Authors: Eve Bourton
‘After the Berlin Wall came down, I decided to launch my business. I didn’t want people to keep associating me with the East, which they would have done had I been known as Altminden. My father was very well known in the DDR hierarchy. So I changed my name. End of story.’
Miles passed over the photograph of a man in the uniform of a Stasi colonel. He had kept it back on purpose. ‘Not quite.’
Stessenberg glanced at it and looked up. ‘Yes, I was a colonel in the Stasi. Not a crime either, as far as I’m aware. For your information, I and thousands of my colleagues lost our jobs after reunification, and our pensions are pitiful. I don’t see what the fuck any of it has got to do with you.’
He was losing his cool. The swearing was a good sign. Macdonald got up unhurriedly and joined them.
‘Rather a lot, actually,’ said Miles. ‘We know you worked for the HVA – foreign intelligence. Had masses of contacts throughout the Soviet bloc, the former Yugoslavia, and the Middle East. We know that you still nurture those contacts. That your business grew five hundred per cent during the wars in the Balkans and Iraq. That you are currently in constant communication with rather undesirable people in the Gulf and Afghanistan. I don’t suppose you care where the money comes from or who gets killed with the arms bought with the profits you make. You just have to survive, don’t you?’
‘I invest money for people,’ Stessenberg said. ‘I make profits for them. And I’m good at it. Politics don’t come into it as far as I’m concerned.’
‘They do when you’re investing money for terrorists,’ said Macdonald smoothly, sitting beside Stessenberg, ‘when that money has come from organised crime, stolen government funds, and drug trafficking. When the profits provide arms and training for terrorist organisations.’
‘What the hell do you want?’ Stessenberg sounded weary, bored even. But there was a hint of fear in his eyes. He looked at the door, but Macdonald had him wedged in, and he knew he was carrying a weapon.
‘A little bit of co-operation,’ said Miles. It was time to go in for the kill. ‘Then we might be able to discuss ways of keeping you out of jail. So if you’d care to look over
this
contract, we might be able to do business.’
He passed Stessenberg the document Corsley European had prepared for the sale of UVS’ Marchand stake to Corinne. Below the market price, of course.
Stessenberg snatched up a pen and scribbled his signature on it.
‘Thank you. I knew we could do a deal.’ Miles quickly shoved the contract into his briefcase.
‘I still want your client’s stake in my company, Mr Corsley.’
‘No problem at all,’ said Miles, ‘although you may find you won’t have much of a company left. I’ll leave you to discuss that with Mr Macdonald. Co-operation, Altminden, remember. It’s his favourite word.’ He stood up. Macdonald didn’t need him now. ‘There is one thing. Who were you going to sell your Marchand stake to?’
‘I would have thought you’d have found that out by now. Look for an American corporation with Pacific interests. They’re going global.’
Several names sprang to mind. A little research would surely uncover the predator. Not that it really mattered, but Miles was keen to piece the whole jigsaw together. He walked to the door.
‘My bank in Paris will arrange the transfer of funds and shares with UVS in New York. It will all be settled by the end of the week. Thank you for your time.’
Stessenberg raised his glass of orange juice with a grimace. ‘Not at all, Mr Corsley. I would say it was a pleasure, but my acting abilities don’t stretch that far.’
‘Don’t let it spoil your lunch,’ said Miles as he left the room.
‘Well?’ demanded Rupert Corsley as he sat opposite Miles at a table at The Wolseley on Piccadilly an hour later. ‘How did it go?’
‘According to plan. I’ll have those shares on Friday, locked in a vault in Paris.’
‘Do you think he’ll talk?’
‘I’m sure Macdonald will be able to persuade him his interests lie in helping British Intelligence rather than being handed over to the Yanks. He certainly didn’t look too keen on the idea of jail.’
‘You look like a Cheshire cat, boy. Get over yourself. Wasn’t all down to you.’
‘I won’t tell you then.’
‘Tell me what?’
Miles’ smile broadened even more. ‘The emotional dividend – don’t you remember?’
‘Oh?’ grunted Rupert suspiciously.
‘Corinne’s in love with me. Officially. She’s absolutely wonderful.’
Rupert stared at him for a few moments, then slapped him on the back. ‘Well done! Bring her home for Easter, eh? We’d be delighted to have you both. What the hell’s that aftershave you’re wearing?’
‘
Hervy Pour Homme
– one of Marchand’s new range. Guaranteed to make women weak at the knees.’ Miles grinned again. ‘Why don’t you try some out on Aunt Alice?’
Rupert snorted, then he burst out laughing. It was a distinctly hung-over Miles who boarded a train to Paris that afternoon.
Tex Beidecker picked up the phone and dialled Yolande’s number in Beverley Hills. It rang only twice before she answered.
‘Tex, how lovely.
’
She was delighted to hear him. ‘How are you? How’s Mummy?’
‘We’re both fine. Your mother’s gone to Edith Denbrake’s birthday lunch.’
‘That’s brave of her.’
‘I always send my woman in for the dangerous jobs. How are you?’
‘Oh, all right. I’m heading down to the Belco office in a little while.’
‘Filming getting you down?’
‘A bit. It’s not really my scene. But I’m trying to find out whether Belco has a future as a viable business. It’s quite interesting, actually. Now that I’ve got stuck in.’
‘Honey, I never heard that. I can’t have people thinking my beautiful stepdaughter likes accounting. It’d ruin my street cred.’
She laughed. ‘I doubt anyone would believe you anyway. They all think I’m playing games out here.’
‘Let them think what they like. It’s the bottom line that counts.’ He was glad he had covered his own astonishment. Even when she’d been studying business, Yolande had never shown much interest in it. What the heck had triggered it off now? ‘I’ve got some news for you. Corinne called me a short while ago. She’s managed to buy back your stake in Marchand. Miles clinched the deal in London yesterday.’
Yolande gasped audibly. ‘Do you really mean it, Tex?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s brilliant! Perhaps now she won’t …’
‘Keep up the vendetta?’ he finished. ‘Well, that’s what I’m hoping. Your mother doesn’t know yet, and I thought it would be good if I could fix a family reunion before she gets back. Are you doing anything special with Patrick for Easter?’
‘His mother’s coming over from France to see how the film’s going.’
‘Will you fly over to us, then? I’ll try to get Corinne and Miles here too.’
‘But do you think she’ll agree if I’m there?’
‘Listen, Yolande, this feud has got to end some day, and the sooner the better. If she can’t make it you’ll still come, won’t you?’
‘I’d love to.’
They chatted for a while and his craggy features crinkled into a smile as she rang off. Tex had always had a soft spot for Yolande. She was a sweet kid. He very much doubted that Patrick appreciated his good fortune and it really bugged him. Time now to try his magic on Corinne. He called the apartment on the Avenue Foch. Party noises were audible in the background as he waited for her to come to the phone.
‘Tex! Has something happened?’ She was surprised to hear his voice again so soon.
‘I just had a thought. Perhaps you and Miles would come over to see us at Easter? I guess it’s rather short notice, but you should still have time to book a flight.’
‘Have you invited Yolande?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
There was an uncomfortable pause. He held his breath.
‘Well, I’m sorry, but we can’t. We’re going to stay with Miles’ family in England. I haven’t met them yet, and he’s rather keen for me to be introduced to everybody.’
‘Of course, honey.’
‘Later perhaps? We’d love to come. We could probably manage a long weekend in May, if it would suit you.’
‘Great.’
‘I’ll be in touch, then. Don’t forget to tell Mummy the good news.’
She said goodbye and rang off quickly. Feeling deflated, he put the receiver down. The bitterness was still there. He couldn’t understand why she couldn’t forgive and forget now she had come out on top. Perhaps there was more to it than he knew, something between her and Yolande he could never fathom, being both male and American. But they frequently baffled their mother too. It was that French blood, he supposed. He settled down with a report and a cold beer and prayed that Grace would like take-out when she got home.
She was thrilled to be told of Corinne’s success in recovering the shares, but was less happy with the outcome of Tex’s telephone calls.
‘Do you think Corinne won’t come only because of Yolande?’
‘I’m not sure, darling.’
‘And Yolande?’
‘Dead keen, poor kid. She’s really fed up out there. She’s trying to turn Belco Pictures into a profitable company.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Grace, frowning. ‘Things must be bad.’
He put an arm around her. ‘I expect they’ll reach a compromise before they start splitting up the family heirlooms.’
‘I hope so.’ She kissed him, trying to rally. ‘Still, it’ll be wonderful to have Yolande here, anyway. Edith told me Franco Rivera’s over shortly to negotiate about a boutique, so that’ll perk her up. I have a horrible feeling she and Patrick are drifting apart already.’
‘I only hope it doesn’t break her heart.’
‘How on earth did we let it happen?’
‘It’s her life,’ said Tex.
‘But I’m her mother. A very bad one too.’
He grabbed her arms. ‘That’s bullshit. You’ve done a remarkable job with both those girls. Most guys my age are putting their kids into rehab. All you have to do is be a shoulder to cry on when their love lives go belly-up – which is perfectly normal.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Always am,’ he grinned, hugging her. ‘Now, anything I missed at the party? Did Edith faint when you told her I wouldn’t be coming?’
‘No. I don’t think she fancies you any more.’
‘How dare she? After all the trouble I took to make her fall for me.’
Grace giggled. Tex had been running from Edith’s advances for several years.
‘Anyone else I ought to have seen?’ he asked.
‘Well, Hank Pedersen showed up for about ten minutes. He was in a foul mood, so I didn’t say hello.’
‘That’s not like Hank.’
‘Perhaps Pedersen Corporation’s still feeling the pinch after a mere twenty per cent increase in profits last year.
‘Twenty
point five
per cent, Grace.’
‘Oh, all right! He was in a mood anyway, and Althea apparently couldn’t get away from California to smooth his furrowed brow. Now, darling, I really am starving. Take me out for a late lunch?’
‘Wasn’t there anything to eat?’
‘Indeed there was. I took one look and fled.’
‘Ethnic vegetarian?’ he queried.
‘Yes. Edith reckons it’s doing wonders for her sex life, by the way. Want me to try it?’
He smiled, pulled her tightly against him. ‘No need. But if you like we could order in and go to bed.’ The kiss this time was much longer, laced with desire.
‘In the afternoon?’ She feigned shock. ‘What about your work?’
‘I’ll finish it later.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Grace pinched his bottom and picked up the phone.
‘Who was it?’ Miles asked, sliding his hands around Corinne’s waist.
‘My stepfather. He invited us to New York for Easter.’
‘Bugger.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll see if we can fix a weekend in May.’
They were by the telephone in the hall, out of sight of guests in the salon, and Miles was desperate to get his hands on her. They hadn’t had a minute alone since his return from London, with business at the bank and then this impromptu celebration to attend. Was it really only yesterday he had persuaded Stessenberg to sign that contract?
Corinne groaned as the kiss became more urgent. ‘Miles, darling, behave.’
‘Can’t we go somewhere?’
‘Later. We can’t desert everyone now.’ Corinne nipped his neck. ‘You can stay here tonight.’
‘Who
are
all these people?’
‘Mostly my father’s old friends. Now come and tell Georges how you convinced Stessenberg. I hope you’ve got your story pat.’
Miles pulled a face, and they went into the salon, where the wine was flowing with the conversation. He had given Corinne an edited version of events which had been cleared by Macdonald, but even that wasn’t something he could broadcast to the world at large. Everyone looked round as he entered. Several leading businessmen went out of their way to introduce themselves before Yves led him off to Georges Maury and Toinette, sitting in a corner and clearly bursting with curiosity. Corinne was pounced on by Paul Dupuy and his wife, so Miles was left to battle it out alone in his suddenly hesitant French. Yves smiled encouragingly and refilled his glass.
‘Well, Miles?’ asked Toinette. ‘How did you pull it off?’
Miles sipped his wine. ‘I just persuaded Stessenberg it would be in his best interests to sell back to Corinne.’
‘But how?’ demanded Georges. ‘I tried, Toinette tried, Corinne tried. Why did he suddenly change his mind?’
‘You must have realised he was only holding on to the shares for a third party?’
‘Yes, but we could never work out who.’
‘When I got back to the bank this afternoon I had our research department look up a few things. Everything points to Pedersen Corporation of America. Once Corinne had been forced out of UVS, Stessenberg would have been free to sell his Marchand stake to Pedersen. Pedersen would then have put in a bid for the rest of Marchand on the basis of a thirty-five per cent holding.’
Yves whistled under his breath. What a narrow escape. Pedersen’s asset-stripping tactics were legendary.
‘My guess is that Pedersen went cold on the deal. They have big expansion plans in China, so that might account for it.’