A Prisoner of Birth (59 page)

"Naturally," said Beth, fearing the worst.

"For instance, I can find no mention of the child's father on the application form."

"No," said Beth. "He died last year."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Miss Sutherland, not sounding at all sorry. "May I inquire, what was the cause of death?"

Beth hesitated, as she always found it difficult to utter the words. "He committed suicide."

"I see," said the headmistress. "Were you married to him at the time?"

"No," admitted Beth. "We were engaged."

"I'm sorry to have to ask this question, Miss Wilson, but what were the circumstances of your fiancé's death?"

"He was in prison at the time," said Beth softly.

"I see," said Miss Sutherland. "May I ask what offense he was convicted of?"

"Murder," said Beth, now certain that Miss Sutherland already knew the answer to every question she was asking.

"In the eyes of the Catholic Church both suicide and murder are, as I'm sure you are aware, Miss Wilson, mortal sins." Beth said nothing. "I
also feel it is my duty to point out," the headmistress continued, "that there are no illegitimate children currently registered at St. Veronica's. However, I will give your daughter's application my most serious consideration, and will let you know my decision in the next few days."

At that moment, Beth felt that Slobodan Miloševi
had a better chance of winning the Nobel Peace Prize than Christy did of entering St. Veronica's.

The headmistress rose from behind her desk, walked across the room and opened the study door.

"Goodbye, Miss Wilson."

Once the door had been closed behind her, Beth burst into tears. Why should the sins of the father . . .

D
ANNY WONDER ED HOW
he would react to meeting Gerald Payne. He couldn't afford to show any emotion, and certainly if he were to lose his temper all the hours that he'd spent planning Payne's downfall would have been wasted.

Big Al drew up outside Baker, Tremlett and Smythe a few minutes early, but when Danny pushed through the swing doors and walked into the foyer, he found Gary Hall standing by the reception desk waiting to greet him.

"He's quite an exceptional man," Hall enthused as they walked across to a bank of lifts. "The youngest partner in the history of the company," he added as he pressed a button that would whisk them up to the top floor. "And quite recently he's landed a safe parliamentary seat, so I don't suppose he'll be with us for much longer."

Danny smiled. His plan had only involved Payne being sacked. Having to give up a parliamentary seat as well would be an added bonus.

When they stepped out of the lift, Hall led his most important client along the partners' corridor until they reached a door with the name
Gerald Payne
printed in gold. Hall knocked softly, opened it and stood aside to allow Danny to enter. Payne leaped up from behind his desk and tried to do up his jacket as he walked toward them, but it was clear that it had been some time since the middle button had reached the buttonhole. He thrust out his hand and gave Danny an exaggerated smile. Try as he might, Danny couldn't return it.

"Have we met before?" asked Payne, looking at Danny more closely.

"Yes," said Danny. "At Lawrence Davenport's closing-night party."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Payne, before inviting Danny to take a seat on the opposite side of the desk. Gary Hall remained standing.

"Let me begin, Sir Nicholas . . . "

"Nick," said Danny.

"Gerald," said Payne. Danny nodded.

"As I was saying, let me begin by expressing my admiration for your little coup with Tower Hamlets council over the site in Bow—a deal which, in my opinion, will see you double your outlay in under a year."

"Mr. Hall did most of the spadework," said Danny. "I'm afraid I've been distracted by something far more demanding."

Payne leaned forward. "And will you be involving our firm in your latest venture?" he inquired.

"Certainly in the final stages," said Danny, "although I've already completed most of the research. But I'll still need someone to represent me when it comes to putting in an offer for the site."

"We'll be happy to assist in any way we can," said Payne, the smile returning to his face. "Do you feel able to take us into your confidence at this stage?" he added.

Danny was pleased to find that Payne was clearly only interested in what might be in it for him. This time he returned the smile. "Everyone knows that if London is awarded the 2012 Olympics, there will be a lot of money to be made during the run-up," said Danny. "With a budget of ten billion available, there should be enough washing around for all of us."

"I would normally agree with you," said Payne, looking a little disappointed, "but don't you think that market is already rather overcrowded?"

"Yes, I do," said Danny, "if your mind is only focused on the main stadium, the swimming pool, the gymnastics hall, the athletes' village or even the equestrian center. But I've identified an opportunity that hasn't attracted press attention or any public interest."

Payne leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table as Danny sat back and relaxed for the first time. "Almost no one has noticed," Danny continued, "that the Olympic Committee has been considering six sites for the building of a velodrome. How many people can even tell you what takes place in a velodrome?"

"Cycling," said Gary Hall.

"Well done," said Danny. "And in a fortnight's time we'll learn which two sites the Olympic Committee has provisionally shortlisted. My bet is that even after the announcement is made, it won't get much more than the odd paragraph in the local paper, and then only on the sports pages." Neither Payne nor Hall interrupted him. "But I have some inside information," said Danny, "which I acquired at a cost of four pounds ninety-nine."

"Four ninety-nine?" repeated Payne, looking mystified.

"The price of
Cycling Monthly
," said Danny, removing a copy from his briefcase. "In this month's issue, they leave no doubt which two sites the Olympic Committee will be shortlisting, and their editor clearly has the ear of the minister." Danny passed the magazine over to Payne, open at the relevant page.

"And you say the press haven't followed this up?" said Payne once he'd finished reading the magazine's leader.

"Why should they?" said Danny.

"But once the site has been announced," said Payne, "dozens of developers will apply for the contract."

"I'm not interested in building the velodrome," said Danny. "I intend to have made my money long before the first excavator moves onto the site."

"And how do you expect to do that?"

"That, I admit, has cost me a little more than four ninety-nine, but if you look on the back of
Cycling Monthly
," said Danny, turning the magazine over, "you'll see the name of the publishers printed in the bottom right-hand corner. The next edition won't be on the stands for another ten days, but for a little more than the cover price I managed to get my hands on an early proof. There's an article on page seventeen by the president of the British Cycling Federation, in which he says that the minister has assured him that only two sites are being taken seriously. The minister will be making an announcement to that effect in the House of Commons the day before the magazine goes on sale. But he goes on to point out which of the two sites his committee will be backing."

"Brilliant," said Payne. "But surely the owners of that site must be aware that they may be sitting on a fortune?"

"Only if they can get their hands on next month's
Cycling Monthly
, because at the moment they still think they're on a shortlist of six."

"So what are you planning to do about it?" asked Payne.

"The site that is favored by the Cycling Federation changed hands quite recently for three million pounds, although I haven't been able to identify the buyer. However, once the minister has made her announcement, the site could be worth fifteen, perhaps even twenty million. While there are still six possible sites on the shortlist, if someone were to offer the present owner say four or five million, I suspect they might be tempted to take a quick turn rather than risk ending up with nothing. Our problem is that we have less than a fortnight before the shortlist of two is announced, and once the views of the Cycling Federation's president become public, there will be nothing left in it for us."

"Can I make a suggestion?" said Payne.

"Go ahead," said Danny.

"If you're so certain there are only two sites in contention, why not purchase both of them? Your profit may not be as large, but it would be impossible for you to lose."

Danny now realized why Payne had become the youngest partner in the firm's history.

"Good idea," said Danny, "but there's not much point in doing that until we've found out if the site we're really interested in can be purchased. That's where you come in. You'll find all the details you need in this file, apart from who owns the site; after all, you have to do something to earn your money."

Payne laughed. "I'll get straight on to it, Nick, and be back in touch with you as soon as I've tracked down the owner."

"Don't hang about," said Danny, standing up. "The rewards will only be high if we can move quickly."

Payne produced the same smile as he stood to shake hands with his new client. As Danny turned to leave, he spotted a familiar invitation on the mantelpiece. "Will you be at Charlie Duncan's drinks party this evening?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes, I will. I occasionally invest in his shows."

"Then I may see you there," said Danny. "In which case you'll be able to bring me up to date."

"Will do," said Payne. "Can I just check on one thing before I get started?"

"Yes, of course," said Danny, trying not to sound anxious.

"When it comes to the investment, will you be putting up the full amount yourself?"

"Every penny," said Danny.

"And you wouldn't consider allowing anyone else to have a piece of the action?"

"No," said Danny firmly.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," said Beth. "It's been two weeks since my last confession."

Father Michael smiled the moment he recognized Beth's gentle voice. He was always moved by her confessions, because what she considered to be a sin, most of his parishioners would not have thought worthy of mention.

"I am ready to hear your confession, my child," he said, as if he had no idea who it was on the other side of the lattice window.

"I have thought unworthily of another, and wished them ill."

Father Michael stirred. "Are you able to tell me what caused you to have such evil thoughts, my child?"

"I wanted my daughter to have a better start in life than I did, and I felt that the headmistress of the school I had chosen did not give me a fair hearing."

"Is it possible that you were unable to see things from her point of view?" said Father Michael. "After all, you may have misjudged her motives." When Beth didn't respond, he added, "You must always remember, my child, that it is not for us to judge the Lord's will, as He might have other plans for your little girl."