Fault Line - Retail (48 page)

‘Unlike me.’

Lashley frowned curiously at me. ‘Well, that’s true, since you mention it.’

‘Was I his replacement, Greville?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I remember you congratulating me on my handling of the situation after Francis died. Later, you went to great lengths to recruit me into the company. I became your troubleshooter. You dubbed me that yourself. I was more scrupulous than Strake, of course, but also more reliable. As I demonstrated, presumably to your satisfaction, at the time of Muriel’s kidnapping.’

‘Your help was invaluable. No question about it.’

‘But there is a question, Greville. A very troubling one. Was Muriel getting suspicious about your path to the top – too suspicious for you to tolerate any longer?’

His frown deepened. ‘What exactly are you suggesting, Jonathan?’

‘That the kidnapping might not have been all it appeared. That you might have … arranged it.’

He looked away, into the sunlight flooding through the French windows. ‘You think I paid the Camorra to kidnap Muriel and later kill her?’

‘Well? Did you?’

He sighed. ‘How would I know how to contact such people?’

‘Maybe you used Paolo Verdelli. Whose own elimination, once he’d served his purpose, was the one part of the deal he didn’t know about.’

‘In effect, then,
I
sabotaged the handover and ensured Muriel wouldn’t be released alive?’

‘Yes. Freeing you to marry into the Hudson family and thereby acquire a position of ascendancy in the international china clay business.’

‘That would make me … some kind of monster, surely. A ruthless murderer … without moral compunction.’

‘You tell me what it would make you.’

‘You’re actually asking the wrong question, Jonathan.’ He turned back to face me. ‘Why would I hire Doctor Whitworth to write a company history, with all these skeletons rattling in the cupboard?’

‘I don’t know. Why would you?’

‘Did Doctor Whitworth suggest a reason?’

‘She thought vanity might have addled your judgement.’

‘Really?’ He smiled. ‘Well, vanity is part of it, certainly. But it’s a finely judged part. Doctor Whitworth is a high-minded academic. No one can buy her silence. She’ll make her findings known. I think we can rely on that. I
am
relying on it.’

‘You
want
all this to be known?’

‘Certainly. That’s why I sent you to find the missing records. So that she could complete her task. When I realized the scale of Oliver’s interference with the files, some time after they’d been transferred to CCC’s offices, I removed them for safekeeping – to the basement at Nanstrassoe House. When we sold Nanstrassoe, I moved them to Wavecrest. I took Adam into my confidence at that time about my deal with Percy Faull. It only increased his respect for me. He realized I was more devious than he could ever be. He wanted to destroy the records, of course. But I insisted we keep them.’

‘Why?’

‘I told Adam I wanted to be able to consult them from time to time. Not that I ever did. But he wouldn’t disobey me. He wouldn’t dare to. That was the measure of his weakness. The records were safe with him.’

‘Did he know you’d left a memo about the Trudgeon contract under the shelving unit in the Wren’s cage at CCC?’

‘Certainly not. I placed it there in case you needed a helping hand when you started your search.’

‘You were determined I should succeed?’

‘I never seriously doubted you would. It was a foregone conclusion. I’m sorry the exercise almost got you killed. I had no idea Adam possessed a gun – or was desperate enough to use it. I
suppose
that was partly my fault. I convinced him that if the truth ever came out I’d forfeit my majority shareholding in IK, effectively disinheriting him. He had expensive habits. He couldn’t bear to think he might have to … economize.’

‘You could simply have told me the truth.’

‘But then we wouldn’t have Doctor Whitworth on hand to broadcast it to the world, would we?’

‘Why do you want her to do that? It’ll ruin you.’

‘Don’t you think I deserve to be ruined?’

I stared at him, unable to assimilate the reality of what he was saying. I’d known him most of my life. I’d admired him. I’d trusted him. Now, when he was old and frail and our professional association was nearly at an end, he’d chosen to reveal the truth I’d unwittingly served. I should have been angrier than I was, but sheer disbelief still held me back. ‘Are you trying to clear your conscience, Greville? Is that what this is all about – absolution before you meet your maker?’

He took a sip of whisky and studied the amber depths of it for a moment, then said, ‘I can understand why you might think so. Old age inevitably focuses one’s thoughts on the possibilities of the hereafter. Of course, I might also be reluctant to die without giving everyone a chance to appreciate how very clever I’ve been. That would count as vanity, though not quite of the kind Doctor Whitworth has in mind.’

‘Is your
vanity
served by all the damage you’ve done?’

‘What damage?’

‘Ken Foster. Francis. Oliver. Muriel. And your own son. You pretty effectively screwed him up. Not to mention Vivien. You wrecked her whole life.’

‘Did I?’ He frowned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t subscribe to your concept of cause and effect. I obliged Ken and Francis to confront the consequences of their actions. They did so in their own way. Oliver too chose his own path. If anyone “screwed up” Adam’s life, it was Adam himself. As for Vivien, the tragedies of the family she married into are what brought her to her present sorry pass. I’m not responsible for them.’

‘And Muriel? What have you got to say about her?’

‘I say I knew her better than anyone. I was married to her for twenty-two years. She had an uncompromising side to her character. It wasn’t always an asset.’

‘You had her killed, for God’s sake. And I’m not sure you hadn’t already killed her son sixteen years earlier.’

‘I can’t stop you thinking that. But, really, where’s the evidence? The post mortem turned up nothing to suggest Oliver was murdered. As for Muriel, isn’t it more likely – far more likely – that Verdelli was responsible for her kidnapping, with no prompting from me? It’s what the police concluded at the time. I rather think it’s what they’d conclude now too, whatever you told them.’

‘So you’re just going to stand or fall on what’s provable, are you?’

‘We all have to. It’s the way of the world. It’s the law.’

‘What law have you been obeying all these years, Greville? Dog eat dog? Devil take the hindmost? King of the dunghill?’

‘I’ve done what I’ve done and plenty of people besides me, including you, have benefited as a result. I’ve made money and so have those who’ve worked with me and for me. I’ve looked necessity in the face and I haven’t flinched.’

‘Well, bully for you.’

‘Would you top up my whisky, Jonathan?’ He slid the nearly empty tumbler towards me. ‘There’s something important I have to explain to you. Something more important than anything I’ve yet said.’

I considered telling him to fetch his own drink. But I felt in need of another myself. And I didn’t want to risk being made to feel sorry for him by watching him struggle across the room. I collected the whisky bottle from the cabinet and refilled both our glasses. ‘Well?’ I demanded.

‘
Slàinte
,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘Here’s to you.’

‘What?’

‘To you, Jonathan. The new chairman of Intercontinental Kaolins.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘The future. Yours and the company’s. I’m passing ownership of
my
majority shareholding over to you. The transfer document’s with my lawyer. He assures me it’s legally watertight.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘But I am. I’ve chosen you as my successor. Frankly, I can’t think of anyone better qualified. Certainly not Presley Beaumont or any of my spineless fellow directors. No, no. You’re the one, Jonathan. This hasn’t been about my conscience, you see. It’s been about yours. I wanted you to understand what you’ll be taking on. I wanted you to be able to make a clean break with the past and a fresh start in your own name. The company’s yours. To take in whatever direction you judge best. I know you have reservations about our activities in Brazil. Now you’ll be free to act on them. Our share price will take a knock when Doctor Whitworth publicizes her findings, of course. But you’ll turn it round. I know you will.’

‘What makes you think I’d consider taking over from you for one moment?’

‘The staff. They’ll need someone to steer them through this. Your colleagues, Jonathan. Men and women with families to support and pensions to look forward to. You’ll do it for them. I’ve been planning this for some time. I decided from the outset that you deserved to know the whole story. Then there couldn’t be any nasty surprises for you after you’d taken the reins. I engaged Doctor Whitworth to write the company’s history so that, when the truth came out, Adam would blame me – his foolish old father – rather than you. He’d certainly have been looking for someone to blame when he discovered he wasn’t going to get control of the company. As it is, he’ll never know that now. As for Jacqueline and Michelle, they’re generously provided for. I doubt they’ll contest the arrangement. And Vivien? Well, if you think she needs help, you’ll be able to provide it, won’t you?’

I stared at him, appalled by the blatancy of his proposal. ‘I’m not going to do it.’

He smiled. ‘Yes, you are. You just don’t know it yet. I struck up an acquaintance with Countess Covelli in the last few years before she died, you know. A shrewd woman. I miss her. She asked me
once,
after Adam had been here, making an oaf of himself as usual, whether I wouldn’t have preferred you as a son. I admitted to her that I would. So, what I’m doing is natural enough in its way. From now on, you’re the boss.’

FORTY-THREE

I HAD TO
get out of the villa. I needed time and space to think in. I headed down to Marina Piccola, where a stiffish breeze was getting up and a high surf was running. I walked out on to the rocks and let myself be buffeted by the wind and the spray of the breaking waves. I stood there, assailed by the contradictions and compromises of a lifetime that Lashley had held in the palm of his hand and blown away with a single puff of his failing breath. So much for the truth. Knowing, it seemed, was worse than not knowing.

I found a bar and downed a few beers. They didn’t help. I felt hollowed out and overwhelmed. I was going to be a wealthy man, apparently, wealthy and powerful. I could give it all away, of course. I could frustrate Lashley’s last act of manipulation. But the best way to ensure he answered for what he’d done was to accept the authority he was determined to confer on me. He knew that, of course. He was expert at baiting a trap.

It was growing dark when I returned to the villa. Elena was there, cooking a meal for me on Lashley’s instructions. She’d become a virtual replica of her late mother. She was, I guessed, about the same age Patrizia had been when I first visited Capri back in the long ago summer of 1969.

‘It is good to see you again, Jonathan,’ she said, hugging me. ‘But
Signor
Lashley said you are here only for one night. He is going to England with you tomorrow.’

‘He said that?’

‘
Si
. Is it not right?’

‘No, no. It’s right. Of course. That’s the plan.’

It was a calculated gesture on Lashley’s part. ‘From now on,’ he’d said, ‘you’re the boss.’ And this, he knew, was the least I’d require of him. He was surrendering himself to my judgement by agreeing to what I hadn’t yet demanded.

I didn’t see him that evening. He stayed in his room. He was tired, Elena said. ‘He is tired often, Jonathan. He is very old.’ She took him some broth, then left. She’d made up my usual room. There was to be no escape from the past. I was relieved I’d only be there one night. Whatever the consequences of Lashley’s revelations were to be, I wanted to face them without delay.

I slept poorly and was up early in the morning. Lashley still hadn’t shown himself by the time Elena arrived. She cooked me an omelette before taking him up a cup of his favourite Assam tea.

The telephone rang just after she left the kitchen. I hadn’t switched my mobile on since arriving, or even checked it for messages, fearing there’d be several I wasn’t ready to respond to. I had an instinct the call was from someone who’d already left such a message. I was tempted to ignore it. But for some reason the answering machine didn’t cut in and the telephone went on ringing. Eventually, I picked it up.

‘Hello?’

‘Jonathan.’ It was Vivien, instantly recognizable in her soft, sorrowful announcement of my name. She wasn’t one of those I’d expected to hear from, though she was the one I was most dreading having to relate Lashley’s confession to.

‘Vivien. This is a surprise.’ It was more than that. She wasn’t supposed to know I’d come to Capri. Though it was clear from the
tone
of her voice that she did. ‘How did you … track me down?’

‘I went to see you at the White Hart on Sunday. But you’d gone. Without even saying goodbye.’

‘I’m not going to be gone long. In fact—’

‘Pete Newlove told me everything.’

‘What?’

‘He had to, considering the state I was in. It’s better this way, believe me – better that I should know. Has Greville … admitted it’s true?’

‘Yes.’ There it was: so much encompassed in a simple affirmation. ‘He has.’

‘I want to see him.’

‘You soon will. He’s agreed to come back with me to Cornwall.’

‘It can be sooner than that. I’m in Naples. At the ferry dock.’

‘You are?’

‘I couldn’t sit in St Austell and wait. I have to hear it – all of it – from his own lips. The ferry leaves in ten minutes. Will you meet me … at Marina Grande?’

‘Of course. Yes. I’ll be there.’

‘Thank you.’ Her gratitude seemed to extend beyond the simple thing I’d agreed to do. ‘I realized something on the flight out, Jonathan. I realized you’re the only person I’ve loved who hasn’t died or betrayed me.’