The plane landed at Gatwick five minutes early. Ava cleared Immigration and Customs in less than twenty minutes, then phoned Lily Simmons from the station platform while she waited for the express train to Victoria. Simmons’s mobile went directly to voicemail. Ava hung up and then tried the office line, expecting to get an automated receptionist. Instead she heard, “This is Lily Simmons.”
Her voice was full of cheer. Ava noticed that her accent was soft and rounded, the S’s prolonged like a hiss.
“And this is Ava Lee.”
“Ms. Lee, you are in London?”
Thank God she remembers, Ava thought. “I’m at Gatwick, waiting for the express train to Victoria Station.”
“From Victoria, you know, you can catch the Jubilee line directly to Canary Wharf.”
“Yes, I saw that.”
“Your intention is to do that, to come directly to me?”
“It is.”
“Excellent. Our offices are in One Canada Square; it’s the tallest building in the complex. Come to the forty-fifth floor. I’ll let our receptionist know you’re expected.”
“That’s perfect.”
“Well, I’ll see you then. Looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” Ava said, as the train arrived.
She got off at Victoria Station, where she jostled her way through a crush of people to the subway platform. When she arrived at Canary Wharf, she placed her luggage in a locker and exited the station, her Chanel bag slung over her shoulder.
The air was cool and damp, and the sky was the colour of steel. She shivered, wishing she had a jacket with her. She was grateful that it wasn’t windy and hoped that the rain would hold off. She had never been to Canary Wharf, but she knew that Toronto’s Reichmann brothers had conceived it as Europe’s financial epicentre. Although they had gone broke turning the barren and deserted West India Docks into a massive complex of office towers, others had realized the dream. Ten skyscrapers within immediate view housed more than a hundred thousand workers. One Canada Square was the tallest, with fifty storeys of office space topped by a pyramid-shaped roof.
At ten to five Ava entered the cavernous marble lobby. During the elevator ride to the forty-fifth floor, she checked herself in the full-length mirror on its back wall. At first glance she thought she looked graceful and elegant in her powder-blue shirt and tailored black slacks. At second glance she saw a woman dressed for battle, an avenging angel come to rain misery on Lily Simmons’s life.
The reception area was small, not much larger than her room at Hooters. A young man wearing a white dress shirt and matching white tie was sitting at the front desk, focused on his computer screen. The only other furniture in the area was three chairs off to one side. Ava guessed that Smyth’s occupied more than one floor, and that the forty-fifth was not the corporate floor.
Ava introduced herself to the receptionist. He turned away from his computer and greeted her with an annoyed look. She glanced at the screen and saw that he was playing Hearts. “Oh yes, Ms. Simmons has booked a conference room for you.” He stood up abruptly. “Come with me.”
She followed him down a narrow corridor in which every door was closed. Near the end of the hall he stopped, swung open a door, and showed her in. “I’ll tell Ms. Simmons you’re here,” he said.
The conference room was as plain as the reception area, furnished with just a round wooden table, four chairs, and a small credenza with a phone on it. The walls were bare and the room had only one small window. Ava had thought Smyth’s Investment Bank would be swankier.
At five o’clock on the dot, Lily Simmons walked into the room. Ava stood to meet her and was immediately overwhelmed by the woman’s size. She was long and lanky, her height accentuated by her bony frame. She wore a plaid skirt that fell just below the knee, and Ava could see a smattering of freckles on her shins. Her white silk blouse was buttoned to the neck; her chest was almost completely flat. Her face was gaunt, full of hard lines, and her auburn hair, streaked with shots of ruby red, fell to her jawline in a mass of wild curls. She is striking, Ava thought.
“Hello, I’m Lily Simmons,” she said, offering her hand.
Ava looked into green eyes that were friendly, if not entirely engaged. “I’m Ava Lee.”
“Let’s sit, shall we,” Simmons said, and then looked at the table. “Oh, they haven’t offered you anything, have they? How rude. Coffee, tea, water?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
“I come empty-handed, as you can see,” Simmons said. “I normally bring paperwork with me to a meeting, but frankly I had no idea what it was you wanted to discuss. You are quite the mystery woman, you know.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“When my fiance called last night to pass on your name, I was asleep. Rather neglectfully, I didn’t take the time to ask him more about you. This morning I reached out to our offices in Asia — we’re everywhere — and inquired if any of them knew of a woman named Ava Lee attached to what Jeremy described as a substantial Asian interest. None of them did. I called Jeremy several times today, hoping he could fill me in a bit more, but I haven’t been able to connect with him. So there you are, Ms. Lee — I come unprepared, and I apologize for that.”
“I’m representing the Ordonez Group in the Philippines.”
“Yes, I have heard of them,” Simmons said, shifting in her chair. “Cigarettes and beer, correct?”
“Among other things.”
“At the most economical end of the market?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“And they — what? They think there might be a market for those products in the U.K.?”
“My reason for being here has absolutely nothing to do with the normal business of the Ordonez Group,” Ava said, opening her Chanel bag.
“Jeremy did mention that you might have an interest in investing in The River.”
“No, we have no interest whatsoever in doing that.”
“The mystery continues,” Simmons said with a slight smile.
“Although The River is why I’m here,” Ava said, taking the transfer request from her bag. She turned the document around and slid it across the table. “I would like you to sign this.”
In Las Vegas, and then on the plane, Ava had mentally tested various strategies for broaching the topic with Lily Simmons. She had kept returning to this one. Uncle called it starting at the end: make it clear what you want up front and then work your way back. He thought the strategy saved time, eliminated questions and doubts, and softened resistance.
Simmons picked up the paper. Ava watched her green eyes shift from mild curiosity to utter confusion. “Just who are you, and what kind of game is this?” she said, throwing the request back onto the table.
Ava took out the confession. “This may explain things.”
“I’m not sure I have any interest in reading anything else, or continuing this discussion. You’re obviously here under some kind of false pretence. I think you should leave the premises,” Simmons said, standing.
“Ms. Simmons, I understand that this is difficult — and truthfully, it isn’t going to get any easier — but you do need to read this document. It’s signed by both your fiance and his partner, David Douglas. It’s an admission of their guilt in orchestrating a scheme that defrauded my client, the Ordonez Group, and others of the $65 million I’m asking to be returned. This transfer request will allow that to happen.”
Simmons looked down at Ava, who was holding out the confession for her to take. She reached for it, read the first few lines, and then sat down. She read to the end of the page, glanced at Ava, and then read it again. “This is absurd,” she said.
“You don’t say that with much conviction.”
Simmons rose to her feet again. Holding the confession in her right hand, she crumpled it into a ball. Ava saw that her left hand was shaking and her cheeks had turned crimson. “Is this enough conviction for you?” Simmons shouted. Then she threw the ball of paper, which sailed past Ava onto the floor. Ava spun around to retrieve it, and when she looked up, Simmons was gone, the door slammed shut behind her.
Ava straightened out the paper, smoothing it with the palm of her hand, and put it on top of the transfer request. She sat back in her chair, her eyes on the door. In a matter of a few minutes she had lost control of the meeting. What misjudgement, she thought. What a mess.
Five minutes passed, and then five more. Ava tried to stay calm. She had been escorted from buildings before; there were worse kinds of exits. It was closing in on fifteen minutes when the door finally opened.
“I’ve just tried to call Jeremy. I can’t reach him,” Simmons said from the doorway.
“He won’t speak with you,” Ava said, trying not to show relief.
“What have you done to him… with him?” Simmons asked, taking two steps into the room.
Something’s changed, Ava thought. Simmons seemed more confident, or maybe just less fearful, than when she had left. There was an edge to her voice, and her body thrust aggressively forward as if she was ready to charge at Ava. Before she had been reluctant to make eye contact; now her green eyes bore into Ava’s, the colour heightened and glinting.
“Not a thing. We have an understanding, nothing more than that,” Ava said. “Both he and Douglas have agreed to return the money they put into the holding company’s account in Cyprus. In exchange, we won’t pursue legal action against them and we will permit The River to keep functioning as a business. I asked Jeremy, as a courtesy, not to communicate with you until matters were resolved at this end. Now, you can try to call again if you wish, but I don’t think you’ll reach him.”
“I’m not sure I want to talk to him anyway,” Simmons said, picking up the confession, her eyes darting between the paper in her hands and Ava. When she had finished reading it again, she held it against her hip and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were full of rage. Simmons raised the paper in front of her chest and, with her eyes locked on Ava’s, ripped it into shreds.
She’s on something, Ava thought. “That won’t make it go away,” she said.
“I don’t believe anything you’re telling me.”
Ava reached into her bag and pulled out the paperwork that Jack Maynard and Felix Hunter had prepared for her. “Jeremy and David Douglas, as the confession states, manipulated the site’s software so they could see all the cards at the table — so they could cheat. These are statistical analyses that detail the process and prove that it was indeed done,” she said as softly as she could while still being sure she was heard. “The Cooper Island Gaming Commission, which regulates and administers your site, has this same data and agrees that it’s proof positive. You can call them if you wish. They’ll confirm it.”
“Then why is the site still running? Why haven’t they shut it down?”
“The Gaming Commission, like the Ordonez Group — and, I’m sure, like you — don’t want the firestorm of negative publicity this information would generate if it was broadly known. The Commission has agreed to let us pursue our own course of action first. Mind you, if we’re not successful, then both they and the Ordonez Group will be forced to seek other avenues.”
“Such as?”
“Well, the Gaming Commission would certainly shut down your site, and the Ordonez Group would take legal action.”
“The site hasn’t been profitable until — ”
“Until your fiance and his partner started stealing,” Ava said.
“If it isn’t profitable, why should we care if they shut it down?” Simmons said.
She’s not listening, Ava thought. “Shut down or not, if the money isn’t returned there would still be legal action.”
Simmons took another step forward. The only thing separating her from Ava was the small table. “That’s rather a stupid threat to make. You know as well as I do how long and complicated a process that would be. God, with all the jurisdictions involved, who would know where to begin? It could take years to sort things out.”
Whatever she’s taken, it hasn’t dulled her mind, Ava thought, and then tried to switch gears again. “True enough, at least from the civil side. But the Americans move more quickly when criminality is involved, and believe me, we would be seeking to have criminal charges brought against Douglas and Ashton. And you must know, Ms. Simmons, how harsh the American courts have been lately on white-collar crime. If Jeremy went to jail for less than five years I’d be surprised.”
Simmons closed her eyes, and Ava sensed she was finally beginning to get through to her. “I thought it was too good to be true,” Simmons muttered.
“What was too good?”
“The profits.”
“They weren’t profits.”
“We’d been losing money for years until… until this started,” Simmons said, slapping her hand on the transfer request still lying on the table.
“I have another copy of the confession if you need it. In fact, I have copies of everything,” Ava said. “The only thing I want back is the transfer request with your signature on it.”
Simmons shook her head. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You do have signing authority?”
“You obviously know that I do.”
“So sign. Pick up a pen and write your name.”
“It isn’t that easy.”
“Ms. Simmons, you don’t seem to be grasping the consequences.”
Simmons glared at Ava. “You don’t have any idea about consequences,” she said, saliva flying from her mouth.
Ava saw her hand tremble. “You’re prepared to send your fiance to jail?”
“Well, he is a thief, isn’t he.”
“Yes, he is.”
“And he’s betrayed the faith I put in him.”
I’m losing her again, Ava thought. “You’re angry with him, and no one can blame you for that,” she said. “But let’s be rational. Sign that piece of paper and then you and he can sort out your differences without all the legal baggage.”
Simmons spun away from the table. In two steps she was at the window looking out at the Isle of Dogs. “I talked my father into financing this business,” she said. “He was reluctant. I used every bit of persuasion I could. In the end he did it because I virtually begged him to.”
“Yes, Jeremy told me that your father’s money was behind it.”
“Did he also tell you that my father detests him?”
“No.”
“He’s so self-absorbed he may not even realize it.”
Ava felt another layer of leverage being stripped away. “I see” was all she could say.
“All he cares about is himself and his needs. He thinks that because I’ve never had much luck with men he can do with me as he wants. But there are limits to what I will do for him,” she said, and turned to look at Ava. “He has no idea what he and that partner of his have put me through.”
“I know this must be difficult — ”
Simmons waved Ava to silence. “The River has been losing money from the day it started, and every fiscal quarter I’ve had to go to my father and give him the numbers, and whatever explanations I can come up with for them. More than once he’d had enough and told me to get out. I’d go to Jeremy and he’d tell me they were just around the corner from turning a profit. Always just around the corner. And I believed him… At least, I wanted to believe him, because if I didn’t and I told my father, the business would have been shut down in a heartbeat and Jeremy would have left me.
“Then, six months ago, Jeremy comes to me with a profit, a real profit. And every week, every month after that, the profits keep rolling in. I waited until the first full quarter was over before I gave my father the numbers. He was relieved, and when he got the second-quarter numbers, he was ecstatic. Quite suddenly Jeremy wasn’t such an idiot and I wasn’t such a fool for standing by him. In fact, I’d carried the day — he even said that. My father, I mean. He would have cut and run ages ago, he said. It was my judgement that got us out of the red…”
It was dark outside, and the interior light had turned the window into a murky mirror in which Ava watched Simmons speak. She was partially in shadow but Ava could see the intensity in her face and hear a growing determination in her voice. She knew where Simmons was heading, and there was nothing she could say to stop her from going there.
“There’s no way you could be held responsible for any of this,” Ava said.
“You don’t know my father.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. All you care about is your bloody money.”
“It’s my job. I take no pleasure in some of the things I have to do.”
Simmons turned from the window and lunged towards the table. She moved so quickly that Ava jumped in surprise. The other woman stopped just short of physical contact, both hands resting on the table, her head thrust forward. “Well, you’ll take no pleasure from what I have to say, because there’s no way I’m going to sign that piece of paper.”
“Ashton?”
“What about him?”
“You’d let him go to jail?”
“Do what you want with him,” Simmons said. “I can defend a badly thought-out and badly run business, but I can’t explain away a liar and a thief. Oh God, when I think about the things I said to my father about him, and how pleased my father was.”
“Speaking of your father,” Ava said gently, “Ashton or no Ashton, if you don’t settle with us there will be legal proceedings against the company — against you, in all likelihood — and your father’s name will be dragged into it.”
“My father knew nothing. His assets are in a blind trust. I was responsible for administering it.”
“That’s not what you said earlier. And it isn’t what Ashton told me.”
“Not that anyone can ever prove it.”
“But he did know.”
Simmons shrugged. “You won’t be able to discredit my father with this fiasco. I won’t let you. I’ll take full responsibility. So sue me, sue the company — I don’t care. Put Jeremy in prison. I don’t care about that either, and I won’t raise a hand to help him. But when it comes to the money, I’ll fight you every inch of the way. I have enough of a bankroll in Cyprus to keep this going for years.”
Ava glanced down at her notebook, at the talking points she’d crafted in Las Vegas and on the plane. They had looked good on paper but were ineffective in practice. She felt a lump return to her chest, the same one she’d felt when Maggie Chew first told her about her father. “This won’t go away,” she said, closing her notebook and slipping it into her purse.
“Here, take this too,” Simmons said, throwing the transfer request across the table.
“No, you keep it. You still might decide to sign it.”
“There’s no chance of that,” Simmons said. She stood to one side. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like you to leave. And if there’s anything else you want to communicate, please use your legal representatives.”
Ava didn’t move.
“I will call security if I have to.”
“I have sex tapes,” Ava said.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Ava said, her eyes locked on Simmons.
The woman tried to hold Ava’s gaze but gave way. “That’s not true,” she said, her voice breaking ever so slightly.
In that second Ava knew that Simmons wasn’t sure. “I got them from Ashton.”
Simmons blinked and then threw her head back. “That’s not true. There are no such tapes.”
“I didn’t know anyone could enjoy a spanking quite so much. Jeremy filmed you over and over again. You hear about these things, of course, but until you actually see it — and all the peripheral sex play that goes along with it… Well, I found it rather lurid and upsetting. It didn’t do anything for me, though I’m sure there are people who enjoy watching that kind of thing.”
Simmons stared at Ava, her eyes wide and darting. Her face had collapsed. Her right hand reached for the table and she leaned on it for support.
“I’d be sorry if it had to come to that,” Ava said.
“To what?”
“There’s no need for me to say it, is there?”
“What are you trying to do?” Simmons demanded.
“Get my client’s money back. Nothing more than that.”
“With sex tapes?”
“Why not?”
“You’d release them?”
“Could there be a more receptive market for them than the British media? I mean, the daughter of a cabinet minister, a trusted senior officer at one of the country’s most respected private banks? A former Olympian? They would eat it up, no?”
Simmons sat down. “You bitch,” she said.
“Sign the request.”
Simmons didn’t respond.
“I’ve given you all the right reasons to do this and none of them seem to matter to you. So it comes down to this unfortunate one. Sign the transfer request and the tapes will disappear. Your fiance will not go to jail and we can all be spared years of legal wrangling. Ms. Simmons, that money was stolen. This is the right thing for you to do under any circumstances. Tell yourself that and it might seem more palatable.”
“I need to think.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I need time.”
“I don’t have a lot of time to give you.”
“Tomorrow. Give me until tomorrow.”
Ava hesitated. “This can’t drag on.”
“I need to talk to someone.”
“What difference — ”
“Please.”
“Does his approval mean that much to you?”
Simmons turned her head away.
“Tomorrow. I’ll give you until noon tomorrow, but if I don’t hear from you by then — ”
“How do I reach you?”
Ava slid a business card across the table. “My mobile number is the best way.”
Simmons looked at the card, her eyes glazed and watery. “I’ll call you,” she said.
“Yes, you will.”
“Now I would very much like you to leave.”
Ava stood and walked towards the door. Stopping an inch away from Simmons, she said in a low voice, “Tomorrow, by noon.”