A Prisoner of Birth (53 page)

"That's all very well," he said angrily, "but what about compensation? I know my rights."

"I'm willing to pay you three months' wages," said Beth, "and also to give you a reference saying that you've been among the hardest workers."
And among your most stupid
, Monty Hughes had added when Beth had consulted him. While she waited for Trevor's response, she recalled Danny's words,
but only because he can't add up.
Beth pulled open the drawer of her father's desk and extracted a bulky package and a single sheet of paper. She ripped open the package and emptied its contents onto the desk. Sutton stared down at the pile of fifty-pound notes and licked his lips as he tried to calculate just how much money was on the table. Beth slid a contract across the desk that Mr. Thomas had prepared for her the previous afternoon. "If you sign here," she said, placing her finger on a dotted line, "the seven thousand pounds will be yours." Trevor hesitated, while Beth tried not to show just how desperate she was for him to sign the contract. She waited for Trevor to spend the money, although it seemed an age before he eventually picked up the proffered pen and wrote
the only two words he could spell with confidence. He suddenly gathered up the cash and, without uttering another word, turned his back on Beth and marched out of the room.

Once Trevor had kicked the door closed behind him, Beth breathed a sigh of relief that wouldn't have left him in any doubt that he could have demanded far more than seven thousand, though, in truth, withdrawing that amount of cash from the bank had just about emptied the garage's account. All that was left for Beth to do now was to sell off the property as quickly as possible.

The young estate agent who had looked over the property had assured her that the garage was worth at least two hundred thousand. After all, it was a freehold site, situated in an excellent location with easy access to the City. Two hundred thousand pounds would solve all of Beth's financial problems, and mean there was enough left over to ensure that Christy could have the education she and Danny had always planned for her.

D
ANNY WAS READING
Milton Friedman's
Tax Limitation, Inflation and the Role of Government
and taking notes on the chapter about the property cycle and the effects of negative equity when the phone rang. After two hours of studying, he was beginning to feel that anything would be an improvement on Professor Friedman. He picked up the phone to hear a woman's voice.

"Hi, Nick. It's a voice from your past."

"Hi, voice from my past," said Danny, desperately trying to put a name to it.

"You said you were going to come and see me while I was on tour. Well, I keep looking out into the audience, but you're never there."

"So where are you performing at the moment?" asked Danny, still racking his brains, but no name came to his rescue.

"Cambridge, the Arts Theatre."

"Great, which play?"

"
A Woman of No Importance.
"

"Oscar Wilde again," said Danny, aware that he didn't have much longer.

"Nick, you don't even remember my name, do you?"

"Don't be silly, Katie," he said, just in time. "How could I ever forget my favorite understudy?"

"Well, I've got the lead now, and I was hoping you'd come and see me."

"Sounds good," said Danny, flicking through the pages of his diary, although he knew that almost every evening was free. "How about Friday?"

"Couldn't be better. We can spend the weekend together."

"I have to be back in London for a meeting on Saturday morning," said Danny, looking at a blank page in his diary.

"So it will have to be another one-night stand," said Katie. "I can live with that." Danny didn't respond. "Curtain's up at seven-thirty. I'll leave a ticket for you at the box office. Come alone, because I don't intend to share you with anybody."

Danny put the phone down and stared at the photograph of Beth that was in a silver frame on the corner of his desk.

"There are three men coming up the path," said Molly as she looked out of the kitchen window. "They look foreign."

"They're quite harmless," Danny assured her. "Just show them into the living room and tell them I'll join them in a moment."

Danny ran up the stairs to his study and grabbed the three files that he had been working on in preparation for the meeting, then quickly made his way back downstairs.

The three men who were waiting for him looked identical in every way except for their age. They wore well-tailored dark blue suits, white shirts and anonymous ties, and each carried a black leather briefcase. You would have passed them in the street without giving them a second look—which would have pleased them.

"How nice to see you again, Baron," said Danny.

De Coubertin bowed low. "We are touched that you invited us to your beautiful home, Sir Nicholas. May I introduce Monsieur Bresson, the bank's chief executive, and Monsieur Segat, who handles our major accounts." Danny shook hands with all three men as Molly reappeared carrying a tray laden with tea and biscuits.

"Gentlemen," said Danny as he sat down. "Perhaps I could begin by asking you to bring me up to date on the current state of my account."

"Certainly," said Monsieur Bresson, opening an unmarked brown file. "Your number-one account is showing a balance of just over fifty-seven million dollars, which is currently accumulating interest at the rate of 2.75 percent per annum. Your number-two account," he continued, "has a balance of just over one million dollars. This was known at the bank as your
grandfather's stamp account, which he used whenever he wanted to add to his collection at short notice."

"You can combine the two accounts," said Danny, "as I won't be buying any stamps." Bresson nodded. "And I have to say, Monsieur Bresson, that I find a 2.75 percent return on my capital unacceptable, and that I shall in future be putting my money to better use."

"Can you tell us what you have in mind?" asked Segat.

"Yes," said Danny. "I shall be investing in three areas—property, stocks and shares, and possibly bonds, which incidentally are showing a current return of 7.12 percent across the board. I will also set aside a small amount, never more than ten percent of my total worth, for speculative ventures."

"Then may I suggest in the circumstances," said Segat, "that we move your money into three separate accounts that cannot be traced back to you, while appointing nominee directors as your representatives."

"In the circumstances?" repeated Danny.

"Since 9/11, the Americans and the British are taking far more interest in anyone who moves large sums of money around. It would not be wise for your name to keep popping up on their radar."

"Good thinking," said Danny.

"Assuming that you agree to our setting up these accounts," added Bresson, "may I ask whether you will wish to make additional use of the bank's expertise in managing your investments? I mention this, because our property department, for example, employs over forty specialists in the field—seven of them in London—who currently manage a portfolio of just under one hundred billion dollars, and our investment department is considerably larger."

"I shall take advantage of everything you have to offer," said Danny, "and do not hesitate to let me know if you think I am making a wrong decision. However, over the past couple of years I have spent a considerable amount of time following the fortunes of twenty-eight particular companies and I have decided to invest some of my capital in eleven of them."

"What will be your policy when it comes to purchasing shares in those companies?" asked Segat.

"I would want you to buy in small tranches whenever they come on the market—never aggressively, as I do not wish to be responsible for influencing the market either way. Also, I never want to hold more than two percent
of any one company." Danny handed Bresson a list of the companies whose progress he had been monitoring long before he had escaped from prison.

Bresson ran his finger down the names, and smiled. "We have been keeping an eye on several of these companies ourselves, but I am fascinated to see that you have identified one or two that we have not yet considered."

"Then please double-check them, and if you have any doubts, tell me."

Danny picked up one of his files. "When it comes to property, I intend to act aggressively," he said. "And I will expect you to move quickly if immediate payment will secure a more realistic price."

Bresson handed over a card. It had no name on it, no address, just a phone number embossed in black. "That is my private line. We can wire any amount of money you require to any country on earth at the touch of a button. And when you call, you need never give your name, as the line is voice-activated."

"Thank you," said Danny, placing the card in an inside pocket. "I also require your advice on a more pressing matter, namely my day-to-day living expenses. I have no desire for the taxman to be prying into my affairs, and as I live in this house and employ a housekeeper and driver, while apparently subsisting on nothing more than a student grant, it may be the Inland Revenue's radar that I keep popping up on."

"If I might make a suggestion?" said de Coubertin. "We used to transfer one hundred thousand pounds a month to an account in London for your grandfather. It came from a trust we set up on his behalf. He paid tax on this income in full, and even carried out some of his smaller transactions through a company registered in London."

"I should like you to continue that arrangement," said Danny. "How do I go about it?"

De Coubertin extracted a slim file from his briefcase, removed a single sheet of paper and said, pointing to a dotted line, "If you sign here, Sir Nicholas, I can assure you that everything will be set up and administered to your satisfaction. All I will need to know is to which bank we should make the monthly transfer."

"Coutts and Co. in the Strand," said Danny.

"Just like your grandfather," said the chairman.

"How long will it take to get to Cambridge?" Danny asked Big Al moments after the three Swiss bankers had disappeared into thin air.

"Aboot an hour and a half. So we ought tae be leaving fairly soon, boss."

"Fine," said Danny. "I'll go and change and pack an overnight bag."

"Molly's already done that," said Big Al. "I put it in the boot of the car."

The Friday evening traffic was heavy, and it wasn't until they joined the M11 that Big Al managed to push the speedometer above thirty miles an hour. He drove into King's Parade only minutes before the curtain was due to rise.

Danny had been so preoccupied during the past few weeks with getting the better of Nick's grandfather's will that this was going to be his first visit to the theater since seeing Lawrence Davenport in
The Importance of Being Earnest
.

Lawrence Davenport. Although Danny had begun to form plans for all three of his antagonists, every time he thought about Davenport, Sarah came into his mind. He was aware that he might well have been back in Belmarsh had it not been for her, and also that he would need to see her again, as she could open doors to which he didn't have a key.

Big Al brought the car to a halt outside the theater. "What time will ye be gon' back tae London, boss?"