The Legacy (20 page)

‘Thank you,' said Harry. ‘That's extremely kind of you. I'll suggest it to her when I speak to her tonight. I think you'll like her.'

They continued chatting for an hour or so until Sarah suggested they go and get some food. Harry was starting to fall asleep and she realised he needed to rest. He'd been on the go for the best part of twenty-four hours and he looked utterly shattered.

Chapter 38

Highworth was still angry that he had been out manoeuvred by Briggs. He'd spent the best part of the night trying to work out how to turn the situation to his advantage. He accepted that he couldn't just kill Briggs. Even if Briggs hadn't actually copied the file containing the evidence against him and left instructions for it to be opened in the event of anything happening to him, the death of a senior policeman would be likely to attract considerable attention whether it looked like an accident or not. Highworth went through the other options open to him one last time and decided that, at least for the moment, the most pragmatic way forward was for him to agree to Briggs' terms and pay him the ten million he'd asked for. He realised that this could be the thin end of a wedge and that Briggs could keep coming back to him for more but he reckoned he could avoid that by getting some sort of proof of Briggs' involvement. He would discuss it with Richards but they might be able to film the money being handed over or, if Briggs insisted on the money being transferred electronically, get some sort of recording of the two discussing the transfer. At least then he'd have an insurance policy against Briggs blackmailing him for more money in the future. Losing the money didn't bother him. Ten million was chickenfeed given how much he would make out of Fairweather's death. It was the feeling of vulnerability that really irritated him. He didn't like someone like Briggs, or Knowles for that matter, having power over him. He thought about Knowles. He was in no doubt that Knowles was behind this. He suspected that Knowles had gone to see Briggs, alerting him to his suspicions about Highworth, and that Briggs, close to retirement and seeing a one-off opportunity to make some real money, had decided to take matters into his own hands. Once he'd paid Briggs off he would have to deal with Knowles once and for all. ‘Another issue to discuss with Richards,' he thought to himself.

Satisfied that he'd considered all the options open to him and identified the ‘least worst', he sent a text to the mobile number Briggs had given him confirming that he would pay. He looked at his watch. Only a few hours of the forty-eight that Briggs had given him to make a decision remained. ‘Good,' thought Highworth, ‘I hope he sweated waiting for my reply.' Highworth went into the kitchen. Caroline was cooking supper. He went up behind her and wrapped his arms round her, kissing her gently on the back of the neck.

‘You're very affectionate this afternoon, what's happened?' asked his wife.

‘Nothing really,' replied Highworth. ‘I just reminded myself how lucky I am to have you.'

Caroline turned round to face him. She looked into his eyes. He was not really an emotional man and something must have prompted this. She kissed him on the lips and put her arms round his neck, pulling him towards her. Highworth responded. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes again. ‘We've got a few hours before supper will be ready,' she said, taking hold of his hand and leading him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. ‘Why don't we go and have a bath. You need to relax.'

Highworth didn't complain. He'd found a solution to his imme-diate problem. Moreover, when he'd checked Bubble.com's shares an hour or so ago, he was delighted to note that they were continuing their journey south. Their price had been 545 pence at the time of Fairweather's death but they were now selling for 350 pence due, no doubt, to the amount of television coverage that Fairweather's death continued to attract. The business correspondents were doing a fine job of stressing that it was Fairweather's personal energy that had made Bubble.com so successful. Without him, they suggested, the company's future looked bleak. Notwithstanding the company's valiant efforts to reassure the public that it remained on track to deliver Mymate, Highworth was convinced that the television coverage would lead to the price dropping even further. ‘Once it reaches 300 pence, I'll start buying,' he thought to himself. He had to honour the short sell he'd agreed to but he also wanted to buy as many shares as he could before it became apparent that, even without Fairweather, the company would actually deliver Mymate on time as it was suggesting. Once it hit the market, Highworth was confident that it would be a game changer in terms of social networking. This would cause the share price to rocket upwards and he would make the killing he so desperately wanted.

Briggs and Knowles were proving to be an irritating distraction but Highworth's confidence was beginning to return. He knew that he might well have to change the way he operated after this but he was beginning to think that he might just get away with it: Richards had dealt with the girl, or so Highworth thought; Briggs was going to ‘lose' the evidence he'd got, albeit at a cost of ten million; and Knowles, well Knowles might well have to have a nasty accident if Briggs was unable to neuter the threat he posed. Highworth started to smile as they reached the bedroom.

He pulled Caroline close and kissed her hard. Her hand went to his waist and started to undo his belt. He could feel himself responding to her touch as her hand worked its way inside his boxer shorts. ‘Life's not so bad after all,' he said to himself as he started to undo the zip at the back of Caroline's dress. She felt its tight fit begin to loosen as his hand travelled slowly down her spine, unfastening the zip. When he reached her bottom, she stepped back and, staring deep into his eyes, shrugged out of the dress. It fell to the floor at her feet. She took his hand and put it between her thighs. Delighted that she wasn't wearing any underwear, he undressed quickly and pulled Caroline down onto the bed. Within minutes, they were making love with a passion that surprised them both.

Chapter 39

Sir James Briggs was out walking his dog on Clapham Common when his phone beeped. He looked at the screen. It was the text from Highworth agreeing to pay the ten million he'd asked for. ‘Excellent,' he thought to himself. Briggs had considered his next move in considerable detail. He would ask Highworth to wire the money to a numbered offshore account that he had opened years ago. The account had been set up as part of an investigation into money laundering. He had been a relatively junior detective at the time, based in the market city of Salisbury in Wiltshire. The case was his first real exposure to the world of global finance and he'd set up the account to try and prove how easy it was for someone to transfer money from the UK to an anonymous account in an offshore bank. It had been an interesting exercise. His painstaking work eventually led to the conviction of a particularly unpleasant drug dealer but it also ignited the interest in financial crime which had eventually led him to his current appointment.

At the beginning of the investigation, Briggs had assumed that the numbered accounts advertised by some banks, particularly those in Switzerland and Lichtenstein, were still anonymous. He had therefore been surprised to learn that, since the nineties, the law had required banks operating in even the most discrete of countries to know the identities of their account holders. Though banks offering numbered accounts made every effort to keep their customers' identities secret, they can be forced to reveal the name of a particular account holder if presented with a court order. There are, however, other ways of obfuscating ownership. Briggs' research identified that opening an account in the name of an offshore company is one of the most common ways of achieving further anonymity. This company could be registered in the name of another offshore company which, in turn, could be registered in the name of another one. At the time, it had reminded Briggs of the Russian dolls that one of his aunties used to collect. He had been fascinated by them as a child. Opening the largest doll revealed an identical but smaller one which, when opened, revealed another identical but even smaller doll. A persistent team of detectives might be able to track ownership of a particular account down to what the banks call the ‘beneficiary owner' but this would take a huge amount of time and would require the sort of leverage that only governments could wield. Moreover, it is quite conceivable that, having followed the financial trail to its end, the ‘beneficiary owner' listed on the parent company's documentation could turn out to be a fictitious character set up using a false identity.

Though he admired the complexity of nested offshore companies, Briggs had taken a much more straightforward approach when he opened the offshore account as part of his investigation. He had simply asked a junior colleague on the team to open it as a numbered account using his own name as the ‘beneficiary owner'. Fortunately for Briggs, the colleague had subsequently died of natural causes and the account, which never contained anything more than the few hundred pounds necessary to open it, had been forgotten about. Briggs should have closed it at the end of the investigation but, fascinated by his introduction to white collar crime, he had left it open in case he ever needed it for further research. Somewhere in the bank's computer system the account would be annotated as belonging to a Mr S R Mason but Briggs knew that it would be unlikely to attract any unwarranted attention. It was seldom used and the annual bank charges were paid automatically from the balance in the account.

The account wasn't the most secure place to put ten million pounds but it would have to do, thought Briggs. Even if someone wished to try, it would be almost impossible for them to link the account to him. The bank, one of the Cayman Island's most discrete, would make it as difficult as possible for anyone, including a national government, to find out anything about the account, including where the ten million had come from. Checking his watch, Briggs realised that it was unlikely that Highworth would still be in his office. He decided that he would phone him the following morning on his way to work to arrange their next meeting. ‘No point in making it easy for anyone to follow what I'm doing,' he thought to himself as he walked past the phone box he intended to phone Briggs from the following morning.

Ten minutes later, he was back in his flat. It was part of a large Victorian house. Although it was comfortable, it was, felt Briggs, far too small for a man of his stature. He started to whistle as he thought of the beach house he intended to buy in Belize with some of the money that Highworth was about to give him. He liked Belize. It was still developing as a tourist destination but some of the Cayes, particularly Ambergris Caye, were sufficiently westernised that he knew he would be comfortable. In fact, he thought, it would be perfect for someone like him who wanted to keep a low profile and spend their retirement fishing and painting. He made a mental note to find out about the feasibility of taking Princess with him. He'd formed a real affection for his dog and he had no intention of leaving her behind.

Chapter 40

Harry woke up early. He realised that his body was still on Kathmandu time. He tried going back to sleep but it was no good, he was restless. He got out of bed and pulled shorts, t-shirt and trainers out of his suitcase. He dressed quickly and went downstairs. Sarah had left a note. Harry read it quickly. ‘Gone to hospital to relieve Ellie. Make yourself at home. See you later. Sarah.' He wasn't sure what time he was expected to replace her at Camilla's side but he reckoned he had time to jog a few miles before he needed to go. As he laced up his trainers, Boot started to bark. Harry thought the dog wanted to go out with him but a few minutes later he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside the house. ‘Clever boy,' said Harry, ruffling the dog's head. Harry opened the door just as Ellie was getting out of her Land Rover.

‘You're up early,' she said, smiling as she saw Harry.

‘Couldn't sleep,' he replied. ‘I thought I'd go for a jog to get the blood flowing.'

‘Good plan,' said Ellie. ‘Do you want some company?' she asked. ‘If you give me a minute to change, Boot and I'll come with you.'

Harry didn't really want to run with Ellie. He wanted to push himself, working up a sweat to rid himself of the stiffness he always felt after a long flight. He suspected he wouldn't do this if Ellie came with him but, before he could reply, she'd dashed inside to get changed. Harry looked at Boot. His legs looked so short that Harry doubted he'd be any better than he believed Ellie would be. ‘Oh well,' he thought to himself, ‘maybe I can go out again later.'

Ellie reappeared five minutes later. Harry was surprised. She looked the part in Lycra running tights and a fluorescent Ron Hill top. She told Boot to get his lead as she pulled out an old pair of trainers from a basket near the door. ‘Thanks for waiting,' she said to Harry, patting Boot as he brought the lead to her in his mouth. ‘I'll give you a quick tour of this part of the moor. It's beautiful at this time of the morning. We should see a bit of wildlife.' She opened the door and stepped outside.

Harry followed her out. There was a light drizzle and the sun was not yet fully up. Boot was clearly excited and started jumping up and down. ‘Come on the Boot,' said Ellie, jogging off down the lane with his lead. Harry caught up with her and they ran side by side down the track and into the village. A few minutes later, Ellie slowed down and opened a gate to let Boot into a long sloping field. He scampered off towards a stream at the bottom of the valley. ‘He knows where he's going,' said Harry, impressed that Ellie's breathing seemed quite normal despite running.

‘Yes. He should do, he does this most mornings,' replied Ellie, closing the gate after letting Harry through. ‘Sarah and I run most days. If we can, we go out with Boot before work but sometimes we can't and he doesn't get to go out until the evening.'

Ellie started down the hill. She was an economical runner, with a long stride and an easy gait. As he watched her out of the corner of his eye, Harry started to have doubts about his initial assessment of her running ability. Camilla wouldn't run to save her life and he'd wrongly assumed that her friends would have a similar view of exercise. His doubts turned into concerns as they started up the other side of the valley. Ellie showed no signs of slowing down. More worryingly, she seemed able to maintain a coherent conversation as she ran, pointing out local landmarks and fleeting glimpses of animals as they followed the track up the hill. Ellie slowed down when they reached the top of the hill. ‘Long or short?' She asked Harry.

‘Long,' he replied, wondering if he would regret this show of soldierly bravado.

‘I thought you'd say that,' said Ellie smiling. ‘I'll take you down the next valley towards Hound Tor. You'll see it on the horizon. There's a killer hill up to the car park and then we'll swing back, following the road. It'll take us about an hour if you're up for it.'

‘OK,' said Harry. ‘Let's go.'

Ellie set off at an easy pace. They followed an old track that ran along the far side of the valley before heading down through a wooded area towards the stream. Boot was clearly enjoying himself, running well ahead of them and then diving off the track and into the undergrowth when he heard or saw something of particular interest. After about fifteen minutes, the track reached the stream. They crossed over using stepping stones that looked as though they had been there for hundreds of years. The track continued along the side of the stream, climbing slowly up towards the head of the valley. Ellie's pace never faltered. She maintained a steady rhythm, jumping the odd fallen branch with ease. Harry realised that she was extremely fit and suspected that, if she chose, she could increase her speed without too much difficulty. They turned a corner and, as the trees cleared, Harry could see the track leading up to the car park. It was impressively steep. ‘The next bit's a bugger,' said Ellie, turning to look at Harry. ‘We normally race up this bit and stop at the car park at the top. Sarah calls it ‘butt hill' because she thinks it's good for her bottom. I'm not so sure about that but it certainly gets you breathing hard,' said Ellie with a laugh. ‘Ready?' asked Ellie.

‘OK,' said Harry, suspecting he would regret this. He kept his thoughts on the hill's effects on Sarah's bottom to himself, though he secretly agreed that the hill deserved its name. Ellie started up towards the car park, increasing her pace until she was breathing hard. Harry struggled to keep up with her but he was determined that he wouldn't fall behind. They ran side by side, both straining to maintain what even a professional athlete would call a ‘good pace'. After five or six minutes of real effort, they reached the car park. Boot was waiting for them, his tail wagging with excitement.

‘He always beats us,' said Ellie, ruffling Boot's head. ‘He may be small but he's incredibly fit. He won the dog race at Widdecombe Summer Fair last year so he thinks he's a bit of an expert.'

‘You have a dog race here?' asked Harry.

‘Yes. It's just a bit of fun really.' She started to laugh as she remem-bered last year's race. ‘Loads of dogs line up and sprint about forty metres to a finish line. Half of them leave the track and go and find their owners. It's absolute chaos. But some of the dogs, like Boot, are highly disciplined professionals who don't like the idea of coming second at all!'

‘It's a very different life down here isn't it?' said Harry thoughtfully, thinking of the life he'd shared with Camilla in London.

‘It is and it's as near to perfection as I suspect I'll ever get,' replied Ellie. ‘If you've got your breath back, we can jog slowly home. And I mean jog. I let you push me on the outward leg but let's agree just to enjoy the scenery on the way back.'

‘OK,' replied Harry, pleased that Ellie had found the run hard. His thoughts started to wander as they followed the road home. He'd never really thought about it before but he could see himself settling down somewhere like Dartmoor. He'd always assumed that he would crave the exotic excitement that places like Kathmandu seemed to offer. But with the right partner he could see the attraction of a house deep in the British countryside with friends like Ellie and Sarah popping in for dinner. ‘A dog would be nice, something a bit bigger than Boot,' he thought to himself. He realised that for the first time in his life he was starting to think about putting down roots. He'd never really done this before because he wanted to be able to travel and work wherever he chose. Dogs, houses, cars and other possessions seemed to him to anchor you to a particular place. They made it difficult to be impulsive and meant that you couldn't just leave whenever you chose. ‘Maybe that's not a bad thing,' he said to himself. He wondered whether Lucy liked dogs. He vowed to ask her when they next spoke.

Eventually, they arrived back at Ellie's house. Though they'd tried to keep the pace to an easy jog, the last mile or so had been quite fast and they were both breathing hard.

‘Whenever you run with someone else, you always end up going faster than you'd really like,' said Ellie, opening the front door and leading the way into the house. ‘But thank you for letting me come with you, I appreciate it.'

‘I should thank you,' said Harry. ‘It's beautiful here. I can see why you've settled down in this part of the world. I wouldn't have seen as much of it if you hadn't given me the guided tour.'

‘If we get showered and changed, I'll drive you to the hospital. We need to give Sarah a break and she and I need to do a few things in Exeter.'

‘Are you sure?' asked Harry, ‘I'm happy to drive.'

‘No, that's fine,' said Ellie. ‘But before we go, could you give me a hand to bring some logs up from the cellar? We like to keep the burner going throughout the day at this time of year and the cellar is the best place to dry them out before we add them to the pile next to the stove.'

‘OK. Where's the cellar?' asked Harry. He was intrigued as he couldn't see an obvious door that looked like it would go downstairs.'

‘It's here,' said Ellie, pulling back one of the rugs. Harry could see a large trapdoor set neatly set into the floorboards. It looked like something off a ship. It had a sunken brass handle set at one end and two large brass hinges at the other. Ellie opened the hinged handle and pulled the trapdoor open. It was heavy but it had two weights acting as a counter balance and Ellie was therefore able to open it without too much effort. A wide wooden staircase led down into the dark. Ellie pressed a switch at the top of the steps and the lights in the cellar burst into life. ‘Follow me,' said Ellie, going down into the cellar. Harry followed. It was huge, running the full length of the house. The walls were made of brick but had been painted brilliant white. Harry noticed that the girls had set up a very basic gym at the far end of the room. A heavy duty treadmill and a weights bench were set up on two sides of a large square gym mat. A punch bag hung from a beam in the centre and Harry could see gloves, head guards and pads on a shelf behind the treadmill.

‘Very impressive,' he said. ‘Do you use it much?'

‘Only in winter. If we can't face running in the driving rain first thing in the morning, we come down here. It's all right for the moment but, if we ever have enough money, we're going to put a proper staircase in and turn it into a cinema room, games room and proper gym. It's got no central heating at the moment so it's too cold to use for watching TV, although it's alright in the summer. We had some great parties here in July and August!'

Ellie showed him the pile of wood that she and Sarah had stacked against one of the walls. ‘If you could grab as many of those logs as you can and take them upstairs, that would be great.'

Harry did as he was asked. They did two trips each, stacking the logs in the fireplace either side of the stove. ‘By the time we get back from the hospital, they'll be perfect,' said Ellie, rubbing her hands to get rid of cobwebs. ‘I'm going to have a shower,' she said. ‘If we meet down here in about thirty minutes, we'll have time for a coffee before we go.'

‘OK,' said Harry, following her upstairs to the bedrooms.

He closed his bedroom door and sat on the bed to check his phone. There was a message from Lucy: ‘Funeral went well. Managed to get early flight to Exeter. Arriving tomorrow morning at 0700hrs. Will hire car. Can you send directions? XXX'. He smiled, something he found himself doing a lot when he thought of Lucy, and sent a text back telling her that he'd meet her at the airport. He then undressed and showered, changing quickly into jeans, t-shirt and fleece. Fifteen minutes later, he was downstairs making the coffee. He was looking forward to seeing Lucy again. He was also intrigued to know what it was that she'd found out but didn't want to tell him on the phone when they'd spoken the previous day. Ellie and Sarah had both already suggested that Lucy stay with them at the farmhouse, at least for a few days until they knew what they were going to do next.

Ellie joined him ten minutes later. She was wearing a slim fitting dress with an expensive looking cardigan over the top. He handed her a cup of coffee. ‘You look very nice,' he said, passing her the milk.

‘I'm taking Sarah for lunch. My treat. I had a bet with her about the Tors. I lost. I said there were only about a hundred. She said there were far more and showed me a website that listed over four hundred named Tors. Even allowing for some of them being known by three or four different names, I had to agree that there were more than a hundred. So I owe her lunch and, as we're in Exeter anyway, we thought we'd go today.'

They continued chatting as they drank their coffee. Ten minutes later, they left the house, climbed into Ellie's Land Rover and set off for the hospital. Neither of them saw the man in walking clothes and flat hat watching them through the window from a table inside the pub. But then he wasn't remarkable in any way, just a middle aged walker enjoying a morning coffee with a local newspaper. Nothing could be more normal in the middle of Dartmoor.