فصل 08

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ed

Ed.Nicholls@mayfly.com Dont forget what I told you. Can remind you of deets if you lose the card.

Deanna1@yahoo.com I wont forget. Whole night engraved on my memory. -

Ed.Nicholls@mayfly.com Did you do what I told you?

Deanna1@yahoo.com Just sorting now.

Ed.Nicholls@mayfly.com Let me know if you get good results!

Deanna1@yahoo.com Well, based on your past performance, Id be amazed if it was anything but! -0

Deanna1@yahoo.com Nobodys ever done for me what you did for me.

Ed.Nicholls@mayfly.com Really. It was nothing.

Deanna1@yahoo.com You want to hook up again, next weekend?

Ed.Nicholls@mayfly.com Bit busy at the mo. Ill let you know.

Deanna1@yahoo.com I think it worked out well for both of us. -

The detective let him finish reading the two sheets of paper, then slid them toward Paul Wilkes, Eds lawyer.

“Have you got any comment on those, Mr. Nicholls?

There was something excruciating about seeing private e-mails laid out in an official document the eagerness of his early replies, the barely veiled double entendres, the smiley faces what was he, fourteen?.

“You dont have to say anything, Paul said.

“That whole exchange could be about anything. Ed pushed the documents away from him. “Let me know if you get good results. I could have been telling her to do something sexual. It could be, like, e-mail sex.

“At eleven fourteen a.m.?

“So?

“In an open-plan office?

“Im uninhibited.

The detective removed his glasses and gave him a hard look. “E-mail sex? Really? Thats what you were doing here?

“Well, no. Not in that case. But thats not the point.

“I would suggest it is totally the point, Mr. Nicholls. There are reams of this stuff. You talk about keeping in touch—he flicked through the papers—“to see if I can help you out some more.

“But its not how it sounds. She was depressed. She was having a bad time getting rid of her ex. I just wanted to . . . make things a little easier for her. I keep telling you.

“Just a few more questions.

They had questions, all right. They wanted to know how often he had met Deanna. Where they had gone. What the exact nature of their relationship was. They didnt believe him when Ed said he didnt know much about her life, and nothing about her brother.

“Oh, come on! Ed protested. “Youve never had a relationship based on sex?

“Ms. Lewis doesnt say it was based on sex. She says the two of you were involved in a close and intense relationship, that you had known each other since your college days, and that you were determined to make her go ahead with this deal, that you pressed it on her. She says she had no idea that in taking your advice she was doing anything illegal.

“But shes . . . shes making it sound like we had much more of a relationship than we did. And I didnt force her to do anything.

“So you admit that you gave her the information.

“Im not saying that! Im just saying—

“I think what my client is saying is that he cannot be held responsible for any misconceptions Ms. Lewis might have held about their relationship, Paul interjected. “Or what information she might have passed on to her brother.

“And we were not having a relationship. Not that kind of relationship.

The detective shrugged. “You know what? I dont really care what the nature of your relationship was. I dont care if you knobbed her halfway to next Wednesday. What is of interest to me, Mr. Nicholls, is that you gave this young woman information that on the twenty-eighth of February, she told a friend, was going to bring us some serious profit. And her and her brothers bank accounts show that they were, in fact, brought some serious profit.

—

An hour later, bailed for a fortnight, Ed sat in Pauls office. Paul poured them both a whiskey. Ed was becoming oddly used to the taste of strong alcohol in daylight hours.

“I cant be held responsible for what she told her brother. I cant go around checking whether every potential partner has a brother who works in finance. I was just trying to help her.

“Well, you certainly did that. But the SFA and the SOCA wont care what your motives were, Ed. She and her brother made a barrow load of money, and they did it illegally on information you gave her.

“Can we stop talking in acronyms? I have no idea who youre talking about.

“Well, try to imagine every serious crime-fighting body that has anything to do with finance. Or crime. Thats basically who is investigating you right now.

“You make it sound like Im actually going to be charged. Ed put the whiskey on the table beside him.

“I think its extremely likely, yes. And I think we may be in court pretty quickly. Theyre trying to speed up these cases.

Ed stared at him. Then his head sank into his hands. “This is a nightmare. I just . . . I just wanted her to go away, Paul. Thats all.

“Well, the best we can hope for at the moment is that we can convince them that youre just a geek who was in over his head.

“Great.

“You got any better ideas?

Ed shook his head.

“Then just sit tight.

“I need to do something, Paul. I need to get back to work. I dont know what to do if Im not working. Im going nuts down there in Nowheresville.

“Well, if I were you, Id stay put for now. The SFA may well leak this and then the shit is really going to hit the fan. The media will be all over you. The best thing you can do is hide out down there in Nowheresville for another week or so. Paul scribbled a note on his legal pad.

Ed gazed at the upside-down writing. “Do you really think this will get into the papers?

“I dont know. Probably. It might be a good idea to talk to your family, anyway, just so theyre prepared for any negative publicity.

Ed rested his hands on his knees. “I cant.

“You cant what?

“Tell my dad about all this. Hes sick. This would . . . He shook his head. When he finally looked up, Paul was watching him steadily.

“Well, thats got to be your decision. But as I said, I think it would be wise for you to remain somewhere out of reach if and when it all blows up. Mayfly obviously doesnt want you anywhere near its offices until its all sorted out. Theres too much money riding on SFAX. So you need to steer clear of anyone associated with the company. No calls. No e-mails. And if anyone does happen to locate you, for Gods sake, dont say anything. To anyone. He tapped his pen, signaling the end of the conversation.

“So I should hide in the middle of nowhere, keep schtum, and twiddle my thumbs until I get sent to prison.

Paul stood, closed the file on his desk. “Well, were putting our best team on it. And well do everything we can to make sure it doesnt come to that.

—

Ed stood blinking on the steps of Pauls office, surrounded by the lead-stained buildings, the couriers tugging helmets from sweaty heads, bare-legged women laughing on their way to eat sandwiches in the park, and felt an acute pang for his old life. The one with his Nespresso machine in his office and his secretary nipping out for sushi and his apartment with the views over the city, and the worst thing being the prospect of having to lie on the couch in the creatives room and listen to the Suits drone on about profit and loss. He had never really measured his life by that of anyone else, but now he felt cripplingly envious of the people around him with their everyday concerns, their ability to get on a Tube back to their own homes, their families. What did he have? Weeks of being stuck in an empty house with nobody to talk to, facing the prospect of imminent prosecution.

He missed work more than he had ever missed his wife. He missed it like a constant mistress he missed having a routine. He thought back to the previous week, to waking up on his sofa at Beachfront with no idea how he had got there, his mouth as dry as if it had been packed with cotton wool, his glasses neatly folded on the coffee table. It was the third time in as many weeks that hed been so drunk he couldnt remember how hed got home, the first time he had woken with empty pockets.

He checked his phone new, only three imported contacts. There were two voice-mail messages from Gemma. Nobody else had called. Ed sighed and pressed Delete, then set off along the sunbaked pavement toward the car park. He wasnt really a drinker. Lara had always insisted alcohol gave you belly fat and complained that he snored if he had more than two. But he wanted a drink right now like he had rarely wanted anything.

—

Ed sat for a while in his empty flat, got a bite to eat at a pizza restaurant, sat again in his flat, and then climbed back into his car and drove toward the coast. Deanna Lewis danced before him the whole way out of London. How could he have been so stupid? Why had he not thought about the possibility that she would tell someone else? Or was he actually missing something more sinister here? Had she and her brother planned this? Was it some sort of psychotic revenge strategy for dumping her?

With every mile, Ed grew angrier. He might as well have given her the keys to his flat, his bank-account details—like his ex-wife—and let Deanna wipe him out. That would actually have been better. At least he would have kept his job, his friend. Shortly before the Godalming exit, now overcome with rage, Ed pulled over on the motorway and dialed her mobile number. The police had taken his old mobile, with all his stored contacts as evidence. He thought he remembered her number, though. And he had his opening line What the hell did you think you were doing?

But the number was dead.

Ed sat in a lay-by, his phone in his hand, slowly letting his anger dissipate. He hesitated, then rang Ronans number. It was one of only a handful he knew by heart.

It rang several times before he answered.

“Ronan—

“Im not allowed to talk to you, Ed. He sounded weary.

“Yeah. I know. I just—I just wanted to say—

“Say what? What do you want to say, Ed?

Eds voice stalled at the sudden fury in Ronans voice.

“You know what? I dont actually care so much about the insider-trading thing. Although obviously its a bloody disaster for the company. But you were my mate. My oldest friend. I would never have done that to you.

A click, and the phone went dead.

Ed sat there and allowed his head to drop onto the wheel for a few minutes. He waited until the humming in his mind leached away to nothing, and then he signaled, pulled out slowly, and drove toward Beachfront.

—

“What do you want, Lara?

“Hey, baby. How are you?

“Uh . . . not so good.

“Oh no! What is the matter?

He never knew if it was an Italian thing, but she had a way, his ex-wife, of making you feel better. She would cradle your head, run her fingers through your hair, fuss around you, cluck maternally. By the end it had irritated him, but now, on the empty road in the dead of night, he felt nostalgic for it.

“Its . . . a work thing.

“Oh. A work thing. That instinctive bristle in her voice.

“How are you, Lara?

“Mamma is driving me crazy. And there is a problem with the roof in the apartment.

“Any jobs?

She made a sound with her teeth against her lips. “I got a callback for a West End show and then they say I look too old. Too old!

“You dont look too old.

“I know! I can look sixteen! Baby, I need to talk to you about the roof in the apartment.

“Lara, its your place. You got a settlement.

“But they say its going to cost lots of money. Lots of money. I have nothing.

“What happened to the settlement? He kept his voice steady.

“There is nothing. My brother needed some money for his business, and you know Papis health is not good. And then I had some credit cards . . .

“All of it?

“I dont have enough for the roof. Its going to leak this winter, they said. Eduardo . . .

“Well, you could always sell the print you took from my apartment in December. His solicitor had implied it was his own fault for not changing the locks on the doors. Everyone else did, apparently.

“I was sad, Eduardo. I miss you. I just wanted a reminder of you.

“Right. Of the man you said you couldnt even stand to look at anymore.

“I was angry when I said that. She pronounced it “engry. By the end she was always engry. He rubbed at his eyes, flicked the indicator to signal his exit onto the coast road.

“I just wanted some reminders of when we were heppy.

“You know, maybe the next time you miss me, you could take away, like, a framed photo of us, not a fourteen-thousand-pound limited-edition screen print of Mao Tse-tung.

“Dont you care that I have no one to turn to? Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost unbearably intimate. It made his balls tighten reflexively. And she knew it.

Ed glanced in his rearview mirror. “Well, why dont you ask Jim Leonards?

“What?

“His wife called me. Shes not very happy, funnily enough.

“It was only once! Once I went out with him. And it is nobodys business who I date! Ed could picture her, one perfectly manicured hand raised, fingers splayed in frustration at having to deal with “the most annoying man on earth. “You left me! Am I supposed to be a nun my whole life?

“You left me, Lara. On the twenty-seventh of May, on the way back from Paris. Remember?

“Details! You always twist my words with details! This is exactly why I had to leave you!

“I thought it was because I only loved my work and didnt understand human emotions.

“I left you because you have a tiny dick! Tiny, tiny dick! Like a pawn!

“You mean prawn.

“Prawn. Crayfish, whatever is smallest thing! Tiny!

“Then I think you actually mean shrimp. You know, given you just walked off with a valuable limited-edition print, I think you could at least have granted me lobster. But sure. Whatever.

He still wondered what those Italian curses actually meant. He drove for several miles that later he would not recall driving. And then he sighed, turned on the radio, and fixed his gaze on the seemingly endless black road ahead.

—

Gemma rang just as he was turning down the coast road. Ed answered before hed had time to think about why he shouldnt.

“Dont tell me. Youre really busy.

“Im driving.

“And you have a hands-free thing. Mum wanted to know if youre going to be there for their anniversary lunch.

“What anniversary lunch?

“Oh, come on, Ed. I told you about it months ago.

“Im sorry. I havent got access to my diary right now.

Gemma took a deep breath. “Mums doing a special lunch at home for them. Dads coming out of hospital just for that. She wanted us to be there. You said youd be able to come.

“Oh. Yeah.

“Yeah what? You remember? Or yeah, youre coming?

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I dont know.

“Look, Dad was asking for you yesterday. I told him youre tied up with a work project, but hes so frail, Ed. This is really important to him. To both of them.

“Gemma, Ive told you—

Her voice exploded into the interior of the car. “Yeah, I know, youre too busy. Youve told me youve got stuff going on.

“I have got stuff going on! You have no idea!

“Oh no, I couldnt possibly hope to understand, could I? Just the stupid social worker who doesnt earn a six-figure fucking salary. This is our dad, Ed. This is the man who sacrificed everything to buy you a fucking education. He thinks the sun shines out of your backside. And hes not going to last much longer. You need to get down there and show your face and say the things that sons are meant to say to their dying fathers, okay?

“Hes not dying.

“How the fuck would you know? You havent been to see him in two months!

“Look, I will go. Its just Ive got to—

“Bullshit. Youre a businessman. You make stuff happen. Make this happen. Or I swear I—

“Im losing you, Gem. Sorry, the receptions really patchy here. I— He began to make shhh noises.

“One lunch, she said, her social-work voice on, all calm and conciliatory. “One little lunch, Ed.

He spotted a police car up ahead and checked the speedometer. A filthy Rolls-Royce, one headlight dimmed, sat half up on the verge under the orange glow of a sodium light. A small girl stood beside it holding an enormous dog on a lead. Her head turned slowly as he passed.

“And yes, I do understand that you have a lot of commitments, and your job is really important. We all understand that, Mr. Big Swinging Technodick. But is just one awkward family lunch too much to ask?

“Hang on, Gem. Theres an accident up ahead.

Beside the girl stood a ghostly teenager—boy? girl?—with a shock of dark hair, shoulders slumped. And, turning briefly away from a policeman, who was writing something, was another child—no, a small woman, her hair tied back into a scrappy ponytail. She was lifting her hands in exasperation—a gesture that reminded him of Lara. You are so ennoying!

He had driven a farther hundred yards before he realized that he knew that woman. He racked his brain bar? Holiday park? He had a sudden image of her taking his car keys, a memory of her removing his glasses in his house. What was she doing out there with children at this time of night? He pulled over and glanced into the rearview mirror, watching. He could just make out the group. The little girl had sat down on the dark verge, the dog a mountainous black lump beside her.

“Ed? Are you okay? Gemmas voice broke into the silence.

Afterward he wouldnt be entirely sure what had made him stop. Perhaps it was an attempt to delay his arrival back in that empty house. Perhaps in a life that had gone so far off the rails, making himself part of such a scene no longer seemed like an odd thing to do. Perhaps it was just that he wanted to convince himself, against all available evidence, that he was not entirely an arsehole.

“Gem, Ill have to call you back. Its someone I know.

He pulled over and did a three-point turn, driving back down the dimly lit road slowly until he reached the police car. He pulled up on the other side of the road.

“Hi, Ed said, lowering the window. “Can I help?