Pinstripes (37 page)

“
Yes, of course. We’ll spend a bit on clothes for you and the rest you can save. After all, you haven’t been working,” Clara said.

Clara was like Jekyll and Hyde, Ella thought. One minute she was sweet, the next a raging virago. It had to be the cocaine.

“Thanks,” Virginia said. She felt proud of herself – and for the first time she began to like herself. “This has been really good for me, you know,” she added. The others nodded. It had been good for all of them.

Chapter Thirty-four

Tim felt good. Clara hadn’t been able to resist him. She needed him, and he had known that if he waited she’d come running. Now that he’d been proved right, he felt he could do and have whatever he wanted. He had decided that it would cost him too much money to leave his wife, so having Clara as his mistress suited him fine. He would have to establish the rules, though: she would not be allowed to see anyone else and would sleep only with him. He knew that she would agree to this: she had tried and failed to live without him.

He left work with time to spare, stopping at the partners
’ cloakroom to check his hair. He had to admit he looked good. As he stood outside and hailed a taxi to take him to the Tribor Club, he smiled at the thought of the night ahead.

***

Declan was excited. He had been speaking to his editor, who had implied huge Brownie points if he pulled this off. People were getting bored with exposures of footballers and B-list celebrities. The financial world was of interest to most people who didn’t understand it they knew that everyone in it earned too much money for doing too little. SFH had always shunned journalists, keeping quiet, closing ranks, only giving the official line. It portrayed itself as a squeaky-clean organisation. It would give Declan a great deal of pleasure to blow that image apart.

After reading the information given to him by Virginia, he had worked out his approach. He hadn
’t needed a photograph, but he wanted to be sure that Virginia really knew the man. He had read the SFH prospectus, which was kept in the research library, and which held a photo of all the managing directors. That would be his introduction. He got his secretary to call the Tribor Club to gain him admittance as Lord William Galloway. His experience was that no one questioned titles and the receptionist had said that they would be delighted for him to visit.

He put on his tie cam carefully. It was a tiny video camera hidden in his Old Etonian tie. Around his waist he wore a body-belt that contained a DVD recorder and a battery, which would allow him to record for three hours. In his trouser pocket there was a remote control so he could start and finish recording as he chose. He had selected his tie because he knew that Tim hadn
’t gone to Eton, or any public school. Anticipation pumped through him as he checked the camera was working then pulled on a tailored blazer. He looked in the mirror and smiled at himself. He then struck a James Bond pose, winking at his reflection. Declan was ready. The adrenaline rush he experienced when he left for the club was the reason he did his job.

Declan arrived at the Tribor at seven. He wanted it to look as if he had planned an evening there with a view to becoming a member and made himself known to everyone, including the barman. He chose a table that offered a good vantage-point from which to observe the bar and sat down. A mirror hung in front of him so he could see who came in without moving his head. Declan prided himself on his attention to detail, which made him the best journalist at the
Sunday
News
.

Tim walked in at a quarter to eight, but Declan was ready for him. He watched him go to the bar, order a drink, then sit at a table near his own. He studied Tim and felt he knew him, or his sort. He was expensively dressed – Savile Row, Declan guessed. His hair was neat, probably dyed; there was no evidence of grey. He looked at his watch regularly; the barman brought him another drink, which showed that he often frequented the club, and exchanged a few words with him; Tim was obviously waiting for someone.

After half an hour Tim pulled out his mobile phone and made a call; he looked irate and his voice was raised. Declan made out the word “bitch” but nothing more. This was his opportunity.

Declan picked up his half-drunk glass of malt whisky and made his move.
“I’m going to get you, you bastard,” he said to himself, as he approached Tim’s table.

“
I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but you’re Tim Pemberton, aren’t you?” It wasn’t the most original introduction, but recognition always flattered people. Tim looked at Declan, then his eyes rested briefly on the Old Etonian tie.

“
I am. And you?” Tim was hostile, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes.

“
William Galloway. Lord William Galloway.” The hostility evaporated. Declan put out his hand. Tim stood up and shook it.

“
Please, sit down.” Tim motioned to the seat opposite him. “Have we met?”

Declan laughed inside at the fake posh accent Tim was using. It wasn
’t as effective as his.

“
No, we haven’t. However, I’ve been looking at your company. SFH? I was glancing through the prospectus today, trying to decide whether to invest my money with you. It’s so hard to decide, these days, with so many banks around. When you walked in, I recognised you from the photograph in the brochure. I find studying the people who work in an organisation helps me to get an idea about who I’m dealing with.” Declan put on his best smile.

“
How nice. Did you make any decisions about us?” Tim raised a questioning eyebrow.

“
I’m going to get my secretary to make an appointment on Monday. Can I mention your name? I’m a firm believer in the personal touch when I’m doing business.”

“
Of course. Make sure you see Phillip Reid. He’s the top person with the private clients. How fortunate that we met tonight.” Tim had forgotten his bad mood.

“
Isn’t it? I haven’t spent much time in the UK over the last four years – I’ve been living mainly in France, but I’ve decided now to spend more time on British soil. I miss the old place, really, although I can’t abide the weather,” Declan explained.

“
Quite. It can be ghastly. Where in France?”

“
St Tropez. Terribly obvious, I know, but I like the parties and the fun. It’s a playboy’s dream. I’ll still keep my place there, but probably split my time equally between there and here.” Declan laughed and Tim joined in. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“
I’ll join you in a whisky, thank you,” Tim said. He saw Galloway as a good opportunity, and although he was pissed off with Clara for standing him up, maybe he could salvage something from the evening. He summoned the barman and Declan ordered the drinks.

“
Certainly, Lord Galloway,” the barman said, which pleased Declan: it gave him more credibility.

“
I’m not a member yet, and I need a club in London now that I intend to spend more time here. I thought I’d have a look at this one,” Declan said.

“
Well, I can recommend it. As well as pleasant surroundings and good whisky, the food is excellent,” Tim replied.

“
I must try it. I have to say, I like it so far.” Declan gave Tim his best upper-class chuckle.

“
You’re an Old Etonian?” Tim asked.

“
Yes. It was the first tie I found when dressing today, but I’m terribly old-school,” Declan laughed. “Were you at the old place?” He knew Tim hadn’t been but he seemed flattered to be asked.

“
I went to a minor private school. You won’t have heard of it,” Tim said. Declan knew that he had been to a comprehensive like himself and also that it would be a mistake to press the issue so he left it.

“
I hear the bank is going from strength to strength,” he said.

“
We’re doing well, yes. Our management is excellent, as are our personnel.” Tim beamed with pride.

“So
I’ve heard. My portfolio is vast, and I like to know it’s in safe hands, which is why I’m thinking about moving it.”

“
Who’s it with at the moment?” Tim asked.

“
I’d rather not say, but if all goes well I hope I shall move it to your bank. I feel it would be good to put my money in the hands of a British bank. So many Americans and Germans are taking over the financial institutions.”

“
Quite,” Tim said. They sipped their drinks. Declan was just thinking about his next move when Tim spoke again. “I was supposed to meet a business contact here but he’s been unable to make it. Would you like to dine with me, Lord Galloway?”

He has no idea what he should call me, Declan thought. He almost expected Tim to bow.

“Please call me William, and I’d be delighted. I thought I’d have to rely on my own company this evening, which would have been dull.”

“
I’m sure that’s not true.” Tim laughed. They were becoming a mutual-appreciation society. They had another drink, and made small-talk, then Tim asked to be shown to a table. They were led to a small dining room, all leather and velvet, and seated at what was obviously the best table.

“
I recommend the veal,” Tim said, with authority.

“So
unds lovely. And what wine would you go for?” Just as Declan had predicted to himself Tim picked out the most expensive one. Declan insisted on having just a salad to start, blaming French cuisine for his waistline. Tim told him he had nothing to worry about. Declan was beginning to find him annoying, a good sign: the more he disliked a person, the easier it was to trap them. Declan played his part as arrogantly as he could. Tim tried desperately to match the arrogance. To any observer they both seemed absurd.

When the food and wine arrived they were still talking business: Declan had decided that if he could convince Tim of his interest in SFH, the rest of his task would be easier. After the wine, a good meal and brandy, he was sufficiently confident of Tim
’s friendship to pounce. He reached into his pocket and switched on the video. He had only three hours, but his gut instinct told him it wouldn’t take that long. He sat up straight to ensure that the camera was at an angle to film Tim’s face. He was well practised in this and he was confident, in control of the camera. He knew how to sit and how to move so that he filmed whatever he needed to record.

“
I’m so out of touch with the London scene. I don’t suppose you can recommend anywhere livelier?”

“
What are you after?” Tim had drunk rather more than Declan – his red cheeks betrayed him – and he was falling nicely into the trap.

“
I hope I’m not talking out of turn, but I’m looking to liven myself up. If you understand.” That was a gamble, but Declan knew Tim was drunk, that he used cocaine, and that he was impressed by the phoney title. There were times when Declan misjudged people and they clammed up as soon as he mentioned drugs, but he felt sure that wouldn’t happen now. Declan stared straight at Tim. Tim met his eyes.

“
You mean Charlie?” Tim asked quietly as he sipped his second large brandy, ordered discreetly by Declan. He wasn’t yet betraying himself: he was being cautious.

“
Yes. My old friend Charlie.” Declan laughed. A moment passed before Tim finally fell. “I can get you some. One phone call and I’ll have it delivered. Not just any old cocaine either, the best,” Tim boasted.

Declan smiled.
“Is this your sideline?” he joked, marvelling at Tim’s loose tongue.

“
Gosh, no. I only supply to good friends, if you get my meaning.” He sounded like a barrow-boy.

“
How much can you get?”

“
As much as you want, when you want, where you want.” He was now talking freely. “I’ve got some on me that you can sample.”

Declan almost jumped for joy – the man was even talking like a dealer. Tim passed a white package under the table and Declan got up to go to the cloakroom. Once there he didn
’t take any but put it into his pocket as evidence. Declan glanced in the bathroom mirror and again struck his “Bond” pose. “Bingo,” he said to his reflection and winked at himself.

When he returned, Tim stood up.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” He winked at Declan as he said it.

“
Stupid drunk fool,” Declan said to himself, and called for the bill. He was a little disappointed that Tim had been so easy. He enjoyed the chase and had almost expected to have to cultivate a longer friendship before he got what he wanted.

Tim returned as he was paying the bill in cash.
“
I
was going to buy dinner,” he said.

“
It’s the least I can do. Anyway, I seem to have rather a lot of cash on me tonight. Can’t abide plastic,” Paying in cash was the only way Declan could safeguard his fake identity. He often felt he needed to explain it because most people used credit cards. “I guess I’m just an old-fashioned man at heart.”

“
I agree,” Tim said, although Declan knew he was definitely a credit-card kind of man. Big gleaming platinum ones.

“
Do you know any night clubs we can go on to from here?” Declan asked.

“
Actually I know a special one. And why not? Let’s go.” Declan guessed the cocaine was kicking in because Tim was smiling like an idiot and behaving like an excited schoolboy.

As they made their way out, Tim felt proud and pleased with himself. William was obviously a man after his own heart. After all, the upper classes were renowned for their drug-taking. Not only was his lordship going to score him points at work but he would be good to have as a personal friend. He could imagine his wife
’s face at the mention of a lord at one of their dinner-parties. It would increase his social standing no end. If he played his cards right and provided William with what he wanted, which Tim guessed was drugs and girls, then Tim would be the trusted confidant of a lord. He was glad now that Clara hadn’t turned up. William was far more valuable. And he could get sex anywhere.