The Anvil (20 page)

Rives had been awake since the early hours of the morning, wondering how to find out more about Von Jonek without arousing suspicion. The truth was that he had not come up with any good ideas at all. He had said to MacLean that he would do what he could but, in the circumstances, that was almost tantamount to a promise. He was beginning to feel the pressure. It was a bit late to start cultivating friendships in other departments and far too risky just to walk in and start asking about Von Jonek. But what else could he do?

Rives parked the Citroen in his usual space in the underground car park and walked to the staff elevator. Perhaps inspiration would visit him during the course of the morning. The elevator took him swiftly to the third floor where he stepped out on to the green carpeted floors of Accounts.

Rives’ in-tray was full enough to occupy his complete attention for some time. Large International companies like Lehman Steiner were constantly obliged to review their pricing policy in individual countries to take account of local developments. He was currently working on the pricing of the company’s products in Belgium, making projections of the likely movement of the Belgian economy and re-pricing their goods accordingly.

Rives typed in his personal identity code to the computer terminal and asked for the company’s current holding in Belgium. The screen blinked then provided him with the figures. He matched them to the data sheet listing all Lehman Steiner’s assets in Belgium. The present position was satisfactory but he asked for spreadsheet predictions of profit margins and found that figures would still be within acceptable limits unless anything really untoward happened. He wrote his recommendation on the front of the file, ‘No action required’ and flipped it into the out-tray.

Rives was about to clear the screen when an idea came to him, a mathematical idea, the kind he was most at home with. The screen was showing him one side of an equation, the company’s investment in Belgium while the Belgian asset sheet was giving him the other side of the equation; what the company had to show for their money. One side matched the other; left hand equalled right hand with perfect balance. There were no embarrassing leftovers to send audit clerks scurrying into action like ants at a picnic.

Eighteen million dollars was a lot of money even by Lehman Steiner’s standards so, somewhere in the system, it must be responsible for quite a remarkable imbalance. If only he could find out where. Such a sum must involve a lot of people, he surmised, so there was little chance that an operation of that magnitude could be covered up here in the Swiss research labs. The X14 project was most likely located in another European country and this was where his idea came in. By conducting an assets versus holdings survey for all the company’s European holdings he just might be able to spot the country which harboured an 18 million-dollar imbalance.

Rives was excited at the thought but reminded himself that there was still a possibility that X14 might be based at one of the company’s many out-of-the-way clinics in Switzerland. If that turned out to be the case he would be stumped. Swiss accounts were the province of ‘Home Accounts’. His department was only concerned with Lehman Steiner’s foreign interests.

Rives brought sandwiches to his desk at lunchtime but that still didn’t give him enough time to carry out the survey he planned; he decided that he would have to work late. He went back to working through his in-tray so as to prevent anyone noticing a log jam developing on his desk. When he had cleared that he would get back to doing equations. At four thirty in the afternoon he telephoned Eva at the clinic to say that he would be late home. A secretary said that she would pass on the message.

As dusk crept over Geneva and the office became deserted, Rives turned on his desk light and buckled down to his task. He was oblivious to the fact that darkness was gradually surrounding him like a silent ocean leaving him on a small island of light in the shadows. At eight o’ clock he thought that he had struck gold. He had found a large imbalance in the French equation. True, it was not as much as 18 million dollars but sizeable nevertheless. He re-checked the numbers and currency conversion figures and found them accurate. There was no mistake, the computer still said that the company had much more invested in France than the asset list would warrant. He checked the date on the survey and saw that it was five days old. The sheets were updated once a week so it was possible that the company had spent a lot of money in France in the last week but on what?

Rives racked his brain then thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead in annoyance as he remembered. On Pharmacies! That’s what! He had just remembered reading in the financial press that Lehman Steiner had been bidding for a controlling interest in a chain of French Pharmacies because they wanted their own retail outlet in France. The computer was telling him that the company’s bid had been successful. The chain had simply not yet been listed in the company’s French assets. Failure let tiredness gain an edge on Rives. He needed a drink and he was hungry. He would try the equation for the Netherlands and then call it a day. He was home by nine thirty.

Eva was excited when Rives told her what he had been doing and her enthusiasm went some way towards re-kindling his own. He had been feeling depressed on the way home but maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea after all. He rubbed his eyes and said, ‘Do you know, when you look at a computer screen all day long everything starts to look pink … ‘

Eva, who was standing behind his chair massaging his neck, switched to running her fingertips gently along his eyebrows. Rives sighed in appreciation. ‘Do you think I should call your friend and tell him?’ he asked.

Eva thought for a moment then said, ‘Let’s leave it until tomorrow. Who knows? You may have something more exciting to tell him.’

MacLean was restless. He kept telling himself that he had made good progress since his arrival in Geneva but the fact remained that today had been a day when nothing had happened. The minutes had passed like hours, each one laden with the accusation that Carrie was lying in hospital while he was doing nothing. But there was nothing he could do. His best chance of finding Von Jonek currently lay with Rives and he’d heard nothing from him or Eva. He wondered if he should call them but knew that Eva would have called him if there had been any progress. For him to call would be an invasion of their privacy and he’d already been guilty of that.

He walked over to the window and took in that it was still raining; it had rained all day, making him feel like a caged animal in the hotel room. He poured himself a tumbler of whisky and drank it more quickly than was good for him but it took the edge off things. By the time he had downed a second glass, he felt like sleeping.

When he woke the sun was streaming in through half closed curtains. There were still raindrops on the window and he could see their pattern reflected on the wall opposite. The last time he had looked at such a pattern it had been made by falling snow and he had been in Tansy’s bungalow but he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on this; it would only lead to more self-recrimination. Instead, encouraged by the sunshine, he got up, showered and dressed. He left the hotel without eating breakfast, wanting to be out in the fresh air before the traffic started to build but, after an hour, the smell of coffee and freshly baked bread in the air reminded him that he should eat. He stopped at a small cafe near the Cathedral St Pierre and ordered orange juice, scrambled eggs and coffee. The waitress was a smiling girl who asked if he was a tourist. MacLean wondered briefly what made her think that before deducing that it must be his clothes, smart but casual. He was neither a workman nor a professional and his French, although good, was accented. He agreed that he was and the girl suggested some places nearby that he might like to visit. MacLean thanked her and set off when he’d finished eating in the direction of the Rue de Rhone.

He found reminders of his past life as he walked past the jewellers where he had bought Jutte’s birthday present only the week before she died. He paused briefly to look in the window and rested the tips of his fingers lightly on the glass for a few seconds before moving on past other expensive shops, which had once contributed significantly to his lifestyle: they now seemed very alien. He turned his back on them and set out to find freedom down by the shores of the lake. As he waited to cross the busy road, a white Citroen was in the parade of cars that passed by. Unknown to him, it contained Jean-Paul Rives and the music of Vivaldi.

Rives spent the entire morning working on a revision of the price of Lehman Steiner products in Italy. Serious instability in the Italian government had meant that company profit margins had been stretched to their limit. Something would have to be done and it was his decision to recommend a ten- per cent rise across the board. He further decided that this should be implemented over a period of three months and gave a grunt of satisfaction as he closed the file and leaned back in his chair to stretch his arms in the air.

‘Lunch?’ suggested a colleague.

Rives shook his head, saying that he was going to get some fresh air and grab a sandwich.

After ten minutes spent enjoying the sunshine and taking deep breaths, Rives returned to the Lehman Steiner building with his sandwich and a plastic mug of coffee, which threatened to burn his fingers by the time he got to the third floor. He had to run the final few steps before hurriedly depositing it on his desk and blowing his fingertips.

He had been working on Italy all morning so Rives set up his test equation for that country. It took forty-five minutes to go through the analysis and for him to be satisfied that there was no serious imbalance in assets against investments. With a sigh he consigned Italy to the waste-paper basket and moved on to the next country.

Fifty minutes later Rives was looking at a serious imbalance. Excitement grew as he checked again, cautioning himself that he had been caught out once before and a perfectly rational explanation was possible. This time however, there was no chain of Pharmacies in the pipeline to account for the discrepancy in the figures. There really was an imbalance and what was more; it amounted to approximately 18 million dollars. He’d found the country where X14 was located.

Rives’ throat went dry with excitement. He drained the dregs from his coffee cup and couldn’t stop staring at the screen. He had come this far; was it conceivable that he could find out a bit more? Could he ask the computer to account for the imbalance? He typed in the question and the computer confirmed what he had just worked out for himself. The impassive lettering on the screen said, ‘X14 Account’.

Rives’s colleagues were all back from lunch and he had to return to the demands of the day. He decided he’d work late again and, for the moment, put X14 out of his mind while he worked on an appropriate price rise for Lehman Steiner’s products in Sweden. He also added a recommendation that one of their shampoos, which was selling very badly, be withdrawn altogether from the Scandinavian market. He tried twice to reach Eva during the course of the afternoon but once more had to leave a message with the clinic secretary to say that he would be late home.

By six thirty Rives was all alone in the office and had worked out his next plan of action. He would request access to the X14 file but would not really expect to get it. If and when that failed, he would go back to the original account numbers given to the X14 project. He had access to these and he knew that they had not been changed. Now that he knew which country was involved, there was a good chance he could trace which bank in that country was dealing with the financing of X14. Once that was established, a bank sort code might lead him to the city where X14 was located.

Rives requested access to the X14 file but the word, RESTRICTED, appeared on the screen followed by a request for his personal password. Without thinking, Rives typed it in and again was told, RESTRICTED. This time he was asked for his priority code number. Thinking that this might grant him access, Rives typed in the number and waited. NO ACCESS said the computer and Rives shrugged his shoulders. It was back to the numbers game.

There were sixteen relevant banks in the country Rives was interested in; two nationals and fourteen merchant banks with which Lehman Steiner did business. Rives wrote down the sorting codes for each and set out to find if any of them appeared in the account numbers he had listed for X14. By nine o’ clock he had found out which merchant bank was involved and by half past, he knew exactly where X14 was located. He phoned Eva at home and told her of his success. She was delighted and excited, saying that she would call MacLean immediately and ask him round to hear the good news. ‘How long will you be?’ she asked.

‘About half and hour.’

As Rives was clearing his desk, he suddenly had the feeling that he was not alone. He paused as he imagined that he’d heard the squeaking hinge of a door somewhere along the corridor but there was nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and an intermittent buzz from a strip-light that needed replacing. He continued clearing things away and was fastening the clip on his briefcase when he heard movement outside in the corridor. ‘Is anyone there?’ he called out into the darkness. There was no reply.

Rives berated himself for being so jumpy. He put it down to the darkness and the fact that he had been doing something the company would rather he hadn’t. There was nothing quite like guilt for distorting things out of all proportion, he concluded. He checked his desk for the last time and walked to the elevator. Somewhere far above, the winding gear whirred into life and the indicator lights above the door flashed silently on and off as they tracked the rise of the car.