This Was A Man (24 page)

‘She ain’t goin’ nowhere without me,’ the man said.

‘Fine by me,’ said Seb. ‘But you’ll have to pay your own plane fare to London.’

‘I don’t believe a fuckin’ word you’re saying,’ the man said, picking up a steak knife and advancing towards Seb. For the first time Seb felt frightened, but he
stood his ground, and even decided to take a risk.

‘Makes no difference to me,’ he said, looking directly at Kelly. ‘If she doesn’t want the money, it will automatically go to her younger sister.’ He hesitated for a
moment. ‘Maureen.’ Seb’s eyes never left hers.

‘I didn’t know you had a sister,’ said the man, swinging round to glare at Kelly.

Seb gave her a slight, almost undetectable nod.

‘I, I haven’t seen her for years, Richie. I didn’t even know she was still alive.’

She had told him everything he needed to know.

‘Maureen is very much alive,’ said Seb. ‘And she rather hopes Kelly won’t be returning to England.’

‘Then she can think again,’ said Richie. ‘Just make sure that bitch comes back with my money,’ he said, squeezing the little girl’s arm until she burst into tears,
‘otherwise she won’t be seein’ Cindy again. So what happens now?’

‘My flight leaves for London at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, so I could pick Kelly up around eight.’

‘Five hundred dollars would help convince me you’ll be back,’ said Richie, brandishing the knife in front of him.

‘I don’t have that much on me,’ said Seb, taking out his wallet. ‘But I can give you everything I do have.’ He handed over $345, which quickly disappeared into the
back pocket of Richie’s jeans.

‘I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning,’ said Seb. Kelly nodded, but didn’t speak. Seb smiled at the little girl, and left without saying goodbye.

Once he was back on the street, he began the long walk to his hotel in the centre of town, aware that it would be some time before he came across a cab. He cursed. If only he’d known Kelly
had a daughter.

Sebastian woke at two o’clock the next morning, eight o’clock in London. Despite closing his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep, because his body
clock was ticking and he was wide awake on another continent. In any case, his mind was buzzing with thoughts about how Kelly Mellor could possibly have ended up living in such circumstances and
with a man like that. It had to be the child.

When three o’clock struck on a nearby church tower, Seb phoned Hakim at the bank, and told him in great detail about his encounter with Richie, Kelly and Cindy.

‘It’s sad that she’ll have to go back to Chicago if she wants to be with her daughter,’ were Hakim’s first words.

‘No mother would be willing to leave her child with a monster like that,’ said Seb. ‘In fact, I’m not even certain she won’t have changed her mind about leaving her
by the time I get back.’

‘I wonder if you gave him a thousand dollars in cash, he might let the girl go too?’

‘I don’t think so. But twenty-five thousand might do it.’

‘I’ll leave you to decide what Plan C is,’ said Hakim. ‘But make sure you’ve got a thousand dollars on you, just in case,’ he added before putting the phone
down.

Seb took a long hot shower, shaved, dressed, then went downstairs to join the other early risers for breakfast. Looking at the menu, he realized he’d forgotten just how much an American
could eat first thing in the morning. He politely declined an offer of waffles and maple syrup, fried eggs, sausage, bacon and hash browns, in favour of a bowl of muesli and a boiled egg.

He checked out of the hotel just after seven thirty. The doorman hailed a cab, and once again the driver looked surprised when Seb gave him the address.

‘I’m picking someone up,’ he explained, ‘and then we’ll need to go on to O’Hare.’

The cab pulled up outside 1532 Taft a few minutes early and, after taking one look at the house, the driver kept the engine running. Seb decided to stay put until just before eight
o’clock, not wanting to antagonize Richie any more than was necessary. But he hadn’t noticed two pairs of eyes staring expectantly out of the window, and a moment later the front door
eased open and a little girl came scampering down the path towards him. Her mother closed the door quietly behind her and then also began to run.

Seb leant across and quickly opened the back door of the taxi to allow them to jump in beside him. Kelly pulled it closed and screamed, ‘Go, go, for God’s sake, go,’ her eyes
never leaving the front door of the house even for a moment. The driver happily obeyed her command.

Once they’d turned the corner and were heading towards the airport, Kelly breathed a deep sigh of relief, but didn’t stop clinging on to her daughter. It was some time before she had
recovered enough to say, ‘Richie didn’t get back until after two this morning, and he was so drunk he could barely stand. He collapsed on the bed and fell asleep straight away. He
probably won’t stir before midday.’

‘By which time you and Cindy will be halfway across the Atlantic.’

‘And one thing’s for sure, Mr Clifton, we won’t be coming back,’ she said, still clinging on to her daughter. ‘I can’t wait to see Bristol again. Fifty
thousand dollars will be more than enough to buy a little place of my own, find a job and get Cindy settled into a decent school.’

‘It isn’t fifty thousand,’ said Seb quietly.

Kelly looked alarmed, her expression revealing her fear at the thought that she might have to return to 1532 empty-handed. Seb took an envelope out of his briefcase addressed to Miss Kelly
Mellor and handed it to her.

She ripped it open and pulled out the letter. As she read it, her eyes widened in disbelief.

The letter fell to the floor of the taxi, but only because Kelly had fainted.

‘T
ODAY THE BOARD
must decide,’ said the chairman, ‘who will lead Mellor Travel into the twenty-first century. Two highly respected
companies, Sorkin International and Thomas Cook, have each made a bid of two million pounds for the company, but it is for us to decide which we feel is best suited to our present needs. I should
point out at this juncture,’ continued Knowles, ‘that I wrote to both Mr Sorkin and Mr Brook of Thomas Cook inviting them to address the board so we could assess the merits of both
their offers. Mr Brook failed to reply to my invitation. Make of that what you will.’ Knowles didn’t add that although he’d signed the letter to Brook a week ago, he’d only
posted it the previous day. ‘Mr Sorkin, however, not only replied immediately, but interrupted his busy schedule to be with us today, and this morning deposited two million pounds with our
bank to prove his intent.’

Knowles smiled, but then he’d already been promised that a further million would be transferred to his numbered account at Pieter & Cie in Geneva, to be cleared the moment Conrad
Sorkin took control of the company. What Knowles didn’t know was that Sorkin never had any intention of paying two million for the company. In a few hours’ time he would own 51 per cent
of Mellor Travel, and everyone sitting around that boardroom table would be out of a job, Knowles included, and he could whistle for his million, because he would no longer be the chairman.

‘And so,’ continued Knowles, ‘I would now like to invite Mr Sorkin to address the board, so he can tell you how he sees the future of Mellor Travel were we to accept his
takeover bid.’

Sorkin, dressed in an elegantly tailored dark grey suit, white shirt and a crimson-and-yellow-striped MCC tie that he didn’t have the right to wear, rose from his place at the other end of
the table.

‘Mr Chairman, may I begin by telling you a little about the philosophy of my company. First and foremost, Sorkin International believes in people, and therefore its first priority is to
its employees, from the tea lady to the managing director. I believe in loyalty and continuity above all things, and can assure the board that no one currently employed by Mellor Travel need fear
being made redundant. I consider myself to be no more than a guardian of the company, who will work tirelessly on behalf of its shareholders. So let me assure you from the outset that if Sorkin
International is fortunate enough to take over Mellor Travel you can look forward to a rapid expansion of the workforce, because I intend to employ more staff, not fewer, and in the fullness of
time, I would hope it will be Mellor Travel that is making a bid for Thomas Cook, and not the other way round. This of course will require a large capital investment, which I can promise the board
I’m happy to commit to. But my company will also require a firm and reliable hand at the tiller, following the distressing circumstances of the past few months. To misquote Oscar Wilde,
To lose one chairman is unfortunate, but to lose two
. . .’

Knowles was pleased to see one or two members of the board smiling.

‘With that in mind,’ continued Sorkin, ‘I think it’s important to show my confidence not only in your chairman, but in the entire board. So let me say unequivocally, if
my company is chosen today to take over Mellor Travel, I would invite Jim Knowles to stay on as chairman, and would ask each and every one of you to remain on the board.’

This time only one director wasn’t smiling.

‘Let’s work together and quickly rebuild this company to where it used to be, and then look forward to expanding, so that Mellor International will be the envy of the travel business
throughout the world. Let me finish by saying I hope you will consider me the right person to take the company into the next century.’

Sorkin sat down to cries of ‘Hear, hear!’ and one director even patted him on the back.

‘Gentlemen,’ said Knowles, ‘as the chairman of Thomas Cook has failed to make an appearance, perhaps we should move on and decide which company should take over Mellor Travel,
Sorkin International or Thomas Cook? I will now ask the company secretary to conduct the vote.’

Mr Arkwright rose slowly from his place and said, ‘Would those members of the board who wish to cast their vote in favour of Sorkin International raise their—‘

The boardroom door burst open, and three men and a woman entered the room.

‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’ demanded Knowles, leaping to his feet. ‘This is a private board meeting and you have no right to be here.’

‘I think you’ll find we do,’ said Arnold Hardcastle, speaking first. ‘As you know, Mr Knowles, I am the legal representative of Farthings Kaufman, and I am accompanied
today by Mr Sebastian Clifton, the bank’s managing director, and Mr Ray Brook, the chairman of Thomas Cook, who only received an invitation to attend this meeting earlier this
morning.’

‘And the young lady?’ said Knowles, not attempting to hide his sarcasm. ‘Who invited her?’

‘She didn’t receive an invitation,’ said Hardcastle. ‘But I will leave it to Miss Mellor to explain to the board why she is here.’

Knowles collapsed back into his chair, as if floored by a heavyweight boxer.

Sebastian gave Kelly a reassuring smile. For countless hours during the past week, he had prepared his protégée for this moment. She had turned out to be a quick study. No longer
shabbily dressed and with a fading black eye, the young woman standing before them displayed the confidence of someone well aware of the power she now possessed as the majority shareholder of
Mellor Travel. Few would have recognized her as the same woman Sebastian had first met in Chicago only a few days earlier.

Seb had quickly discovered just how intelligent Kelly was, and once she had been released from the shackles of 1532 Taft Road, she had immediately grasped the significance of owning 51 per cent
of her father’s company. By the day of the board meeting, she was more than ready to play her part in reclaiming her birthright.

Conrad Sorkin rose slowly from his place, and certainly didn’t appear intimidated. But then Seb suspected he’d been in far tighter spots than this in the past. He was staring
directly at Kelly, as if daring her to open her mouth.