Читать книгу Sweet Talking Money - Harry Bingham - Страница 30

Five weeks later.

The boathouse now more than a third of the way towards total renovation, Dai and his men working dawn to dusk, foul timber all stripped and burned, new walls flying up, a smell of wood primer and sawdust, gathering excitement, and huge views out over the river filling their new world with light. So far, so good.

The medical side had been attended to as well. Cameron and Kati drew up a wish-list of lab equipment, expecting Bryn to argue every single item, as their old employers always had. But not a bit of it. ‘Sure this is all?’ he’d said, waving a chequebook, and now, every day, vans arrived at the boatyard, asking repeatedly if this was really the right place, and unloading crate after crate of beautiful new equipment: blood spectrometers from Germany, medical glassware from Sweden, computers from California, centrifuges from Canada, clean air filtration systems from France and Britain, and clinking bottles of chemicals from Italy, Japan, Switzerland and America. The boathouse had an old observation tower – formerly the spot from which the jolly old Fulham rowers watched the jolly old boat race – and Cameron had seized upon it as her office, and was already nine tenths of the way towards filling it with junk. So far, so good.

By now, several venture capitalists had been introduced to the emerging technology under conditions of the strictest secrecy, enforced by the fiercest confidentiality agreement Bryn had ever drawn up. Two of the finance houses were still thinking, the third – Malcolm Milne’s – had come back with a strong positive response and an offer of funding on excellent terms. So far, so excellent.

Buoyed up by the signs of success, Bryn had incorporated the company, drawn up articles of association, registered for VAT, opened accounts and done all of the hundred other things that a young company needs. They were now officially Fulham Research Ltd, described in official documents as a company ‘involved in research and development in the area of human biology’. The vaguer the better, as far as Bryn was concerned, anxious to hide from Corinth as long as he was able. But of Corinth, there was no sign at all. So far, so good.

Romantically, Bryn had been making the most of his brother’s hint and had done what he could to woo Kati. Kati liked him well enough, that much was clear, but she’d just been dumped virtually at the altar by a cheating fiancé, and she was in no hurry to get started with anyone else, least of all her boss. Bryn was disappointed, but didn’t lose hope. He took care over his appearance (as far as was possible when he had half a dozen Welsh builders sharing his bathroom) and went out of his way to be charming. He liked Kati, and wasn’t in a rush. So far, so satisfactory.

Adding to his workforce already, he brought across Meg Tillery, his former secretary, from Berger Scholes. To Bryn’s delight, Meg had taken only about half a minute to listen to his proposal before saying yes, and only about half an hour from saying yes to Leaving Berger Scholes with her personal belongings tucked into the traditional black bin-liner. So far, so good.

Of Corinth’s henchmen, there was no sign. Cameron and Kati had cautiously sounded out their parents and it had transpired that, just as Bryn had predicted, there had been a stranger snooping round their home neighbourhoods, asking for information. Since Kati and Cameron had been vague and unspecific, Corinth would have learned nothing of value. Bryn felt sure Huizinga would keep an ear to the ground, but without knowing where Cameron was, there was little more he could do. So far, so good.

But all was not well. In fact things had grown so bad, Bryn was beginning to wonder if he’d committed the worst mistake of his entire life.