‘Parking fine on the Mini,’ said Harry.
Param lifted an eyebrow. ‘Bugger. I forgot that.’
Harry felt almost sorry for him. ‘It’s always the little things. Other than that, you nearly had a free run.’
Param made no comment, but turned back to the kettle and made the tea. He handed out mugs and gestured to the table, which held a sugar bowl and a carton of milk. ‘Help yourselves.’
When they were all seated, he looked at his two visitors. ‘I suppose there’s no point in promising you large amounts of money to go away and forget you ever saw me?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Sorry. It’s not the way we work.’
‘Fair enough. Just thought I’d ask.’ Param gave a sad smile. ‘Who’s the more seriously pissed off at me — my wife or the company?’
‘The company, by a short head. Your wife’s bearing up surprisingly well, considering. She’s at her sister’s.’ He kept his face carefully blank, but the information drew a wry smile of something close to appreciation from Param.
‘Yes, she always had strong support on the family side. Her sister thinks I’m a waster.’ Param shrugged and warmed his hands on his mug. ‘Like I care. So what happens now? Is this where you drag me kicking and screaming to the local nick?’ There was something almost light-hearted in his tone, as if he wasn’t taking their arrival too seriously.
‘Is there any reason why we should?’ said Rik. ‘The company wants its money back. I’m not sure about your wife, though.’
Param showed a set of even white teeth. ‘My wife will want the house, the cars and my testicles, in that order. The company will want the money but they’ll shy away from the embarrassment of publicity. It doesn’t look good to investors when a manager siphons off a load of cash.’ He sighed, the levity dying. ‘Unfortunately, they’re both in for a nasty surprise.’
‘Oh?’ Harry sipped his tea, wondering what the man had in store for them. There was something — he could feel it in the air. He eased himself back in his chair, ready to make a move.
‘Well, unknown to my dear wife, who doesn’t really bother herself with matters of finance, the house is mortgaged to the eaves. And there’s no money, company or otherwise.’ He looked apologetic. ‘Sorry — the offer of cash was a dud.’
‘What do you mean, none?’ Rik asked.
‘None. Not a cent. It’s all gone.’
Harry watched the man’s face for signs of lying, but saw none. Param had been much too calm and resigned. For a man caught within an ace of getting away with a large amount of money, he should have been depressed at failing. But he wasn’t.
Now he knew why.
SIXTEEN
‘There’s nothing to take back,’ Param explained. ‘The house is owned by the bank, and if you want to get the money, you’ll have to find Yvonne first.’ He clenched his mug between his fingers, the first real sign of tension he had shown. ‘She knew everything I was doing. . had done right from the beginning. I thought she was with me all the way.’ He looked bitter, his mouth turning down at the edges, although it could have been embarrassment. ‘More fool me. I taught her too well. She knows as much as I do about moving money around — possibly more. And she turned out to be a natural at covering her tracks and hiding what she was doing.’
‘Why did you take her on in the first place?’ Harry asked.
Param tapped his fingers on the table. ‘I needed someone else to help set up the accounts to take the final transfer of money. That way, even if the company auditors looked at me for some reason, I’d be clean. She seemed an ideal partner. There was no risk to her; she did everything perfectly legitimately. Unfortunately, she was even smarter than that; she’d set up some accounts of her own without telling me. I trusted her. Too far, as it turned out.’
Harry almost felt a touch of sympathy. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had fallen for and been duped by an accomplice far more cunning than him, and left holding the baby. ‘You got taken.’
Param nodded. ‘Yeah. Tell me about it.’
‘Any ideas where she might have gone?’ Harry had to ask the question. He doubted that it would be their problem to worry about, but if the ball got lobbed back into their court, they would need all the information they could get. And Yvonne Michaels had got a head start. ‘How about South Africa?’
‘You’ve done your homework,’ Param said with a note of approval. ‘To be honest, I haven’t a clue. Yvonne knows a lot of people in some strange places, believe me. South African and Zimbabwean ex-pats, mostly, and a few others with interesting backgrounds. She’s got three passports that I know of. She won’t be as easy to find as I was. And you can forget about the Mini; she dumped that days ago.’
‘We’ll have to call in for instructions,’ Harry told him, then added by way of explanation, ‘We’re not the police; we work freelance. Our brief was to find you and confirm your location. What happens next is up to the client.’
Param nodded. ‘I figured the company would send somebody after me. I suppose I’m lucky it isn’t a bunch of heavies with baseball bats.’ He took a deep breath and gave them each an earnest look. ‘I’ve no right to ask this, but is there any chance you guys could give me some leeway — say half an hour?’ He held up a hand. ‘Don’t worry — I’m not planning on making a run for it or doing anything stupid. I haven’t got the money or stamina to run, and I’m too much of a coward to kill myself.’
‘So what do you want it for?’ Harry asked.
‘I’ve got a letter to write. My parents. . they deserve an explanation.’ He gave a tired smile. ‘It’s not the sort of thing they should first read about in the morning papers, is it? Their favourite son ruining the family name.’
Harry considered it for a moment, then nodded in agreement. It wasn’t as if they could arrest Param; if he wanted to walk out of here right now, he could do so and there was nothing they could do to stop him. He stood up and signalled Rik to follow.
‘Thirty minutes,’ he reminded Param. ‘Then we have to call it in.’
They found a teashop just round the corner, with tired lace curtains at the window and a smell of cinnamon in the air. It would do while they gave Param his requested leeway. The owner was an elderly, demure lady with powder-blue hair and thick spectacles, who fussed around them as if they were visiting royalty rather than two late customers wasting time. Harry opted for coffee and a slice of walnut cake over a newspaper crossword, while Rik took tea and a toasted bun.
‘I like to stay open late because it’s better than watching the rubbish they call television,’ the owner explained, rearranging the tablecloth and plates until they were just right. ‘It’s all bad news, crude men and tarts with tits for brains these days, isn’t it?’ She bustled away to get their order, leaving the two men staring at each other in amusement.
Harry tried the taxi firm again. The driver had called in sick but hoped to be in the following day. The dispatcher refused to give the man’s address and primly quoted the Data Protection Act. Harry left his number and disconnected. Tomorrow would have to do.
Next he called Jennings. In the absence of Silverman, the lawyer might react well to some good news on another front.
‘It’s Tate,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve located Param.’
‘Who?’
‘Param. Raymond Param — the investor who did a bunk?’
‘Christ, how?’ Jennings sounded puzzled. ‘I mean, how did you have time to-?’
‘Skill, mostly.’ Harry wondered what was eating the man. Maybe he’d lost his Lottery ticket. ‘And a bit of luck. What do you want us to do about him?’
‘Do? I don’t want you do anything!’ Jennings snapped. ‘I want you to find Silverman. He’s the priority, remember? Everything else can wait.’