Adam found it somehow fitting to have Officer Walton enter the hospital waiting room the same moment as Joshua. The company financial officer looked weak and insubstantial next to the uniformed policewoman.
The local Oxford constable who had been interviewing Adam asked, “Is Scotland Yard taking an interest in this case?”
“In a manner of speaking.” She offered Adam her hand. “How are you?”
Bruised. Sore. Still cold at some level far below his now-dry skin. Even so, Adam was glad enough to be there to answer, “Fine.”
“And your mates?”
“The doctors say Peter probably suffered a concussion, but the scan didn’t show any internal bleeding or abnormal swelling. Twenty stitches in his forehead and a possible dislocated shoulder. But he’s resting well.”
“And your lady friend?”
“Kayla is in with her father.”
“Sounds like you came out the hero.”
The local Oxford policeman cleared his throat. “We were in the process of establishing that.”
Officer Walton nodded in Adam’s direction. “Take it from me. This is one of the good guys.”
“You’re certain about that, are you?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” She pulled over a chair. “Appreciate the call.”
“Glad you were there to take it.”
The trucker had proven to be a good guy, once he was certain Adam’s plight was real. He pulled his rig down the lane, settled Peter between the seats and bundled Kayla into the crawl space behind them. He turned the cab’s heater up to toasty and made record time back to Oxford. He even let Adam use his phone, first to call ahead to the hospital, and then Honor. The only time the trucker had shown a hint of alarm was when Adam asked information to pass him through to Scotland Yard.
Officer Walton examined the surgical scrubs he wore and gave him a cop’s smile, a faint tightening of the eyes. “You look good in blue.”
“At least it’s dry.”
She noticed Joshua hovering in the background and asked, “Are you with this gentleman?”
When Joshua hesitated, Adam said, “Yes. He is.”
Officer Walton turned back and reported, “Derek Steen was apprehended at Heathrow Airport, in the process of boarding a flight to Manila.”
“First long-haul flight out of town.”
“No doubt. I stopped by Heathrow on the way out. The offer to extradite him back to a cozy African cell worked wonders. As they say in your neck of the woods, he sang like a parrot.”
“The correct term,” Adam said, “is canary.”
“It so happens he was fired by his company, what’s it called?”
Adam looked at Joshua. “Madden and Van Pater.”
“That’s the one. Took it hard, our lad did. He seemed delighted with my interest in how they sent him down to that place . . .”
Adam kept his gaze on the tightly clenched accountant. “Dar es Salaam.”
“He’s confessed that he stole your lady friend’s missing funds. At the company’s instructions, apparently. I was hoping you might be able to clear up the issue of motive for me.”
“MVP has been gunning for Peter’s company since he left them fifteen years ago.”
Joshua cleared his throat. “Actually, it was sixteen.”
“MVP is Steen’s former employer?”
“That’s how they’re known in the City.” Adam recounted what they had learned.
Officer Walton extracted a notebook and pen and took swift notes. “So MVP saw Ms. Austin’s project as another means by which Oxford Ventures was establishing itself within the colleges and their investment capital.”
“Basically.”
“I’ll need to pass this by my colleagues in the Fraud Division. But my guess is, MVP is soon going to be far too busy with their own troubles to mess with you again.” She rose to her feet and said to the Oxford cop, “Why don’t we go have a word with Ms. Austin, see if she corroborates his story.”
Adam asked, “What about Derek?”
“Mr. Steen requested an attorney, which was of course his privilege. He’s been remanded into Her Majesty’s custody and carted downtown. We’ll give the lad a night alone in a cell while I meet with my mates in Fraud. Then the lot of us will all sit down and see what kind of deal we can work out.” She gave him another cop’s smile. “My guess is, the prospect of seeing prison in fine Salaambay will have him hitting the high notes.”
Joshua Dobbins stepped in close enough to reveal a slight tick over his left eye. “I gather you’re expecting me to apologize.”
“Not really, no.”
“I did what I thought was best for the company.”
“My only argument with you,” Adam said, “was that you didn’t back Peter’s play.”
“He’s always been too emotional. Too involved in looking beyond profits.”
“Too determined to make his company into something more than MVP,” Adam finished. “Something greater. A firm with a higher ideal than simply making money.”
Joshua wanted to shut him down. The bitter taste of speaking with Adam at all twisted his mouth and pinched his face. “Peter has regularly allowed his enthusiasms to run away from him. My job was to keep the worst of these crazes from taking us down.”
Adam decided there was nothing to be gained by arguing the point further. “I’ve been preparing a list of possible deals where they’ve skirted the law. The folder is marked ‘Steen.’ There’s a copy in the bottom drawer of Peter’s home office desk.”
Joshua glanced toward the doors. But when they opened to admit Mrs. Drummond and not the police, he turned back and said, “Your friend at Scotland Yard intimated they would not be bothering us again.”
Mrs. Drummond glanced uncertainly around the waiting room, then slipped out the door again. Adam said, “Whether or not the police find enough evidence to make a case, it’s all going to take time. And time is the one thing we can’t afford to give MVP. We need to get them off our back.”
Reluctantly Joshua nodded agreement. “How . . .”
“I hired a detective to scope out MVP. I used my funds and did it independent of the company. What you have comes from one source, not board level. I found nothing directly related to the attack on us. But there are numerous memos related to some project called Serengeti.” Adam related his confrontation with Madden at the luncheon.
Joshua mulled that over. “It must be code for some illegal project.”
Then Kayla entered the waiting room with Mrs. Drummond in tow. “Adam, we need to speak. It’s urgent.”
Joshua rose to his feet, hesitated, then offered Adam his hand. “Will I be seeing you around?”
Adam shook his hand, replied, “Count on it.”
Joshua held his hand a fraction longer than necessary, and said simply, “Good.”
Kayla remained stationed by the exit until she had glared Joshua through the doors. When she moved forward, Adam asked, “How’s your father?”
“Resting.”
“Did you talk to the police?”
“Yes.” She sat down and took his hand. “Adam, something’s happened to your mother. When the hospice couldn’t raise you on your phone or at the boardinghouse, they called the office.” Kayla added her other hand to the mix. “It doesn’t look good.”