‘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.
HMP Belmarsh
London
May 12, 1981
Dear Kelly,
This is the first letter I’ve written to you, and I fear it may be the last. The thought of death has caused me to finally come to my senses. It’s far too late for me to make up for being an abject failure as a father, but at least allow me the chance to make it possible for you to enjoy a better life than I’ve led.
With that in mind, I have decided to leave you all my worldly goods, in the hope that you might, in time, feel able to forgive me. I would be the first to admit I have not led a blameless life, far from it, but at least this tiny gesture will allow me to leave this world feeling I have done something worthwhile for a change. If you have any children, Kelly, be sure to give them the opportunities I failed to give you.
Yours,
Desmond Mellor (AZ2178)
Witnessed by Colin Graves, SPO
PS. You may find it strange that when writing a letter to my daughter, I have signed it with my full name, and had it witnessed by a prison officer. It’s simply to show that this letter is to be considered my last will and testament.
The letter fell to the floor of the taxi, but only because Kelly had fainted.
20
‘Today 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...’