RED STREAM
by Paul Tracy
The presentation was not going well. Guy Madison had
chosen a Sunday for this conference for the good reason that he hoped to avoid
some awkward questions about empire-building. However not only were the polemical
wine journalists present but their evident enthusiasm for wine seemed strangely
at odds with the blow-dried marketing language of his two partners. Madison
realised that Richmond and Realini might be great performers in front of a
group of financial analysts, but were liabilities with a wine audience, who
didn't want to hear about market share or consumer profiles
Will Savage, extreme in word and gesture as ever,
voiced for once the feelings of most of the audience
- Unless something escapes me, what is being presented
today is an attempt by a group of oligarchs to take control of wine worldwide
in just the way that other sectors of industry have fallen victim to cartels
There was a murmur of agreement
- I think something has escaped you, Will. It was Max
Christian standing behind the table who spoke
- Really? I'm listening, said the journalist. I was
wondering how you fitted into this deal
Max turned to Madison:
- May I?
Madison gestured him to continue. Max remained
standing, looking down on Will Savage, who was intrigued.
- Will, this project is important, not just
interesting but important to our business because wine, as you know, as all of
us know, is riddled with fraud. Wine has always lent itself to cheating, which
is one reason, not the only but one reason, complicated rules and regulations
were set up governing who could do what where, with which grapes, what yields
etc etc. This was called appellation controlle, and it worked pretty well
until the wine market exploded and certain countries who'd never drunk wine
before began to buy it. Suddenly there wasn't enough good wine to go around, so
fraud – fake wine – exploded too, something no AOC system can get
round.
- So what's new, asked Will
- When Guy first explained Red Stream to me, I was sceptical
like you. Empire-building was an expression I used. Then I realised that
perhaps it is vision that the wine business sorely lacks. In France, we have an
expression, "sortir par le haut" which is the opposite of
"niveller par le bas". That translates in wine language as don't
simply impose more rules to ensure that everyone produces dull wine. Do the
opposite: encourage creativity, and so make fraud unnecessary. If we, the
winemakers were doing, had been allowed to do, had insisted that we do what we
should, we would not be having this conversation today. Our job is to show that
imagination is not a dirty word when applied to wine but is as fundamental as
it is to a clothes designer or computer engineer. Forget marketing jargon; if
the wine's not right, we're wasting our time.
- So, to answer your question, Will, I agreed to join
this project because for a winemaker who takes pride in his craft, I don't
think there is a greater challenge today than putting his skills to work to
create new wines which excite the public. If we are iconoclastic, if we think
outside some of those boxes, we may persuade those talented men and women to
start questioning tradition, start asking why. Why have I made my wines this
same way for years? Was my grandfather right? Is there a way to make better
wine here from the same raw material? Let us begin to break those moulds, and
stop worshipping tradition simply because tradition's there. As someone once
said, wars are a tradition too, and it hasn't made them respectable yet. If we
try to do this, then maybe some French and Italians will start drinking wine
again, good wine, because they like it, not because it has an appellation name
on the label. If we can't and I'm wrong, I'll buy you a pint of beer a year
from now
Will Savage chuckled. The rest of the group burst into
applause.
________________________
- We first met him in B.A said Nina. Buenos Aires, she
added quickly with a smile. Antonio, my husband was working for a U.S.
corporation who had vineyards in Mendoza. Max was sent down to help them make
some drinkable wine, I think, or recomend they sell it. He called it a study
trip.
- B.A was fabulous in those days, and we spent a
week-end taking Max around the city. It was extraordinary, he was amazed by
everything, and took Anna and the other children for walks asking them to show
him the town. On the Sunday evening he said to us:
ŌThank you for opening my eyes to Argentina. I feel
like I have seen Europe half a century agoĶ
- How long ago was this? asked Alessa, her voice
tinged with jealousy
- Almost 10 years, I suppose. He went to Mendoza with
Antonio and rode around the vineyards talking to everyone in his stumbling
Spanish. He told Antonio that he
wouldn't be accepted until they knew him, so he must meet everyone who worked
for the bodega. Antonio found it quite interesting too, I think.
- Did he come back?
- Oh yes, often. Before he left Mendoza, he sat the
wine makers down in front of the Cordillera with a glass of their own wine. He
pointed to the mountains and said he found it one of the most beautiful sights
he'd ever seen; he poured his wine on the floor and said it was time they made
a Malbec that was worthy of those mountains. He was here to help them do it.
- We came to Europe too in those days, staying in plush
hotels on expenses.
She sighed and passed a hand through her hair.
- How stupid we were. stupido, Nina exclaimed angrily.
- What do you mean?
- When the crash came, Alessa, we lost everything.
Almost everything. First to go was Antonio's job, with no compensation. So we
had to find something just to live. It had to be Europe or the States, because
there were no jobs in BA any more. That was where Max was so good to our family.
Clearly the memory even now moved her strongly.
- He called Antonio one day and I answered. He was
brutally frank as only Max can be sometimes. Nina, he said, get you and your
family on a plane to Paris quickly. This apartment is from now on yours to use
for as long as you need it. It will give you a European base. I don't see how
Antonio can find a job here out of BA.
- When Antonio came in, he asked why I was crying. I
said I had forgotten until then the meaning of kindness.
________________________
- I still don't believe all of this, said Will, so
I'll hold you to that pint.
- A promise is a promise
He turned away and came face to face with Guy Madison
- Very skilful, Mr Christian. Even your father would have been
impressed.
- I doubt it, Mr Madison. But more to the point, was
it true?
- That will be up to you, Max
- Not entirely. If Tom and I are figureheads to be
wheeled out at this kind of show from time to time, then it's not worth
starting. If however you believe what I just said, then we've got work to do.
- Any further conditions, Max?
- Just one. No deal until Jules Roux is out of this
deal.
- Will you dictate to me who my shareholders are now?
- No, I just don't like his face. I don't want to see
him or have to deal with him. His shareholdings are not my business, as long as
it's under 50%.
Madison looked at Max's cold, intense face and then
laughed lightly.
- Good God, you do remind me of your dad.
Max opened his mouth in surprise as Madison turned to
leave.
- You won't have to deal with Jules, he said over his
shoulder.
___________________________
The party that evening in the house in Maisons-Lafitte
was noisy. Max arrived around 7. He'd persuaded Louis Vallais with some
difficulty to break his return journey in Paris. Only the promise of tasting
unimaginably delicious Argentine Malbecs had swung the old man round. He was
still irritated by being forced to change hotel in London at ten minutes'
notice.
- Where I come from, that is not done, he remarked.
- Where you come from, they don't murder people with
stilettos.
- How do you know? Louis asked a touch aggressively.
- We don't want to lose you, Louis.
- Max, will you cease mothering me?
He sulked most of the way to Paris and insisted on
carrying his own heavy suitcase at the Gare du Nord. But when they reached
Maisons, Nina's charm and the sight of Alessa soon had a thawing effect. They
all ate steak and salad at the long marble brasserie table which occupied most
of the kitchen, washing it down with plenty of Antonio's Malbec, whilst Anna
and her brothers interrogated Max about the "voyous" who were chasing
him.
- Qu'est-ce que c'est bon, tout a, said Louis,
draining his glass for the 3rd time.
- I keep my promises you see, said Max. Antonio, I
have a little tasting for you. Anna, can you find the two bottles of wine in my
bag over there?
The two red wines, both without labels, were placed on
the table and uncorked.
- How many times have I seen this, said Nina,
exchanging glances with Alessa.
Antonio sipped the first glass. Even his children had
stopped chattering and watched attentively. He shrugged.
- Seems like a reasonable Malbec from my country.
Young, of course.
- Now this one.
Antonio frowned in surprise.
- Malbec as well, I'd say from the same....un momento,
Max, the first again.
He went swiftly from one glass to the other, then
broke into a smile.
- This is good, this is a very good imitation, Max.
Unless you knew a lot about Mendoza, you wouldn't guess that only one of these
came from Argentina.
- Which?
- The second, I think. I'm not sure where the first is
from but it's good.
- It is
- Are these yours, Max?
- No, Antonio, but they will soon be my problem. The
first is from California, Sonoma. Do you remember when we talked about El
Condor Negro?
Antonio roared with laughter.
- That's good. I know Argentine wines are the coming
thing, but why would Sonoma want to pass off their wines as ours?
- Did I say that?
- It's the other way round?
-Neither. Both are being sold or will be soon as
Cahors.
- Madre de dios .
________________________
Jules Roux walked smartly through passport control. He
jumped so quickly into a waiting car that Buck Rosenthal's man almost lost him.
But it was still light and he followed the distinctive white Lincoln quite
easily after that into the city. He was surprised though when the car dropped
Roux at the ferry terminal to cross the bay. Why didn't the car take him around
to Sausalito if that was where he wanted to go? Hurriedly he looked around for
somewhere to park, and returned on foot to the ferry. It was just pulling out
with his quarry safely on board.
___________________________
Everyone else had gone to bed, leaving Antonio and Max
in front of the embers of a dying fire. Antonio had served cachaca straight up.
Max sipped and made a face.
- How can you drink this stuff?
Antonio ignored the question.
- How are you, Max?
- I don't know. You tell me. I've been running, Toni,
for the last few weeks, chasing. Whatever it is, it slips away as soon as I
turn a corner. I drove to France and back yesterday achieving zilch, and
nightmares kept me awake when I got back. I need to go away and sleep for weeks.
- Go to Vallais
- Maybe I will
- I mean, go now, tomorrow with Alessa and Louis. Go
for good. That's where you're happy.
- You're right. That is where Max Christian is happy.
But he has one or two things to finish first.
- Madison?
- Madison, Roux. Wine fraud. Murder. Minor matters
like that.
- They're not your problems. You're not a flic. Or a
judge
- No, I'm just a wino trying to find out why two of my
best friends have been murdered because all the world's flics haven't come up
with a damn thing. They're no further on than me, Toni, they want me to tell
them if I come up with something.
- What now then?
- Back to sunny Napa, mon ami.
They sat quietly gazing into the fire. The silence was
broken by Max's cell phone.
- Panos. Was he there? Did he? Alone?
He listened to the Greek talking for a minute or two
- San Francisco, he said. OK, Vallais tomorrow week if
you like. I'll tell Louis you're coming to buy him out. Panos, before I forget,
thanks. Where is Bea? I want her to call me.
________________________________
Lewis Stone and Kit Harvey were sitting over a late
dinner
- Where does this leave us, Kit? How do we find this
transaction?
- The short answer is we don't, Lew. I've been at this
all day; I've looked in every place I could think of, state and federal going
back 20 years. A U.S. corporation does not just disappear.
-And if the name was changed?
- There would be a record of that
Lew held up his hand
- Hold it, what did you just say? A company cannot
just disappear, right?
- Right
- But it can go into hibernation
- If nothing happens, there are no transactions, no
change of ownership...oh shit
- You thinking what I'm thinking? said Lew
- Probably
Lew leant forward and tapped Kit on the chest.
- Tomorrow morning, Mr Harvey, we have an early
appointment with Art Jackson. I wager we're not the only ones who'll want to
see him.
_________________________
It was Antonio who drove Alessa to Orly the next
morning for her flight to Venice. Max left the house in Maisons-Lafitte with
Louis, on his way back to Aix. The old man became quite emotional as he
embraced Nina and the children.
- Merci, merci. You are most kind. A pleasure to see
you in Vallais whenever you like.
- Monsieur Louis, said Nina, in her simple way, you
are now one of the family. Like Maximo here.
Max left Louis at the Gare de Lyon and was about to
step on a train to Roissy airport when the call came.
____________________
- So what now, designer? Alessa had asked at some
point during a turbulent night
- Now I shall go to sleep
- Come on, caro, the game plan. Le plan de jeu as the
French probably say
She sat astride his chest, her chin just beneath his,
resting on her crossed hands.
- I refuse to say. I might be strangled
- You'll have to take the risk, caro
- Ok. One, you go to Venice tomorrow
- H'm
- Two, we meet in Vallais next week-end
- H'm, get to the difficult part
- Three, I leave for Napa tomorrow to sort out this
mess
- By yourself? The cavaliere riding off to charge at
windmills again.
- Lew will be there and a few others.
- No Tom, no Panos, no Alessa, is that it? You piss me
off, Max Christian. So bloody arrogant.
- The alternative is that you strangle me now
- Try to be serious one moment. What can you do out
there except get hurt?
- If it was just that, he sighed, you're right maybe
I'd let it go. But there's my father.
- Your father? What about him?
- He died leaving me nothing, cara; he was ruined, so
there was nothing. That's what I was told when I was 18, and I didn't ask
questions. It's not the sort of question you ask when your parents have just
died in a plane crash.
-Well?
- It seems that maybe Christian, Philippe left behind
some problems which Christian, Max will have to take a look at. If only to set
his mind at rest. Whatever I learn about my father, cara, good or bad, will be
precious. Do you understand that?
Alessa didn't answer, but simply placed her hands
around his neck.
- One condition, Max. Next week-end it's Venice, not
Vallais. You can go on there afterwards.
- Only if you come with me
- It's a deal, designer. Now I'm going to strangle you
very slowly.
_________________
The girl on reception had clearly only just arrived
when Lew Stone and Kit Harvey walked into the offices of Jackson & Morgan,
attorneys-at-law in Santa Rosa. It was 7.30 and she was alone. They settled
down to wait.
Ten minutes later, a young lawyer, smart and smiling,
stepped into the lobby. He came towards them.
- John Morgan. Can I help you gentlemen?
- We're waiting for Art. Thanks all the same
- Is Art in this morning? Morgan queried the secretary
- He's coming on after his breakfast meeting
- Fine. Let him know, will you, Julie, that these
gentlemen are waiting.
Julie was saved the trouble as Art Jackson swept into
the office a moment later, closely followed by Jules Roux.
- Art, good to see you, shouted Lew as if this was the
last place he expected to see the attorney
Art Jackson froze in the middle of the lobby,
clutching a bulky briefcase. He turned to his client for help
- Jules, what a pleasure. That was a quick exit from
London
- You likewise, Mr Stone. Do you have an appointment
with these people? Roux looked at Jackson
- Not yet, Lew interjected, but we intend to get one.
Art, I need to talk some more about that Christian Realty company and I asked
my friend Kit Harvey to come along and help.
Jules Roux went from white to red and turned to Art.
- What does this signify, Mr Jackson?
The big lawyer pulled himself together
- Well, we're not going to have a meeting in the
lobby. Come into the boardroom, all of you. We can clear this up quick enough.
He put his head around an adjoining office door
- John, I need you in here please
Jules Roux asked harshly
- Do I understand, Mr Jackson, that you plan to
involve one of your colleagues in this discussion?
- You understand correctly, sir. It has become
necessary. I am no longer prepared to carry this ball alone.
They sat. Art Jackson addressed himself to Lew.
- Mr Stone, we did not have an appointment this
morning as you well know. I can ask my assistant to schedule one for you later
today if you wish. Before you leave however, please explain the purpose of your
visit.
- Quite simple, Art, Lew replied seriously. We wish to
know how come Christian Realty corp is still owned by Philippe Christian, who
died more than 20 years ago. Unless I'm much mistaken, you seem to be nominee
for a dead man.
__________________________
They met in Terminal 3 at Charles de Gaulle airport.
Batrice was wearing jumbo size sunglasses. Max came brutally to the point
- Did you set me up from the start or did you only
figure out en route that it would be fun to have Max Christian as a puppet?
She reddened and said nothing. He had his answer.
- Did you know Berton & Nick would be knocked off?
Whose idea was all this?
- Max, you know I canÕt tell you that. I would be a
condemned woman.
- Like Ccile? Like Ccile whom you didnÕt hesitate to
eliminate when Jules asked you to.
Max stopped, wiping his hand over his face:
- God, I should have seen that coming.
- No, Max, I am not a killer, said Batrice.
- Does it matter now? Max shouted. Does it matter?
YouÕre alive, you cheated me, and Ccile and Nick are dead. Why, just give me
one good reason, Ba.
It was Batrice Ôs turn to be brutal:
- Money, Max Christian, lots of money. Have you ever
wondered how I could survive, let alone live comfortably in Paris working in a
lab on the salary of a low-ranked civil servant?
He looked up surprised.
- No, you didnÕt, did you, she continued, youÕre up in
your wine cloud all day every day, you forget that we mere mortals have to
live. Jules Roux understands that, she added waspishly.
- Clearly, said Max. Well, I must go. Watch your back,
Ba.
He began walking to the departure lounge.
- IÕve said nothing, said Ba aggressively.
Max turned back for a moment:
- You know that, I know that. Will they believe it?
He sighed and cupped her chin in his hand
- Petite idiote, va
Interlude #3
Guy Madison's last encounter with Philippe Christian
had also been in the King's Road, this time at Madison's request.
- I thought I ought to tell you that I'm planning to
pull out
The eyebrows went up: Out of London or out of wine?
- Out of both for the moment
- Pulling out or running away?
- What makes you say that?
- Come now, answer the question.
- They're running me out of town, Mr Christian. The
trade, I mean. I'm a cowboy, a buccaneer and they don't like buccaneers.
- Who's they?
- Andrew Marsh and his friends. They can make life
difficult.
- I daresay they can, but difficulty is an
occupational risk of any business. What else?
- Fraud, Mr Christian. They're going to accuse me of
fraud. Doctoring the wines. How else can he sell at those prices? Marsh told me
so himself
- They can't prove anything, can they?
- They don't have to. A whispering campaign will get
under way, relayed by all their friends in the press. Madison's champagne, you
know, why it's so cheap of course; well, it's a long time since it saw
Champagne that one. Tastes all right to me. Well, if you can't tell the
difference between ersatz bubbly and the real Mccoy, old boy, that's your
problem. There you are.
- I didn't imagine wine was as cut-throat as real
estate, but it seems I was wrong
- I wanted to thank you for your support, Mr
Christian.
- It was just names and addresses. Save your thanks
for those who put up the money. Talking of which, here's another name, for your
next venture, Jules Roux. He's a banker in Paris, worth a chat. Use my name but
if you do business with him, keep the majority yourself.
- Now Mr Madison, I need some wine to take to some
friends up north this week-end
__________________________
- Ruth, I want to do a deal
- Don't we all, darling.
- That report you never finished was commissioned by
who?
- Is that what you call a deal? And who said I never
finished it?
- You hadn't, so you must have finished it since. I
wonder why. Your customer come back?
- The client is sacred, Max.
- Ruth, listen to me, the list is piling up. We have
Nick Marsh, a cellarmaster in Cahors, a lab assistant in Paris, and my good
friends Ccile and Arnaud de Clerc. You're beginning to look like an
obstruction to justice. Maybe I should ask Inspector Courtney to come and see
you.
-Pull the other one, Max
- Or pass the message along the Irish network here?
- You bastard
- That's better. Now here's a name. I want you to put
down the phone if I'm right, ok? I'm glad you agree. I won't murmur to the
Irish if you play straight
There was silence on the line.
- Ready, Ruth?
- Get on with it, you git
Max spoke the name softly. The phone hit the receiver
_____________________
Panos read the text message at 7pm and called Tom at
once.
- What's up at your end?
- Zilch. No movement
- I'm on my way to join you. He's our man.
_____________________
- What are you setting up, Lewis? OK corral?
- Somewhere private, Em, that's all, with you the
hostess.
- Ever consider asking me before the invitations go
out?
- Not really. I knew you'd be there.
- Who else?
- Nice little party. Not sure you know everyone. You
met Jules Roux?
Emily looked at him sharply.
- Do you know what you're doing, Lewis Stone? These
guys don't play softball.
- You should know, Em.
Emily put her arm through his and walked him out to
the terrace with its view west toward Mount Veeder and south toward Carneros.
- Look at this, Lew, look at it carefully. Do you want
to spoil it?
- Is that what I'm doing?
- You're heading that way. Hell, you got out months
ago
- So did you. We all did, in case you hadn't noticed
- So I did. But now they've given me a job again
- Yes, that was smart of them, I grant you
- What's that supposed to mean?
- They didn't even have to ask you. They knew Max
would keep you busy
- They didn't have that much choice
- When Tom had his accident? Precisely.
Emily looked closely at him, shaking her head.
- So I'm the dumb one.
- No, you went back to doing what you like more than
anything in the world. Tom was beginning to complain about how often he was
told to blink when a couple of tanks were switched; he needed a spell in eye
hospital. You didn't mind so much, in fact you probably wouldn't have noticed
if Max hadn't kicked up the dust.
Emily wandered over to a white wicker chair and
collapsed into it.
- I'm too old for this game, Lew.
- I know, Em. We'll all retire tomorrow. Including Sam.
- Particularly Sam. Is he coming tonight?
- No, Sam's still in London. Sam is the past. Tonight
is unfinished business.
Lew gestured with his arm towards the view.
- Em, this is the only way you get to keep all this.
___________________________
Andrew Marsh locked the office in Livery Yard and
walked down into the yard itself. He walked over to the Jaguar parked on the
far side of the yard. He threw a small case over into the back seat, and pulled
out quickly into the street heading for south London and the M25. If he noticed
the red Peugeot pulling out behind him, he gave no sign.
____________________________
- Are you going up there tonight? Jay Lincoln was
sitting with Guy in the back of the limousine
- Give me one good reason
- Jules will be there
- A good reason, Jay
- Max as well. He has questions
- For who?
- For both of you
-Leave him to Jules. If he's still alive, I'll see him
tomorrow
- I think you should go
- Jay, Red Stream is about us setting the agenda for
others, not the reverse. I'm getting a little weary of Mr Christian's antics.
Make sure he knows that I will be up at Russian river tomorrow morning if he
wants to meet. Let's get back
The limo slipped out onto the freeway heading south
________________________
- I have nothing to hide, Mr Christian, Jules Roux
said with an easy smile, and to do him credit he looked it. As I said to these
gentlemen this morning, your father was a master of "montages
financiers", knew them far better than we, the bankers, did. We were there
to execute, using our licences and contacts, but the ideas were all his.
He tapped his head significantly.
- Brilliant brain, Philippe Christian. Jules looked
around the room as if that settled the matter conclusively.
- So where's the company?, asked Max
- Or a trace of when it was sold, added Kit Harvey
- But the company, mes amis, was a fiction. Or rather,
not a fiction, but the only corporation with any reality, as Mr Jackson, will
tell you, was Christian corp which was liquidated in 1981. Realty was a shell
with no activity.
- Not quite, Mr Roux, said Kit
- I beg your pardon. Jules smiled affably
- Max, Realty was owned 51% Philippe Christian and 49%
banque Roux. Correct, Mr Roux?
- It was Kit's turn to charm
- Exact, Monsieur
- Good. Philippe's share was held as nominee by Mr
Jackson here
- The bank's as well
- Sure, sure, but Philippe Christian died, the bank
didn't. The Christian share was either sold or passed to Max here. - What about
it, Mr Jackson?
Art Jackson shuffled his feet and looked at Jules.
- Neither, gentlemen.
- Neither? Kit's voice went up an octave.
- Neither. It is still held in the name of Philippe
Christian.
- Well, that's kind of unorthodox, Jules, Lew
interjected.
Jules Roux was becoming impatient
- I'm sorry but I do not see where this is getting us.
So what? Yes, we decided to do that with Mr Jackson; it was less complicated
and there was no activity in the company. What is the difference?
Art Jackson intervened again:
- There is another clause in the agreement that I
should mention.
He looked across at Jules with a shrug.
- The named beneficiary of Philippe ChristianÕs
shareholding is not actually Max here. Not directly anyway. It is a certain
Louis Vallais of Domaine Vallais in Provence, France.
Max looked around him in a daze.
- What difference does all this make? asked Jules
Roux. How can it concern us?
Kit Harvey chuckled.
- Mr Roux, you know better than anyone that Christian Realty
holds 2% of Berengaria holdings which is no mean sum. Furthermore as your bank
and Mr Madison each have 49% of that corporation, the person who controls this
2% effectively controls Berengaria. All of which places Max ( or rather Louis)in
what might be called a position of strength
- Holy shit! exclaimed Emily, as her glass crashed to
the floor
__________________________
They came off the autoroute at Aix and headed north. It
was almost exactly 24 hours since they had left London. Since leaving Calais,
Andrew Marsh had barely stopped, and his two pursuers felt drained by the
effort. They had lost the bronze Jaguar once or twice along the way, once for
nearly a hundred miles, but the car was distinctive and they were on autoroute
after all
- He drives like a man in a hurry, said Panos
- He's over 70, he is in a hurry, Tom replied stonily,
concentrating on the twisting road north of Aix
- Goddammit, as soon as you leave the freeway in this
country, all the roads twist up. This gear change don't help none neither. Are
we nearly there, Pan?
- Near enough. Get ready for the man to stop. Short
odds he'll come and talk to us.
The Jaguar did pull to a halt, but as they swept past,
it seemed to them, Andrew was studying the map closely.
- Maybe we should do that, muttered Tom
- Let's drive on slowly, said Panos, we know where
he's going
- I'd prefer to keep him in our sights, said Tom, but
nevertheless allowed the car to coast forward into the little village of Rognes
where a boisterous ptanque was in progress in the dust of the square
- Civilized pursuits, Tom reflected. People who have
the right scale of values
They sat in the car waiting for a few minutes until
Panos exclaimed
- Come on, let's drive on to Vallais fast. He's taken
another route.
They burnt up the last few kilometres to the vineyard,
only slowing as they drove along the avenue of chestnut trees leading to the
house.
There was no sign of activity. In the late afternoon the
shady courtyard was a haven of quiet. The only incongruous sight was the bronze
Jaguar parked outside the French windows.
It was empty
_________________
When he asked to see Guy Madison, it seemed he was
expected. Max was escorted through the glistening El Condor winery to the
vineyards at the back. The girl pointed, and he made out in the distance a
small figure pacing between the vines. Walking to join him, he noticed how
healthy and advanced for the season the vines were; Malbec and further on Pinot
Noir. This was Russian River, after all.
Madison turned as he approached
- Max, take a look at the winery, will you, with the
vineyard around it. Now tell me that sight doesn't make any winemaker yearn to
make wine in this place
Max stood gazing at the concrete and metal monster
before him, then squatted down and tore off leaves of Pinot Noir
- No it doesn't, but neither does the chai in Vallais
nor a cantina in Barolo, or a bodega in Argentina. This, he said, shaking the
vine leaves, is what I yearn for. Good quality raw material so my imagination
can run riot. I can be the best bloody winemaker in the world but without the
fruit...he raised and let drop his arms
- Oh well. So Jules didn't eat you last night then?
- No, he's your problem now
Madison's eyebrows rose a fraction
- We had a deal, remember? Max reminded him
- That was before you had 2% of my company
-Correction: before I knew Louis Vallais had 2%. Which
IÕm sure he intends to keep.
- I'm glad to hear it
- As an insurance policy
Guy Madison turned again and walked away from the
winery
- Clarify, Max, clarify.
- I'll be here on September 1st to talk to
your winemakers with Tom. You have 3 months to dispose of Roux.
- It will take 3 days. What about Vallais?
- What about it? I don't recall saying I'd join the
Berengaria payroll. I'm a shareholder looking after my investment by making
honest wines for Red Stream, Mr Madison
- Max, your father was the first person who advised me
to aim higher than you ever believe you can go
- Maybe he was wrong
- I don't think so. He was a kind of mentor to me at
Madison cellars
-You know, I believe I've just about had my fill of
everyone's fond memories of Philippe Christian twenty years after. Why did he
never invest in your London cellars?
- He invested advice; all he received in return were a
few cases of wine.
- I see. By the way, where's the wolfhound? Don't I
need protection any longer?
- More than ever, Madison smiled
- I've not seen him for days
- He's very discreet. He's protecting you where you
need it most.
- But you no longer have an investment to protect
Guy Madison smiled.
- No. You have
_____________________
There was a formal garden at Vallais, small but
formal, mostly composed of box-trees and exotic flower beds. It was incongruous
next to the rambling old house, but Louis liked it. He didn't care for what he
called the "jardins sauvages" of the English.
Tom and Panos could see Andrew and Louis strolling
down the alleys, chatting and laughing like the old friends they were. Louis
was older, stockier, slightly bent; Marsh was upright, still slim despite his
age
- Was he ever a soldier?, Tom muttered
- Andrew was, yes. Royal Marines or SAS or something.
Hard as nails
- He looks it
They paused on the edge of the garden; Louis saw them
and waved in the middle of listening to Marsh. He took him by the arm and they
walked out of sight around the corner of the house
- Shit, said Tom. They ran across the garden,
trampling flowers as they went.
Turning the corner, they discovered Louis sitting on
the grass. Andrew Marsh however was lying on his face holding his hand to a
bleeding shoulder. Inspector Courtney was holding up an evil looking knife.
- You took your time, he said glaring at the
newcomers. Glad we don't have to rely on you
Panos was aghast and stammered:
- I'm so glad you were here
- So am I. But this gentleman was even quicker than we
were. Thank you for your help, sir
- Don't mention it, Inspector, said Patrick Hammond,
coming out of the trees.
_______________________
Courtney's conversation with Max two days later was
short.
- My brief is murder, Mr Christian, not wine fraud nor
all these arcane subjects you people spend your time worrying about. But I have
alerted my colleagues in the Fraud squad and who knows maybe they'll follow up.
- Don't you see a link between the two?
Courtney was dismissive.
- I doubt it. Unless your friend Beatrice proves
cooperative. Even with what we have we're going to have trouble pinning all
this on Marsh.
- At least that plan worked.
- It did, you were right. I was sure he would go for
you not Monsieur Vallais.
- Alessa was right.
- Who?
- My Italian friend Alessandra.
- Oh yes, very nice. I'll be in touch, sir.
______________________
Georges Roux was coming out of his house in Holland
Park road on Friday morning when the two policemen asked him to accompany them
for questioning.
Monsieur Jourdain was waiting for the agents de police
in his office in Beaune. He could foresee it all, the scandal, the trial, the
shame and the stain on a famous Burgundian family. He preferred to make a
swifter exit by putting a bullet through his head.
Jules Roux was welcomed off the plane at Charles de
Gaulle airport by a discreet group of security agents and taken to a private
address for questioning with his brother. Lavoisier, Marchal & Roux was a
major private bank, and the Minister himself had told his chef de cabinet he
wanted this "affaire" dealt with quickly and discreetly.
Guy Madison was left alone.
________________________
They were back in the San Michele graveyard, leaning
against the same gravestone – Marco Baccalin
-Is it over? Is that it, asked Alessa
- Probably
- And Madison escapes scot free?
- Guess so. Not an ounce of proof. All the fraud
happened in spite of him. He's far too smart to leave proof lying around. He
knew precisely what was going on, otherwise Hammond wouldn't have been there so
conveniently.
- So Roux masterminded all of this?
- Certainly not the wine fraud. That is still with us.
I suspect Madison simply wanted to ease Jules out of the picture, it's called
giving a man enough rope to hang himself.
- And Andrew?
- That's what became clear when Ruth told me. Madison
was the one person Andrew would never work with, Roux could count on that.
Madison and his own son, of course. And Beatrice was a convenient tool to get
to me. I canÕt see why I didnÕt see it. She was there at every stage.
- What will happen to her?
- That will depend on how involved she is in the
murders. Particularly, Cecile de Clerc. See?
- Clear as mud, caro. Are you going to work for Madison
in spite of everything?
- No. I'm going to help Tom make some super wines for
Berengaria.
- Of which you are now part owner.
- Not precisely.
- What about Vallais?
- Vallais? You were right there.
- I was? What did I say about Vallais?
- You said it was what I always wanted to do. So, I've
been thinking.
- No harm in that from time to time. Be careful
though.
Alessa grabbed his face between her hands. All right,
I'm listening
- You are a designer, you need time in Venice doing
your thing for Carlo whatever twice a year.
- H'm
- I have to help Tom here and there to create all
these legendary wines we're planning
- H'm
- In the interludes we will meet in Vallais and make
love and make wine for Louis. In other words I'll accept Louis' offer of a
viager.
Alessa sat up.
- Does Louis know about this?
- No. I had to tell you first, ask you first
- When were you planning to let him know?
- Now if you like. What do you think? Shall I?
She nodded, suddenly serious.
Max dialled the Vallais number and waited. The familiar
voice came on the line
- C'est
qui?
- Louis,
C'est Max
- Max? Max qui?
Max shook his head in disbelief.
- Max Christian, Louis
- Ah, Max, why didn't you say?
- Louis, listen to me. I have something important to
tell you
He spoke rapidly in French for two or three minutes,
so fast that Alessa couldn't follow.
- We'll see you tomorrow, no, not tomorrow, the day
after, d'accord? Ciao.
- Voil, he said. He's delighted
- What about us, wine designer?
He wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her down
on top of him
- "Come live with me and bee my love" as the
poet said
- Is that a threat?
- No, cara, it's a promise.
He shook his head wondering where he'd heard that
before.
The End
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