Cowboys and Indians (37 page)

Methven waved his hands around the Obs Suite. ‘I remain hopeful this will lead us somewhere.’

‘You mean you don’t believe him?’ Cullen stayed focused on the screen, Bain and McCrea grilling Yardley on low volume.

‘We’re dealing with a pack of liars here, Sergeant.’ Methven tapped the screen. ‘We need to get to the truth. He’s just going to trot out the same story to DS Bain.’

‘Stuart Murray’s on with the City cops just now.’

‘And I hope we get some evidence.’

The door thumped open.

‘Just a second.’ Murray held out his mobile, static crackling from the speaker. ‘I’m on with DI Coulson of City police.’

Methven snatched it off him. ‘Inspector, this is DI Methven of Police Scotland. We need to know the exact ownership of UC Partners LLP.’

‘Okay. Well, I’ve done some work here. I’ve traced the ultimate ownership to a shell company based in Canary Wharf.’

‘Triple-V Holdings?’

‘Correct.’

‘What have you found?’

‘Here we go. I’ve got the Certificate of Incorporation. I’ll send an email with—’

‘What does it sodding say?’

‘The equity split is fifty-fifty between Jonathan Morten van de Merwe and Wayne Edward Kinski Broussard.’

*
 
*
 
*

Methven slammed his fist on the interview room table. ‘Mr Broussard, you’ve been lying to us.’

‘Listen, buddy.’ Wayne licked his lips. ‘I need to get on that call.’

Cullen sat opposite, rocking forward on the chair. ‘You’re a co-owner of UC.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, guys.’ Wayne stared to the side and chuckled. ‘Guys, I’ve been candid with you so far. There’s no connection between me and that business.’

‘We’ve got proof you’re the other partner.’

‘Your proof must be wrong, ant man.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m not involved.’

‘You are.’ Cullen pushed the sheet of paper across the table. ‘A Certificate of Incorporation of Triple-V Holdings, the ultimate parent company. See? You and Mr Van de Merwe are named owners.’

‘No comment.’

‘His death means you’re now the sole owner.’

‘You can fake documentation.’

‘We’ll interview everyone at your firm who’s worked on any of the programmes with UC.’

‘What do you hope to gain from that?’

‘The truth.’ Cullen rested his hands behind his head. ‘City of London police are raiding the Triple-V offices in Canary Wharf as we speak.’

‘Look, buddy, I’m not the second equity partner.’

Cullen grinned at Methven. ‘I think he’s lying, sir.’

‘I
know
he’s lying.’

‘I’m telling you the truth here.’

Cullen stabbed a finger at him. ‘You implicated Mr Yardley in this.’

‘He owns a third share. Let me out of here and I’ll show you proof.’

‘You mean you can fabricate something.’

‘Look, son—’

‘You’re in the shit here, Mr Broussard.’ Methven hammered a fist on the table. ‘Do you want us to speak to the other partners at Schneider?’

Wayne fiddled with his cufflink, resetting it a couple of times. ‘What do I get in return?’

‘Fired, I’d imagine.’ Methven grinned. ‘Probably sued by Schneider and Alba Bank. The City police are already raiding a number of addresses in the Greater London area. I’ve got a call with the Serious Fraud Office at three. They were talking about passing it to the US. Not sure who it’d be over there. The Treasury? SEC? FBI?’

‘Look. Guys. What’s the deal on the table?’

Cullen glanced over at Methven. ‘Depends what he’s offering, sir, right?’

‘Agreed.’

‘This was all Jonathan’s idea.’

‘So you’re involved?’

‘Jon came to me needing to offshore money through shell companies. I hooked him up with someone.’ Wayne adjusted his left cufflink. ‘You guys need to speak to Ollie Cranston. He’s the expert.’

‘Right. Why did you sack UC?’

Wayne adjusted the other cufflink. ‘It was getting messy. Jon was falling apart. Too much coke, too many whores. The longer it ran, the further the milestones slipped. It just looked corrupt, you know?’

‘So you stopped taking the money?’

‘I never got a dime. It’s all Jon and Ollie. I persuaded Sir Ronald to get rid of them.’ Wayne’s cufflinks clinked together. ‘Look, it’s my fiduciary responsibility to Schneider to bring more business in. This was a great opportunity.’
 

‘Why bring IMC in?’

‘Jon needed a scapegoat.’

‘Like Mr Yardley?’

‘Like that.’

‘Who killed Mr Van de Merwe?’

‘I’ve no fucking idea.’

‘You didn’t?’

‘Why the fuck would I do that? Answer me that. Why?’

‘To take over the bank accounts?’

‘Fuck off. No. That was Ollie and Jon. Nothing to do with me.’

‘So you’ve no idea why Mr Van de Merwe took a header off the bridge?’

‘Will Yardley’d be my bet.’ Wayne let out a deep breath. ‘So, what do I sign?’

‘There isn’t a deal.’

‘But I’ve just spilled my guts here.’

‘There’s nobody else left to prosecute. It’s just you. The accounts are frozen. You’re deep in the shit.’

‘Listen, it’s Ollie you need to be speaking to here, not me.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I’m not saying anything more without a lawyer.’

‘Then we’ll appoint one.’ Cullen leaned over. ‘Interview terminated at midday.’ He clicked stop on the recorder and followed Methven out into the corridor, slamming the door behind him. ‘Well?’

‘We’re no further forward with our cases. Does this mean Yardley’s in the clear?’

Cullen folded his arms and leaned against the wall, cold through his shirt. ‘The guy’s just caught in the middle. He’s genuinely trying to deliver this programme. He’s just not very good at his job.’

‘You might have a point. We don’t know who killed Van de Merwe, we just know he was a crook. Sometimes we take the results we can get, Sergeant.’ Methven patted Cullen on the shoulder. ‘Looks like there’s a couple of hundred million in fraudulent assets to be reclaimed here. Brownie points with the NCA and City.’

‘We should interview Cranston.’

‘I’ll get Bain and McCrea on it.’ Methven jangled his keys. ‘I’m off to brief Alison.’

‘Good luck with that.’

‘Can I borrow DC Murray?’

‘Why?’

‘He’s got the connections with the City.’

Cullen sighed. ‘Sure thing.’

‘You should take a break, Sergeant.’

‘We’re still nowhere with Van de Merwe’s murder. We need to sort out the loose ends. Candy and Vardy.’

‘Fine. I’ll leave it in your hands.’

‘Cheers.’ Cullen got out his phone and found Anderson’s number. ‘I’ll keep you updated, sir.’ He put his phone to his ear, watching Methven pound away down the corridor. ‘James, it’s Cullen.’

‘Can you keep Bain away from me?’

‘Not until you finish the sex room analysis.’

‘I finished that this morning. Fuck’s sake. Confirmed your pal, Candy, was “there” a few times, if you catch my drift.’

‘Who else have you got?’

‘Ferguson, Vaccaro, Van de Merwe. And a few males we don’t have on file.’

‘Vardy?’

‘Boy’s got a record so he would’ve shown up.’

‘So, nothing?’

‘Got one other female, though. She’s been there at least ten times.’

‘Who is it?’

‘No idea, DNA’s not on file.’

Cullen leaned back in his chair and looked at Candy and her lawyer. Eva sat next to him, scribbling away. ‘Candy, we still think you could’ve killed either of them. Or Dean paid someone.’

‘He was in a club on George Street! He couldn’t have pushed VDM off the bridge.’

‘True, but he’s got money and a lot of influence. A lot of people willing to gain favours and his approval.’

She spat at Cullen, a thick glob spattering his cheek. ‘You’ve got fuck all on him, you prick.’

‘Charming.’ Cullen tore a page from Eva’s pad and wiped his face clean. ‘We know Mr Van de Merwe was in a BDSM ring. Were you?’

‘No.’

‘But you know what I’m talking about, right?’

‘Stop it.’

‘Why did you have a cloak covered in his semen in your wardrobe? He’s hardly Bill Clinton.’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘Persuade me.’

‘About what?’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

She looked around at Reynolds, getting a shrug. ‘I was at an orgy there about six weeks ago.’

‘Did he pay you?’

‘Quite a lot.’ She nibbled her lip. ‘Didn’t know I was pregnant, otherwise I wouldn’t have let them…’ She wiped at a tear.

‘What did they do?’

‘Whatever they wanted. Whips. Chains. Sticking things in me. Getting me to kick them in the balls.’

‘Who’s “them”, Candy?’

‘I don’t know. I only knew VDM.’

‘Men? Women?’

‘Mostly men. There was an older woman, late forties maybe. She was vicious. South African, I think. Another woman was maybe your age. Getting on a bit, but still had something about her.’

‘Any others?’

‘A couple of girls like me.’

‘Prostitutes?’

‘Escorts.’ She folded her arms. ‘There was a guy there with a goatee beard. He had a tiny cock, even smaller than VDM’s. This guy loved getting the shit kicked out of him.’

Cullen showed her a photo on his phone. ‘Was this him?’

Reynolds raised a hand. ‘Candy…’

She looked away. ‘I’m not saying.’

‘Why? Because it’s Martin Ferguson? A man we found dead in a hotel room?’

‘Listen, this woman.’ She leaned over the table, tanned arms crossed. ‘The one your age. She had this big fight with VDM.’

‘Isn’t that part of the fun?’

‘Not like that.’ Candy ran a hand through her hair. ‘They had a huge argument. She called him a needle dick, started shouting stuff about tops and bottoms.’

‘Which was Mr Van de Merwe?’

‘He was a bottom. For definite. Took a lot of punishment.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I kicked his balls a few times. Tied him up. Strangled him. Stuck things up his fucking arsehole.’

‘What did she say to him?’

‘Said she was stopping it.’

‘Stopping what?’

‘I don’t know. He was pleading with her, said she needed him more than he needed her.’

‘Had you ever seen this woman before?’

‘Never.’

Cullen flicked to the previous photo and held up his phone. ‘Was Mr Ferguson there?’

She raised her hands. ‘Fine, he was there.’

‘He was the one tied up?’

‘That’s right. Someone was sticking molten wax on his scrotum.’

‘Who was the girl my age?’

She nibbled her lips. ‘No idea. Sorry.’

‘Anyone who might know?’

‘Look. There was a guy who looked like George Clooney.’

*
 
*
 
*

‘Mr Vaccaro, why does everything on this case seem to come back to you?’ Cullen crunched back in the chair and watched the recorder flashing away, Eva next to him. ‘I’ll start by saying we don’t think you’re an equity partner in UC.’

‘Excellent.’ Vaccaro let out a deep breath. ‘Can I get on up to Dundee?’

‘Not so fast. We need to ask you a few more questions.’

‘Will you let me go if I help?’

‘Who owned UC Partners?’

‘Like I said, Messrs Van de Merwe and Broussard.’

‘Was it just the two of them?’

‘As far as I know.’

‘Not Ollie Cranston?’

‘Him?’ Vaccaro stared straight up and let out a laugh. ‘Guy only just rocked up here in January after we left.’

‘So why’s Mr Broussard saying he’s involved?’

‘Guess he forgets what the lies are and what the truth is.’

Cullen flicked to a new page in his notebook. ‘We believe you were at an orgy at Mr Van de Merwe’s house. Is that right?’

‘“Orgy” sounds very old-fashioned. Can we call it a black sheet party, please?’

‘Fine. So, were you there?’

‘This the one about six weeks ago, right?’

‘Are there others?’

‘I was there. That’s all I’ll say.’

‘Was Martin Ferguson there?’

Vaccaro shrugged. ‘He might’ve been.’

‘Did Mr Van de Merwe get into a fight with a woman at this orgy?’

‘Maybe. Something blew up in the middle of the evening, I don’t know what.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I think Half-inch’s top was inserting a—’

‘Half-inch?’

‘It’s what we called Jon. He wasn’t very well-endowed.’

‘What happened?’

‘She just walked away. Just left him tied to the wall.’

‘That not part of the fun?’

‘It can be.’

‘But this wasn’t?’

‘One of the whores let Jon go and he ran after her.’ Vaccaro laughed. ‘His butt plug was still hanging out. Must’ve hurt.’

‘Do you have any idea who she was?’

‘Just some girl.’

Cullen showed him the photo of Candy. ‘Was it her?’

‘No.’

‘Sure about that?’

‘Positive. She was there, but it wasn’t her. I think it’s the same one Fergie fell in love with.’

Cullen frowned, his buttocks clenching. ‘Say that again?’

‘The girl Martin fell in love with. Got himself sacked over it.’

Cullen bombed up the stairs, two at a time, and jogged down the corridor, Airwave pinned to his head.
Beeeep!
‘Sharon, can you call me back? Airwave or mobile. It’s urgent. Cheers.’

He pushed into Methven’s office, the door rattling.

Bain glanced over at Cullen. ‘Aye, so Cranston’s denying it all.’

Methven leaned over his desk phone, Murray in front of the desk, laptop out, Bain lurking in the corner. ‘Sergeant, we’re just about to get on a conference call with the NCA.’

‘This is important.’

Methven rolled his eyes. ‘What’s the latest emergency?’

‘Usual shite, Col.’ Bain patted the back of Methven’s chair. ‘Bet your bottom fuckin’ dollar.’

Cullen ignored him. ‘Lorna Gilmour had a relationship with Van de Merwe.’

‘What?’

‘Sounds like fuckin’ bullshit to me.’

Cullen shot a glare at Bain. ‘We’ve got Vaccaro on record.’

‘Aye, cos he’s so fuckin’ reliable.’