The Quiet Death of Thomas Quaid: Lennox 5 Read Free

what?’
    ‘An idea. Or at least for you to secure that idea for them. It’s your business to gather information for clients; there’s a single, specific piece of information that is of great commercial value to my client. To
our
client.’
    ‘What kind of information?’
    ‘I’ll give you the details if and when we come to an arrangement, but what we’re talking about is basically a design for something. Something my client’s competitors have developed and that gives them an unfair commercial advantage. My client would very much like to obtain the details of this advantage.’
    Again I studied McNaught, taking a moment to work out exactly whose army he’d been in.
    ‘It sounds to me like the
information
you’re talking about is more like secrets,’ I said. ‘They hang people for stealing those, in this country.’
    McNaught laughed lopsidedly, the damage to his face restricting the movement on the right. It turned his smile into something ugly and disturbing. ‘You’re right, Mr Lennox, I’m asking you to steal secrets and get involved in espionage. But not those kinds of secrets nor that kind of espionage. What we’re talking about is purely
industrial
espionage. And, technically, industrial espionage isn’t illegal in this country.’
    ‘But what you’re asking me to do is of dubious legality.’
    ‘No it’s not. There’s absolutely no dubiety about it whatsoever – it’s illegal. Stealing industrial secrets may be no crime, but those secrets are, of course, kept under lock and key. The means of gaining access to those premises – breaking and entering – is a crime, even if it’s only intellectual property that ends up being stolen. I’m asking you to conspire to commit a crime, even if that crime is petty.’ He paused, leaning the ramrod he had for a spine back in the chair and taking his turn to study me. ‘From what I’ve been able to gather about you, Mr Lennox, bending the law shouldn’t present much of a problem. And that’s why you’re being paid a premium. I’m authorized to offer you a deal that compensates for the risk.’
    ‘How much compensation are we talking about?’
    ‘Two hundred pounds now, a further five hundred when the files are delivered to me. But I have to point out that once the two hundred pounds is paid, you are committed to delivering the files. Failure to do so could have
unpleasant
results. My clients may be respectable and conventional, but my associates and I are not. We have a reputation for delivering what we promise to deliver . . . and we take that reputation very, very seriously. If you say yes, you’re committed. If you cannot commit fully, then say no now and I’ll leave. Are we clear?’
    The darkness of his threat was lost in the cosy glow generated by the idea of seven hundred pounds, at least three hundred of which would warm my back pocket. I nodded. He dipped a hand into his briefcase. When it came out, the hand was holding a satisfyingly thick bundle of banknotes, tight-bound with elastic bands. Homely as the reigning monarch might have been, I always felt an almost erotic thrill when I saw her face on a Bank of England twenty-pound note. McNaught sat the bundle on the desk between us; Pavlov rattled my dish and I smiled again.
    ‘So, for whom would I be working?’
    ‘You’re working for me. I thought I made that clear.’
    ‘Okay then . . . for whom are
you
working?’
    ‘I hope we’re not going to have a difficulty, Mr Lennox. You do not need to know – you should not know nor try to find out – who my client is. Like you, I’m self-employed. Another link in the chain, as it were. Or a buffer between my client and you. Between my client and everyone else, for that matter. All you need to know is that I represent someone who will benefit from the information you obtain.’
    I nodded. ‘You realize that I won’t be visiting the premises myself? I have to hire a specialist contractor for that.’ Whenever entering somewhere