll stop in at the police station if he turns off too.’

I slowed down at the T-junction and indicated. The van was right behind us now. There were two large men in it. They looked like workmen.

I turned right. The van went straight on towards Crail and St Andrews.

I laughed as the nervous tension left me. ‘I think we’re just getting jumpy.’

Rachel sighed. ‘No. You’re right to be jumpy. I don’t want you getting bashed on the head again.’

I parked the car outside Inch Lodge, checked up and down the quay, and let Rachel into the house. She wandered round. ‘It feels weird without Richard here.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t have come?’

‘Oh no. I’m glad I’m here. Can I have a look upstairs?’

We went up to Richard’s bedroom. ‘This doesn’t look familiar does it?’ I asked nervously.

She smiled. ‘Oh no. I’ve never been in here before in my life.’

Then she kissed me.

Something woke me. It was still dark. It was a banging of some sort. I looked over to where Rachel’s form lay, back towards me. I smiled to myself. Then I heard it again, or a sound like it. It seemed to be coming from downstairs, not outside.

I lay in bed, listening. I thought I could hear a gentle rustling. I decided to get up and investigate.

My dressing-gown was in the bathroom, but it was warm enough in the house for me not to really need it. So I crept down the stairs, naked. I knew there was no one there, there never is when you hear bumps in the night. But I had to check.

The sitting room was well lit by the night outside. I couldn’t see anything. I stood for a full minute just inside the door, listening again.

Nothing.

I checked the kitchen. Nothing.

I felt a bit of a twit, wandering around the house at night without any clothes on, looking for intruders. If someone had broken in, I would have stumbled across them by now. So I went back upstairs to the bedroom.

I stopped dead at the doorway. A figure was squatting on the bed, pinning down Rachel. A second later, I felt an arm round my neck pulling me backwards. I opened my mouth to yell, but it was smothered with a cloth backed by a strong hand. My nose was covered as well, and I smelled a strong, sweet smell.

I bucked and went down on my knees to try to trip whoever was behind me.

And that was the last thing I remembered.

My legs were cold. Cold and wet. And heavy, with some kind of sodden fabric. But I was very tired. I wanted to sleep.

My legs were freezing. There was a rushing sound, like a waterfall. I tried to will my eyes to open, but it was difficult. A thudding pain rushed from somewhere near the back of my head and battered me.

My legs were in water. And I was lying at an odd angle resting against something.

I forced my eyes open. It was dark. I had some sort of belt around my chest. I touched it. A seat-belt.

The adrenalin rushed through my system, and suddenly I was wide awake. I looked up. I was in a car, my BMW, strapped into the driver’s seat. I was wearing the jeans and shirt I had discarded the night before. Ink-black water lapped against the car windows. Water was rushing in through the vents by the dashboard, and swirling around my legs.