The Prodigal Daughter (Kane & Abel 2)

Mary and Max Preston waved as the Rolls-Royce glided down the long drive. Once his plane had taken off, Richard felt a tremendous sense of relief. The stewardess served him a cocktail and he began to think about his plans for Monday. To his delight, Florentyna had dinner waiting for him on his return to Sixty-fourth Street.

“The shares are ours,” he told her excitedly and went over the full details during dinner. They fell asleep on the sofa by the fire a little before midnight, Florentyna’s hand resting on his leg.

The next morning Richard placed a call through to Jake Thomas to inform him that he was now in possession of 52 percent.

Richard could hear an intake of breath.

“As soon as the certificates are in my lawyer’s hands, I shall come over to the bank and let you know how I expect the change-over to be carried out.”

“Of course,” said Thomas resignedly. “May I ask from whom you obtained the last two percent?”

“Yes, from an old friend of mine, Mary Preston.”

There was a pause at the other end. “Not Mrs. Max Preston of Florida?” asked Jake Thomas.

“Yes,” said Richard triumphantly.

“Then you needn’t bother to come over, Mr. Kane, because Mrs. Preston lodged her three percent of Lester’s with us four weeks ago and we’ve been in possession of the stock certificates for some time.” The phone clicked. It was Richard’s turn to gasp.

When Richard told Florentyna about the new development, all she could say was: “You should have slept with the damned woman. I bet Jake Thomas would have.”

“Would you have slept with Scott Roberts in the same circumstances?”

“Good God, no, Mr. Kane.”

“Precisely, Jessie.”

Richard spent another sleepless night thinking of how that final 2 percent might still be acquired. It was obvious that each side now had 49 percent of the stock. Thaddeus Cohen had already warned him that he must face reality and start thinking of ways to recoup the maximum amount of cash for the shares he already had. Perhaps he should take a leaf out of Abel’s book and sell heavily on July 29, the day before the meeting. Richard continued to toss and turn as useless ideas rushed through his mind. He turned over once again and tried to catch some sleep precisely when Florentyna woke with a start.

“Are you awake?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, chasing two percent.”

“So am I. Do you remember your mother telling us that someone had purchased two percent from Mr. Peter Parfitt on behalf of your father to stop my father from getting his hands on it?”

“Yes, I do,” said Richard.

“Well, perhaps they haven’t heard about our offer.”

“My darling, it’s been in every paper in the United States.”

“So have the Beatles, but not everyone has heard of them.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” said Richard, picking up the phone by the side of his bed.

“Who are you calling, the Beatles?”

“No, my mother.”

“At four o’clock in the morning? You can’t ring your mother in the middle of the night.”

“I can and I must.”

“I wouldn’t have told you if I’d known you might do that.”

“Darling, there are only two and a half days to go before I lose you thirty-seven million dollars, and the owner of the shares we need so badly might live in Australia.”

“Good point, Mr. Kane.”

Richard dialed the number and waited. A sleepy voice answered the phone.

“Mother?”

“Yes, Richard. What time is it?”

“Four o’clock in the morning. I’m sorry to bother you, but there is no one else I can turn to. Now please listen carefully. You once said that a friend of Father’s bought two percent of Lester’s stock from Peter Parfitt to keep it from falling into the hands of Florentyna’s father. Can you remember who it was?”

There was a pause. “Yes, I think so. It will come back to me if you hold on a minute. Yes, it was an old friend from England, a banker who had been at Harvard with your father. The name will come in a moment.” Richard held his breath. Florentyna sat up in bed.

“Emson, Colin Emson, the chairman of…oh, dear, I can’t remember.”

“Don’t worry, Mother, that’s enough to be getting on with. You go back to sleep.”

“What a thoughtful and considerate son you are,” said Kate Kane as she put down the phone.

“Now what, Richard?”

“Just make breakfast.”

Florentyna kissed him on the forehead and disappeared.

Richard picked up the phone. “International operator, please. What time is it in London?”

“Seven minutes past nine.”

Richard flicked through his personal book and said, “Please connect me to 372-7711.”

He waited impatiently. A voice came on the line.

“Bank of America.”

“Put me through to Jonathan Coleman, please.”

Another wait.

“Jonathan Coleman.”

“Good morning, Jonathan, it’s Richard Kane.”

“Nice to hear from you, Richard. What can I do for you?”

“I need some information urgently. Which bank is Colin Emson chairman of?”

“Hold on a minute, Richard, and I’ll look him up in the Bankers’ Year Book.” Richard could hear the pages turning. “Robert Fraser and Company” came back the reply. “Only now he’s Sir Colin Emson.”

“What’s his number?”

“493-3211.”

“Thank you, Jonathan. I’ll give you a call when I’m next in London.”

Richard wrote the number on the corner of an envelope and dialed the international operator again as Florentyna came into the bedroom.

“Getting anywhere?”

“I’m about to find out. Operator, can you please get me a number in London. Four nine three, three two one one.” Florentyna sat on the end of the bed while Richard waited.

“Robert Fraser and Company.”

“May I speak to Sir Colin Emson, please.”

“Who shall I say is calling, sir?”

“Richard Kane of the Baron Group, New York.”

“Hold on please, sir.”

Richard waited again.

“Good morning. Emson here.”

“Good morning, Sir Colin. My name is Richard Kane—I think you knew my father?”

“Of course. We were at Harvard together. Good chap, your old man. I was very sad to read about his death. Wrote to your mother at the time. Where are you calling from?”

“New York.”

“Get up early, you Americans. So what can I do for you?”