Bad Intentions Page 19

  'You have to get this car to Liverpool, that's all. Leave it at the NCP car-park by Lime Street station and get the bus back. Six or seven hours' work. I need it there on Monday morning, but I'm spending the weekend with my girlfriend and we want to drive together.'

  'How do you know I won't nick it?'

  'Got some ID?' asked Jack.

  The man pulled out his wallet and showed Jack a bank card with his name on it. Jack noted down the name. 'You nick it, I report you,' he said. 'Do we have a deal?'

  The man nodded, stuffed the notes into his pocket and walked away, taking the keys with him. Tara and Jack located the one small second-hand car dealer on the outskirts of town. The Cortina was the cheapest vehicle on the forecourt. £350. Jack didn't bother to haggle, although he might have been able to get £50 off the price if he had tried. He counted out the notes and drove the car away. They had no insurance, but that was the least of their worries. They would probably break several more laws before the week was finished. In the meantime, they had safe transport. Jack figured it could take two or three days at least for the ownership of the car to be registered. They could use it until Tuesday, without fear of it being traced.

  Jack wondered what sort of impression the car would make on Symonds. Tara was unfamiliar with the term Dagenham Dustbin, but it fitted the seventeen-year-old Ford Cortina perfectly. The underside was coated with a thick layer of rust, and the leopard-skin covers on the seats were pitted with cigarette burns. Not a classy motor, thought Jack. Not a machine to make them look like serious people in the eyes of a City merchant banker.

  They drove through to Kent, taking the back roads, avoiding London. For the first hour or so they were mostly silent, both of them lost in their own thoughts, thinking through their own priorities. Jack raised the issue of money first. It had been preying on his mind, gnawing inside him, and the issue, he realised, had to be confronted before they faced Symonds. 'Safety means money,' he told Tara firmly.

  Though he was keeping his eyes on the road, Jack could feel an icy look descend upon him. 'For whom?' she asked.

  'Say this works,' replied Jack evenly. 'We supply the information we have to Ocher and they use it to destroy Kizog. We get safe passage out of the country. What happens then? Our careers will be destroyed as well. Who knows when we work again, or for whom? This is our one shot. We either get everything right or nothing.'

  'You want to demand money from Ocher?' said Tara, a tone of suspicion entering her voice. 'That makes us blackmailers.'

  Jack shook his head. 'Not from Ocher,' he answered. 'From Kizog.'

  'They pay us to keep quiet?' questioned Tara. 'I don't like it.'

  'Much better than that,' said Jack. 'We profit from their destruction.'

  Tara's eyes turned towards him across the front seat of the car. 'How?'

  'When the bid is defeated, which it will be when this information comes to light, then the Kizog share price will sink like a stone. That we can be certain of.. All we have to do is ask Symonds to use some of his bank's money to buy a series of put options in our name. A temporary loan, that's all. If we are successful, we collect a vast profit on the deal, and the bank gets its money back. The profits come from the speculators who are ramping the Kizog share price upwards.'

  Tara sat back in her seat and said nothing. Jack had a point, she decided. They would need the money. And, so long as it was coming from Kizog, she could see no harm in it. After all, the company owed them something. 'How much money?' she said finally.

  'We ask them to underwrite an options contract for two million,' answered Jack promptly, his mind racing ahead. 'My bet is that should multiply by a factor of ten or so within a day of the bid failing, clearing about twenty million in profits.'

  Tara just nodded. It was getting close to six now, and they were approaching the village of Cranbrook, just outside Maidstone. Symonds had said his house was past the village, on the right, about a mile down the road from the village. They could hardly miss it; a Georgian mansion, built on two floors, with a long gravel driveway, large, well-tended grounds, a swimming-pool and tennis-courts. Jack pulled the car up alongside the gates and stopped. He climbed out, telling Tara to take the wheel and keep the engine running. 'I want to look around before we go in,' he said. 'If I am not back in five minutes, drive.'

  'I'll wait,' she protested.

  Jack shook his head. 'If Symonds has contacted the police and I'm arrested, I'd rather have you on the outside, collecting more evidence.'

  Tara nodded, looked up at him, and smiled, but Jack could catch the tension in her eyes. Turning, he walked through the gates, and started up the driveway. Up ahead he could see a Jaguar and a Range Rover sitting on the gravel, but there was no sign of any other cars. Jack kept his eyes peeled for police, but he could see nothing.

  He could hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet, and the door was no more than yards away now. Jack could feel his muscles tensing as he drew nearer, and his palms felt hot and sweaty. Madness, he thought for a moment. Why should Symonds have done anything other than call the police? Or even worse, contact the Chairman? There was still time to turn and drive, escape from here, and work out another plan.

  He turned, casting a glance backwards at the Cortina. He saw Tara sitting at the wheel, her eyes fixed upon him, and could dimly hear the sound of the engine running. Steel yourself, he muttered to himself. If anyone is here, they will have seen you already. And the Cortina would never outrun anyone if it came to a chase.

  Wiping the sweat from his palms, Jack took a deep breath, and rang the bell. The door was opened by a handsome man of about fifty-five, dressed in slacks and a polo sweater, almost six feet tall, with a square face, and silver-grey hair swept back over his head, parted at the left. 'Mr Borrodin,' he said, without offering to shake his hand.

  Jack nodded. 'You'd better come inside,' the man continued. Jack followed him through the hallway, furnished with portraits and expensive antiques, and into the sitting-room. An open log fire was burning in the grate, and a Labrador jumped up off one of the chairs to welcome Symonds into the room. Seeing no sign of anyone else in the house, Jack walked back out to the drive way and waved at Tara. In the distance, he could see her turning off the engine, and walking up the driveway. 'It looks OK,' he told her, taking her arm and leading her inside. A look of relief swept across her face, and Jack gripped her arm a little tighter.

  Together they walked back into the sitting-room. Symonds returned a few moments later, holding a tumbler of iced whisky, followed by a woman with a silver tray, bearing a decanter, glasses and an ice bucket. From the pearls dangling from her neck, Jack assumed it was his wife rather than a maid. Symonds looked down at Tara, his eyes scrutinising her. 'This is most unusual,' he began. 'In all my many years of working on takeover defences I don't believe I've ever had a clandestine visit from middle-ranking executives at the aggressor company.'

  'The circumstances are most unusual,' replied Jack hesitantly.

  'Tell me about it,' replied Symonds, settling back into a leather armchair, fixing Jack with his steely grey eyes. 'But I won't accept any preconditions to our conversation. If you want to haggle, you can leave now. And if you tell me anything I feel may be useful, I will use it.'

  Jack stared back. It was, he knew, the moment of truth; there was nothing to do now but roll the dice. Taking a deep breath, and drawing strength from Tara's presence beside him, he began. 'Kizog is not what it appears,' he started, his eyes moving past Symonds, through the french windows and on to the neatly trimmed lawn outside. 'It has been involved in two activities that are far removed from its main business. For many years it has been researching biological weapons for sale to NATO governments. And it has been systematically engaged in manufacturing counterfeit pharmaceuticals.'

  The tone of his delivery was dead pan yet authoritative. Jack glanced upwards at Symonds. He had certainly captured the man's interest, but so far there was no expression, no reaction, that he could read on his face. He
glanced across at Tara, inviting her to take up the reins.

  'You are aware of Ator?' Tara said.

  'Of course,' replied Symonds.

  'And of the Kizog vaccine which I am supposed to have invented?'

  Symonds nodded, the expression in his eyes easing, and she felt that he would like her to continue. 'Kizog already had the vaccine and just brought me in to front their own discovery. My role was strictly for public consumption only. I didn't really do anything to create the vaccine. They handed it to me on a plate. And from the internal laboratory documents I have seen, Kizog knew about the mechanisms of the virus and about the potential for a vaccine long before the first recorded cases of the disease were registered. There is only one coherent explanation for that. Kizog created the virus as a biological weapon and created the vaccine at the same time. That is standard practice in biological warfare research, I believe.'

  Symonds sat back in his chair, impassively soaking up the information.

  There was a brief silence and Jack knew it was time to take up the story again. 'The counterfeiting operation is a little harder to explain,' he began. 'I was given the task of helping industry investigations into the activities of the counterfeiters. I was meant to infiltrate the counterfeiting organisation. I did so, but it soon became clear that the counterfeit trade was organised by Kizog, and I was meant to play a role in that. Now they are trying to have me arrested for being a counterfeiter myself. My role was to take the fall.'

  Symonds blinked, taking a sip of his whisky. His expression was harsh and unforgiving. Jack paused, wondering if he was on shaky ground. Why should Symonds want to deal with someone who was acknowledging he was wanted by the police? He searched for a reaction but was met only with silence. 'Your defence document said Kizog's sales had been systematically inflated,' he continued. 'I think your figures were probably correct. Kizog is involved in the counterfeit drugs business, and the sales for its legitimate drugs are artificially increased so that the cash generated from the counterfeiting business can be run into the books. The cashflow and profits appear in the books as perfectly legal. It is a very neat system.'

  Symonds looked at Jack, the ice in his expression starting to melt. 'You are right about the numbers. We can find no real market evidence for the sales totals Kizog are claiming. It has proved a complete mystery.'

  Jack could sense that his words were being heard with some sympathy, and, his confidence starting to grow, began to press into the opening. 'Aren't you puzzled as well by how Kizog can fund this bid? The cashflows are obviously tremendous. Far more than is apparent in the accounts.'

  Symonds nodded. 'Why are you telling me this?' he said, leaning towards them, his expression clouding once again. 'What do you want from me?'

  'Information like this would be more than enough to defeat the Kizog bid,' answered Jack firmly. 'It is in the interests of your client for all of this to be revealed, and before the bid closes. It might even be a fiduciary duty for you to act upon it.'

  'And you are willing to give me this information?'

  'For a price, yes,' answered Jack.

  'A price,' responded Symonds, the distaste audible in his voice. 'I told you I was not interested in paying for dirt.'

  Jack eyed him coldly. 'Who said we wanted your money,' he snapped.

  Symonds relaxed. 'Then what do you want?'

  'Help,' repeated Jack firmly. 'In two ways. We supply you with the information to prove that Kizog is a complete sham. That's our end of the deal. You use it, and you make sure that both Ocher and the Swiss government are involved in acting upon it. We need friends, powerful friends, and right now Ocher and the Swiss are the only people likely to listen to us. They get the information in return for destroying Kizog and making sure we have their protection afterwards.'

  Symonds nodded.

  'Next, your bank lends us £2 million, and uses it to take out a put option on Kizog stock. The loan lasts about forty-eight hours, and I expect to be charged interest on it at the usual rates for two-day money. When the bid is dropped, their share price will collapse, and we collect the profits on the deal. Your two million is returned to the bank, with interest and dealing charges deducted.'

  'Two million,' said Symonds carefully, drawing out the words. 'Are you offering any collateral?'

  Jack shook his head. 'What is your success fee on this defence?' he asked. 'About £100 million, more perhaps.'

  'In that region,' replied Symonds cautiously.

  'Let's be realistic; Ocher are going to lose this bid. You know that. Kizog have simply put up too much money. There is nothing either you or your client can do about it. If Ocher are prepared to pay you £100 million to escape from Sir Kurt, why not loan us two million? We can actually make it happen. In return for the protection and the money we will deliver proof of what we have been saying.'

  Jack wondered if he had pushed too far. He had figured that a merchant banker would regard a few million as no more than a reasonable fee for several days' work. Symonds was rubbing his chin, his eyes downcast. Jack stood up, looking down at the man.

  'If you want we can leave now,' he said. 'Defend your client as best you can.'

  Symonds raised a hand. 'Stay,' he said.

  Jack sat down again, delivering a hard look in the banker's direction. He's hooked, he thought to himself.

  'You believe you can deliver conclusive proof of what you say?' asked Symonds.

  'Yes,' answered Jack. 'No proof, no reward.'

  'By noon on Friday,' said Symonds. 'Any later than that and it is useless to me.'

  'By noon on Friday,' said Jack firmly.

  Symonds stood up from his chair and walked out of the room. Tara and Jack waited in silence, unsure what was likely to happen next. Jack was pondering what their alternatives might be. If Symonds turned down this deal, he was out of options. He could hardly spend the rest of his life on the run. There would be little choice but to turn himself in, and hope for a fair trial.

  Symonds walked back into the room holding a fax. He passed it down to Tara and Jack. 'I think you should see this,' he said. 'My PR man just faxed it to me. It is tomorrow morning's Observer. Front page.'

  Jack grasped the sheet of waxy paper. The print was only just legible but the headline was clear enough: 'Revealed: Warfare and Counterfeiting scandal at Kizog'. Jack started to read the story.

  Ator, the deadly Third World virus, was a biological warfare agent created by the former Soviet Union and spread throughout the world by a drugs counterfeiting ring also run out of the former Soviet Union, an investigation by the pharmaceuticals conglomerate Kizog has revealed. Tara Ling, the inventor of the Ator vaccine recently announced by Kizog, is secretly a member of a ring controlled by Russian Mafia interests that have taken control of the biological weapon. She has been working with the counterfeiters, who brought the vaccine to Kizog in an attempt to extort money from the company, alongside another Kizog executive, Jack Borrodin, who the company believes is a key figure in the western European part of the counterfeiting operation.

  A spokesman for Kizog said last night that internal inquiries had uncovered the scandal, and that the company was now co-operating with the authorities. Arrest warrants have been issued for both Ling and Borrodin, who are now understood to be on the run together after an attempt to arrest Borrodin was made last week. Kizog is currently involved in a £13 billion bid for the Swiss pharmaceuticals company Ocher. A spokesman said that the revelations should have no effect on the bid. There was no material loss to the firm, and the company believes it still has legal rights to the Ator vaccine. 'This shows the excellence of our internal monitoring procedures,' said the spokesman.

  The fax became too fuzzy after that, and Jack could read no further. The words blurred into one another. He handed it across to Tara, who had already been reading over his shoulder. 'Their story is a little different from yours,' said Symonds.

  'They are lying,' replied Jack.

  'Well, you would say that, wouldn't you
?' said Symonds coldly. Tara threw the fax down on the floor. Her eyes were alight with anger. 'Do I look like a Russian Mafioso?'

  'I've never met one,' replied Symonds.

  'Then call the police,' she snapped.

  Symonds stood up and began pacing around the room. His head was bowed and a look of extreme concentration was written across his face. Jack knew he was trying to make a decision, and he could feel his pulse quickening. He edged forward on his chair, wondering whether this was the moment to take Tara by the arm and flee from the house. At the very least they might be able to enjoy a few days together before they were captured.

  'I probably should call the police,' Symonds began carefully. 'That might be my duty as a citizen. But I must confess I find your story strangely credible. There is something very odd about the Kizog accounts. And I have a client to think about. I called Basle whilst I was out of the room, and the Ocher chairman said that we should play you along.'

  Jack sat back in his chair, a sense of relief flooding through his body. He took hold of Tara’s wrist, and could feel from her pulse that she was relaxing as well.

  'Two conditions,' Symonds continued, turning to face them directly. 'I want conclusive proof of your story delivered to me by this Friday morning. And I want to be convinced that there has been no criminal wrongdoing on your part. Ocher will only provide money and assistance in getting you out of the country if we can be sure you are innocent. We will not help criminals.'

  'Fine,' said Jack instantly.

  Tara and Jack stood up to face him. Both of them shook him by the hand. 'I don't want to see you again, or hear from you again until you have the proof,' said Symonds. 'If you can't deliver, we never met.'

  NINETEEN

  A line of wrinkles furrowed the Chairman's brow as he put the phone down. His knuckles were tapping on the desk-top. He looked worried. Nervous even. It was not a look Shane had seen before.

  His conversations with the officials at the Ministry of Defence had not gone well. Their spines were starting to loosen and their nerves were starting to buckle. Already, the story in the paper had prompted questions. Why did the Ministry not know Ator was a biological weapon? Why did it not know the Russians had lost control of their biochemical arsenals? Well, they would have to dig their own way out, the Chairman reflected. This was their project, and if any of the true facts ever emerged there would be a lot of careers destroyed apart from his own.