Chapters (64)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Family Tree
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- I. Harry and Emma 1964–1965
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- II. Lady Virginia Fenwick 1966
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- III. Giles Barrington 1970
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- IV. Sebastian Clifton 1970
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- V. Lady Virginia Fenwick 1970
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- VI. Sebastian Clifton 1970
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- VII. Harry and Emma 1970
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- About the Author
- Also by Jeffrey Archer
- Newsletter Sign-up
“Not a pleasant experience to have to go through, especially when there’s so much at stake. Talk in chambers is that it’s too close to call, but the odds are shortening on your mother, as nobody thinks Lady Virginia will endear herself to the jury. She’ll either patronize them, or insult them.”
“I was rather hoping both.”
“Now, why are you calling, Sebastian, because I usually charge by the hour, not that I’ve started the clock yet.”
Seb would have laughed, but he suspected Arnold wasn’t joking. “Word in the City is that you’ve sold your shares in Farthings Bank.”
“Mother’s shares, to be accurate, and only after I was made an offer that it would have been extremely foolish to turn down. Even then I only agreed when I was assured that Adrian Sloane would be removed as chairman, and Ross Buchanan would take his place.”
“But that’s not going to happen,” said Seb. “Sloane’s representative lied to you, and I can prove it if you felt able to answer a couple of questions.”
“Only if they don’t involve a client I represent.”
“Understood,” said Seb, “but I hoped you’d be able to tell me who bought your mother’s shares and how much he paid for them.”
“I can’t answer that, as it would break client confidentiality.” Seb was about to curse when Arnold added, “However, were you to suggest the name of Sloane’s representative, and were I to remain silent, you could draw your own conclusions. But, Sebastian, let me make it clear, one name and one name only. This is not a raffle.”
“Desmond Mellor.” Seb held his breath for several seconds, but there was no response. “And is there any chance you’ll let me know how much he paid for the shares?”
“Under no circumstances,” said Arnold firmly. “And now I must dash, Seb. I’m off to see my mother in Yorkshire, and if I don’t leave immediately I’ll miss the 3:09 to Huddersfield. Do give your mother my kindest regards and wish her luck for the trial.”
“And please pass on my best wishes to Mrs. Hardcastle,” said Seb, but the line had already gone dead.
He checked his watch. It was just after ten, which didn’t make any sense. Seb picked up the phone again and dialed Hakim Bishara’s private line.
“Good morning, Sebastian. Did you have any luck getting your distinguished QC to answer my two questions?”
“Yes, and I think so.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.”
“He confirmed that it was Desmond Mellor who bought the stock, and I think the price he paid was three pounds and nine shillings per share.”
“Why can’t you be sure? He either told you the price, or he didn’t.”