Blazing Obsession (8 page)

I decided not to contact Lynne until the next day. It would give her a chance to get back to something approaching normal life with Georgie.

I called Margaret instead to get a handle on Lynne's current state of mind. She confirmed that Lynne and Georgie both needed rest and that the experience had affected them badly.

“Do you think they're up to seeing me soon?”

“I'd give it another few days if I were you. Lynne needs to get her head around what to say to you. She thought you were wonderful, James. You won her over. But then all this business with Nick. She can't help but think if she'd never met you, none of this would have happened. You can see why she's a bit confused, can't you?”

“Yes, I can,” I said. “I understand. That's fine. Please give them my love. Tell her I'll call her soon.”

Of course, it wasn't bloody fine. I ached to be with her, Georgie and the ‘Bump'.

*

Later that day, I received a call from Peter.

“Can you pop in, James? Something's cropped up you should know about.”

“What is it?” I said.

“It's best discussed in person, I think.” He sounded on edge. I arrived in my office fifteen minutes later. Peter walked in looking hugely embarrassed.

“I'm sorry, James. I don't know how to put this… the auditors have finished their audit. They've discovered a problem.”

“What do you mean? Everything's OK isn't it?”

“Well, no, actually it isn't. It's serious.” He couldn't look me in the eye.

“What the hell's wrong, Peter?”

“I hate to have to tell you, but we've been the victim of a major fraud in our car leasing division.”

He explained that the auditors had discovered that payments from the finance company we used to fund the cars we subsequently leased out never reached our bank. They'd been siphoned off to a number of separate bank accounts in different names. The computer records had been hacked into and amended to cover the shortfall. The auditors called it a classic case of ‘teeming and lading'. Twenty cars were involved with a total value of well over half-a-million pounds. Just what I needed.

“Who did this, Peter?”

“There's only one person who could have hacked into the computer; John Hartley.”

“What? Our leasing manager? Surely not. He did well in the first few months, didn't he? You, yourself described him as a born salesman. You said he could out-charm Prince Charming.”

“I know. Maybe I trusted him too much. I let him get on with it. He appeared so… capable.”

Suddenly it made sense. Two months earlier, in early February, shortly after our review meeting, when we'd praised his sales performance, Hartley had asked to see me.

In his cultured voice, he'd said, “I'm afraid I have to resign with immediate affect. I've got a personal problem I need to sort out. I thought I ought to let you know.”

He'd sounded genuinely contrite – totally the opposite of his cocky self.

“I'm sorry to hear that, John. What problems? Anything we can do to help? I don't want to lose you.”

“I know. I've enjoyed it here. I don't want it broadcast but my wife's been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I need to be with her at this time.” His eyes welled up.

I'd suggested several possible solutions, offering to keep his job open or allowing him to work from home for a while, but he'd rejected my offers.

Although he'd proved a great success in the job, I never came to terms with his attitude. I now realised that when he'd bullied one of our staff it was probably to do with covering up the fraud.

Furious with Peter, I yelled, “How the bloody hell did you allow this to happen? You're the computer whizz. You should have ensured our programs were safe from hackers.”

Staring down at the ground, he shuffled from foot to foot.

“Christ, Peter!”

“Do you want me to resign?”

“No, of course not. Can we cover the loss?”

“It'll be difficult. I'll have to talk to the bank, but I think so.”

“What a bastard! Look, why don't you check on Hartley's whereabouts, try to contact him. It's probably a useless exercise, but it's worth a try.”

My ego wouldn't let me admit I'd been fooled. It represented a giant blot on our stewardship of the business, which we coveted. If news got out, I couldn't face my fellow businessmen or the vehicle manufacturers. Bad enough that the bank had to be involved.

I persuaded Peter not to call in the fraud squad. “We don't need to magnify the problem and get unwelcome publicity,” I said. “Anyway, the money's probably been spent or tucked away in a Swiss bank account by now.”

Our auditors' role was to provide an audit report for the shareholders, Peter and me, so no one else was involved.

That evening, Peter visited Hartley's address, only to find the place locked up with the curtains drawn. He spoke to a next-door neighbour, Mrs Matthews, who knew the Hartleys well.

“Haven't seen them lately. They just disappeared overnight. It's unlike them not to let me know when they're away.”

Peter asked about Mrs Hartley's health.

“Cancer? No, she didn't have cancer. She'd have told me. We shared a lot of stuff over the years.”

*

Next morning, I couldn't wait any longer. I called Lynne. She sounded cool and matter-of-fact. I found it difficult to gauge whether she wanted to hear from me or not. But at least she agreed to see me that night.

Opening the door, she smiled weakly, nothing like the smile she usually reserved for me. She looked as beautiful as ever, but the sparkle in her eyes, her best feature in my book, was missing.

She still enthralled me. I hugged her and kissed her on the lips, taking her by surprise, pleased she didn't rebuff me. I'd brought flowers and a bottle of non-alcoholic fizzy wine.

Placing the bottle on the table, I said, “Thought we should celebrate your return by drinking fake champagne. What do you think?”

“Why not? I'm just glad to be home. Thanks for the flowers.”

She'd clearly made an effort to look good, wearing a long flowing dress, disguising the fact that she was nearly six months pregnant. I asked her how she felt.

“Well, considering all that's happened, not bad. A bit tired, that's all. I'm going for a check-up next week. We'll know if everything's ok then.”

“Good.” After I'd poured the ‘champagne', I proposed a toast.

“Congratulations on all of us returning home safely. You did a fantastic job on getting Nick to cooperate.”

“I don't know how I did it. Thank goodness, he believed me. On the plane coming home, I had a few anxious moments. He asked me whether the police really would drop the charges against him. ‘Of course', I said. Then he made me promise him we'd be ok together.”

She shuddered and continued, “Then I panicked. What if the police didn't arrest Nick? I'd be back where I started; living with someone I detested more than I did before.”

She had no idea how pleased I was to hear her say that.

I held her hand and said, “Well, the main thing is you have Georgie back. He's been through a lot too, but hopefully when he gets back into the routine of home and seeing his mates at school he'll settle down. I want to help. If there's anything I can do, I will.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“What does Georgie think about his father now?”

“Well, I told him his father had done bad things and that it's most likely he won't see him for a while. He gave me the impression he accepted it, but he's hard to read at the moment.”

“He needs time. I know this sounds daft, but actually, I'm feeling sorry for Nick. I'd have been perfectly happy for him to have as much contact as he wanted. But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you as well. He's brought all this on himself. He's screwed up his life.”

“Don't tell me. He's been doing that for as long as I've known him.”

We chatted until the early hours. As I left, I turned to her and said, “Look, you and Georgie are back home, Nick's out of the picture and you're expecting my baby. Why don't we get married?”

“I'm not ready yet, James. I need a bit of time to get over this… Nick business.”

“Do you blame me for what happened? Is that it?”

“No… not really. I'm confused, that's all. I need more time to sort myself out. Let's carry on as we are for a while.”

I didn't push the point. “OK. If that's what you want.”

I tapped her bump and said, “Look after that baby of ours,” then hugged her tightly and kissed her neck. Her smile became broader and the sparkle in her eyes appeared brighter.

*

Two days later, as I arrived at my office, Peter rushed in. He thrust a photocopy of a press cutting from
The Times,
dated 20th February 1996, in front of me.

John William Hartley had been sentenced to five years imprisonment for embezzling funds from a charity organisation he'd worked for before his time with us.

The press cutting mentioned that he'd also been convicted of causing actual bodily harm to one of the organisers.

Peter said, “I've been digging around. Spoke to one of our customers who knew we'd employed Hartley. He remembered something in the papers about him. I checked back through the archives on various websites. It took me ages, but this is what I found. Don't know how we missed it. At least, it explains why he went AWOL.”

“Didn't you check his references?”

“Well, as he'd been taken on by the Greenwich business before we took it over, I assumed they'd checked. I've since gone through his file and the references were impeccable. Obviously forged. We've been well and truly conned.”

“You could say that.”

I didn't blame Peter. Especially when I thought about the time I attended a two-day leasing conference in Birmingham with Hartley. Peter couldn't make it, but as it represented a good networking opportunity, I went in his place and spent a lot of time with Hartley.

We didn't talk about relationships or anything deep, men seldom do, more sports and business. I only knew he was married, no kids. Although he said he'd have liked one.

I found him tolerable enough, although his self-confidence could be overpowering. What separated him from anybody else I ever knew was his ability to draw people into his network – big hitters included. They attached themselves to him like steel pins to a magnet. Once under his control, he manipulated them at will. The ultimate salesman… or con man.

He had the balls to steal from me whilst simultaneously building my business. He'd got to me too.

*

For the next two months, we became a family again. Lynne's mood brightened and we got close to how we used to be before Georgie's abduction.

I talked to him a lot, but the chatty, ebullient Georgie I'd known before the abduction had been replaced by a brooding, quiet boy. Except when we chatted about his passion for football and his mates at school. Only then did he become animated.

I deliberately didn't raise the subject of his father with him; I thought he'd talk to me about it when he wanted to.

Just a matter of time, I reasoned.

*

At Nick's trial for abduction and drug dealing on Monday 23
^rd
June at the Inner London Crown Court in Newington Causeway, on London's south bank, he pleaded guilty in the face of the overwhelming evidence against him. This meant a heavily pregnant Lynne wouldn't to have to face him in court. I imagined him vaulting the dock and carrying out his promise of throttling her to death.

DS Evans called me shortly after the trial.

“He got three years for the abduction and four years for drug dealing, the sentences to be served consecutively. We're pretty pleased with that. I'm sure you are too.”

I thanked him for his help and understanding. I called Lynne with the news.

“Good. At least we can get on with our lives now without that bastard screwing it up!” I wasn't sure whether by ‘our lives' she meant together or apart. But her feelings for Nick were abundantly clear.

With the trial out of the way, we focussed on the arrangements for our big event. Our baby was due on 15th August. I couldn't believe how obsessed and excited I'd become about it, looking at families with babies in the street, inspecting and discussing with them the merits of the buggy they were using. It became a major topic of conversation between Lynne, her mother and me.

We had endless discussions about the baby's name. I favoured Jack or Josh for a boy and Lynne preferred Jess or Emily for a girl.

Emily's birth two weeks prematurely at the Royal Hospital in Whitechapel, at 2.24pm on 31
^st
July, weighing six pounds two ounces, proved to be the most emotional experience of my life.

I regretted my parents hadn't lived long enough to see their granddaughter. As their only child, they'd often told me they looked forward to being grandparents one day. Their death in the car crash over twenty years ago still haunted me.

Gowned-up and present at the birth, the midwife asked if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord, which I did. I couldn't have been happier.

Then she handed the most precious blonde bundle to Lynne, whose joyous face made me want to cry. Then she passed her to me.

“She's gorgeous. What a beauty!” I said, as I peered into her tiny face. I'll never forget the warmth of her body steadily breathing next to mine and the indescribable smell of a brand new human being I'd help create.

*

Emily became the sole focus of attention for the following few months, to the detriment of everything else. Lynne's mother, too, devoted herself to her granddaughter's welfare. Emily took her milk from Lynne greedily and from week to week grew bigger, stronger… and noisier.