Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [10]
All independent financial advisers are required to determine and grade their clients’ attitudes to risk. Low-risk investments, such as fixed-interest bank accounts or triple-A-rated government bonds, tended to give only a small rate of return but the capital sum was safe. Medium-risk might include stocks in major companies or unit trusts and mutual funds, where the return should be greater but there was a chance of losing some of the capital due to a drop in the stock market price. High-risk investments, including venture capital trusts and foreign currency dealings, gave the opportunity to make big returns but could also result in large losses.
Lyall & Black, however, also advised on investments for which the risk level could only be described as extreme, such as the financing of films or plays, buying shares in wine funds, in foreign property portfolios or in works of art. Returns could be vast, but so were the chances of losing everything.
It was the attitude that had first attracted me to them.
Kicking a horse hard in the belly to ask it to lengthen its stride, to make it right for a jump, was also an extreme-risk strategy that could so easily result in a crashing fall. An alternative, safer approach might be to take a pull, to ask the animal to shorten and to put in an extra stride. It may have been safer, but it was slower, much slower. A great deal better in my mind to crash to the turf trying to win than to be satisfied with second place.
“How much longer are they going to keep us waiting here?” Gregory Black demanded. “Don’t they realize we have work to do?”
No one answered.
One by one, all the other staff had turned up, and the client waiting area was now full to overflowing. For most of them, they had only heard of Herb’s demise as they had arrived, and the last thing they wanted to do was to start work. The two ladies who doubled as receptionists and admin assistants were both in tears. Herb had been popular and much loved, and not least because he’d been a change from the usual rather straitlaced, pin-stripedsuited City financier.
Herb had loved being the American abroad, turning up on the Fourth of July with gifts of candy sticks and apple pie, hosting an office Thanksgiving lunch of turkey and all the trimmings in November, and drawling “Yee-haw!” at the top of his voice like a cowboy when he’d managed to lasso a new client. Herb had been fun, and life in the office was going to be a lot less cheerful for his passing.
Finally, around nine-thirty, a middle-aged man in an ill-fitting gray suit came into the reception and addressed the waiting faces.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began formally. “I am Detective Chief Inspector Tomlinson of the Merseyside Police. Sorry for the inconvenience, but, as you will be aware, my colleagues and I are investigating the murder of Herbert Kovak at Aintree races on Saturday afternoon. I expect we will be here for some time and I ask for your patience. However, I must ask you to remain here as I will want to speak to each of you individually.”
Gregory Black didn’t look pleased. “Can’t we work in our offices while we wait?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” replied the policeman.
“And why not?” demanded Gregory.
“Because I do not want any of you,” he looked around the room, “having any access to your computers.”
“But that’s outrageous.” Gregory was building up a head of steam. “Are you accusing one of us of having something to do with Mr. Kovak’s death?”
“I’m not accusing anyone,” Chief Inspector Tomlinson replied in a more conciliatory tone. “I just need to cover every avenue. If evidence does exist on Mr. Kovak’s computer, then I am sure you will all understand that it has to be free from any possible contamination due to any of you accessing the files through the company server.”
Gregory was hardly placated. “But all our files are remotely saved and can be viewed directly as they were at any time. This is completely ridiculous.”
“Mr. Black.” The policeman turned to face him directly.