Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [125]
“Perhaps he did, to start with,” said DCI Flight, “until he discovered the availability of the grants.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I think it’s far more likely that the idea for stealing the EU grants came first and Shenington was simply brought in as the necessary provider of the priming money.”
“So he wasn’t the only one involved?” Tomlinson said.
“Not at all,” I said. “I’ve seen e-mails between a Uri Joram in the office of the European Commission in Brussels and a Dimitar Petrov in Bulgaria—”
“How did you see them?” Tomlinson interrupted.
“On Gregory Black’s computer,” I said. “He was copied on their correspondence.”
“And who is Gregory Black?” asked the detective inspector from the Fraud Squad.
“He’s one of the senior partners at Lyall and Black, the firm of financial advisers where I work.” Or where I used to work.
“And what do you think he has to do with this?” he asked.
“I’m only guessing, but I believe that Gregory Black probably found Shenington for Joram and Petrov. They would have needed someone with five million pounds to invest to trigger the much larger sum from the EU. Shenington was a client of Gregory’s, and who could be better, a man who controlled a wealthy family trust but was himself broke and in dire need of lots of ready money to pay his gambling debts. And Gregory would have known that. Financial advisers are aware of all their clients’ most intimate financial secrets.”
“But what has all this to do with the death of Herbert Kovak?” asked DCI Tomlinson. That was his major concern.
“Herb Kovak had accessed the file with the e-mails between Joram and Petrov just a few days before he was killed. And Gregory Black would have known he had because Herb’s name appeared on the recently accessed list. I saw it there. Perhaps Herb had asked some difficult questions about the project, questions that got him killed.”
I could see that I was losing them.
“Remember,” I said, “we are talking about a huge amount of money here. A hundred million euros. Even split four ways, it’s a handsome sum, and worth a bit of protecting.”
I could see them doing the simple math in their heads.
“And,” I went on, “in the last week or so, every time Gregory Black knew where I was, someone tried to kill me there. I now think that Shenington only changed his mind about wanting to talk to me, then asked me to the races, because I hadn’t been turning up at my office. He as good as admitted it yesterday. He said I was a difficult man to kill because I usually didn’t turn up when I was expected. Well, I was expected at a meeting with Gregory Black on Monday morning and I’m now certain that I would have been killed if I’d gone to it. I probably wouldn’t have even reached the office front door. I’d have been shot down in the street. Murdered in a public place, just like Herb Kovak was at Aintree.”
“I think it’s time I spoke again to Mr. Gregory Black,” said DCI Tomlinson. “I remember him from my previous encounter.”
Yes, I thought, and I bet he remembers you.
There followed a brief discussion as to who had the proper jurisdiction to arrest and on suspicion of what charges. Finally, it was agreed that the honor would fall to DI Batten, the detective inspector from the Fraud Squad. After all, the City of London was his patch. However, we all wanted to be present, and a total of three police cars made the trip across London to 64 Lombard Street, where we were joined by a fourth from the uniformed branch.
It was quarter past two by the time we arrived at my office. Gregory should be just back from his usual substantial lunch at the restaurant on the corner. I hoped he’d made the most of it. There would be no more foie gras and filet mignon en croûte where he was going.
“Can I help you?” Mrs. McDowd asked as the policemen entered. Then she saw me with