Due Diligence Read Online Free PDF

Management, Corporate Finance. The head of each department would normally have his hat in the ring.’
    ‘Not this time?’
    I explain that Tony Mannetti, the boss of Fund Management, joined less than a year ago from New York. ‘He wouldn’t even be hoping.’
    ‘And now Stewart’s dead,’ he says. He lets the implication hang there: the way is now clear for Stephen Vance. ‘Who's likely to take over Stewart’s job?’
    ‘Me, for the time being.’
    ‘And when things settle down?’
    When things settle down. This seems such an impossibly distant prospect right now that I find myself smiling hopelessly. I tell him that the question of Daniel’s replacement is still open, something to be sorted out later with my father and Sir John. He repockets his notepad, telling me he’s expecting the full autopsy report later in the day.
    ‘I thought Daniel was shot. No?’
    ‘Three times, close range. We’ve found two of the bullets, they’re being run through ballistics.’ Ryan pulls at the flesh below his chin. ‘I doubt the autopsy’ll tell us anything, but we live in hope.’ He asks if I can show him to Vance’s office, and I rise and go to the door. ‘You wouldn’t know, would you,’ he says as we proceed down the corridor, ‘if Stewart had any serious private problems?’
    ‘Not that I know of.’
    He nods, unperturbed. ‘If you have any ideas . . .’
    ‘Sure.’
    Back in the privacy of my own office, I sit awhile replaying the interview in my mind. What kind of man is Inspector Ryan? Persistent? Lax? Overworked?
    Looking southward over the river, I watch the dark clouds building: there will be rain again later. Persistent. Definitely persistent. I swivel back to my desk. Becky has moved the vase down from the bookcase; already the flowers are wilting. How well, I wonder, has Odin been buried? I blow on the flowers. Ever so gently, they stir.
     
     
    2
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    ‘I ’m sorry you were dragged into it,’ Vance tells Reuben and David Meyer. ‘If we could have done anything to prevent it, we would have.’
    Vance and I agreed on the way over that an upfront apology would be best; it isn’t a situation either of us have dealt with before. Now Reuben, the older brother, looks thoughtful. But David stands and points. ‘Don’t,wait for our thank-yous,’ he says. ‘How do you think it looks, police inspectors here? It's your problem.’
    Reuben says something in Yiddish. David reluctantly retakes his seat. The profiles in the press say David is fifty-five, but up close you can see he’s older by a good ten years: journalistic error, I wonder, or vanity?
    ‘Mr Vance,’ Reuben says evenly. ‘How does this affect the bid?’
    ‘It doesn’t,’ Vance tells him.
    David Meyer mutters. He wants us to know he isn’t happy. Vance told me weeks ago that David was difficult, but this is the first time I’ve seen him in action. Already I feel like throwing something heavy in his direction.
    ‘If we stick to what we planned,’ Vance continues, ‘there’s no reason for any disruption.’ He nods towards me. ‘Raef’ll be acting as our Treasurer for the duration of the bid.’
    I see this catches David by surprise.
    ‘Yes,’ Reuben says. ‘Good.’
    Before David can raise an objection, Vance takes two folders from his briefcase, handing one to each brother. He give them a verbal report on progress to date, and Reuben Meyer listens attentively while David studies the folder.
    But I heard all this in the taxi, so now I let my eyes wander. There’s a faded kelim hanging on the wall, and a brass bowl on a stand in the corner. Reuben’s desk is old rather than antique, and the whole place has the feel of a counting house in some Middle Eastern souk. But as far as I’m aware, neither brother has ever ventured much further east than Canary Wharf since the family fled from Poland to London during the War. The decoration is Reuben’s taste, I'd say.
    When Vance finishes, David looks up. ‘You still think we