Next he looked at the company’s early history. It had been founded by two men in the mid-1980s. The elder of the two, Geoffrey Asquith, held a PhD in Art and Art History and had at the time of the company’s founding lectured on a part time basis at a leading English University. The younger man, Michael Horner, held a postgraduate degree in Banking and Finance and had worked for two leading Investment Banks in the City before joining forces with Asquith in a trading venture that utilised both men's skills to the full, not to mention Horner's extensive book of contacts.
Success naturally led to growth and then specialising in different areas as the business developed. Eventually it seemed that the art expert and the banker had grown apart from the company they had created and sold it on at a handsome profit.
By now their contacts were considerable and not just limited to the world of art, arms and shipping. Both men had expanded their interests into other areas, taking directorships in offshore investment companies, consultancy work and eventually for Asquith, politics.
Resting his forehead on the heel of his hand, Campbell squeezed his eyes tight, trying to blink away the discomfort.
What did this all mean? What was the relevance to a break in at Griffin? Did it relate to these two older, more influential men, or was it some attempt at industrial espionage on the part of one of Griffin’s current competitors?
The answer, he knew, would be contained somewhere on the memory stick that nestled in his bag. He had not looked at it yet, had balked at examining its contents. He was, on the one hand, concerned that here was potentially confidential and sensitive company information and that he may in some way leave himself liable to legal action by the company if he accessed it. But that was an excuse really. It was a different fear that stayed his hand. Campbell was afraid of what he might find.
Given the circumstances of the stick's delivery, he figured that was only normal. Peeking at some private company records was one thing, but quite another when you knew that it was stolen and had arrived in the cold dead fingers of a stranger.
Slow down Campbell, he told himself. The guy wasn’t actually dead when he turned up.
The double ring of the doorbell jarred him from his thoughts and he looked up surprised and then checked his watch. It was late. Who was this? His nerves jangled but he sat motionless in the chair, suddenly alert.
It rang again. Two times, three.
Slater was grinding his teeth now, impatient and agitated. The creeping cold and long empty hours were winding him up like a watch spring.
‘Come on for fucks sake,’ he muttered through his teeth and watched the air cloud around him.
He stole a quick glance around but the street was quiet now and many lights in the surrounding windows were going out as people went to bed. The thought of crawling into his warm comfortable bed with his warm comfortable wife turned the tension up a notch and he turned and reached for the doorbell again.
‘Where are you then you bastard?’ he hissed, hitting the button on every other word.
He waited.
‘Ok, ok, buddy. I’m coming.’ His brother, Luke, appeared at the doorway with a smile but the surprise made Campbell start. ‘I rang for Pizza. How long are you going to be sat at that thing for anyway?’ he said pointing at the laptop.
‘Um. Nearly done,’ he replied and pushed the chair back to stand ‘You… you need cash?’ he called after him but Luke waved a wordless dismissal over his shoulder.
‘Christ! No tip for you mate,’ said Luke fishing a twenty from his wallet and opening the door. ‘In a hurry?’
Listening, Campbell cringed at his brother’s confrontational attitude. It had always been his way and not a trait that Daniel shared with him. Sometimes it had its virtues as Luke had always been more confident and assertive. But Campbell often felt that he would get himself into trouble one day.
The door slammed and Campbell stood, his knees popping and he rolled his shoulders and stretched the stiffness from his joints, peering through the doorway at the empty hall beyond. The memory stick would have to wait now. He was too tired to think straight, too hungry to care and more than a little apprehensive about the doorbell. The feeling of apprehension nagged at him. Silly, he thought.
‘Danny!’ Luke’s voiced called out.
‘What?’
‘Get two plates and two beers from the fridge you lazy bastard,’ Luke replied and appeared round the corner with a huge flat pizza box and a plain paper bag resting on top.
‘What’s that lot? We expecting guests?’
‘What sort of terrible fucker orders a massive mighty meaty without sides? Not in this house mate. Not on my watch. Now; beers.'
The two of them moved into the lounge to tuck into their feast, laughing and rubbing their hands at the smell of hot food. Campbell’s tension lifted momentarily and he smiled at the way he had allowed his paranoia to get the better of him.
‘You been on-line the whole time?’ asked Luke through a mouthful of Mighty Meaty.
Campbell nodded sheepishly and shrugged.
‘You owe me for the food.’
‘Alright. I’ll pay for it.’
Slater resisted the urge to stick his foot through the door and walk straight into the flat but he knew he wasn’t there, that he had missed him jumping into the taxi earlier.
Gresham was going to be livid when he told him. Still, no point wasting any more time. He would be back soon enough and Slater would be there waiting. Slater knew he had fucked-up this time but he was beginning to run out of patience with everybody now and there absolutely would not be any more fuck-ups. This little shit had run him around plenty. He took one last look at the front door of Campbell’s empty flat through narrow eyes and stalked back across to his car.
Home to bed now for some much needed sleep and then back in the morning nice and early to give the lad a proper wake up call. Enough was enough.
'You going to tell me what's up then, or are you just a bit menstrual?' Luke's standard approach to any kind of potential awkwardness, as Campbell knows, is to confront it in a belligerent and insensitive manner.
'Nice,' Campbell replies as he slides hot pizza from the box.
'Well fuck, Dan. You forgot to bring beer, you've been buried in the laptop for hours and it's not even porn. Either it's a girl, a job hunt or you've found some weird online forum to indulge your inner nerd. Something is up.'
'None of the above actually. Actually, perhaps a tiny bit of each of the first two.'
'You need a new job because you shagged some girl at work and you're afraid she's going to tell everyone about your tiny weiner?' There it was, thought Campbell. Imagine if I had an actual problem to talk to you about.
'Nothing major really. Just a bit cooped up in the flat after all the shit of the last few days.'
'Yeah, you now how to throw a party,' Luke smiled and shook his. Equal parts sympathy and morbid fascination.
Campbell couldn't help but smile back. His brother may be employing bravado in the face of all the things he had told him about the gatecrasher and the burglary and the police, but maybe a little false courage and nonchalance was what was required here. Campbell had scarcely switched off thinking about things and as much headway as he was making with the research this evening, what he'd most like was a bit of a mental block, something to numb.
He had been surprised how edgy he had been at the sharp incessant ringing of the doorbell. There could surely be no way that anyone could know where he was, but they new where he lived and Campbell harboured dark thoughts of being trailed and watched, stalked from the shadows by determined, malevolent figures.
'So when are you off then?' Campbell said through a mouthful of garlic bread.
'Two days and then it is wall to wall sunshine, food and booze. And when I'm finished burning and bingeing it is back to the room with the missus.' A broad grin and an entirely unnecessary wink.