The Best of British Crime omnibus (40 page)

‘But they haven't hurt him?'

‘He said not.'

‘But they'll kill him if you don't do what they say?'

‘That was the threat. I don't believe they would.'

‘But you can't be sure. And there were other threats, you said?'

‘If we tell the police.' His tone was purposely dismissive. ‘Since we haven't, there shouldn't be any danger.'

‘And you'll sell the shares?'

‘You realise what that'll mean?'

‘The price will drop afterwards?'

‘Not just afterwards. As soon as we start selling. In those sorts of quantities. The exercise could cost me five million.' He looked grimly at the road ahead.

‘Over half the value of your holding?'

‘That's my estimate, yes. But only an estimate.' His knuckles were white as his grip tightened on the wheel. ‘It could be worse than that. The reward for five years' grinding effort more than halved in one day.'

‘But you can buy back the shares?'

‘No one's to buy back this week. Or to let anyone else buy for them. That includes bank nominees. Otherwise the deal's off.'

‘But how can these people know who's doing the buying?'

‘They say they can. Because they have moles everywhere. So far we've accepted that much as fact.'

‘Because of the risk to Dermot otherwise?'

‘Yes. They won't release him till after the stock market closes on Friday. To make sure we're held to our word.'

‘So you can buy back on Monday? Won't the share price be low then?'

‘It may be. It depends on what game they're playing.'

‘But isn't their game what you said? To hurt Closter directors? Like the demonstration last week was to spoil the flotation?'

‘I keep telling you, we just don't know what they're planning next. Can't you understand that?' he added hotly, and on the verge of losing his temper.

There was a heavy silence in the car for a while.

‘I'm sorry, darling,' he said eventually, reaching for her hand.

‘Don't be. It was my fault. You must be under a terrible strain.'

‘Let me try to explain. It could be these people are aiming to destroy confidence in Closter management permanently. Because if we agree never to admit there was a kidnap, not ever, because of what they might do to directors' wives and children, no one can ever know we sold the shares under duress. And we'll never be able to convince the Stock Exchange otherwise.'

‘But if you could convince them?'

‘We could almost certainly get them to rescind tomorrow's forced sales. As soon as Dermot's released.'

‘To cancel the sales? So that everything goes back to square one?'

‘Yes. But if we don't admit the kidnap, people will just believe we've lost faith in the company ourselves. And the products. That we took the capital gains on our shares while the going was good. Even the puny gains on offer by mid-morning tomorrow.' He hit the steering wheel twice with a clenched fist. ‘And dammit, they've only been able to pick on us because we're small.' He hit the wheel again. ‘Our management group's still far too small. We're vulnerable, you see? There's no flexibility. There can't be. Not yet. Especially not in a crisis.'

It seemed to his wife that he was now more concerned in remonstrating with himself than in explaining anything to her. ‘Is Closter really so much smaller than all the other drug companies?' she asked.

‘Much smaller than any with a real breakthrough product on the stocks. Anything negative that happens to us now can shatter our credibility. At the most critical time.'

‘The credibility of Seromig?'

‘Absolutely. So it'll take us that much longer to convince the Department of Health that the drug is ready. Safe. It'll be the same with the Food and Drugs Administration in the States. It'll become a matter of … of atmospherics not facts. D'you understand? And it could set us back years. Make Seromig totally unprofitable.'

Jane's eyes narrowed. ‘You're not suggesting the SAE is in league with a competitor? Someone who wants to hold back the launch of Seromig?'

He thought for a moment. ‘No. Not any of the ones working on a migraine cure. Not any of the ones we know about at least. It'd be too obvious. In any case, why should an animal protection group be teamed up with a drug manufacturer? Any drug manufacturer. The whole industry uses animals in development work.' He paused again. ‘Unless the animal protection bit really is a front. A front for a drug company that wants to knock down our value before buying us out.'

‘To get control of Seromig?'

‘And our other development products.' His forehead stayed creased. ‘It would need to be a company big enough to get Seromig approved afterwards, despite any setback. To make up for any time we could lose on the programme now. But that would make it an even less likely ally for a piddling outfit like the SAE.'

‘You mean the drug company would need to be big? And with a sound reputation of its own?'

‘And one that indulges in kidnapping to gain its ends.' He shook his head. ‘Doesn't fit, does it?'

‘Nor do the firms that wanted to buy Closter while you were still a private company.'

‘Right. For one of them to be involved would be even more incredible. But we could still be talking about a takeover.'

‘That's a bizarre idea, surely?'

Larden took a deep breath through his nose. ‘Possibly. But I've been having a lot of those all day.' He shifted in the driving seat as he turned right off Fulham Palace Road. ‘It's still tempting to say to hell with them, whoever they are. Better still, to convince ourselves we're being harassed by a bunch of cranks with no backing and no connections. That way we don't need to accept they've an intelligence system following our every move. Nor a bunch of hit men ready to abduct wives and children. If I believed all that, I'd be free to do as I like. To tell the SAE to drop dead.'

‘But you have to sell your shares tomorrow. You said everyone would.'

‘Not if I tell them not to. If I say we call the bluff of those bastards.' He drew the car up outside the three-storey house where they lived. It was in the centre of a terrace built at the turn of the century. The street had been gentrified recently.

Jane made no move to get out. ‘Look, Bob, you can do what you like once we get Dermot back. I mean tell the police, the Stock Exchange, everyone. I'll take my chances about being abducted. I don't know about the other wives. Their children too.' She brought her hands together under her chin. Her gaze was straight ahead. ‘But the police would have to give us protection. And with Dermot to help, they'd possibly find the kidnappers anyway.'

‘That's a brave— '

‘Let me finish,' she interrupted, turning to him suddenly. ‘All that's after we've got Dermot back. As things stand, you have to do as they say.'

‘But if we're half certain they're bluffing?'

‘Only half though. They could murder him. You can't risk that.'

‘But you've just said you'd take your chances— '

‘After Dermot's free. That's different,' she broke in again. ‘We'd know then what we'd be in for. In advance. Dermot's their prisoner now. He had no option. No chance to protect himself. You've got to get him back.'

‘In every case of kidnap I've heard of the police have been told,' he hedged. ‘The police or a security agent.'

‘Not in every case. There've been some where the victim's family has paid up without telling anyone till after. And in any case, that's it normally. A cash payment's made. So a pick-up has to be arranged, meaning there's a chance the kidnappers can be caught. In Dermot's case the swine are running no risk of any kind.'

He nodded, partially agreeing. ‘At first, I couldn't believe that was it.'

‘But you do now? That they're safe so it's even more vital you do as they say.'

‘By selling our shares? Losing half their value? Perhaps more?'

‘Yes, and making the other directors do the same.'

‘I can't make them.'

‘You said just now you could stop them.'

He was examining the car key in his hand, avoiding her gaze. ‘I still believe we should call their bluff. Dermot would support me, I'm sure.'

‘That's nonsense, and you know it. If it were the other way round, if you were the prisoner, Dermot would be moving heaven and earth to get you free.'

‘Perhaps because he'd have nothing to lose if the shares were sold. He hasn't any. Not to speak of.' He still hadn't appreciated his wife's determination.

‘That's a bloody callous thing to say.'

‘I just don't believe— '

‘Look at me, Bob.' Her tone was icy. ‘I'm deadly serious. Please do exactly as the kidnappers say tomorrow. If you don't, I'll leave you. For ever. I'm sorry, but I mean it.'

‘But Mr Larden, if every director's unloading shares, there has to be a reason.' The man on the other end of the telephone was called Poundown. It was a singularly appropriate name for the Financial Editor of the
Daily Gazette.

‘And I've told you, the reason is personal.'

‘And I'm sorry, but our readers will want a better one than that. D'you know it's less than a week since this paper was recommending the shares? At the flotation price? With no reservations? We were the only paper to do that.'

‘I know that very well. It's why I agreed to talk to you, Mr Poundown,' Larden responded, wishing now he hadn't felt obliged to do any such thing. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief, then his neck, under his already loosened collar. ‘The advice you gave last week was perfectly sound.'

‘How can you say that, Mr Larden?' The speaker sounded genuinely shocked – unusually so for a journalist. The
Gazette
readership was a shade below middling – rated by numbers, class, income and brow. Its City news staff was, in turn, a shade below middle-weight, and being constantly depleted. The paper was usually cautious about the financial advice given to readers, more often than not taking its lead from the early editions of better informed journals. Recently it had been aiming to sound more independent and strident, with apparently bolder market tips – but still only affecting if not total certainties, then at least investments that were proof against abject failure. Except Closter Drug wasn't proving to be anything of the kind.

‘You gave sound advice because the price of our shares yesterday was more than justified. Measured against current trading and future prospects,' said Larden, aware his words were hollow as well as pompous.

‘That was yesterday. What about the price at midday today?' It was now twelve thirty. The price of the shares had been in free fall for nearly two hours.

‘It's showing a temporary drop for technical reasons. I'm confident the price will recover.'

‘That's what your PR outfit says. It's hard to credit, Mr Larden. Why should the price recover if the directors are selling out? You have sixteen per cent of the company shares between you. The word is you're offloading the lot. Is that true?'

‘The directors of Closter Drug have been through a lean time for five years. Between us we probably had too many shares. It can happen after a management buy-out. So we're taking the chance to go liquid. We know the company's strong enough to stand it.' He had both elbows on the desk, one hand supporting his drooping head, the other holding the telephone. His posture was as collapsed as the logic he had just propounded.

At an early morning meeting the Closter directors had all agreed, as a final resort, to do as the kidnappers demanded.

At nine o'clock, the Irish spokesman had telephoned for their decision. Larden had fought hard for a delay. The Irishman had dismissed his plea, angrily this time, and put Hackle on the line to beg for his life, and to repeat that his captors would show no mercy. Bodlin had gone a deathly white at this. Mary Ricini had been close to tears.

So Larden had agreed the kidnappers' terms.

The call had been taped, like the one the day before, except for the opening moments. Only a year earlier the company had installed sophisticated tape machines in the offices and homes of all directors. These were to record not only messages but also, when required, ordinary calls as well. It had all been to do with security in the broad sense. The machines were intended to provide records of conversations involving technical or contractual data. After the first call from the kidnappers, it was Mary Ricini who had suggested that all machines should be set to tape everything, in case the SAE chose to phone a director other than Larden. The others had agreed, though some would forget to do anything about it.

Hackle's captors had accepted one concession in response to Larden's reasoned argument. Mark Treasure was to be told about the kidnapping – but not until he returned from the USA later in the day. Significantly, the kidnappers had known which flight he was taking. Despite the concession, Treasure had to be made to pledge that he would tell no one except his wife about the kidnap. If he reneged on this, the Irishman had said, it would very soon go hard for some director's wife or child.

Later, Larden himself warned Penny Cordwright at the PR company that there might be enquiries from the media during the day about the sale of shares, and that such calls would be routed to her. He told her broadly how she should respond, but he implied the matter didn't have much importance. This had been bad judgement on his part, sparked by wishful thinking.

The instructions had mildly surprised Miss Cordwright, but she hadn't believed she would have to act on them. She had assumed the sale of directors' shares Larden mentioned would be a minor affair, involving a relatively small number of shares, and unlikely to cause much, if any, media comment. She hadn't even questioned the wisdom of the action. There was presumably justification for the directors taking a profit on part of their holdings now if they chose. She was quite unprepared for what came next.