Frame-Up (17 page)

"I’m happy to advise you. What kind of shares do you hold?"

"They’re mainly Tesco shares and a few United Foods, you see, and
they’ve lost already twenty percent of their value."

"I think you should hold on to them. Look, Mr. Harper, food always
sells. People have to eat even during a recession. In fact, you invested
very wisely and prudently."

"You see I work for Tesco. They urged us to invest in their shares,
even gave us a special deal."

"And you bought these shares as a nest egg for the future, not to
speculate. So look at it from a long run point of view. I’m confident that
their value will recover within two or three years. Selling them now and
putting the funds into a savings account would make your loss real,
whereas right now it’s just a paper loss, and didn’t Tesco announce the
other day the same dividend as last year? Besides, interest rates on
savings accounts are currently very low, so you would be worse off. Also,
if you hold on to the shares, nothing has really changed for you. As I said,
you invested wisely and prudently."

He looks proudly at his wife. "You see, mother, I told you so. Miss
Walker says I did right."

I’m bemused that he addresses his wife as ‘mother’, the way his
daughter would call her, rather than by her first name. The woman is at
a loss of how to respond, so she nods, murmuring: "Yes, you did."

For a moment there is an awkward silence. Then Sally exclaims: "Dad
has promised to take me to the next Chelsea match, didn’t you, dad?"

"Yes, this Saturday when they play Arsenal."

"I’m so excited. I can hardly wait."

I’m surprised by the change in the girl. The night before she seemed
depressed, downcast, and now she exudes hope and joy of life.

I’ve never watched a top class football match live, only on TV. On the
spur of the moment I query: "Mr. Harper, would you find me fresh if I
asked you to take me along too. You see, I’ve never been to a real football
match. Obviously, I’ll pay for my ticket. And I’ll take Mrs. Harper along
for company."

"Oh, yes, please, dad, take Miss Walker and mom along."

His face turns all red, I guess, from embarrassment, but he replies:
"Yes, it would be fitting if Miss Walker joined us."

So we arrange where to meet. He offers to get a ticket for me too. I
give him cash. On the doorstep, he says: "Please, Miss Walker, don’t
wear anything red. Blue would be best, if I may be so bold as to ask."

I figure that implies Arsenal’s colors are red, while Chelsea’s are blue.

Wednesday, 8:50 p.m.

The evening has turned cold and the van has no functioning heater. When
I enter
Il
C
orno d’Oro
, Silvio comes rushing from behind the bar to greet
me. We exchange a fleeting kiss.

"Silvio, I’m cold and starving."

"Come, your usual table is free, and then I’ll fetch you just the right
food for a night like this."

He leads me to the back of the restaurant, goes into the kitchen and a
short time later returns with bottle of wine and two glasses.

"The food will come shortly," he remarks, as he slides out a chair and
sits After we ‘
cin’cin
’ and take a sip he urges me: "Tell me what
happened. Don’t let me suffer in agony."

I tell him, playing down the violence of it.

"And he took it just like that? Agreed to work with you?" Silvio is
clearly baffled.

"Yes. I guess he has never got a beating from a woman, and he also
realized that I could have easily killed him."

"And he did pull a knife on you?"

"Yes, he did. I gave it back before he drove me to my apartment."

He places a hand on each temple, shaking his head. "Ceci, you’re
crazy. How do you know he won’t use it on you?"

"If he wanted to use a knife on me, he can easily buy another. No, by
accepting back the knives he acknowledged my superiority. In fact, I
think he is so awed that it wouldn’t even occur to him anymore to attack
me. But rest assured, Silvio, I’ll be vigilant. And I think he now realizes
that he needs me, or else he’ll be the one who gets punished."

A waiter brings two plates of steaming soup — minestrone, just what
I need — while another places a basket of bread and a dish of grated
Parmesan on the table.

We eat in silence. I savor each spoonful. Only my mother’s minestrone
comes close to this one.

"Ceci, you are playing a dangerous game. I worry about you."

"Good," I reply with a smile.

"What do you mean ‘good’?"

"It means that you love me."

He now also breaks into a smile.

"I do. Did you mean it when you said you loved me this afternoon?"

"Yes, you heard right, I did love you this afternoon. I did even more,"
I grin, "but I didn’t mean that I loved you just this afternoon." He frowns,
puzzled. "I intend to love you for a long time."

The frown dissolves. "Good. I plan to do the same."

The second course is a
piccata Milanese
with rice. I stay till closing
time. Silvio is disappointed when I tell him I can’t spend the night with
him, that I still have to finish the job that got interrupted the night before.
I briefly describe the task and then recount the attempted theft of the van
and the confrontation with Sally’s parents.

Thursday, 30
^th
October, 12.50
a.m.

I again park the van in the alley behind Lewis’ offices. This time I get in
on the first attempt. I laboriously download all of Long’s recent e-mail
files on a ten-gig memory stick. Then I scan through his correspondence
files. After more than an hour, I give up, not having found anything that
could have been directly or indirectly related to Sanvino or a numbered
bank account. But I discover evidence of another insider trading
transaction that netted him close to twenty thousand pounds.

"What a fool, to leave evidence of that sort in his files," I mutter to
myself.
Does he want to get caught
, I wonder, or is he either too cocksure
of being safe or not even aware that computers can be hacked into? On
the spur of the moment, I copy the relevant files too, just in case. I don’t
know why or what I might do with them.

Next I make a half-hearted attempt to get into Fred Garland’s machine.
After three guesses of possible passwords, all related to his family, all of
them failing, I log out. I didn’t really expect getting in on mere guesses.
The trojan horse approach seems to be the only way in. Tomorrow I will
look for a suitable animation — one bordering on pornography will most
likely tempt him. I’ll have to embed a code that searches for his password
and then e-mail it to my private e-mail address.
Wait!
I caution myself.
That’s not a good idea. It will leave a trail in his e-mail files that an expert
might discover, even if I delete the message from the ‘sent mail’ folder.
If the result is forwarded to Long it will be less suspicious, but if he opens
it, that will blow the scheme. I ponder on that for a while. What if I send
it to Long also in some disguised form?

"Yes, I got it," I exclaim. The solution is simple. Forward the animation, minus the trojan horse, to Long with Garlands password suitably
embedded in it. Opening it, as Long is bound to do — I can just see him
shouting: "Hey guys, you have to come and see this!" — will reveal
nothing. A day or so later, when I log on to his machine, I can retrieve
Garland’s password. So I have my work cut out for tomorrow.

I realize that Garland will assume that Long sent the animation, while
Long in turn will think he got it from his boss. They might talk about it,
but it is a small risk. Garland keeps pretty much aloof of the junior staff,
and Long is unlikely to broach the subject. Should Garland thank Long
for the animation, I’m certain the latter will be more than pleased to take
credit for it.

Thursday, 8:50
a.m.

The chime of the entrance door intercom wakes me. I check the time on
digital clock on my nightstand. Who would call that early in the morning,
because for me it is still early after a late night? It might be Silvio,
although he is more likely to phone. The intercom chimes once more, this
time insistently. Whoever wants in is impatient and keeps pressing the
button. I drag myself out of bed, put on a morning robe and answer.

"This is Detective Sergeant Somes and Police Sergeant Elders. Miss
Walker, let us in."

"What does she want again?" I swear under my breath, as I release the
door. I go into the bathroom, quickly wash of my face, and give my hair
a light brush. By then, Somes is hammering at the apartment door. I go
and open it.

"Sergeant Somes, you still have not learned any manners. There is no
need to be rude and bang at the door," I comment.

She only scowls, while the police officer has a twinkle in his eyes.

"Miss Walker, we have come to arrest you on suspicion of defrauding
Ventura Consolidated of over two million pounds by effecting insider
trading transactions that are prohibited under the Company Securities Act
of 1995 and the Financial Services Act of 1986."

So it has come to that. This is nothing but an attempt to frighten me,
but somehow it washes off me. Given the flimsiness of the evidence —
a forged signature — I’m confident that Crawford will get me released on
bail promptly. While she is taking a breath to continue, I cut in: "That was
quite a mouthful, Sergeant Somes. Haven’t you forgotten the Stock
Exchange Regulations of 1984?"

I must give it to her. She doesn’t rise to my irony. Her reptile eyes
show no feelings. She continues with the usual warning of "You may
remain silent, but anything you say may be used in court…" blah blah
blah. Then she orders: "Get dressed!"

Pointing to the sofa, I address Elders: "Please, Sergeant Elders, take
a seat. Make yourself comfortable, while I get dressed."

He complies. I go to the bedroom, Somes a step behind me. At the
door, I turn around. She bumps into me.

"Are you always that clumsy, Sergeant Somes? And I don’t need your
help to get dressed. Join you colleague over there."

This time she goes crimson. I remain in the door, blocking the way.
She continues standing in front of me. After several seconds of silence,
she says: "Police arrest rules require that a police officer be with you all
the time."

"Sergeant Somes, let’s be sensible. You know that the front door is the
only exit. I have no intention of killing myself for an arrest that I know
will fail for lack of proper evidence. As soon as you have the courtesy to
give me the privacy for making a minimum of a morning toilet and
getting dressed, I will … Or is it that you get your kicks out of observing
other women undressing and dressing?" I’m deliberately provoking her,
but something in her whole demeanor drives me on.

This time, she loses her cool. A flash of hatred flits across her eyes.
She initiates a Karate move to immobilize me in a painful position. I see
it coming, counter it with the Aikido defense, and half a second later I
have her in the tight hold she had intended for me. "Now, now, Sergeant
Somes, you really bungled this. That is not the way to do it." I can’t help
a sense of triumph as I hold her in a tight grip.

Elders rises warily.

"Sergeant Elders, relax. There is no need to interfere. I will release
Sergeant Somes as soon as she has regained her composure."

He remains standing next to the sofa, seemingly unsure of himself. I
march Somes over to the sofa. She remains all tense. I know she is in
considerable pain, but she makes no sound, not even a gasp. I can’t help
but admire her.

"Sergeant Somes, you will now rest on this sofa until I’m through
dressing." I release my hold on her in such a way that she ends up sitting
on the sofa. Elders turns away, trying to suppress a grin.

She jumps up instantly and comes threateningly closer, while
retrieving a set of handcuffs from her back pocket. "Miss Walker, I now
add resisting arrest to the charges against you. Sergeant Elders is my
witness."

"Sergeant Somes, I suggest you calm down before you make an ass of
yourself. You tried to assault me first, and Sergeant Elders will be my
witness that I simply defended myself. Granted, I provoked you, but I
doubt that any police tribunal will accept that as a valid excuse. As a
police officer you should not let yourself be provoked by the person you
are arresting. So, it is in your best interest to forget about this little
incident, pretend it never happened, and I will now go and change without
further interference and then you may take me to the police station for
arraignment."