How? How can you possibly make it up to me? screams the boy. Youve made me a murderer. What can you do that can ever make up for that! Theres nothing! Nothing!
And the man says, rather sadly, like one who pronounces a sentence rather than makes a gift, I shall give you your hearts desire.
BOOK ONE
wolf and elf
After the hunters trapped the wolf, they put him in a cage where he lay for many years, suffering grievously, till one day a curious elf, to whom iron bars were no more obstacle than the shadows of grasses on a sunlit meadow, took pity on his plight, and asked, What can I bring you that will ease your pain, Wolf?
And the wolf replied, My foes to play with.
Charles Underhill (tr): Folk Tales of Scandinavia
Wolf
i
Once upon a time I was living happily ever after.
Thats right. Like in a fairy tale.
How else to describe my life up till that bright autumn morning back in 2008?
I was the lowly woodcutter who fell in love with a beautiful princess glimpsed dancing on the castle lawn, knew she was so far above him that even his fantasies could get his head chopped off, nonetheless when three seemingly impossible tasks were set as the price of her hand in marriage threw his cap into the ring and after many perilous adventures returned triumphant to claim his hearts desire.
Here began the happily ever after, the precise extent of which is nowhere defined in fairy literature. In my case it lasted fourteen years.
During this time I acquired a fortune of several millions, a private jet, residences in Holland Park, Devon, New York, Barbados and Umbria, my lovely daughter, Ginny, and a knighthood for services to commerce.
Over the same period my wife Imogen turned from a fragrant young princess into an elegant, sophisticated woman. She ran our social life with easy efficiency, made no demands on me that I could not afford, and always had an appropriate welcome waiting in whichever of our homes I returned to after my often extensive business trips.
Sometimes I looked at her and found it hard to understand how I could deserve such beauty, such happiness. She was my piece of perfection, my hearts desire, and whenever the stresses and strains of my hugely active life began to make themselves felt, I just had to think of my princess to know that, whatever fate brought me, I was the most blessed of men.
Then on that autumn day by one of those coincidences that only a wicked fairy can contrive, our wedding anniversary everything changed.
At half past six in the morning we were woken in our Holland Park house by an extended ringing of the doorbell. I got up and went to the window. My first thought when I saw the police uniforms was that some joker had sent us an anniversary stripaubade. But they didnt look as if they were about to rip off their uniforms and burst into song, and suddenly my heart contracted at the thought that something could have happened to Ginny. She was away at school not by my choice, but when the lowly woodcutter marries the princess, there are some ancestral customs he meekly goes along with.
Then it occurred to me theyd hardly need a whole posse of plods to convey such a message.
Nor would they bring a bunch of press photographers and a TV crew.
Imogen was sitting up in bed by this time. Even in these fraught circumstances I was distracted by sight of her perfect breasts.
She said, Wolf, what is it? in her usual calm manner.
I dont know, I said. Ill go and see.
She said, Perhaps you should put some clothes on.
I grabbed my dressing gown and was still pulling it round my shoulders as I started down the stairs. I could hear voices below. Among them I recognized the Cockney accent of Mrs Roper, our housekeeper. She was crying out in protest and I saw why as I reached the half landing. She must have opened the front door and policemen were thrusting past her without ceremony. Jogging up the stairs towards me was a short fleshy man in a creased blue suit flanked by two uniformed constables.
He came to a halt a couple of steps below me and said breathlessly, Wolf Hadda? Sorry. Sir Wilfred Hadda. Detective Inspector Medler. I have a warrant to search these premises.
He reached up to hand me a sheet of paper. Below I could hear people moving, doors opening and shutting, Mrs Roper still protesting.
I said, What the hells going on?
His gaze went down to my crotch. His lips twitched. Then his eyes ran up my body and focused beyond me.
He said, Maybe you should make yourself decent, unless you fancy posing for Page Three.
I turned to see what he was looking at. Through the half-landing window overlooking the garden, I could see the old rowan tree Id transplanted from Cumbria when I bought the house. It was incandescent with berries at this time of year, and I was incandescent with rage at the sight of a paparazzo clinging to its branches, pointing a camera at me. Even at this distance I could see the damage caused by his ascent.
I turned back to Medler.
How did he get there? What are the press doing here anyway? Did you bring them?
Now why on earth should I do that, sir? he said. Maybe they just happened to be passing.
He didnt even bother to try to sound convincing.
He had an insinuating voice and one of those mouths which looks as if its holding back a knowing sneer. Ive always had a short fuse. At six thirty in the morning, confronted by a bunch of heavy-handed plods tearing my home to pieces and a paparazzo desecrating my lovely rowan, it was very short indeed. I punched the little bastard right in his smug mouth and he went backwards down the stairs, taking one of his constables with him. The other produced his baton and whacked me on the leg. The pain was excruciating and I collapsed in a heap on the landing.
After that things got confused. As I was half dragged, half carried out of the house, I screamed at Imogen, whod appeared fully dressed on the stairs, Ring Toby!
She looked very calm, very much in control. Princesses dont panic. The thought was a comfort to me.
Cameras clicked and journalists yelled inanities as I was thrust into a car. As it sped away, I twisted round to look back. Cops were already coming down the steps carrying loaded bin bags that they tossed into the back of a van. The house, gleaming in the morning sunlight, seemed to look down on them with disdain. Then we turned a corner and it vanished from sight.
I did not realize how could I? that I was never to enter it again.
ii
My arrival at the police station seemed to take them by surprise. My arrest at that stage cant have been anticipated. Once the pain in my leg subsided and my brain started functioning again, Id worked out that I must be the subject of a Fraud Office investigation. Personal equity companies rise on the back of other companies failures and Woodcutter Enterprises had left a lot of unhappy people in its wake. Also the atmosphere on the markets was full of foreboding and when nerves are on edge, malicious tongues soon start wagging.
So being banged up was my own fault. If I hadnt lost my temper, I would probably be sitting in my own drawing room, refusing to answer any of Medlers impertinent questions till Toby Estover, my solicitor, arrived. I would have liked to see Medlers expression when he heard the name. Mr Itsover his colleagues call him, because thats what the prosecution says when they hear Tobys acting for the defence. Barristers may get the glory but there are many dodgy characters walking free because they were wise enough and rich enough to hire Toby Estover when the law came calling.
I was treated courteously I even thought I detected the ghost of a smile on the custody sergeants lips when told Id been arrested for thumping Medler then put in a cell. Pretty minimalist, but stick a couple of Vettriano prints on the wall and it could have passed for a standard single in a lot of boutique hotels.
I dont know how long I sat there. I hadnt been wearing my watch when they arrested me. In fact I hadnt been wearing anything but my dressing gown. Theyd taken that and given me an off-white cotton overall and a pair of plastic flip-flops.
I was just wondering whether to start banging on the door and making a fuss when it opened and Toby came in. It was good to see him, in every sense. As well as having one of the smartest minds Ive ever known, he dresses to match. Same age as me but slim and elegant. Me, I can make a Savile Row three-piece look like a boiler suit in twenty minutes; Toby would look good in army fatigues. In his Henry Poole threads and John Lobb shoes he looked smooth enough to talk Jesus off the Cross which, had he been in Jerusalem at the time, I daresay he would have done.
I said, Toby, thank God. Have you brought me some clothes?
He looked surprised and said, No, sorry, old boy. Never crossed my mind.
Damn, I said. I thought Imo might have chucked a few things together.
I think she may have other things to occupy her, he observed. Lets sit down and have a chat.
Here? I said.
Here, he said firmly, sitting on the narrow bed. Less chance of being overheard than in an interview room.
The idea that the police might try to eavesdrop on a client/lawyer conversation troubled me less than the implication that it could contain something damaging to me.
I said, Frankly, I dont give a damn what they hear. Ive got nothing to hide.
Its certainly true that by now youre unlikely to have anything you think may be hidden, he said sardonically. I understand they are still searching the house. But its your computers we need to concentrate on. Wolf, we wont have much time so lets cut to the chase. Ive had a word with DI Medleris it true you hit him, by the way?
Oh yes, I said with some satisfaction. Youll probably see the picture in the tabloids. Id like to buy the negative and have it blown up for my office wall, if you can fix that. Did Imogen tell you the media were all over the place? There must have been a tip-off from the police. I want you to chase that up vigorously, Toby. Theres been far too much of that kind of thing recently and no ones ever called to account
Wolf, for fucks sake, shut up.
I stopped talking. Toby was normally the most courteous of men. OK, hed heard me on one of my favourite hobby horses before, but there was an urgency in his tone that went far beyond mere exasperation. For the first time I started to feel worried.
I said, Toby, whats going on? What are the bastards looking for? For Gods sake, I may have cut a few corners in my time, but the business is sound, believe me. Does Johnny Nutbrown know about this? I think we ought to give him a call
Nutbrown was my closest friend and finance director at Woodcutter. He was mathematically eidetic. If Johnny and a computer calculation differed, Id back Johnny every time.
Toby said, Johnnys not going to be any use here. Medlers not Fraud. Hes on what used to be called the Vice Squad. Specifically his area is paedophilia. Kiddy porn.
I laughed in relief. I really did.
I said, In that case, the only reason Im banged up here is because I hit the smarmy bastard. Theyve had plenty of time to realize theyve made a huge booboo, and theyre just hoping the media will get tired and go away before I emerge. No chance! Ill have my say if Ive got to rent space on TV!
I stopped talking again, not because of anything Toby said to me but because of the way he was looking at me. Assessingly. That was the word for it. Like a man looking for reassurance and not being convinced hed found it.
He said, From what Medler said, they feel they have enough evidence to proceed.
I shook my head in exasperation.
I said, But theyll have squeezed my hard drive dry by now. Whats the problem? Some encryptions they havent been able to break? God, Im happy to let them in for a quick glance at anything, so long as Im there
Toby said, He spoke as if theyd foundstuff.
That stopped me in my tracks.
Stuff? I echoed. You mean kiddy porn? Impossible!
He just looked at me for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice had taken on its forensic colouring.
Wolf, I need to be clear so that I know how to proceed. You are assuring me there is nothing of this nature, no images involving paedophilia, to be found on any computer belonging to you?
I felt a surge of anger but quickly controlled it. A friend wouldnt have needed to ask, but Toby was more than my friend, he was my solicitor, and that was how I had to regard him now, in the same way that he was clearly looking at me purely as a client.
I said, Nothing.
He said, OK, stood up and went to the door.
So lets go and see what DI Medler has to say, he said.
So hell begins.
iii
Ill say this for Medler, he didnt mess around.
He showed me some credit-card statements covering the past year, asked me to confirm they were mine. I said that as they had my name and a selection of my addresses on them, I supposed they must be. He asked me to check them more closely. I glanced over them, identified a couple of large items on each hotel bills, that kind of thing and said yes, they were definitely mine. He then drew my attention to a series of payments mainly to an Internet company called InArcadia and asked me if I could recall what these were for. I said I couldnt offhand, which wasnt surprising as I paid for just about everything in my extremely busy life by one of the vast selection of cards Id managed to accumulate, but no doubt if I sat down with my secretary we could work out exactly what each and every payment covered.
He shuffled the statements together, put them in a folder, and smiled. His split lip must have hurt but it didnt stop his smile from being as slyly insinuating as ever.
Dont think well need to involve your secretary, Sir Wilfred, he said. We can give your memory a jog by showing you some of the stuff you were paying for.
Then he opened a laptop resting on the table between us, pressed a key and turned it towards me.
There were stills to start with, then some snatches of video. All involved girls on the cusp of puberty, some displaying themselves provocatively, some being assaulted by men. Years later those images still haunt me.