Dead Cat Bounce (24 page)

“I need to know more. How did you get away? How do you think you can keep us safe?”

David nodded. “I escaped with the help of an African tracker named Chippy who was a Sangoma, a witch doctor.” He paused and in the dim light Jonah saw him lift his chin upward and pull his shoulders back. “If you’ll walk with me, I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Jonah understood that the invitation was to do more than walk
to the end of the street. As he considered his answer, his father seemed to grow taller. He seemed solid, trustworthy, reliable. “I’ll walk with you,” Jonah said, “if you tell me
exactly
how you plan to protect me if this thing really heats up?”

David raised one foot as if about to take a step, but stopped midstride. He tilted his head.

“How exactly will I protect you?” he began, his features assuming a steely expression. “I’ll take you back to Africa.”

Amelia rode the Harley hard across London. She was late. Late enough to have ignored whoever it had been scrabbling about in the back of the Bentley in the garage. Normally she would have offered to help them find whatever it was they were looking for. It was important for her to keep her traders happy twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It was “all part of the service.” But nothing and nobody was more important than the Baron, and he needed even more attention than usual at present. Tonight he had demanded three things from her: (1) dinner set up with Scrotycz the following evening, including entertainment afterward; (2) an iPod Touch with a “little something extra”; and (3) for her to be with him when he rang young Mr. Lightbody to ascertain whether it was time for him to return to Hellcat. It would be her job to confirm that Jonah’s answers matched the answers Creedence had given her earlier in the day. The girl had fed back what had happened in Richmond Park, and Amelia had checked with the police regarding the assault complaint against Scrotycz. It was time to find out if the boy had completely rejected his father. If he had, the Baron would know that he could be trusted. If he hadn’t, well, that was another story….

Jonah was sitting
alone in Creedence’s flat deep in thought about everything his father had told him when the sound of his phone ringing made him start. It was the Baron; the “Sympathy for the Devil” ringtone left no doubt. He picked up the phone warily, part of him wishing that his father could be there to listen in on the conversation rather than spending another night in Richmond Park. “Hello,” he said, the unsteadiness of his voice reflecting his internal uncertainty.

“Are you in bed, iPod? Couple of days off and you’re back to your slothful, youthful ways! It’s about time you came back to work,” boomed the Baron.

Jonah’s confusion instantly returned. “What do you mean? I thought I was suspended. What’s changed? Has the bank decided that my dad’s innocent?”

“Nothing changed there, I’m afraid. Word is that the trades came from your dad’s computer.”

“They did?” Jonah asked, forcing his tone to remain neutral. He didn’t want the Baron knowing that he’d already seen the computer log, courtesy of his father, and that he suspected that the records had been tampered with, possibly at the Baron’s request.

“Well, that’s the rumor,” the Baron said. “But enough of that. I want to talk about you. It’s simply that we were all a bit hasty. The boys owe you an apology. I owe you an apology. It was a difficult few days.” There was a slight, almost imperceptible pause, before he added, “Have you seen your dad, by the way?”

Jonah was now on full alert. The Baron knew he had seen him this morning if what Creedence had said about Amelia was true. So why was he asking? It could only be to see if Jonah would lie. But what if Amelia had seen them in the Bentley?
Shoot!
He had to answer quickly so as to hide his thoughts. “Yes,” he said with forced confidence. “And I won’t be doing it again. The client he screwed turned up and beat us up.” He decided to only mention the Bentley if the Baron asked him directly.

“Ow! Are you alright?” replied the Baron.

“Yeah. Sore shoulder but that’s all.” Jonah reasoned that the Baron was testing to see where his allegiances lay.

“Good. You’ll need to tell Pistol what your dad said to you. It might be relevant to the inquiry.”

Again Jonah answered quickly, easily reading that the Baron was looking for information. “Yeah sure. That won’t be difficult. He thanked me for coming to see him, and then this bloke Scrotycz turned up. I didn’t hang around after that. I went to the police station and filed an assault complaint against the Russian. The Drizzler was too scared to do it. Some father he is.” Jonah held his breath.

“Assault complaint, eh? Nice one!” the Baron breezed on, seemingly amused at this development. “Well, look, you might as well have another day of lounging. It is a bit quiet here for the time being. Why don’t you come in on Friday?”

“Friday. Yeah, great,” Jonah said with enough enthusiasm to be convincing.

“Excellent,” the Baron continued. “Where you staying, by the way? I take it you’re not at home?”

“I’m staying with a friend,” Jonah replied, keeping things vague.

“A friend, eh? I’d better let you get back to bed then!” the Baron said with a leer. “Make sure you’re not too exhausted to come in on Friday. Though you might want to check your bank account before then.”

Before Jonah could reply that he wasn’t in bed, the Baron had hung up. He was in the clear. The Baron believed him, and it seemed that Amelia hadn’t seen them after all.

He slowly put the phone down on to the table, and as it touched the wooden surface, there was a bleep to say he had received a message. He glanced at the screen. It was from the Baron. Jonah’s eyes opened as wide as saucers when he saw what it said: “I brought your bonus forward. Don’t tell anyone!”

He turned to his computer, logging on to his bank account. The balance flashed up on the screen, causing Jonah to blink once, twice, and then a third time. A deposit of a million pounds had been made by Hellcat.

He stared at it, his father’s words ringing in his ears: “He’s bought their loyalty with money and status…. He thinks he owns you.”

Jonah felt sick to his stomach. He could see it now: the suspension, the phone call, the money. Maybe even the last four years! He was no different than Franky or Jammy. There was no special bond between him and the Baron. He was only there if he played by the rules. And the rules were clear: be loyal to the Baron alone and have nothing to do with his dad. Jonah couldn’t yet work out why the latter was so important and forty-eight hours ago he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But now it stank. His trust in the Baron had been broken. He was ready to take that walk to Africa.

Part Three

LONDON AND
AMSTERDAM

Jonah had phoned
his father immediately after the Baron’s call on Wednesday evening. David had come straight around to the flat, and they’d spent the whole of Thursday putting the details of their strategy together. The plan was a simple one: steal the Baron’s laptop and run like hell.

Jonah was certain that any hidden trading records would be stored on the servers in Amelia’s Boudoir. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hack directly in because of the security around the servers, but he might be able to get in through the laptop. The hacking could take time, though, hence the run like hell bit. For the same reason, they had to do it today, Friday. It would buy them a few extra hours because the markets wouldn’t be open over the weekend. The hope was that the Baron might not use his laptop until late Saturday, by which time Jonah and David would be long gone.

When Jonah arrived at the Hellcat trading floor on Friday morning, he found the Bunker deserted. The Baron had given the boys
the day off as thanks for all the craziness they’d had to put up with lately, though Jonah wondered if perhaps his real motivation was keeping a closer eye on him. Either way, he was full of charm and presented Jonah with a new iPod Touch inside a specially made fluffy blue case. “To show you I’m a soft touch, really,” he’d said.

Jonah saw the gift as another bribe, another example of the Baron’s duplicity.

His resolve steeled further, and he watched carefully as the Baron took the laptop out of his briefcase and put it on the desk, attaching the cable that would connect it to the bank’s network. As the Baron typed in his password, Jonah wheeled his chair back, pretending to answer some e-mails on his phone. In fact, what he’d done was activate his phone’s video camera and record the keystrokes of the password. Next, while the Baron was away at meetings, he took out the identical laptop David had bought the previous day and set up the password the same as the Baron’s. He would switch this laptop with the Baron’s when the time came. Until the Baron actually logged on, it would appear to be his computer. After that, it would freeze thanks to a bug Jonah had installed. It might buy them some extra time.

The real key was to get the Baron away from the desk at the end of the day so that he could make the switch. David was sorting that out, but he wouldn’t tell Jonah how, only that his “insider” would help.

The day progressed slowly, Jonah’s anticipation of what was to come making it difficult to focus on anything else, but by a quarter past four there was still no sign of the diversion. The Baron had disappeared to yet another meeting, and Jonah had half a mind to go for it and make the switch now.

He resisted the temptation. He knew he had to wait until his father gave him the signal that their escape route was clear.

The laptop plan was risky, but not as risky as the trade he had made in an effort to secure the one hundred million dollars that Scrotycz had demanded. He had put the million pound bonus plus the rest of his savings into an all-or-nothing bet that there would be a massive crash in the stock markets. His dad could only contribute a few thousand pounds because he needed some cash to finance their getaway, and all of his company accounts had been frozen because of the investigation. Jonah knew that there was a chance, and not a small one, that they could lose all their money on this one bet, possibly more. If that happened, their lives would basically be over. Jonah comforted himself with the knowledge that if they didn’t get the one hundred million, they’d be dead anyway, according to Scrotycz, so it would be irrelevant.

The light on his direct line flashed, and he punched the screen and answered, “iPod.”

A smooth, vaguely familiar voice replied. “Harry Solomons here.” It was Pistol.
Shoot.
What did he want?

“Oh, hello,” Jonah said, trying to figure the man out. “Is there a problem?”

“No. I am phoning to advise you that I have a meeting with the Baron at five o’clock. It will go on until at least six o’clock.”

Jonah couldn’t figure out why he was telling him this. The Baron rarely met with the folks in Legal, and even if he did, Jonah wasn’t his secretary. Suddenly it clicked: Pistol was the insider! “Oh! Thank you,” Jonah said, unable to mask the appreciation in his voice.

“We shall see. Goodbye.” Pistol hung up the phone.

Jonah stared at the phone as he placed it back into the base. He couldn’t believe it: Pistol, the trader-hater, was the insider! It would have almost been funny if there wasn’t so much at stake: Here was the man within the firm who was surreptitiously feeding information to his father, the man who was going to provide a distraction so that Jonah could execute his plan without being observed, and he was the same person whom Jonah had ignored when he’d first started on the desk. Jonah was incredulous. It was crazy to think how much had changed in so little time.

Jonah checked his watch, his mind now focused on the passage of time. There were still forty-five minutes to go until the switch. His nerves began to return. He needed to keep occupied. He stood up and walked across the trading floor, through the doors and down the escalator out of the building, deciding that he’d check the Vespa and get some coffee. The scooter was still there in its parking space on the road. Nobody had blocked him in. He went to the coffee bar at the end of Foster Lane and ordered a cappuccino. He drank it slowly and walked, just as slowly, back toward Hellcat. As he turned onto Gresham Street he came to an abrupt halt. His heart pounded, and fear began to permeate his body. There, outside the office, was a black Audi Q7.

He put his head down to hide his face, walked past the car, into the building, and straight into Scrotycz.

“Lightbody. Junior. How appropriate,” came the heavily accented voice. “I have been meeting with your boss. He is a very impressive man.”

Jonah said nothing.

“Yes. He will be running my money from now on. I did not know that you worked for him. Maybe this time I have the right Lightbody. Let us hope so. Enjoy your weekend.”

Jonah stood aside to let him pass.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
Now what? It was five to five. The Baron might have returned to the desk to find him. He couldn’t risk it. He’d have to wait. He headed to the toilets in reception and locked himself in a stall, where he messaged his father: “Scrotycz here. Met with Baron. What now?”

The reply was quick. “Don’t worry. Scrotycz gone. Insider confirms Baron engaged. Collect now. Go!”

This was it
, thought Jonah. He breathed deeply to slow his heart rate and walked swiftly back to the trading floor. The laptop was still there on the Baron’s desk.

Jonah looked around to see if anyone was watching. No one was. He placed his briefcase on the desk and opened it, his fingers thick and immobile. He took out the dummy laptop and made the switch, putting the Baron’s computer in his case. Then he moved fast, walking briskly out of the trading floor, down the escalator, across reception, out of the building, and to the Vespa.

He unlocked the pannier and took off his jacket, replacing it with his school coat. His father had advised him that subtle changes of appearance could make a huge difference. He put on his helmet, jammed the briefcase into the pannier, stuffed his jacket on top, closed the lid, and locked it. Once on the bike he gunned the engine and sped off.