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‘And besides,’ interjected Andrew prophetically. ‘Running the business is likely to go on the back-burner a bit for both of you until this thing is sorted out. You remember how it was in Hong Kong, Robin. This isn’t quite the same of course, but it’ll still take your life over, even if things go swiftly and smoothly. Now I really must insist on seeing my client...’

  ‘Of course, Mr Balfour. And as the charge has been laid, I believe you may take Captain Mariner out of custody as soon as the conditions of police bail have been met.’

  It was as well Harry Black, their friend and accountant, senior partner with B.W.G. Accountants, stayed with Robin after he brought the banker’s draft. For when at last Andrew brought Richard out she nearly fainted dead away, and Harry’s arm, strengthened by many years of crewing yachts and counting money, held her steady as Richard came shambling out of the shadows towards them.

  To Robin, Richard looked dreadful, as though he had been in custody for weeks rather than hours. He needed a shave - he was a man who shaved twice on formal days - and his grey- jawed face seemed terribly pale and lined. He shuffled towards them with Andrew fussing at his side like a big bear with its keeper. He looked used-up, utterly exhausted from the way he was walking - but Harry said, ‘Shoes.’ And a downward glance reassured Robin that his strange gait came from the fact that his handmade footwear kept falling off whenever he tried his customary energetic swagger.

  He held his tie, braces and shoelaces in his left hand and kept his right hand in his pocket. It came as a second shock to Robin to realize that this was not a casual pose - it was the best way to keep his trousers up. His shirt was open at the neck and looked strangely casual with the formality of his dark court suit. He straightened up when he saw her and his face lit up with an overwhelming grin of relief.

  He said nothing other than, ‘Hullo, darling. Good to see you, Harry...’ until they had completed all the formalities with the Custody Officer. Fortunately, Robin, in mother mode, almost as if she were picking up one of the twins after a clothes-wrecking scrape, insisted on a pit stop before they proceeded. The group of them gathered around Richard, rethreading laces, reattaching braces and retying tie before they moved on. She even pulled a comb out of her capacious bag and tidied the black waves of his hair.

  So that when the press pack hit them on the threshold of the station, at least the accused looked presentable, confident, thoroughly in charge of events. And fortunately, looking good was all that Richard had to do at that point, for it was Andrew who did all of the talking - though he could never remember afterwards exactly what he said.

  Andrew was simply outraged that Richard had been naive enough to agree the interview with Detective Chief Inspector Nolan. ‘But you did agree to it, I suppose, so we won’t be able to make much out of it in court. We’ll send an official complaint of course, but ... Well, let’s hope there wasn’t too much damage done. I’ll be able to assess that immediately, and anything else when we get the disclosure pack in due course...’

  ‘He told me as much as I told him, I think. Maybe more,’ said Richard, bracingly; very much his old self, back on form.

  It was half an hour later and they were gathered in the flat at Heritage House. They were assessing what had happened so far - the facts and their implications. They hadn’t begun to plan their campaign as yet. Richard was holding the strongest drink he allowed himself these days - pure High Mountain arabica coffee, straight from the filter; as black and thick as oil. The others were making free with the drinks cabinet. ‘He had all the minutes and so forth of the various meetings since Charles Lee set up the charity. He was simply confirming with me that I had been designated as health and safety officer.’

  ‘But you weren’t...’ Robin turned, almost as pale as the white-wine spritzer she was holding.

  ‘That’s as may be, darling. But it seems to be a part of their case. Anyway, I was a board member and as such may be liable if they can prove their case. And that’s the important thing to recognize at the outset, it seems to me. I am the only board member left.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She paused, the palely fizzing glass halfway to her lips.

  ‘One resigned, one gone to America, one dead and two disappeared without trace. I’m the only one they’ve got. So - and correct me if I’m wrong on this, Andrew...’ as he talked he ticked the points off by touching his fingers with his coffee cup, ‘if they are going to prove Corporate Killing against the charity because of a failure of health and safety aboard Goodman Richard - a failure of the “Controlling Mind” as they call it - and if they are able to establish that such a failure led to the death of Captain Jones and his officers, then I’m the man they’ll seek to prove guilty of the killing in question.’

  ‘That’s about the size of it,’ said Andrew.

  ‘Unless they can find these two who are missing,’ added Harry Black thoughtfully.

  ‘The Chairman and the Company Secretary, who also ran the accounts...’ nodded Richard.

  ‘This man Smithers,’ said Robin stormily. ‘And Charles bloody Lee.’

  ‘Is he one of the Hampshire Bloody-Lees?’ quipped Andrew.

  ‘Related to the Essex Sodding-Lees?’ Harry matched him without thinking. They chuckled and Richard - whose humour tended to match their own, began to laugh as well.

  Their attempt to lighten the atmosphere was well-meant, but it didn’t work. ‘You two can just...’ snapped Robin stormily. Richard put down his coffee cup and rose, catching Andrew’s eye. He jerked his head towards the door and held his hand out. Keys, he mouthed. Andrew threw them and turned. Harry would give him a lift to the office, he hoped.

  ‘You three...’ hiccoughed Robin, her eyes suddenly overflowing. She put her glass down without looking and it toppled off the edge of the table, spilling all over the carpet. ‘Oh now,’ she flared. ‘Look what you bloody men have made me do!’

  As Andrew hurried towards the lift he heard Richard soothing, ‘Oh come on, darling. White-wine spritzer. It’s self-cleaning. It’s probably a perfect stain remover.’

  And her muffled, tearful reply. ‘And who’s going to clean the stain off you, Richard?’ she demanded, and then continued on a rising note of anger and near hysteria, ‘Who’s going to clean it off you and your reputation? Off the family? The company? Off all of us?’

  The lift doors hissed open and Andrew stepped in beside Harry. They looked at each other, and Andrew answered the question just as though they had all been in the same room.

  ‘We are,’ he said. ‘Especially when we get Maggie on board with us.’

  Which oddly enough, was exactly what Richard was saying.

  But Robin’s mind had gone off at a tangent. ‘The family,’ she said. ‘Oh God, the family. We have to tell Dad and Helen about this. And your parents.’

  ‘I’ll call them at once...’

  ‘And the children. We’ll have to call the school, Richard and then go down ourselves. We can’t possibly let the children find out about this on the TV or the radio. Or on the phone - that’ll be a big enough shock for the parents as things are. But we have to tell the children face to face.’

  Her gaze grew so intense it seemed to be bordering on madness. But Richard knew better. He had seen her in this mood before. It was how she dealt with crises - and she had handled quite a few in her time, he thought.

  ‘All right,’ said Richard. ‘We’ll do it all this evening on the way home to Ashenden. But just do me one favour, darling, please.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let me drive.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, before she saw the implication of the words.

  Robin called the school first and spoke to the headmistress. No, the twins were at early prep. They had seen and heard nothing of the outside world since lunchtime. Yes, their ignorance would remain in place until the Captains Mariner arrived.

  Then Robin called her father at home in his big old house Cold Fell on the Scottish borders. Sir William was shocked and upset and, man of action as h
e once had been, he would have fired up the Mulsanne Turbo and been on his way down the M6 by darkfall if she had let him. But she knew the instant they broke contact, phones would start ringing in the unlikeliest of places as ‘Wild’ Bill Heritage started waking up old contacts and calling in old favours.

  She talked to Richard’s mother and broke contact again - all too well aware that she would simply have started a trickle that would soon become a river, flowing in their support.

  No sooner had she fallen silent than the radio, which had been playing quietly in the background, abruptly broke in with the local traffic update. Hold-ups on the A23 and areas south of Gatwick. A report half listened to - irrelevant to them. Then ‘And now the local news headlines on Radio Sussex. A local resident and international businessman is the first in the country to be charged under the recent Corporate Killing legislation. Captain Richard Mariner, Chief Executive Officer of Heritage Mariner, was arrested in Penzance today...’

  Half an hour later, Richard pulled on to the drive outside his children’s boarding school. Robin had called in from fifteen minutes out and the youngsters were there to meet them.

  Suddenly wary and apprehensive, Richard pulled himself out of the car and stood as they ran down the school steps towards him. ‘What’s up?’ called William, his pale face frowning under the shock of blue-black hair he had inherited from his father - having been blond, seemingly until a year ago.

  ‘Is it the grandparents?’ asked Mary, just as tall, just as slim and pale. Just as worried under her golden mop.

  ‘No,’ he said quietly, enfolding them to his breast and giving them a bone-crushing hug. ‘It’s nothing life and death, but it’s something I have to talk over with you so you don’t hear it from anybody else. You remember the briefings Mum and I went to last year? I told you about them for your General Studies course? About Corporate Killing? The new law that’s just been passed? You remember? Well, my darlings, I’m sorry to tell you that I’ve been arrested and accused of Corporate Killing.’

  ‘Did Heritage Mariner kill someone, Daddy?’ asked Mary, her eyes square on his, as still as deep blue pools.

  ‘No, darling. It’s more complicated than that.’

  ‘Are you guilty, Daddy? Has someone died because of you?’

  ‘No, darling, I’m not. I haven’t killed anyone and we’re going to fight this case. Aren’t we, darling?’

  ‘Of course, darling,’ answered Robin. ‘We’ll all stand together. Just like we always have. Won’t we? Won’t we, William? William?’

  But William, every inch his father’s son, wasn’t paying any attention at all. ‘Wow, Dad! So this is it eh? God ... gosh it’s fantastic! Even better than Grandad’s Mulsanne Turbo. The new Bentley Continental GT. Now that’s what I call a cool car!’

  Chapter 18: Bank

  ‘This hearing falls under Section 51 of the Crime and Disorder Act of 1998,’ said the Crown Prosecution Service barrister quietly.

  His voice carried easily across the hush of the City of London Magistrates’ Court, which stands opposite Mansion House at Bank. It carried to the elevated dais of the Bench where the three magistrates sat in series under the bright arms of the Mayor and City of London. It carried also to Richard, who stood silently in his allotted place, wondering at the slow majesty of a system which, even six weeks after his arrest and charging, had not yet got around to asking him whether he was guilty or not.

  One of the junior barristers at Maggie’s chambers - whose weight and experience were thought to be more than equal to the task of this hearing - rose. ‘My client is accused of an indictable offence under Section One of the Corporate Killing Act 2007, sirs. This hearing is simply a transfer hearing at your discretion to the most suitable court for a Plea and Direction hearing. Bail conditions were set by the original warrant and-’

  ‘We are aware of that, sir,’ answered the Chairman of the Bench, looking up from the bundle of papers piled tidily in front of him on the desk. ‘And even were we not, we can read. And even could we not read, the Clerk to the Court would so advise us. And, in the unlikely event of his incapacity, we have the Crown Prosecution Service simply falling over themselves to help.’

  ‘I stand corrected, sir,’ said the eager young barrister and sat, crestfallen and blushing.

  There might have been the faintest whisper of derisory mirth from the CPS team.

  Richard looked across at Robin and gave a tight grin.

  They had been preparing for this moment - the first step in a long process - for more than a month now as November darkened Christmas-wards. They had returned from the twins’ school and spent an exhausted evening and night pondering the terrifying vastness of the unknown that lay before them - far more unsettlingly than even the stormiest ocean. But then the phone calls started to come in. All their friends and associates gathered round them, offering support and advice; repaying in some small measure the good that Richard and Robin had done for so many of them over the years.

  Doc’s was the first one in; waiting on their answer service called through the instant he got up from the Web-link; supplemented some time later by a second after he had seen the news of Richard’s arrest, which seemed to have reached Australia before it reached the Home Counties. But then the rest had come in a warm deluge of good wishes and promises of help. Everything from luncheon to lawyers might be theirs on a whim.

  It had taken the better part of a day - again with Andrew’s attendance - to sort out the details of the final bail condition. Richard had reported (within twenty-four hours, as stipulated) to the police station nearest his home in East Sussex. Here he had to agree also a practical system of reporting which would allow him some freedom of movement in order to pursue his business. And, Richard being Richard, to investigate more details about what was currently happening to him. He was, after all - as Andrew pointed out - innocent until proved guilty. Of a crime he had been arrested for and charged with - but about which he hadn’t even been formally asked to plead guilt or innocence as yet.

  In fact, it wasn’t too hard to manage in the end. He was expected to report every two to three days either to his local station or to Snow Hill - which was quite convenient to Heritage House.

  More difficult was the situation that Andrew had warned Richard about. The case increasingly ate into his time. And even when he was not engaged in some aspect of it, the thing was still a potent distraction. Being the man he was, Richard oversaw the putting together of the team that would oversee his defence. Then he insisted on being kept up to date with every aspect of their work. He attended every hearing and legal briefing in person - even those where he was not strictly required. And, within the limits of his bail conditions, he became active in a range of the investigations - particularly those that looked dirty or dangerous.

  On the other hand, his normal workload was so extensive that his increasing distraction from the workings of his company required some radical changes. Particularly as Robin worked there as well - and his involvement in the case pulled her away at his side. And, to cap it all, the mysteriously vanished Charles Lee had extensive responsibilities that had to be picked up somehow, while calling favours from here to Hong Kong in the continuing search for him made everything simply worse.

  Fortunately, to begin with, Sir William and Helen were able to shoulder a lot of the workload, simply by moving into Richard and Robin’s offices and restarting many of their own old jobs. Although well into their retirement, both of them remained strong enough to handle the workload and - for sentimental reasons, perhaps - had luckily retained the necessary legal powers to do the day-to-day work.

  But their near-total involvement - though vital - was not an enormously lengthy one. Immediately junior to Richard were a small number of executives ready, willing and able to take on his workload while delegating elements of their own. Heritage Mariner had always been a model of open management and lateral responsibility, even though its financial base - 51% of the shares that controlled the power in the compa
ny - remained within the keeping of the family and senior board who had been in place when it was floated.

  Richard had almost completely handed responsibility of running Crewfinders over to John Higgins, a senior captain and long-time employee. And the only aspect that really gave them pause in the early days was the fact of Charles Lee’s continued disappearance. But, like Richard himself, Charles had put competent, reliable teams in place beneath him, and so the bread-and-butter of his financial management could carry on without him - for the time being at least.

  ‘What did Oscar Wilde say?’ asked Richard wryly at one of the early meetings, when his office at Heritage House had been transformed into a legal war-camp, ‘I advise anyone who thinks he is indispensable to take six months’ vacation at once...’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Margherita DaSilva, Andrew’s wife and - for the second time, after the debacle in Hong Kong - Richard’s defence barrister. ‘But I’m afraid I know more about Widgery than Wilde, more about Diplock and Donaldson than Dante and more about Scarman than Shaw or Shakespeare.’

  The basis of the accusation against Richard seemed clear, as he had in fact stated it to Andrew in their discussion after his interview at Snow Hill. It turned around the answers to half a dozen or so deceptively simple-seeming questions. Was he the nominated party on the charity board responsible for health and safety? Or was the fact that he was the only board member currently available enough to make the accusation stand? Had there actually been a failure of health and safety in the corporate mind of the enterprise and aboard Goodman Richard? And had that failure led directly to the disappearance of Captain Jones and the three other officers missing presumed dead? Where were Captain Jones and his officers? And, finally, where were Charles Lee and his friend Mr Smithers?

  Even before Maggie was let loose on the legal interpretations of the 2007 Act and the application of its legalistic wording, assumptions and theory in the real, practical, workaday world, there were a good number of facts to be established.