Free The Lazarus Vault by Tom Harper

not trying to steal your glory, Ellie. Not at all. But I cannot spare you. I need to send you on an assignment straight away. There is a company in Luxembourg that one of our clients wishes to acquire a stake in. It is a complex arrangement and there are other bidders. At the moment we are performing due diligence. I want you to dig through their files and see if you can find anything that would affect the value of the company, anything they are trying to hide from us.’
    In Luxembourg?
What would she tell Doug? ‘When do I leave?’
    Blanchard consulted his watch. ‘A car will take you to the airport in ten minutes. You are booked into the Sofitel. Not the best hotel in Luxembourg, I am afraid, but it is where the other bidders are staying. Perhaps you can get to know them. I’m sorry there is no time to pack. Buy whatever you need at the airport, or when you get there. Our local manager is a woman called Christine Lafarge. She can help you.’
    Ellie turned to go. Halfway out the door she remembered something.
    ‘Why does the Rosenberg deal have to be completed so quickly? That was the one thing I couldn’t work out.’
    Blanchard smiled. ‘I am glad there are some secrets we can keep from you, Ellie. In a month, the Government will announce an inquiry into the possibility of building a new freight distribution terminal in Woolwich. Major infrastructure investment. The Rosenberg factory will double in value. Six months later, the Government will decide in favour and it will double in value again.’
    He sounded so certain it would happen, as if he could lift the veil and peer into the future at will. Ellie remembered theministerial Jaguar she’d seen outside the bank on the day of her interview.
    The adrenaline was draining out of her; guilt had begun to set in. She thought of the old man’s stubbornness, the weight of the generations on his shoulders. ‘I suppose it’ll be good for the business,’ she said hopefully.
    Blanchard stubbed out his cigar. ‘Very good for business.’
    Three hours later Ellie landed in Luxembourg. It was hard to believe the day had started waist-deep in rotting cardboard. She breezed through immigration, had no bag to wait for, and walked straight past the man in the arrivals hall holding a sign with her name on it. He had to run to catch up with her.
    ‘This way, please.’
    He led her out the front, where a long black Mercedes sat carelessly parked across a pair of double-yellow lines. A woman slid out of the back seat. Slim, elegant and agelessly beautiful, in a grey Chanel suit and diamond earrings, she held Ellie by the shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks.
    ‘Christine Lafarge – welcome. Vivian has told me all about you. He speaks very highly. Your journey was not tedious? Air travel is such a bore these days.’
    It was the second time in her life Ellie had been on a plane – and the first that included free food and drink, let alone an executive lounge and dedicated check-in. She said it had been fine, and watched Luxembourg glide past the window as the car headed for the city.
    ‘I am sorry this is very unexpected. The work is going so slowly, and today one of my team has disappeared –
pouf –
off to a new job. Vivian has told you the situation?’
    ‘I read the file on the plane.’ Talhouett Holdings, a mining and chemicals concern. The Luxembourg government held astake which it was trying to divest. Two bidders had been shortlisted, and were now frantically combing through the records trying to uncover any dirty laundry before they finalised their offers. There were two weeks to go.
    They crawled through the outskirts of the city, a long strip of square apartment blocks and neon signs. Ellie had expected something grander.
    ‘There wasn’t much in the file about the bidder,’ she said tentatively.
    ‘Groupe Saint-Lazare. They are our biggest client, both here and across the company. They are also a shareholder in Monsalvat, so there is much pressure on us