Cometh the Hour: A Novel (30 page)

“Sebastian Clifton’s unlikely to just sit around twiddling his thumbs while all this is going on,” said Knowles.

“He’ll hang in there until Bishara’s convicted,” said Mellor. “And once I’m chairman, I’ll be the first to commiserate with him and say how sorry I am that he feels he also has to resign.”

*   *   *

Sebastian was sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and, like the sixteenth president, was deep in thought. He would have returned to England that morning if the school had been willing to release Jessica’s paintings, but Miss Tomkins wouldn’t allow him to collect them until Sunday afternoon.

He had decided to go back to the school and have another look at Jessica’s work, but not before he had convinced himself it was unlikely that she or Samantha would return on a Saturday afternoon. Or did he actually hope they would?

He finally left Lincoln and went in search of Jefferson. He took a cab back to the school with the excuse he ought to pay off his debt as soon as possible. As he entered the exhibition hall, he was relieved to see how few parents were there; it was clear from the plethora of red dots that most of them must have attended the opening night. One fixture remained dutifully in place behind her desk. Seb walked across to Miss Tomkins and handed over a thousand dollars in cash.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure you’d like to know that several people were disappointed not to be able to get hold of any of Jessica’s paintings. Including her mother, who had wanted to buy
My Father
. She asked me who’d bought it, but of course I couldn’t tell her, because I didn’t know your name.”

Seb smiled. “Thank you. And if I may, I’ll collect them all tomorrow afternoon.”

He left Miss Tomkins to have another look at Jessica’s paintings. He took his time studying the half dozen works he now owned and, with the satisfaction of a seasoned collector, he ended up in front of
My Father,
which he had already decided would hang over the mantelpiece in his flat. He was just about to leave when a voice behind him said, “Are you looking in a mirror?”

Sebastian swung around to see his daughter, who immediately threw her arms around him and said, “What took you so long?”

It was rare for Sebastian to be struck speechless, but he just didn’t know what to say, so he clung onto her before she took a step back and grinned up at him. “Well, say something!”

“I’m so sorry,” he eventually managed. “You’re right. I did see you once, years ago, but I didn’t have the courage to say hello. I’ve been such a fool.”

“Well, we can at least agree on that,” said Jessica. “But then, to be fair, Mom hasn’t exactly covered herself in glory either.” Jessica took his hand and led him out of the room, continuing to chat as if they were old friends. “Actually, she’s just as much to blame as you are. I told her to get in touch with you after my stepfather died.”

“You never thought he was your father?”

“I may not be that good at math, but even I can work out that if I was six and they’d met only five years before…”

Seb laughed.

“Just after Michael died, Mom confirmed what I already knew, but I still couldn’t persuade her to get in touch with you.”

They walked around the park, arm in arm, dropped into a Farrell’s ice-cream parlor and shared a hot fudge sundae, while she chatted about her friends, her painting, her plans for the future. As he listened he wondered hopelessly how he could make up for all the lost years in a couple of hours.

“It’s getting late,” he said eventually, looking at his watch. “Won’t your mother be wondering where you are?”

“Sebastian,” she said, placing her hands on her hips, “I’m ten years old.”

“Well, if you’re so grown-up, what do you think I should do next?”

“I’ve taken care of that. You’re taking Mom and me to dinner at the Belvedere tonight. I’ve already made a reservation for three at seven thirty. Then all we’ll need to decide is if we’re going to live in London or Washington.”

“But what if I hadn’t come back to the school this afternoon?”

“I knew you’d come back.”

“But I didn’t know myself.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You seem to have everything worked out,” said Seb.

“Of course I have. I’ve had a long time to think about it, haven’t I?”

“And is your mother happy to fall in with your plans?”

“I haven’t actually told her yet. But we can sort all that out tonight, can’t we?”

“Dr. Wolfe told me yesterday that you could win a scholarship to the American College of Art.”

“Dr. Wolfe will be just as proud when I’m the first girl from Jefferson to go to the Royal College of Art, though I thought I’d go to the Slade first, just like the other Jessica.”

“Will your mother or I have any say in all of this?”

“Let’s hope not. After all, you two have made such a mess of everything so far.”

Sebastian laughed.

“Can I ask, do I live up to your expectations?” she said, sounding unsure of herself for the first time.

“You’re even more talented and beautiful than I’d imagined. How about me?” asked Seb, grinning.

“Actually I’m a little disappointed,” said Jessica. “I thought you’d be taller and better-looking. More like Sean Connery.”

Seb burst out laughing. “You are the most precocious child I’ve ever met.”

“And you’ll be pleased to hear that Mom agrees with you, except she substitutes the word brat for child, which I’m sure you’ll do once you get to know me better. Now I must be off. I’ve got lots to tell Mom about, and I’m looking forward to wearing a new dress tonight I bought especially for the occasion. Where are we having dinner?”

“The Belvedere, seven thirty.”

Jessica threw her arms around him and burst into tears.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just be sure you’re on time for a change.”

“Don’t worry, I will be.”

“You’d better be,” said Jessica, and quickly left him.

*   *   *

Mr Arnold Hardcastle QC sat opposite Hakim Bishara in a small private room at HMP Wandsworth.

“I’m going to say something, Hakim, that I’ve never said to a client before. Even though it’s a lawyer’s duty to present the best defense possible for his client whether he believes them to be guilty or innocent, I want you to know that I am in no doubt, reasonable or otherwise, that you have been set up. However, I must warn you that because of the government’s new guidelines on Class A drugs, the judge will have no choice but to refuse an application for bail.”

“And how long will it be before my case comes to trial?”

“Four months, six at most. Be assured, I’ll do everything I can to speed it up.”

“During which time I’ll be holed up in here, while the bank could go bust.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Have you read the morning papers?” said Bishara. “They couldn’t be much worse. When the market opens tomorrow, the vultures will swoop down on the carcass and pick the bones clean. Is there any good news?”

“Ross Buchanan rang me at home last night to say he’d be happy to stand in as temporary chairman until you return. He’s already issued a press statement saying he has no doubt that you will be cleared of all the charges.”

“Typical of the man,” said Hakim. “Accept his offer. We’ll also need Sebastian to be at his desk when the market opens.”

“He’s in Washington at the moment. I’ve called his hotel several times, but he wasn’t in his room. I left a message asking him to call me urgently. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yes, there is, Arnold. I need the best private detective you’ve ever come across, someone who’s fearless and won’t let anything stop him when it comes to tracking down who was responsible for planting that heroin in my bag.”

“Chief Inspector Barry Hammond is the name that immediately comes to mind, but I’ve lost touch with him since he left the Met Police.”

“Did he retire?”

“No, he resigned after he was accused of planting evidence on a gangland boss who kept getting away with, quite literally, murder.”

“How did you come across him?”

“I was his defending counsel when the trial came to court. I got him off, but he resigned from the force the next day.”

“Then track him down, because I need to see him as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get onto it straight away. Anything else?”

“Get hold of Sebastian.”

*   *   *

Seb walked slowly back to the hotel and thought about all the wasted years, and how he intended to make up for them, whatever sacrifices he had to make. If only Samantha would give him a second chance. Was Jessica right? Would they really be willing to live in London? Tonight would be like a first date, and he suspected that Samantha would be just as nervous as he was. After all, her husband had recently died, and Seb had no way of knowing how she felt about seeing him again. Perhaps their young chaperone knew more than she was willing to admit. Another woman he dreaded the thought of being parted from.

When Seb entered the hotel, he went to the desk and asked the receptionist, “How long does it take to get to the Belvedere restaurant?”

“It’s just around the corner, sir, shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. Do you have a reservation? They’re sure to be fully booked on a Saturday night.”

“Yes, I do,” said Seb confidently.

“And I have an urgent message for you, Mr. Clifton. Would you please call a Mr. Arnold Hardcastle? He’s left a number. Shall I get him on the line and put the call through to your room?”

“Yes, please,” said Seb, before heading for the nearest lift. He’d never known Arnold to use the word “urgent.” What could possibly be that important? Had he failed to sign one of the pages in the merger document? Had Victor changed his mind at the last moment? Once he was in his room he only had to wait a few moments before the phone rang.

“Sebastian Clifton.”

“Seb. Thank God I’ve finally got hold of you.”

“What’s the problem, Arnold?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Seb listened in disbelief as Arnold went over everything that had happened to Hakim since he’d stepped off the plane at Heathrow.

“It has to be a setup, pure and simple,” said Seb angrily.

“My exact words,” said Arnold. “But I’m afraid it’s not pure, and it certainly isn’t simple, while the evidence is so stacked against him.”

“Where is he now?”

“In a cell in Wandsworth. He feels it’s essential that you’re back at your desk when the market opens on Monday morning.”

“Of course I will be. I’ll take the next flight back to Heathrow.” He put the phone down and immediately dialed the front desk. “I’ll be checking out in the next half hour. Please have my bill ready, and would you book me onto the first available flight to London? And can you look up the number of a Mrs. Michael Brewer, get her on the line and put her straight through?”

Seb packed quickly, and then checked that he’d left nothing behind. He was zipping up his bag when the phone rang again.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mrs. Michael Brewer is unlisted.”

“Then get me Dr. Wolfe at Jefferson Elementary School. She’s the headmistress.”

Seb paced around the room. If he could speak to Dr. Wolfe, she would surely have Sam’s number …

The phone rang again.

“Dr. Wolfe is not answering her phone, Mr. Clifton, and the only flight I can get you on takes off in just under two hours, so you’d have to hurry. All the other London flights are fully booked.”

“Take it. And I’ll need a taxi to get me to Dulles.”

On the way to the airport, Seb didn’t even notice the towering monuments, the fast-flowing Potomac or the densely wooded forests. His mind was preoccupied with the thought of Hakim locked up in a prison cell. Seb accepted that there was no longer any purpose in Arnold delivering the merger papers to the Bank of England after he recalled Hakim’s light-hearted question, “Have you ever been to jail?” He wondered who could be behind something so treacherous. Adrian Sloane immediately came to mind, but he couldn’t have done it on his own.

It was when Seb checked his watch and saw that it was almost 7:30 p.m. that he remembered where he was meant to be at that time. Jessica would assume he’d let them down again. She would never believe anything could be more important than … He paid the taxi driver, dashed into the terminal, checked in, then headed straight for the business-class lounge, where he stepped into the only available phone booth, pressed a coin into the slot and dialed directory enquiries.

“This is the first call for passengers traveling to London Heathrow on the seven fifty-five British Airways flight, will you please make your way…”

“A restaurant in Washington called the Belvedere.” A few moments later she gave him the number. Seb dialed it immediately, only to find it was engaged. He decided to pick up his ticket and try again in a few minutes. Perhaps the plane would be delayed.

He ran back to the phone booth and dialed again. Still engaged.

“This is the final call for passengers traveling to London Heathrow on the seven fifty-five British Airways flight. Please…”

He pressed the coins back in and dialed the number, praying it wouldn’t still be busy. This time he was greeted by a ringing tone.

“Come on, pick it up, pick it up!” he shouted.

“Good evening, this is the Belvedere, how may I help you?”

“This is Sebastian Clifton, and I’m meant to be dining at your restaurant this evening with Samantha and Jessica Brewer.”

“Yes, sir, your party has arrived and are in the lounge waiting for you.”

“I need to speak to Jessica Brewer. Please tell her it’s urgent.”

“Certainly, sir, I’ll ask her to come to the phone.”

Seb waited, but the next voice he heard said, “Please put another fifty cents into the slot.”

He searched his pockets for change, but all he could find was ten cents. He shoved it into the slot and prayed. “Hi Pops, it’s Jessie.”

“Jessie, hi—” Beep, beep, beep, click … purr.

“Would Mr. Sebastian Clifton, traveling to London Heathrow on the seven fifty-five British Airways flight, please report to Gate number fourteen as the gate is about to close.”