Free The Legacy by Craig Lawrence Page A

discussing business when he felt he looked the part. Moreover, he knew that his large frame intimidated people more when he was impeccably dressed in what he called his ‘city armour’ and this, he felt, gave him more of an edge. As he came downstairs, he looked through the hall widow and could see his car and driver outside. ‘Bye darling,’ he called to Caroline as he opened the front door and walked towards his car.
    â€˜Good morning Sir,’ said his driver, Simon, as he opened the rear door of the Bentley limousine.
    â€˜Morning Simon,’ replied Highworth as he climbed into the car. Simon had been with him for five years. Richards had suggested him. He was discrete, an excellent driver and had a quiet menace about him that kept people away. Highworth trusted him completely. Simon turned the radio to Radio 4 for the morning news and pulled out into the traffic. Fairweather’s death was attracting significant coverage but there were no new facts. Highworth was intrigued who the friend staying over at Fairweather’s might have been. ‘One of the girls from the polo,’ he thought to himself. He knew there would be no link between the death and him but he was surprised that the assassin had left what could turn out to be a loose end. He listened again to the news. More city experts - some of whom he knew - were giving their views on whether the death would have an impact on Mymate’s rollout. The consensus view was that it would. The experts were all agreed that it was Fairweather’s charisma and energy that made the company so successful and, as there were no obvious contenders to replace him as CEO, there would inevitably be an impact. Highworth felt the excitement in his stomach. Although he was already incredibly wealthy - the Times ’ Rich List had last year estimated his personal fortune at just less than eight hundred million pounds - the prospect of the huge killing he was about to make still excited him.
    Simon stopped the car at the barrier that controlled entry into the Canary Warf area. ‘Morning,’ he said to the security guard, showing the guard his pass.
    The guard looked at the pass and then in the rear of the car. ‘Thank you, have a good day,’ he said as he raised the barrier.
    Simon drew up outside the high rise building that housed the office and got out to open Highworth’s door.
    â€˜I’ll be done by twelve,’ said Highworth as he stepped out of the car and headed for the entrance. Simon nodded his acknowledgement and got back into the car. This would give him enough time to fill up with fuel and get some breakfast. He drove off to find a garage as Highworth stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the top floor. Visitors were always surprised how many people were in the building on a Sunday morning but, as Highworth had explained on several occasions, as the markets opened around the world on Monday, he didn’t want to have to wait until his team had processed the weekend’s happenings before deciding whether to adjust his investments. He expected his head of research to deliver a briefing and short supporting paper at eight o’clock every Monday morning summarising the weekend’s key events and assessing the likely impact that these would have on his investments. He could then move quickly, taking new positions before the wider markets reacted to the world’s events over the previous forty eight hours. If this meant that his team had to work shifts over the weekend, then so be it - he paid them well enough for their trouble.
    Highworth went into his office and switched on the TV. Fairweather’s death was all over the news. The police had given one statement already and, whilst this hadn’t been televised, the reporter had attended it and suggested that the police were treating this as a tragic accident. ‘Good,’ thought Highworth though, in retrospect, even if the police