‘And you also know that Bloomfield Weiss is in discussions with Lord Kerton about taking over Dekker Ward.’
This time Ricardo said nothing.
I continued, ‘Isabel’s father has received a message from the kidnappers that unless Bloomfield Weiss call off their bid by Friday, she will die.’
Still no response. I pressed on regardless.
‘I want you, and Eduardo, to know that I’ve spoken to Sidney Stahl, to ask him to stop the takeover. He didn’t listen to me.’ I could feel the desperation welling up inside me. ‘Ricardo, I can’t stop this takeover! You have to believe me!’
He turned to face me. The cool blue eyes looked me up and down, judging me.
At last he spoke. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because you organized the kidnapping!’ I said. ‘Or if you didn’t, Eduardo did, which amounts to the same thing. And I don’t want you to kill her.’ I was pleading now, begging. But I didn’t know what else to do.
Ricardo looked right through me, his face stone cold. ‘You have betrayed me. You are trying to sell my company to my biggest rival. And now you come up with some cock-and-bull story about how I arranged the kidnap of one of my own people. I want Isabel to live as much as you do. More, probably. I know nothing about the kidnap, Nick. So I can’t help you. Now, I must get back to work.’
He stood up and walked quickly back across the square towards the Tower.
‘Well, at least talk to Eduardo about it,’ I said, walking beside him. He ignored me. ‘Eduardo’s got to know what’s going on. Talk to him!’
‘Leave me alone, Nick,’ Ricardo said, glancing at me coldly.
I stopped and watched him as he reached the varnished entrance to the tower complex.
‘Ricardo!’ I shouted. ‘You can’t let her die! You can’t!’
My voice echoed off the squat blocks of offices around me, bouncing off Ricardo’s back as he disappeared inside the huge building.
I made my slow way back to Dockenbush Farm. Tube, train, and then a walk from the station. It was six o’clock by the time I arrived back there.
All the way my mind wrestled with my meeting with Ricardo. He had been convincing about his ignorance of Isabel’s kidnap. But then Ricardo was convincing. Always. There was a chance that Eduardo had arranged the kidnap without Ricardo’s knowledge. Perhaps Ricardo would talk to him now. Persuade him not to have Isabel killed. Perhaps tell him to release her.
I was clutching at straws.
That evening, I spent ten minutes wolfing down my supper, and mumbled something about more problems with my thesis to Jamie. Then I went back upstairs to stare into space.
Both Luís and I were confident that Zico would call him at midnight Brazil time, which was four a.m. in England. There was no chance of sleep before then.
At about eleven, Kate knocked on my door. ‘I just came to say goodnight. I’m off to bed now.’
‘Goodnight.’
She sat on the bed. ‘What is it, Nick? What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Of course there is. It’s not just about the takeover, is it? It’s more than that.’
I blurted it out. ‘Unless I can work out some way of stopping Bloomfield Weiss from taking over Dekker in the next five hours, Isabel will die.’
‘But I thought—’
‘That she was dead? Well, the good news is that she isn’t. The bad news is that she soon will be,’ I muttered bitterly.
‘But why would the kidnappers care about whether Dekker gets taken over?’
I told her my theories about Ricardo and Eduardo.
She listened in shock. ‘I can’t believe it!’
‘Can you think of any other explanation?’
Kate frowned, and shook her head. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Wait for the deadline.’
‘Oh, God. I suppose you’ve spoken to Bloomfield Weiss?’
I nodded.
‘And they took no notice?’
I sighed and nodded again.
‘What about Ricardo?’
‘That was where I went this afternoon. He was very tight-lipped. He denied any knowledge of the kidnap and walked off.’
‘Do you believe him?’
I shook my head. ‘You know how plausible Ricardo can be.’
‘Oh.’ She thought for a moment. ‘What about Andrew Kerton?’
I stared at her.
‘Well, presumably he has to agree to a sale?’ she said. ‘Have you spoken to him?’
‘Christ! No, I hadn’t thought of that.’ Then I frowned. ‘He’d be hardly likely to call off the deal for me, would he? I mean, this is his only chance to sell.’
‘You won’t know until you try.’
I looked at my watch. A quarter past eleven. Just under five hours to go till Zico’s deadline.
‘Do you know where he lives?’ I asked Kate.
‘No idea. But you can try Directory Enquiries.’
‘I bet he’s ex-directory.’ I tried. He was.
‘Jamie might know,’ said Kate. ‘I think he’s been to his house before.’
‘I want to keep Jamie out of this,’ I said.
‘I don’t think you have a choice.’
Jamie was drying up dishes in the kitchen. ‘Jamie, do you know where Lord Kerton lives?’ I asked breathlessly.
He turned and frowned. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Oh, come on Jamie, just tell us,’ Kate implored.
‘Somewhere in Kensington Square, I think. I forget the number.’
‘Come on, Nick. I’ll drive you,’ said Kate.
Jamie put down the glass he was wiping. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘Tell you later,’ said Kate, and I followed her out of the front door.
26
It took us three-quarters of an hour. Kate drove fast and there wasn’t much traffic. Kensington Square is a quiet gathering of large houses just to the south of Kensington High Street. We had no idea which one was Lord Kerton’s.
An old envelope was lying in the back of Kate’s car. I took it, stuffed the car manual into it, and picked a house at random. I rang the bell. After a couple of minutes, a grey-haired man in an old dressing gown answered. He didn’t seem at all bothered about being disturbed at midnight.
‘Can I speak to Lord Kerton?’ I asked.
‘I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong house. He doesn’t live here.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry, sir. I have an urgent message for him,’ I said, brandishing the unopened end of the envelope. ‘Can you tell me which is his house?’
‘Four doors down,’ said the man helpfully, pointing.
I thanked him, and headed for Kerton’s house. Kate saw me and climbed out of the car.
‘It’s OK. I can do this myself,’ I said.
‘He’ll be more likely to listen to the two of us.’
She was right.
I rang the doorbell. It was answered quickly. Kerton was wearing old green trousers and a striped cotton shirt. No shoes, just socks.
He frowned as he saw me, his expression one of deep distaste. ‘What the hell do you want?’
‘Can we come in, sir?’ I asked.
‘No. Bugger off.’
He tried to shut the door. I leaned into it. ‘Please. Just five minutes.’
‘I said bugger off. Or I’ll call the police.’
Kate squeezed between us. She was a lot shorter than both of us, but she looked determinedly up to Kerton’s chin. ‘If you throw us out, Isabel Pereira will die.’
This made him pause for a moment. ‘So she’s still alive?’
‘Yes. For the time being.’ said Kate.
He thought for a moment. He obviously looked on Kate more kindly than me. ‘Well, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you’d better come in.’
He led us up some stairs to a large, comfortably furnished sitting room on the first floor.
‘Sit down,’ he said, gesturing to the sofa.