Fatal Error (43 page)

‘I’ll come with you to see Silverman,’ said Ingrid. ‘Once I’ve told Guy I’m quitting.’

‘Thanks. I could use the support.’

‘It’s going to be frustrating, though, isn’t it?’ Ingrid said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sitting on our hands watching Ninetyminutes go down the tubes.’

‘Well, I hope we’ll be able to do something to stop it. But they’ll find it hard without you.’

‘Gaz will manage.’

‘I’m not so sure.’ Gaz would be able to keep the content coming, but without Ingrid the whole editorial and publishing process would soon unravel. Especially if it was necessary to cut back and reorganize. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t resign.’

‘What do you mean? I told you why I want to quit.’

‘Yes. And all that makes sense. Believe me, I value the support. But I think you’ll be more use still working at Ninetyminutes. Things will be bad enough as it is without you leaving. And it will be useful to know what’s going on at the company. If we are going to save Ninetyminutes, we should do it together. Me on the outside and you on the inside.’

‘You don’t expect me to go along with Guy?’

‘Absolutely. For the time being. Until we get Silverman and Orchestra to see our point of view.’

Ingrid sipped her coffee. ‘Maybe I should stay,’ she said. Then she frowned.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘That means I have to go to work now.’

‘I’m afraid it does.’

She put her coffee down and leaned over to kiss me.

‘Well, perhaps not quite yet,’ I said.

After Ingrid had left, I had a shower, put on a suit and went to see Derek Silverman at his town house in Chelsea. He showed me into a study at the back with a view over a perfect herbaceous border, blooming powerfully in the sunshine. He was very civil and offered me a cup of coffee. I told him that in my opinion Ninetyminutes had no choice but to retrench and Guy had been mistaken to fire me. Silverman was polite, he listened and he seemed to understand my point of view. But he was firm.

‘Guy is confident he can raise more funds. He’s the Chief Executive. I’m not one of those people who believe in dumping the Chief Executive as soon as things get tough. You’re putting me in a situation where I have to choose between you and him. I have no choice but to go for him.’

‘But we’ve got ourselves in trouble before by relying on Torsten Schollenberger,’ I protested.

‘Guy and I discussed this at dinner on Monday night. He says the deal is ninety per cent done.’

‘He’s wrong.’

‘It’s possible he may turn out to be wrong. But from my standpoint it seems to be the best chance we’ve got.’

‘But …’ I hesitated, and then went ahead anyway. ‘Ninetyminutes has been in a similar situation before. Last year, when Guy had that argument with his father and resigned.’

‘And?’

‘And, well, a few days later Tony Jourdan was killed.’

‘That was a hit-and-run driver, wasn’t it?’ Silverman said.

‘Perhaps. The police don’t know who it was.’

‘What’s your point, exactly, David?’

What was my point? Was I going to accuse Guy of killing his father? Once I had suggested that to Silverman there would be no going back. And I had no proof, yet. Even if I did suggest it, what would I expect Silverman to do? Change his mind in my favour? Fire Guy because he might possibly be a murderer? No. That would be unfair. Not just unfair, wrong.

‘Nothing, Derek. Nothing. Thanks for your time.’

Silverman saw me out. ‘I’m sorry that you felt you had to leave. I’ve been very impressed with what you’ve contributed to Ninetyminutes over the last year. One of the saddest things I see is when good teams split up under pressure.’

I wanted to protest, claim I hadn’t wanted to leave at all, that it was Guy, not me, who was feeling the pressure, but I realized there was no point. Guy had got to him. So I went.

Once out on the street I pulled out my mobile and dialled Orchestra’s number. Clare Douglas reluctantly agreed to see me in her offices in an hour. But she said she’d only have ten minutes between meetings.

I was shown into a conference room, where I waited for half an hour before Clare arrived. She looked flustered.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘This doesn’t seem to be a great time to be a venture capitalist. No sooner do I put out one fire than another starts.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’m already late for my next meeting. I’ve only got five minutes.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘You’ve heard I’ve left Ninetyminutes?’

‘Yes. Guy has explained it all to me.’

‘Did he tell you why?’

‘He said that you wanted to cut back on costs drastically to conserve cash. He said he’d found another investor so he could continue growing the business.’

‘He hasn’t,’ I said.

‘Well, he says he has. I have to believe him.’

‘It’s an old friend of ours from school. He’s let us down once before. He’ll let us down again.’

Clare looked doubtful. She was not her cool Scottish self that morning. She frowned. ‘That’s not what Guy said.’

‘I know.’

Clare hesitated. ‘Look, I’ve spoken to the Chairman. I’ll be sorry to lose you, but I trust Derek Silverman. People here have known him a long time, and if he wants to stick with Guy on this I’ll go along with him.’

‘Can’t you reconsider?’

Clare’s expression became firm. ‘We’ve made our decision. Now I really must go. Can you see yourself out?’

Once again I found myself out on the pavement.

When I arrived home I rang Anne Glazier in Paris. She was back from her trip. I had decided I needed to talk to her face-to-face. If there was some vital detail to be gleaned from her about Guy and the night Tony died I’d never get it from her over the phone. I was prepared to go to Paris to speak to her, but she had a meeting in London the following week and she was willing to see me for half an hour before that.

The next call was much more difficult. My father was at work: his building-society office in the Market Place. We skated over some small talk, before he asked the question I dreaded.

‘How’s Ninetyminutes?’

‘I have bad news,’ I said.

‘Not again! This thing really is a roller coaster, isn’t it? I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll work out a way round it.’

‘Not this time, Dad.’

‘Oh.’

‘Guy and I have fallen out. He fired me.’

‘Good God. Can he do that?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Oh, Lord. I am sorry. How awful for you.’

‘It is, actually.’ I appreciated my father’s concern for his son. But that wasn’t what I was most worried about. ‘I think it’s awful for all of us. Ninetyminutes is running out of cash and I want to do something about it. Guy wants to ignore it. I fear this time the company doesn’t have long in this world.’

‘Oh.’

Silence. I knew what my father was trying to work out a way of saying. I put him out of his misery. ‘I think it’s quite likely that you’ll lose your entire investment. We all will.’

‘Oh God,’ he whispered.

‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really sorry.’

I heard an intake of breath over the phone line. ‘That’s all right, David. It was entirely my decision. Don’t blame yourself.’

‘I won’t,’ I said. Although, of course, I would. He had trusted me and I had let him down. He’d never hold it against me, but I’d always know. It was my fault.

‘I would feel better if you were still there, though.’

‘Believe me, so would I.’

‘Yes, well. I have to go now.’ I could hear his voice cracking, almost as though he were about to cry. I had never seen my father cry.

‘Bye, Dad.’

‘Goodbye.’ And he was gone, leaving me feeling angry, sad and very, very guilty.

I met Ingrid that evening in a pub round the corner from my flat. She smiled broadly when she saw me, and kissed me quickly on the lips.

I checked my watch. A quarter to six. ‘Coming in late. Leaving early. What will people think?’

‘They won’t know what to think. Anyway, I don’t care. I was eager to see you.’

‘Likewise,’ I said.

‘And …’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a small brown package. ‘I bought some coffee.’

I smiled. If having my coffee insulted was the price of Ingrid staying another night, I was quite prepared to pay it.

‘Did you manage not to resign?’ I asked.

‘I did. In fact, I hardly spoke to Guy all day. He seemed rather preoccupied.’

‘I’m not surprised. No news from Torsten?’

‘Not that I could tell. But Owen came into the office.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘No. He spent most of the day on his computer. But he talked to Guy a bit.’

‘Watch out for him, Ingrid. You know how dangerous he can be.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll avoid him.’

‘Do be careful. Please.’ I was surprised how apprehensive I suddenly felt. I had lived with the persistent threat of Owen’s violence for the last six months. I didn’t like the idea of Ingrid putting herself at risk as well.

‘I will be,’ she smiled, grateful for my concern. ‘Also, Mel was there.’

‘Mel?’

‘Yeah. I thought Guy had had enough of her. But obviously not. She didn’t seem very pleased to see me.’

‘I’m sure she wasn’t. What was she doing?’

‘I don’t know. She was sitting at your desk doing it, though. It was kind of weird.’

‘It sounds it.’ The idea of Mel sitting at my desk was uncomfortable. But it made sense. She would be able to do as good a job as anyone in picking up my work. She might have other clients at Howles Marriott, but if Guy said jump, I was sure she would jump.

‘No luck with Silverman or Orchestra, then?’ Ingrid asked.

‘No. Guy has got to Silverman. Clare was harassed and was happy to follow his lead.’

‘Oh.’

‘But I’m seeing Anne Glazier next week.’

‘Do you think she’ll be able to tell you anything?’

‘Probably not. But I have to try.’ I drank my beer, feeling the disappointment crowd in on me from all sides. ‘What now?’

‘I don’t want to just give up,’ said Ingrid. ‘Sit by and let Guy screw it all up.’

‘Neither do I. But if neither Silverman nor Clare will listen to us I don’t see how we can get Guy to cut back on costs.’

‘And you’re quite certain Torsten won’t come up with the cash?’

‘Positive. I’m sure Guy is convincing, but that doesn’t mean anything. When Guy wants to believe something, he can make other people believe it too. You know that. Torsten will flake and Ninetyminutes will go under.’

‘What about Champion Starsat?’ Ingrid said.

‘I thought you voted against the idea of selling out to them?’

‘I did then. But this is now. I’m not sure we have a choice.’

‘Guy would hate it if I went to them behind his back.’

‘Guy fired you yesterday.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I’ll call them tomorrow.’

This time I didn’t meet Jay Madden at the Savoy. This time I met him in his large corner office on the South Bank with a view of the river. Madden sat behind an impressive desk; I sat opposite.

‘Now, David,’ said Madden with a friendly smile. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Firstly, I should tell you that I’ve left Ninetyminutes. Guy Jourdan and I had a disagreement over strategy.’

Madden raised his eyebrows. ‘And does that disagreement over strategy have anything to do with Champion Starsat?’

‘It does.’

‘You know the market’s changed since we last spoke. So have our plans. We’ve started up our own site. We don’t need Ninetyminutes any more.’

‘Ninetyminutes has the best site on the Internet.’ I was surprised at the pride I felt as I said this. Whatever Ninetyminutes’ problems, that was the truth and Madden couldn’t deny it.

He didn’t try. ‘Running out of cash, are you?’

‘If Ninetyminutes is to make the most of its potential it needs investment. Serious investment. You can provide that. The markets can’t.’

Madden thought for a moment. ‘It’s true you have an excellent site. Probably even better than ours. But, as you point out, we have the cash and you haven’t. And that means we’ll dominate the space. You’ll fold soon. Goaldigger have a bit more funding than you, so they’ll last longer. But we’ll win. You know that.’ His tone was matter-of-fact, not aggressive, which just made what he said sound even more credible.

‘You may be correct. But at the right price it would be worth your while to incorporate our site into yours.’

Madden smiled. ‘I take it Guy Jourdan doesn’t know you’re here?’

‘No, and I’d rather he didn’t.’

‘Is this a way for you to get your old job back?’

‘No. Absolutely not. But I think it would be good for Ninetyminutes. I’m still a shareholder.’

Madden picked up a pencil from his desk and tapped his chin with it. ‘If we were to make an offer, what makes you think Jourdan would accept it?’

‘He might have no choice.’

‘Are you suggesting I call him?’

‘No. Call Derek Silverman. And please don’t mention my name.’

‘All right,’ said Madden. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, and left, feeling guilty as hell.

38

Without Ingrid, the weekend would have been unbearable. With Ingrid, I found it extremely bearable. She worked on Saturday, but we went to see a film together that evening. We spent Sunday morning in bed, getting to know each other, ambled down the street to a local café for lunch and wandered round Hyde Park during the afternoon. Summer had come early, the air was hot and heavy, the grass inviting. Then Ingrid returned to her own place to sort out the week’s domestic loose ends.

I didn’t see her again until the following evening. She came straight to my flat from work. I was anxious to hear what had happened at Ninetyminutes: we had agreed not to communicate while she was at the office. With Owen there, you never knew.

I was also anxious just to see her. At this stage of our relationship a day seemed a long time, especially when I had nothing to do but stew.

She kissed me, and tucked herself under my arm on the sofa.

‘Well?’ I said.

‘Well. Interesting day, today.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Guy was in a worse mood than usual this morning. I’m pretty sure he’s ignoring me, but maybe he’s just ignoring everyone. Anyway, I asked him about Torsten. He looked pissed off and said he would handle it. I demanded to know whether Torsten had come through with the cash: I am still a director, after all. Guy admitted he hadn’t.’